Coming soon...

It seemed like yesterday I was riding the train home from the orphanage. Then they attacked our village, chased us, fought us, and they're still out there. As long as they're after us, we will never really be safe.

I sit on a bed with sheets that I suppose were once a flawless white, but now had stains splotched on them. We were brought to an infirmary when we got here. I knew that we were in a massive, grey, concrete building which was surrounded by rows of farmland, grassy fields, a forest, and if you went far enough, a twenty-five foot fence. But where exactly were we?

Coming in September, is the sequel to Hold On. The little excerpt above is the first sentences of the prologue. That's all you get for now. Not even the title because I'm still debating between three possible ones, but I should have it narrowed down by the prologue or first couple chapters. I have the basis of the story planned, but once again, need an ending.

A couple of you said you were sad that the story was over (which flattered me), but I thought about doing a sequel during like chapter eight and started getting ideas around chapter eleven. As for length, I picture it being the same number of chapters, but a little longer, seeing as in Hold On, the first chapters were really short compared to the later ones.

♥Skittlez

Thank you!!!

I just wanna thank everyone who read my story. I honestly didn't think I'd stay committed to this, but when people told me that they wanted more, I felt it would've been a shame to not continue. Do you know how many chapters I thought this would be when I thought of the idea? Seven or eight. Yes you read that right. And I ended up with seventeen chapters and an epilogue. That means I either am a really bad guesser at this sort of thing, or just got so into it that I kept writing more and more. Actually, I think it's a combination of both. :) I had so much fun writing this. Anyway, thank you for reading! I couldn't have done it without you!

That was sappy...whatever. :P

♥Skittlez

Hold On--Epilogue

There’s a constant stabbing pain in my head that can’t be ignored which tells me I’m alive. I let out a low moan. A hand strokes my hair. I don’t have to look to know that it’s Dillon. The tumbling sensation sticks with me, but when I open my eyes, I find that I’m actually moving. Marcus, Olivia, Dillon, and I are crammed in the backseat of a car.

My cheek is pressed against Dillon’s shoulder. When I sit up, he leans closer to me and kisses me on my cheek. His lips linger by my face until he whispers,

“I’m sorry.” Something in me knows that that is what he mouthed to me before. I pull him into a hug, and for the first time in a while, I see him smile.

Olivia is encased in Marcus’s arms next to me. Her eyes flicker open as he gently shakes her awake.

“Skye,” she whispers. “You’re okay.” The relief in her voice makes my heart throb. She grasps me in her arms.

“What happened?” I ask.

“Well some officials came,” Marcus begins.

“And they somehow knew or figured out we were orphans,” Dillon says. “They shoved us in here about half an hour ago.”

“What about the men?” I ask, trying to hide the fear in my voice.

“They disappeared when they heard the sirens,” Olivia explains.

“Where are we going?” I question. No one answers. No one knows.

I open my backpack which rests at my feet, but my bow and arrows are nowhere to be found. The officials probably confiscated our weapons. An empty canteen, a still full sack of coins, and my father’s tie. I rub the material against my cheek and think of my father. Teaching me how to hunt, gazing at the sky with me. His laugh, his strong arms, his blue eyes so similar to mine. I clench my mother’s necklace, thinking of her. Packing picnic baskets full of stew and baked goods and berries, trying to coax me to learn how to sew. Her smile, her nimble fingers, her long golden hair that I shared with her.

I steal a look at Marcus and he holds my gaze. He shakes his head. I know what he means. It wasn’t okay.

My eyes fill with tears as I fill my head with memories that I want to hold on to. Talking with Olivia on the train. That morning with Marcus. Rose’s birthday. The dance with Dillon.

I’m many miles from the village, which has been attacked, and my home, which has been destroyed. My mother and father and Rose are dead, but I’m not alone. The men are still out there though, searching for us. Hunting us down.

Wherever we end up, I can’t let go of the memories of the past nor those who are the closest thing to family I have. I have to hold on.

The End

Hold On--Chapter 17

I’ve been afraid before, no doubt. Surprised and confused aren’t unfamiliar feelings either. But before this day, this moment, I don’t think I’d ever felt all three at once as intensely as now.

I just stand there. Frozen. Silent.

“Oh I’m sorry,” he says. His voice was too welcoming to be sincere. “You probably don’t remember me. Well, I personally knew your father.” I couldn’t be true.

“You’re lying.” I say softly.

“Oh, you don’t believe me? Garett Lenon Erickson. He had blue eyes and dark brown hair.” That was his name. And that was what he looked like. “Skilled with a spear too. It sure came in handy in the war.” War?

“What are you talking—” I start.

“That was when he killed my brother,” he says, fake smile wiped off his face.

“What war?” I ask more firmly.

“And I killed him,” he says, avoiding my question.

“What about my mother?” I ask.

“Oh, Linda? Blown up by one of our bombs,” he says as if that was the sort of thing everyone did. I get filled with emotion. Not sadness. Rage.

I feel something being shoved into my clenched fist. My bow rests in my hands as Dillon gives me my quiver with only seven arrows.

“What about my parents?” Dillon asks with an edge to his voice. "Did one of you kill them too?"

“Yes,” a man with muddy brown eyes and dirty blonde hair said. “Mariana and Terrance Hart.”

“Gwendolyn Tate,” a man at the far right grunted.

“Carter Tate,” the man at the opposite end said. They weren’t at all skeptical about telling us. That’s what bothered me. It’s as if they wanted us to know. And they probably did.

There was one last man. He had lifeless gray eyes and chestnut hair that swept across his forehead.

“Cameron McHenry,” he grunts. Rose’s father.

Simultaneously, they pull out knives. Bigger and sharper than I’d ever seen. I take a look to my right. Olivia stands wrapped in Marcus’s arms. I feel a pang of jealously that they each still have a piece of their family, but wave it off. I turn to my left. Dillon’s face is solid, but his eyes show fear. He mouths something that I can’t make out. I hold his gaze for a moment, then close my eyes and think about my mother, my father and Rose. I had a feeling that this was the last of the gang. There was a reason they sent our parents’ murderers last. They figured that this would be the end for us.

When I open my eyes, I find that the distance between us and the men had decreased. My bow is loaded, but I think better of it. I couldn’t afford to waste any arrows.

There are five men. There are four of us. We each would fight a man with the exception of one of us. I prayed they wouldn’t all go for one of us. But that was too much to ask.

Olivia was ripped from Marcus’s arms and pinned to the ground by the man who killed her mother. She was the youngest, and more importantly, smallest of us. The other four cut her struggling body as I shot arrows. I catch a glimpse of the pain in Marcus’s face as he rushes to help his sister as well. My three arrows bounced off of three of the men's armor and fall to the ground, useless. I grab my knife out of my backpack and sling it over my shoulder. I take my chances.

Blood was flowing from Olivia’s handful of cuts. Marcus was battling with one of the men, and Dillon with another. I swipe my knife across the man who pins Olivia, cutting his lower arm. His grip loosens and Olivia scrambles to her feet. I scoop up the three arrows, grab Olivia’s hand and run a fair distance away from them. I open up her backpack and hurriedly wrap a bandage around the two worst cuts on her forehead and lower leg, skipping the antiseptic. I couldn’t spare anymore time.

Three men reach us, but I realize it too late. One sends a knife slicing down my back. I try to ignore the sting and get to my feet. He stands a foot in front of me, too close to shoot. His amber eyes burn me. Those were the eyes of my father’s murderer. I turn on my heel to run, but his hand forms an iron grip on my wrist to the point of pain before I can get anywhere. He shoves me on the ground. I reach for my knife, but he knocks it out of my hand then kneels over me and locks my arms to my sides. The sun glares in my face. I turn to the side. For the first time, I realize that we’re on a large hill. And at the bottom of the hill lies the city.

“Any last words?” the man asks with a smirk. A knife is pressed against my neck, blade ready to jab into my jaw.

“Don’t say anything Skye,” Dillon says as he sends an arrow at the man’s hip, one of the spots not covered in armor. The man gives a grunt and stumbles, releasing me. I have just enough time to scurry to my feet. I open my mouth to speak, to say something about how bad I felt, but Marcus’s yelp and Olivia’s shriek fill the air. I hear a thud that had to be Marcus. I dart in his direction.

Sure enough, he’s flat on his face, blood stained shirt heaving up and down with his gasps for air. The man who killed his father sprints to him with a spear. I shoot him in the hip which merely acts as a distraction. I grab Marcus’s hand and force him up and run.

Dillon and Olivia run toward us. We’ve used our arrows, knives, and spears, and been wounded, but the five men are still standing.

“We don’t have a chance,” I proclaim. “We have to run!” They don’t ask where. They know. We fly down the hill. I begin to think why they wanted to kill us. Maybe they anticipated another war. But I still don’t have any answers about the first one.

We don’t look back to see if they’re following. I don’t need to look back to feel an arrow pierce the skin on my back, knocking me off my feet. Or to know who shot it. I tumble down the last of the hill. Arms flailing. Legs kicking. Head banging. I don’t know when I stopped. Or if I even ever did. I kept feeling myself rolling. I can’t see or think clearly. Shrieks of my name. Scuttling feet. Sirens. The air is filled with a flurry of sounds.

Then, nothing.

Hold On--Chapter 16

Olivia and I return to Marcus and Dillon with two squirrels. We clean, cook, and consume the meat without much conversation.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Olivia asks her brother.

“I’m fine,” he insists, standing up. She nods with a hint of reluctance. But really, what other choice do we have?

As we walk further, a wave of longing hits me. My mother, my father, and Rose who have all been killed. My life before all this, which seems like years in the past. My house, which had been blown to bits. I long for food other than game. The shops and the patch of grindelias in the heart of the village. But I really long for answers. Where are we going to end up? How long until we get somewhere? Why are they after us? Who exactly is after us? Will we make it out alive?

Between my thoughts, I notice a difference in our surroundings. The trees begin to thin out, bushes lessen. The leaf, twig, and dirt covered ground is soon replaced by lush, green grass dotted with wildflowers. We are now out in the open. None of us miss a beat on recognizing how similar this is to the meadow in the village.

“What now?” I ask. We couldn’t stay here for too long. No game, no foliage to camouflage in.

“I think a break is in order,” Dillon replies. We all nod. The remainder of the squirrels is finished off. Then I lie down on my back and gaze at the sky. As if I was happy. Safe. Carefree.

“Found your way yet?” Dillon asks me. I shake my head.

“There are just so many things I wish I knew,” I reply. Puffy white clouds pass above us with the gentle wind. I stare up at them, thinking of what shapes they resemble like how I did when I was younger. Making sense of the random forms the clouds take, however, is a lot simpler than trying to make sense of my unanswered questions. Dillon brushes the hair off of my face.

“Do you know that I love you?” I fish around my head for an answer.

“I do now.” His lips are warm as he presses them against mine. Once I pull away, he looks at me, anticipating me to say that I love him too. But I already promised myself that I wouldn’t lie to him.

“Dillon I—” By my tone or my expression he probably knew what I was going to say. Rather, what I wasn’t.

“No Skye,” he says. “I understand.” He doesn’t seem mad, but heartbroken instead, which is much worse. He stands up and starts to walk back to Marcus and Olivia.

“No, you don’t,” I call after him. He doesn’t even look back when he says.

“I understand all I need to.”

“No you don’t and you never will,” I whisper to myself.

I roll on my side, back facing the others, and let the tears stream from my eyes. Would this have happened if Rose was still alive? She had a way of somehow keeping us together. A shadow looms over me. Tall with broad shoulders. I turn to see Marcus’s sad green eyes. He crouches down to me and cups my cheek in his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I tried.” I flashback to the morning when he said he wanted to protect me from losing Dillon.

“It’s not your fault,” I tell him. And I mean it. It’s mine.

“But when I see you like this, I can’t help but feel guilty.” I sit up and kiss him lightly on his cheek. Then I pull him into a hug. He doesn’t hesitate this time and wraps me in his arms. My tears drip down onto his shirt, but he doesn’t seem to care.

We walk back toward Dillon and Olivia.

“Skye I—” Dillon says, voice indifferent. He looks down at my side and I realize my fingers are laced with Marcus’s. Dillon’s eyes focus on the ground and he doesn’t bother to finish his sentence. I release my fingers to walk over to him, but Marcus still grips my hand. When I look back at him, he looks more solemn than I’ve ever seen him. His pleading eyes gaze at me as his grip slowly loosens and he drops my hand. He looks the other way, then back at me, not expecting me to have not moved.

“Go,” he whispers. “It’s okay.” I cross over to him and put my hand on his cheek.

“Is it?” I whisper. I don’t give him a chance to answer. I walk over to Dillon, who doesn’t look up when I approach.

“Dillon,” I say. His eyes stay fixated on the ground. “Dillon,” I repeat with more force. I place my hand under his chin and tilt his head up. His puffy eyes instantly focus on me.

“Skye,” he starts. But I don’t let him continue. I lean in and kiss him on his lips.

It wasn’t Dillon, but an arrow flying into my shoulder that caused me to break away.

I collapse on the grass. Pain darts through my arm as blood trickles down from the wound. I see Olivia grab a spear. Both Marcus and Dillon sink to the ground where I lie. Before I can tell him not to, Marcus carefully removes the arrow. The action sends a stabbing pain to my shoulder and I give a yelp. He presses a bandage to the wound.

“Skye, are you—” he starts to whisper.

“Back off!” Dillon shouts.

“Dillon,” I croak. I reach up and touch his cheek. “You still don’t understand.” He doesn’t argue this time, but glares at Marcus.

“Maybe this isn’t the time,” Olivia says urgently. Dillon helps me up and grabs his bow. I feel a warm hand on my arm. Marcus looks at me with a hurt expression.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. He leans in and kisses me on my cheek. An arrow whizzes by, narrowly missing his head. When I turn back, I see five burly men emerging from the forest. Fear paralyzes me. I could lose Olivia, Marcus, or Dillon today. Or my own life. A man with jet black hair and fiery amber eyes smiles slyly.

“How you been, Skye?”

Hold On--Chapter 15

I lie on the cool grass, wide awake, unable to make sense of what just happened.

After Marcus dropped the line, I didn’t know how to respond. His green eyes trained on me with a level of intensity I’d never seen before. He takes in my expression. Confused, but not angry. Distant, but not regretful. Minutes were spent in silence and soon we were walking back to camp. Dillon and Olivia were still asleep when we got there.

“I just wanted to let you know,” Marcus had whispered.

I push aside the confusion. What I’m left with is the grief that I had been suffering from all day. I sit up and move next to Dillon who had woken up about fifteen minutes ago and was keeping watch.

“Hey Skye,” he whispers. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Not after what happened today,” I sigh. I try to fight back my tears, but to no avail. Between hugging me and stroking my hair, it still takes him a good ten minutes to calm me down. But once he does, he asks me,

“Why do you think Marcus got so mad at me?” My first reaction is to claim that I don’t know, but I can’t lie to him.

“He told me he was jealous of you.” He pauses before answering.

“Well I suppose he has good reason to.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re a great girl, Skye.” I blush and give a faint smile. Suddenly, I think back to the dance.

“That night of the dance, what’d you mean when you said that you knew I’d come around?”

“Well that brings me back to one of the first times I saw you,” he tells me. I give a yawn. All of a sudden, I’m really tired, but I want to hear what he has to say. He lets me rest my head on his lap.

“I was fourteen,” he begins. “Besides on the train to the orphanage, and occasionally at meals, I never saw you much.” He was right. I spent most of my time shutting out everyone around me. I showed my face as little as possible. “Then one day, when I was sent outside to water the plants in the garden, I saw you there.” We didn’t have to work at the orphanage, but had to do chores like wash dishes from time to time. As I recall though, we weren’t supposed to go outside freely. “You were lying in the grass watching the clouds. I sat down next to you and tried talking to you, but you didn’t really answer. You’d nod or shake your head, but wouldn’t speak. It was when I asked you your name that I heard your voice.” He might have been the first person I’d spoken to there. “Then I asked you what you were doing and you said—”

“Finding my way,” I finish for him.

“I was about to ask you what you meant, but an official came out the door. When I looked back you were gone.” I remember that day now. It was my thirteenth birthday. Maybe it was special after all. “What did you mean?”

“Looking at the sky always helped me find my way. My purpose. It calms me.”

“I wanted to get to know you better, but never really had the chance.” I sit up and gaze into his eyes.

“Did you ever get you chance?” I whisper. His hand touches my cheek ever so lightly as he whispers back,

“Definitely.” He leans in closer and presses his lips on my right cheek.

I lie back down again. My eyes grow heavy and I drift off. Rose, the playful girl at the lake, appeared in my dream. Then, just like in reality, she was dead right before my eyes. I’m not sure what I did, screamed, cried, or whimpered, but when I wake up, not too long after I fell asleep, Dillon’s blue eyes are looking down at me with that sadness of his.

“What’s wrong?” he asks gently. My head still rests on his lap.

“Rose,” I whisper so softly I barely hear myself say it. He caresses my hair and tells me to go back to sleep. The sun hasn’t risen, but the moon has set so I figure I have at least an hour. Slowly, my eyes close and I fall asleep.

The sunlight warms my face while a gentle breeze wisps through my hair when I wake up again. When I sit up, I find that I still have a headache from yesterday. Another reminder of Rose. Why she came to my side. Why I couldn’t save her. Why I didn’t save her. We pack our meager amount of belongings and supplies and venture on.

This ordeal has started to take its toll on all of us. We’d been in the forest for over a week and the four of us have miraculously survived. My body aches and my wounds scream with too much exertion. I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep since we left (not counting when the man drugged me). Some of our injuries probably need more attention than a spritz of antiseptic and a small bandage. Once we run out of water, there’s no guarantee that a storm or lake will be there to replenish our supply. I’ve used more than half of my arrows and so has Dillon. Marcus and Olivia can reuse spears only so many times. There’s always throwing knives, but I don’t think it’s a skill any of us possess.

I hear a thud behind me. When I turn, Marcus is collapsed on the ground on his stomach.

“Are you okay?” I ask. I sink down to the ground beside him.

“Yeah I guess I stumbled or something,” he says, sitting up. “Can we stop for a bit?”

“Sure,” I say. Olivia and Dillon nod. I hold out my hand to help him up and we move under some trees.

Olivia rewraps Marcus’s ankle. I suggest to go hunt and even though I’d rather be alone, they all say it’s too dangerous.

“I’ll come,” Olivia says. I grab my bow and arrows and Olivia grabs a spear.

We travel a good distance from where Marcus and Dillon are. I can’t help but wonder what they talk about.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” Olivia asks.

“How could you tell?” I question.

“Something in you expression, I guess,” Olivia says with a shrug. I’m not sure how everyone can always tell how I’m feeling. A squirrel scampers by in the distance and is soon the victim of my arrow. We sit on a log and I decide to tell her what’s on my mind.

“Well, last night Marcus told me something that kind of surprised me,” I tell her.

“What?”

“He told me he loved me.” To my surprise, Olivia doesn’t react beyond nodding.

“How do you feel about that?”

“I don’t know. I don’t love anyone right not. Not even Dillon.” It was true. Sure, I liked him a lot, but I can’t say I love him. “What should I do?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t do anything. Let this solve itself.” If only I could do that with all of my problems. Olivia moves closer to me and her eyes hold a sad, serious look. “Just please, don’t hurt him.” I think of the guy who confessed his love for me even after saying he wanted to protect me from losing Dillon out of anger. Then I look his sister who wants to protect him all the same.

“I could never.”