10 years ago, without any notice or clues to why it happened, an 8-year-old girl named Adelaide Brinker disappeared from my small town of Westville.

People searched for her for years, but nothing came up— no body was ever found. Her parents, heartbroken, left Westville and moved to a village far away.

It has been six years since the case of Adelaide Brinker closed, and she was presumed dead.

Six years after everyone ended their search, and somehow, Adelaide has turned up.

She seemed to have appeared in the shadows, one moment she was gone, the next, here. She is now eighteen, but their is no denying she is the same girl that disappeared a decade ago.

Scars lace up her arms, and her eyes are dark with secrets so cold they are bound to turn this small town to ice.

Her golden hair, hazel eyes, and wicked grin remain the same—unchanged by whatever had held her captive for 10 years.

I stand, unsure what to do. Her parents have left this town, but their are many who still mourn her loss. Do I go and tell them? But part of me still can’t believe what I see. I was only twelve years old when the case began, but it is forged in my memory like iron forged in a cave miles and miles away.

I gasp, Adelaide’s dress is covered in the dark hardened crust of blood, and the edges of her skirt is torn and ragged as if she had been running. Fresh cuts cover her body, and I look up to see tears building up in her shimmering eyes.

“They are coming,” she rasps, “I had to come and warn you.”

I am shocked by the dark tone of her voice, and it takes me a minute to acknowledge what she had said. “Who is coming, Adelaide?”

“The hunters.” She says, her expression unchanging. “They have come to wipe out the only remaining village that believes I once existed.”

I stutter, “why?”

“Because I am not human,” she says, solemnly. “I hold powers that are out of their control. If I exist—they can’t manipulate those who don’t believe in people like me.”

“And why would they want that?”

“Because,” she whispers, “the powers I have—they can bring people great things, but they don’t come without sacrifice. If people know I exist, they will seek me, begging me to help them in whatever they may need. If their is hope things will get better—that they have some sort of savior—people cannot be controlled.”

I gasp, “hope is what makes us powerful?”

“Yes,” she answers, “and truth is what destroys hope.”

_Truth destroys hope. _

_ _“Then what do we do?” I ask.

“We lie,” she says, her eyes full of tears, “always.”

…………..

“Rebecca!” Timothy calls to me, just days after hearing what I must do to keep our village safe.

“Yes?” I ask, hesitantly, _what will I have to say to keep him from knowing the truth? Any truth at all? _

__

“I have an important question for you,” he says.

My nerves tickle in my stomach, I have to lie otherwise the entire village will be destroyed.

“And that is?” I ask through gritted teeth. _Please don’t ask me something I can’t lie about. _

_ _“I am ordering us pizza for lunch,” he replies, “and I need to ask, do you like pineapple on your pizza?”

Shit.

“Hell no.” I reply.

And the world burns. __

__