The past few weeks have been quiet. Aly officially hates me. Whenever we make eye contact, she looks away in hatred. It's not like I knew my sister for all that long, so what's the point of crying? I don't know, well, what do I know? I don't even have emotion anymore. Aly's more sad than I am, and she only knew Charlotte for a few minutes.
Today, my journey is to go to the death board. Not that her name would be on there, but I still have the strange yearning to go there. It was as if I was tied onto by a rope, and someone or something was pulling me there.
I didn't even bother to say goodbye to Aly, since she won't even reply. I start to walk there when I notice someone was already there. I walk up, choosing to make little connection. After awhile of sitting in silence, I can't hold back.
"Hi." I say, looking at her. Her face and neck were covered with a black hood, so I couldn't see.
"Hello." she says, her voice raspy.
"How are you?" I ask, after another minute of silence.
She giggles for a minute, "You're not too good at small talk, aren't you? I'm sitting here, looking for my daughter's name on this dead list, and you ask how I'm doing?" she says.
My face flushes red, "Uh, yeah. Well, I'm looking for my little sister's name. It might not be on here, though. I was just curious." I say, looking around.
She puts her hood down, revealing her face. She had olive brown skin, and her light brown eyes were sad. Her brown hair was tied back in complicated curls, and she was wearing a raggedy tan dress.
"Why wouldn't it be? Here, I'll help you look." she says. "What's your last name? The list is in alphabetical order."
"Uh, Whernin." I say.
"W. Okay, we've just gotta move down a bit. We're at T, so we need to walk awhile." she says.
As we walk, she asks what my sister's name was.
"Her name is Charlotte." I say.
"Okay. Pretty name, by the way." she says.
"Thanks. She was really pretty, so the name suited her." I say, smiling.
"That sounds like you were really close. Nice. Anyway, my name's' Jaime. Jaime Anderson." she says.
"My name is Jemma." I say, following shortly behind.
As soon as we get to the letter W, as I guessed, her name wasn't there. Jaime frowns, "That's impossible, though." she says.
"Not really. Nobody really knew her, besides me." I say.

"How? Wasn't she born in a hospital? What about her hospital records? She has to have them." she says, looking rapidly through the list of names.
"Don't worry about it. It's not all that big a deal." I say, scratching the back of my head.
"How did she go?" she asks. "Well, if you don't mind telling me."
"She was blown up." I say, looking at my shoes.
"Oh. Well, my little girl was stabbed and killed by my adopted son. They got along so well, too." she says, trailing off. I look at her, and realize for the first time how young she looked.
"Excuse me, how old are you?" I ask, out-of-the-blue.
"Huh? Heh, I guess I'll tell you. I'm twenty. My daughter was four, and my adopted son was six." she said, trying to laugh under her breath.
"Oh. I'm seventeen. Well, I think, anyways." I say, making eye contact.
"You think? Oh boy, missy. You ought to go to the doctor's office if you don't even know your age." she says.
"Well, I've just come to think my whole family's crazy." I say, quoting Aly.
"Huh. Well, good luck with your things. I've gotta go, the guards around my house will be questioning me for sure just because I'm a good five minutes late." she says.
"Wait? Guards? Why?" I ask.
"Because my adopted son ran away after murdering Ire. Guards surround my house now to arrest him if he ever returns." she says.
"Ire? You mean anger?" I ask.
"I feel like it's a pretty name. She was always really nice, despite her name." she says.
I smile, "You mind if I go with you, to your house, anyways? I need to talk with a guard of the government." I ask.
"I don't see why not." she says, gesturing for me to follow her. I start to follow shortly behind. Facts fill my head of everything I could do right now, like, I could kill her in a split second and no one would notice. I wonder if that's what overcome her son. I have too much power to just do nothing with it. After reassuring myself that this woman was not to be killed, we soon reached her house. It was a cute little cottage, with short pink bushes acting like a barrier, fencing off her yard. Guards in dark blue suits stood along the bushes, rifles strapped to their backs.
"Hello, I've returned." she says.
"Welcome back, miss. Who's this?" one of the guards asks.
"I'm Jemma." I say, looking the man in the eyes.
"Hm. What do you need?" he says, unhooking the belt keeping his rifle against his back.
"I need to see Char." I say, showing no fear. Hopefully.
"She's not allowing any visitors." he says, gripping handle of the gun a little tighter. I walk forward, just to see what would happen. He quickly lifts the gun and props it in his armpit. His finger wraps around the trigger as I continue to walk slowly towards him. 
"Why waste bullets?" I say, as he pulls the trigger. It goes off with a bang, and everything was silent for a moment. He looks me in the eye, his eyes widening. I taste the metal between my top and bottom teeth. I spit it out in the palm of my hand, and it slowly rolls down my hand, leaving a trail of spit. I wipe it on my dress, realizing I had transformed again.
I look down at myself, and smile, "Whoops." He looks at me in fear, before splashing a potion on my head. I appear in an unknown place, completely unaware of my surroundings. It took a moment before I realized I was sitting in a chair. I couldn't see anything, and no light was coming in from anywhere.
I feel a child's hand grab me by the neck, and then blades grow further down my neck from his fingernails. 
"Hello!" he says in a high-pitched voice.