TW: Child death, bullying, harassment. 

It was an unfortunate accident. They were playing a game of kickball outside the orphanage like they always did, but one of the children kicked the ball too far away, and it rolled onto the open street. None of them wanted to stop playing. They were children, and children don't know how to stop having fun. Paisley, being the oldest there (and the bravest) decided she would be the one to get the ball. No cars were passing, it was quiet and empty. She walked onto the street and retrieved the ball, she waved the ball in the air.

The children cheer from the sidewalk. But the more Paisley stood on the open road she had begun to seal her fate. It all happened so fast. There were no cars until the next minute there was one.

Paisley Rivers was only nine years old when she died.

She said she saw her funeral and saw her friends cry, she cried with them too. 

"One time we had a dog. We would all take care of the dog but one day he got sick. Sick, sick. We had to send him away, and we all knew he wasn't going to come back. Miss Abbott told us we'll see him one day, but not in the way we expected to see him. She said it's okay to cry, it's just your body's way of showing how much you love them." She then says, hopeful. "My friends, they must have loved me a lot. I didn't get to have parents but I still got a family in the end."

I'm in awe by Paisley. I would think getting your life taken away at such a young age would leave her angry or sad. She had every right to feel that way but she was very accepting of her current state.

"Do you want me to tell your friends they'll see you one day?" I ask.

I imagine her shaking her head as she said, "No, don't tell them. I think I understand what Miss Abbott meant. It's like a game of hide and seeks, isn't it? They'll find me when the time is right." I can hear her smiling, "I love surprises, I can't wait for the day they see me again. But I'll wait."

She should've lived a full life. She should've been able to explore this world for a much longer time. She should've been loved for much longer. The knot forms around my throat, and I swallow it. Times like these are when I hate the world and its unfairness.

Paisley tugs my hand, "Earlier, I heard him call you The Crier. Do you cry a lot?" It's an easy and obvious answer, but I couldn't admit it. Lloras mucho y nadie merece tus lagrimas, Refugio's soothing voice whispers into the curve of my ear. (You cry a lot and no one deserves your tears.)

"If you cry a lot then that must mean you have a lot of love in your heart."

*****

The carousel spun like a fairytale. Horses, elephants, rabbits, dolphins, and giraffes were dressed in royal armor. The children grasped their animals as if they were knights, and they shone brightly, as the golden lights crowned them as the victors. An upbeat melody played in the background, but it was mostly covered by cheerful laughter. This is what Paisley wants, a day of fun and celebration.

At first, Dilara felt uneasy about Paisley. She was extremely cautious about her surroundings, looking out for Paisley although she could not see her. Dilara found the whole situation peculiar. She explained it was natural for witches to communicate with their ancestors, but to communicate with all of the dead was unheard of. She also wondered why I could only hear them. 

We didn't dwell too much on the answer because like so many things in my life they'll remain unanswered unless my father decides to show up and talk.

But for now, Dilara and I sat together inside a grayish swan exchanging sweets while Paisley pretended to be a knight, riding all the animals. I could hear her footsteps clanging on the metal platform. She runs as if she was in a field of wildflowers. "I'm on the hippo!" She shouts and then not a moment later she giggles, "Now, I'm on the zebra!" She goes on like that for the rest of the ride.

Dilara shakes a few pieces of lokum as if they were rolling dice. "I'll give you three of my candies, and you give me three of yours." We had stuffed our pockets with all types of candies and as much as I wanted to try Dilara's candy there were a couple I wanted to hold onto and I just knew Dilara wanted to take them away from me.

I pulled out two tamarindo bars and a piece of caramel chocolate. She points a finger at the tamarindo bar, "I want three of those." I knew it.

"No. You get two." Dilara's mouth slightly parted. I tell her, "You're giving me three small square pieces when I'm giving you two full bars." Before she can argue further, I snatch the lokum from her palm and drop the tamarindo and chocolate into her hand.

I unwrap the candy and plop it into my mouth. Defeated, Dilara leans against her seat as she mumbles, "Sharing is caring."

My mouth twitches slightly, "I cut you a sweet deal."

"You ripped me off." She accuses with a hint of playfulness.

I simply shrug, biting into the candy, and lean my head back looking up to the mirrored ceiling of the carousel. The golden glow reduces my eye bags and washing bruises. Still, I look sick. If Refugio was here and saw the wounds all over my body, she would cry so I wouldn't have to cry. If she was here she would say they're toughening my skin but she is not here to say it so I cross my arms and pretend I have no injuries.

I blink, bringing myself back to the present. "Dilara, what else is out there?" My eyes were on the mirrored ceiling as the world silently became a blur.

"What do you mean?" She asks.

"I have met a God, a demon, a witch, and a couple of ghosts. Then there is me, I guess I'm asking what other creatures exist." I should know what is out there and be prepared for whatever life decides to throw at me. I hear Dilara shifting in her seat and she meets my gaze through the mirror. "Are you sure you want to know?" I nod my head.

She takes a bite of her candy bar and begins, "Vampires exist, they're a small population and are rarely seen. I heard they can no longer walk in the sun and are miserable at night. We don't know why since they like to keep to themselves. Lycans and werewolves are real. We currently have a 'peace treaty' with them but they do not like us." 

I raise a brow as she explains. "The council has the most control and power in this country as of right now. Lycans and werewolves are territorial and they've been losing a lot of their land. They blame us for the loss and they're right to feel that way but they're also divided amongst themselves. They used to travel in large packs. They now travel in small numbers."

She rolls her head over, I turn to look at her. "But while they have their problems, we also have our own problems to worry about." Her eyes drift toward the three lunares on my cheekbone. Ah. My father has been the current problem for the council for so many years. Soon I would become their problem as well or maybe I'm already their problem.

"I wouldn't be surprised if they're other creatures and shapeshifters out there, trying to live an ordinary life. It's probably safer for them to stay hidden."

I frowned. "Why?"

Dilara sighs, "You would think we would know better since we used to be hunted and sometimes still are, but we don't. Although witches, werewolves, and vampires are all over the world it doesn't stop the judgments we make when we are faced with things we don't understand or have never seen before. We fear first then we accept. It shouldn't be that way but it's what we know how to do best."

She was right. Fear has always won first but before peace or acceptance wins, blood must be spilled. Still, there was a question that was on the tip of my tongue, something that I've been wanting to ask Dilara since she mentioned it.

I cleared my throat. "Could you tell me about the council?" Her shoulders tensed a bit and her candle-lit eyes dulled. "What do you want to know about them?" I want to know everything, especially about my father's family involvement with them, but I knew Dilara didn't know the answer. This was a story and only my father could tell it.

Instead, I asked, "What do they do?"

She lowers her eyes and says, "The council, or as they like to call themselves, The High Council is all about power and control. It's made up of thirteen witches and warlocks. Some possess unique yet powerful abilities. Others became masterful in the specific kind of magic they had chosen to conquer. Their responsibilities are to oversee the witches and warlocks living in this country and make sure they're following the rules. 

The most important rule is not to practice dark magic. But they can't see everyone at once so they hand-pick witches and warlocks, a pair for each state to fulfill the council's wishes. They're called Parmagis or as everyone and myself like to call them the council's spies. They report everything to the council and if anyone is practicing dark magic."

Dilara shakes her head and a few strands of her hair fall. "The Parmagis did not exist until the rebellion and downfall of The De Luna family. But all they do is abuse their authority and power. They sometimes come to your house with their followers unannounced with the stupid excuse to look around and see if there are any signs of a witch or warlock practicing dark magic. But they do more than that, sometimes while they search your home, it gets destroyed. Everything is flipped from inside and out. A few of my neighbors have lost valuable items because of them."

Before I ask her the question, she answers it for me. "We can't report them. The council chooses the Parmagis, each individual is hand-picked by them. To them, we are supposed to feel grateful that we can practice any magic at all. They're saving us from the humans who want us executed." Dilara crumbles the candy wrapper, her knuckles white. "But this isn't gratitude, this is obedience."

It was disgusting what they were doing. This goes beyond an invasion of privacy, this is invading how someone lives their life. It's controlling and awful. I was almost nervous about asking her why the council sent her here.

But I did it anyway. 

"Why did the council send you on a sabbatical?" I said, Dilara's body froze. Gone was the light from her eyes and had been replaced by a misty cloud almost as if she was reliving a haunting memory. "I'm sorry I shouldn't have asked you that." I panicked.

"No, no. It's fine." She says, blinking furiously. "It's just that I haven't been able to talk about it with anyone, and I don't know—if I'm allowed..." She was stuck between shaking her head and being unable to say what she wanted.

I leaned forward. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She was silent for a moment until she said, "I think I do." She starts to tell me, "I told you people don't like and they have their reasons, maybe good reasons. I don't know if you remember, but I also told you I wasn't liked in school." 

Of course, I remembered. Though I couldn't comprehend or believe people didn't like Dilara. I know it's impossible to be liked by every single person you encounter but Dilara seemed to be the person who could achieve that. She was like one of those persons who gave you hope for humanity.

She goes on, "Well, there were a few witches and warlocks that didn't like me and they made it painfully obvious. Always 'teasing' and 'pranking' me but they were the only ones having fun. I endured it every single time and did absolutely nothing. One time they made me eat strawberries," My brow pinched together as she bit her lower lip. "I'm allergic to strawberries, deadly allergic."

My eyes widened.

They almost killed her. No. They were planning to kill her.