"I'm not really the hero."

An odd story about a teenager that decides to take over the United States.

                Sophie blinked her eyes softly in the dark. The door had been opened, of course.

                “Hello?” She spoke in a soft voice.

                “Good morning.”

A chill ran down Sophie’s spine. She slowly sat up and scanned the room.

                “Jared, is that you?”

                A slight laugh came from the corner. “Oh, come on Sophie? Don’t you remember me?”

                “…Ryan?!”

                “Now, that guess is correct.”

                He came out of the corner, and smiled. “It’s been nice seeing you, Sophie.”

                Before she could take a glimpse at his brown eyes, Sophie was out like a light.

 

                Sophie had a splitting headache.

                “What the hell is going on?!” She growled, the room flashing with colored spots in her eyes.

                “Calm down, you might burst a blood vessel.” Ryan was twirling a string in his fingers.

                Sophie rolled her eyes and tried to stand up. Along with being too dizzy, she also was trapped against the wall, her hands in metal cuffs. She fell against the wall, and sat staring at the ground at it flew in and out of focus.

                “Also, you shouldn’t stand up,” Ryan seemed on the edge of giggles.

                “Thanks.”

                Ryan threw a bottle, full of water next to the wall. “Here,” he sighed.

                Sophie downed the liquid as soon as she could rip the cap off. She let out a loud groan as it ran down her throat. She suddenly realized how hungry she was. Her stomach growled loudly.

                Ryan looked over, “We won’t have anything to eat for a while, but I’m sure you’ll live.”

                “Alright.” Sophie slumped over and her eyes began to shut.

                When she awoke again, Sophie was no longer in handcuffs against the wall; instead she was in the center of a small room, with a mirror on one wall.

                “Excellent, you’re awake.” A voice came from nowhere as a small brown bag fell from the ceiling. Sophie looked inside and gobbled up the small pieces of bread and slice of cheese. She immediately felt full, and took a moment to look around the room. Nothing but a beanbag chair, and a small curtained area on the other side of the room.

                “Are you feeling alright?” Ryan spoke; his voice was coming from a speaker somewhere.

                Sophie seemed to be fine. “Yes,” she croaked.

                “Well, then I suppose we could begin…” Ryan was silent a moment as he talked with someone with the microphone off.

                “Hello?”

                “Sorry about that,” Ryan said and the microphone made a clicking noise. “Do you have any questions before we begin?”

                Begin with what exactly? And where was she? But maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to ask- Sophie had learned it was better not knowing most things. Especially when you wanted to ask questions about whatever it was, ignorance was bliss as they used to say.

                “No.”

                Ryan must have been surprised, he didn’t say anything for a while.

                “Alright then, I suppose.” He didn’t have much to say. A section of the mirror twisted open, and Ryan walked out. He stood across from the beanbag and tapped the corners of a tile on the floor, which rose, revealing another beanbag below. “Damn, I told them chairs.”

                Ryan sat down anyways, and it made a squishing noise, the door closing across the room. “Sit down,” he seemed to smile at Sophie. Sophie looked cautiously at the beanbag, but sat as well. Ryan took out a pad of paper.

                He looked at her, turned his head, turned it the other. “Well, are you going to say something or what?” Sophie growled. Ryan suddenly looked sad, his eyes tearing up.

                “Why?” He asked in a small voice.

                “Is that it? And I seriously thought you were doing a good job with this kidnapping thing so far. Why what? Why am I alive? I can’t even answer that question honestly, idiot,” Sophie stood up and went over to the mirror, looking at the panels.

                “So you just decided to ruin the world for the rest of us, for fun?” He grabbed her arm.

                “Like you know anything about me at all, Ryan,” His name was a poison, deadly- almost sharp in a way.

                “Just because I was some kid from suburbia long ago?” She glared and stared through the mirror, only able to see his brown eyes.

                “Like you cared about anything- you little slut.” Jared sat calmly. It was exactly what he wanted.

                “You really want to know why I ruined your stupid little ‘utopia’ that you thought we were long ago? When we were still thirteen?” She tapped the mirror lightly with her foot.

                “That’s all I want to know.”

 

                There was a song playing on the radio- I didn’t know the tune, but I had memorized the lyrics by the end of the first verse. “Hello… suburbia,” the song ended. I stared at the perfect box shaped houses out the window- all the same, with the green grass lawns, their average one and a half kids. My parents had dreamed of living here all their lives, for some weird reason.

                My mom’s beige station wagon stopped in front of a red brick house- a square one of course. She opened the trunk and I grabbed the first box I saw, one of the few that was mine, ‘Sophie’s Room’, it said.

                I lugged the box inside and stood inside the front door. From the second I saw the perfect little granite countertops and air freshener, I knew I would hate this place.

The End

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