The day we were pulled from the reality of our world, I was sitting on the roof. My room has a window that faces my backyard, situated right above our screen porch. That's how I get out. I've been coming here since I was eleven. That's when my parents started fighting. They filed for a divorce a few months ago, and since then I've spent nearly every spare minute up here. My dad isn't abusive or anything, they just don't love each other anymore. Because Dad's a doctor and Mom's a psychologist, they rarely have time for me and my brothers, let alone themselves.

I have four siblings, all boys. To make it worse, their names are Alan(12), Alex(8), Andrew(6), and Andy(6). The youngest two are identical twins. My parents rely on me to get them to the bus stop every morning, and to babysit them every afternoon. Both Mom and Dad are married to their work. The "A," names are horrific, especially dealing with the twins. I mean, who names all five of their kids names that start with "A?" Even my Grandma gets the boys confused on occasion.

I let my head rest against the white siding and close my eyes, thinking about all of the extra credit work I have to do. Back when the fights began I figured that getting good grades would take stress off Mom and Dad. I began to study all the time. This got me to the head of my class, so I continued. By the time I was in High School I was known as the "nerd girl," and good grades were what I lived for. They still are, actually. If my GPA slipped I would disappoint my parents. Now I need to get into a good college to follow my dad as a doctor. I don't really have a choice, because I just want to make him happy. To tell you the truth, I've always been interested in writing. Creating books would be like a dream to me. I love reading, especially fiction, and English is my favorite subject. I'd love to become an author. But getting an unstable job like that would disappoint my parents. I can't put more stress on them than they already endure. I'm the obedient child, and I have to keep it up.

I stare out at the sunset on the horizon, watching the blue fade into pink. It's so pretty. I could stay out here for hours and hours. . .

"Amber? What are you doing?" A voice asks from behind me. It's Alex. My heart skips a beat. No one's ever caught me up here, not in six years. Immediately I scramble up and crawl back through the window. "Nothing," I wave away. "What's up?"

"I need help with my homework. Mommy and Daddy are busy," his brown eyes are downcast. I shake my head exasperation. They're always busy. "I'll tell you what," I sigh, "if you don't let Mom and Dad know that I was on the roof, I'll help you with your homework. Okay?" I would've done it anyway, but if mom and dad found out, they'd forbid me from going out there anymore.

Alex nods enthusiastically. I take the paper from him and sit down at my desk, pulling up my extra chair for him. This has been a rather common occurrence for a while now. I teach my brother about subjects and predicates until he can work through the problems himself. This makes me feel very young and very grown up at the same time.

When Alex leaves I pull out an English essay that was assigned today. A lot of the stuff I study is difficult and unfulfilling, but I've never had a problem with writing because it came so naturally to me. Essays have always been fairly straightforward. It's more like a challenge to my creative abilities than actual work.

After a while I pull out my phone and text Haven, "r u gettin ready for your date? ;)" I wait for an answer, focusing on my next paragraph. Ten minutes later she still hasn't texted back. The clock reads six ten. She doesn't leave for another fifty minutes. Strange. I dial her number and wait.

"Hello?" A voice asks on the other line. It's not Haven. It's her mom, Gail. Why did she pick up Haven's phone?

"Hey Mrs. Cross!" I greet. "I was just calling Haven. Um, is she there?"

"Uh, no. She's. . ." Mrs. Cross trails off.

"Is she getting ready for her date?" I ask, understanding.

"I'm sorry, what?!" She exclaims.

"Her date. With Ben." Was Mrs. Cross not supposed to know? I hope I haven't gotten Haven in trouble.

"Um, yeah. . . Yeah I did. Haven's very busy so I don't think she can talk now. I'll see if she can call you back tomorrow?"

"Sure, thanks," I agree, a little put off. "Bye."

The phone clicks and Mrs. Cross is gone. I stare at it for a minute. I try to return to my work, but I can't concentrate. I keep on thinking about the phone call. She seemed so surprised about the date, though she claimed that she already knew. I wouldn't be too worried if Haven hadn't told me about Katherine, but now it looks suspicious. And why did Mrs. Cross have Haven's phone? Maybe I'm just being paranoid. I am very cautious in general and paranoia is always just around the corner.

Reluctantly, I push away my essay and stand up. It won't hurt to just drive by her house to check it out. Quickly I grab my keys and march out into the hall. Swinging my jacket over my shoulder I take the stairs down to the first floor and skirt around the kitchen. I can hear my mom shouting all the way over here.

"You told me you would go to Alan's parent teacher conference!" She yells at him. "Now we've missed the meeting! You don't pull any weight in this family!"

"I take him to soccer practice every Tuesday and Thursday! I show up to every game! You haven't been to a game the whole season!" My dad's voice is accusing and angry, matching my mom's tone. "I'm not the one slacking here! Besides, there was an emergency at the hospital. I couldn't just leave!"

"You know what?! I can't WAIT until this divorce is finalized! Then you'll realize what it's like to ACTUALLY BE A PARENT on the weekdays! How are you going to like it then?! You can't just push all of the work onto me!"

I close the garage door before I can hear his answer.

My car sits in its spot, the white paint shining back at me like it just came off the assembly line. I would rather have parents who actually got along and a forty year old lemon than almost divorced parents and my VWBUG. They bought me the car because they literally missed my birthday. My eighteenth birthday! I was taken to the dealership two days later. It's a pity car.

I start the engine and pull out, turning in the direction of my friend's house without thinking about it. She lives like, three minutes away, just too far to walk, but not really far enough to justify the gas. In the summer I bike over here, but now I'd rather have heat.

If I had been biking I think I might've swerved into someone's mail box. As soon as I come within view of Haven's house, I see four black vans parked out front, all lined up like dominoes. Haven's Toyota is still there, but not either of her parents' cars. I count four people in the yard, all unfamiliar. The front door is open and shapes are moving about inside. I get the sense that I don't want to meet those people. My eyes stay glued to the road as I drive by, careful not to draw any suspicion towards myself. If I didn't personally know that Haven had a date and her parents were acting strange, I wouldn't think much about the spectacle at the house; from the outside  it looks like some kind of big dinner party. But there is no way Gail and Brandon would throw a party on such ridiculously short notice. It's only been fifteen minutes since I called.

Carefully I pull over to the side of the road, staying three houses over in the hope that they won't notice me. My fingers fumble over the lock as I open the door and step out, keeping the car in between me and the strange people. They look focused and serious, very secret service type. All are wearing black from head to foot, the perfect image of either intelligence agents or criminals. It gives me a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I watch them for a while, the intruders talking into phones as they wait for the people inside. I can't do anything, not until they leave. If I leave now they'll notice the car drive by again. I really get a bad feeling about this. It's like a scene from a book. I should probably call the police.

As soon as the thought occurs to me, a bunch of the black-clad men and women flood out of the house. There must be at least twelve. I don't see the Crosses. They mush be gone. The intruders carry nothing, not the TV, the lap tops, the jewelry, nothing. They aren't thieves. I watch them all climb back in the car one by one. They look rushed. I wonder where they're going. Back to the CIA? They certainly look the part.

Just when the last woman is getting in the car she turns towards my hiding spot, her dark eyes narrowed. I cannot see her very well from here, but I have the sense to duck my head down and wait. My heart is in my throat as the seconds tick by. One. Two. Three. Five. Ten. Twenty. I am sure they've seen me, sure I'll be discovered. I have to get away. What are my chances in a car chase? Against all four vans, not good.

Suddenly I hear the sound of a vehicle starting up. Then another. And another. After a second I hear tires on pavement and watch as the group pulls away in the other direction, leaving me relieved and shaking. Cautiously I peek my head out over the car to make sure I'm alone. They're gone. It's okay. Breath Amber, breath. I slowly walk over to the house, jumping as I hear a dog bark unexpectedly. I need to get it together. My hands shake as I walk up the front steps and up to the door. I need to see if the Crosses are home. This could just be a huge misunderstanding. Possibly. If not, I'll call the police.

I pull out the spare house key from under a potted plant on their porch, releasing both locks. Haven always says that they'll get a garage code, but they never do. My fingers close around the knob and turn, pulling the door open.

I am instantly blown backward by a force beyond control. My body is briefly weightless as I fly through the air, disconnect from the ground. There is a huge bang like a cannon shot and then complete silence. I cannot hear, but I definitely feel when I hit the ground. My limbs scream in protest, all of the air pushed out of my chest. My head aches, my arm is twisted underneath me, and my leg throbs with pain unimaginable. I feel almost separated from the scene, like I'm watching it happen to someone else. I can't move. The last thing I see before blacking out is the window of Haven's room far above me, billowing smoke as it is engulfed in flame.