They say we hold the most fear for the things we believe in, yet we can't see. That there's an innate attachment in us to snoop around and be curious, then to get scared and move on. The last few years have taught me the exact opposite. There's more fear in the things we can see, the things familiar to us, the pieces of our day to day life that may fall out of place once and a while.

I've learnt that it's all about patterns. We get comfortable, find relief and rescue from a sense of consistency. It's the change that disrupts that sense of consistency that hurts us the most. When pieces fall out of place, we become insecure, unable to react and even when we do, we do so incorrectly.

Then there are the pieces that fall further. Pieces that support a greater cause, and have more purpose. When they crumble, we feel more. We suffer more. We get hurt, and never find the strength to heal.

It had been two long years since the piece I valued the most had vanished, and since then it had seemed in a way, to be a forever state of falling. I had found home through the darkness, sneaking away from the hectic life of work and childcare to scan America's little rivera for signs of distress, yet none seemed to come. The world seemed to be at peace, just as it was before the horrors of Silent Hill came to be. I could recall the times I had spent in that forest, running across the thawing ground and yearning for even the slightest sound of a bird chirping, or a chipmunk waking from a long season of hibernation. None of it came however, not until we managed to break a cycle of mysterious abuse and torture, freeing hundreds of dying souls and cleanse a wound that the earth barely knew it had like a flea or tick on the back of a dog.

I had blood on my hands that couldn't be washed away. I had answers that I still needed to find, and people I needed to cut down to their knees. Things were far from finished, yet the world seemed to insist to me that two years of peace was enough to warrant a relaxed set of shoulders.

You have no idea the kind of emotions she could have been feeling the night she left you. My seemingly comforting subconscious would assure me each night things felt more and more lonely. There were street lamps that lit the sparse sidewalks from the moment the evening turned to night. They kept the bustling party-goers of Miami's most drunken populous oriented and off the roads, and were meant to bring on the illusion that Florida's most superficial community never slept. To me, the only thing they managed to accomplish was an abstract reminder of just how many shadows would dance across the off-white bedroom walls.

The coffee shop, which radiated painful nostalgia for more reasons than one sat unchanged from how it always looked. The neon open sign needed a battery change, the few front steps needed a handrail, and I needed an expresso. Walking inside, I unzipped my jacket and tore it off, slinging the well-loved item over the back of a booth.

"The regular?" A friendly voice behind the counter greeted me with a metal scoop full of beans ready for the grinder. James was part time co-owner and part time friendly clown for the independent franchise.

"The regular." I echoed, removing a number of sugar packets from the communal cup in the centre of the table and tearing off the corners in preparation.

"I ask it every night, and get the same answer, but do you ever sleep?" James asked, bringing over a mug of steaming coffee in one hand and a plate in the other.

"When I need to, sure." I shrugged back, taking it with thanks and starting to sift the sugar into the delicious smelling liquid. "What've you got there?"

"We're going to start introducing all-day breakfasts to the menu." He replied with a smile, licking his lips. "Pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage. Julie's been watching so many cooking shows that she wants to start making this place into a diner. We're still in the menu testing phase."

I unwrapped the second fork he brought along and sawed off the corner of a pancake, popping it into my mouth. It was fluffy and sweet, surely home cooked. "Why are these so good?" I questioned with a heavily suspicious undertone. "Did you do that thing again where you put something secret into this coffee that makes everything taste delicious?"

James grinned. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh sure you do... the time when you slipped Kaluha into the bottom of the cup, waited until I finished everything but the alcohol then laughed while I nearly choked on the pure liquor." I narrowed my eyes at him, feeling the air in the coffee shop turned diner shifting in the most subtle way. "And you didn't bother to tell me that alcohol is heavier than coffee."

James laughed, leaning back in the booth. To emphasize my discontent, I took another piece of pancake, pairing this forkful with half a slice of thick cut bacon. "I adore your sarcasm." He mused. "Tell me how that bacon is, it's Canadian."

"Canadian bacon, fluffy pancakes..." I looked at my high piled forkful. "This is why I still come here."

"I thought you came here for the grade A company and love of my wife's hand- baked brownies." He smirked, stabbing a sausage. "By the way, if you ever want anything interesting in your coffee, you know you're welcome to swing by, no matter the time of the day."

"How interesting are we talking?" I chewed thoughtfully.

"Just shy of bullet shells." James grinned, standing up. "But you wouldn't know a thing about that, would you?"

I coughed a little, working to swallow the mouthful of late-night breakfast before giving him a teasing glare. "So how's baby Liam? Still keeping you both up all night?"

"Still being a little devil." James nodded, wiping his hands off on a dishtowel draped over his shoulder. "But he's the cutest little booger in the world, so we let it slide. Julie's all worried about going back to work though."

"Work? How long does maternity leave last?"

"It's not as long as you'd think." James smiled. "Time flies when the house is in screaming baby mode." He walked around to lean against the back of the booth, seemingly watching me eat. "You ever had the sensation where you leave this world of chaos and brand new experiences to go back to an old yet familiar routine?"

I looked up. "Haven't we all?"

"You've always been real good at understanding it all." He laughed. "She's just nervous about leaving behind a household surrounded by the tranquility of childcare for the nervous stress that comes from an office job. It's part of the reason why she wanted to turn this place into a diner so badly."

"To get away from the office job?" I polished off the pancakes, stabbing at what was left of the thick cut bacon.

"In short." James nodded. "Going from such a peaceful loving lifestyle to a crazy war zone can be pretty stressful."

I stopped chewing, looking up at the middle aged man curiously. He had a glimmer in his eye, one that persisted until he stalked back behind the coffee counter to tend to a short lineup of customers. I looked down at the mug before me, watching the steam rise until it was virtually gone. Polishing off the coffee as well as the complimentary snack, I brought the empty dishes to the counter and set them down, as well as a handful of damp, crumpled bills.

"Good luck with the baby, tell Julie I say hi." I called to James, startling an older woman who was in the middle of ordering a cup of chamomile.

"Take care." He waved back. "Have a good night Lauren, and keep yourself out of trouble."

***

Miami at night was a near different world than Miami during the day. While the temperatures lowered slightly, the spirits remained as high as ever and the very same could be said for the people. I journeyed down the streets, weaving around vacationing tourists and crowds of teenagers until I could hear the sound of the water. I found a space near the shoreline, stopping to watch the ocean waves turn the coast into a smooth, blemish free strip of soaked sand.

It had been exactly two years to date. I had forgotten about the monumental spot on the calendar when I had woken up, followed through with a rather workaday routine and watched the sun start it's descent beneath the ocean. It hadn't been until long after the air was dark that I began to feel the emotional weight of the anniversary come into full effect. Until I expected to look up at the indigo splashed sky and anticipate a bolt of lightning to cut through the humidity and strike the cement below. Maybe it would leave a familiar series of dark veins over the cement, burning car tires that drove over it and angering the city's physical resource trucks. But there was nothing.

I walked the familiar streets for a few minutes, following the street signs before finally making my way to the two story home sitting at the edge of a quiet residential neighbourhood. I knocked on the door, awaiting less pleasant of a surprise than a plate of delicious pancakes and perfectly seared bacon. It swung open, and a big smile greeted me.

"Hey Lauren, you're just in time to watch handsome Matthew give out his last rose." Ally waved me inside, the door locking closed behind me. I kicked off my shoes, shrugging off the bomber jacket that unnecessarily covered my shoulders and tossed it over the door handle.

"Wow, there's nothing more I would love to do at two in the morning than sit down and watch a group of young and beautiful girls clamber for the affection of one handsome man." I replied, following her into the den and planting myself down in the middle of the couch. "I love when TV networks turn finding love into a competition between women."

"Lauren, it's a weekend, take the day off." Normani chuckled on my left. She was stretched out along the couch, her feet now lifting off the cushion and planting on my lap. On the television screen was a chrome filtered network show, featuring a number of young and tanned men and women standing around a set covered in flowers and retro decorations. Normani was busy shovelling a handful of popcorn into her mouth, the surface of which was dusted with some sort of off-orange flavouring dust.

"Where's Sofi tonight?" Ally questioned, sitting down on my right and propping her feet up on the coffee table.

"Sleepover at a friend's place." I replied, for some reason unable to stop watching the transparent reality on the screen. "It's a two night entourage so they can bond before the game tomorrow, then again for her birthday." I yawned. "Apparently this is an important one."

"Is she okay staying overnight for that long with the nightmares?"

"She insists it'll be okay." I told the brunette, finally turning my head. "I told the parents in charge to call me right away if there were any issues, I'll go pick her up."

"You just want her to be home." Normani grinned, using the heel of her socked foot to nudge me in the upper thigh.

Brushing her off, I looked over at Ally. "By the way, you and me have to go to the party supply store tomorrow evening and get a bunch of decorations for her birthday. I want to decorate the apartment as a surprise for Sunday."

"And get a cake?"

"Oh you know we get a cake."

With a laugh of agreement, the girl turned back to the screen, leaving me staring down at my toes.

Ally and Normani had adjusted to life in a quick and seamless transition that only lasted a few weeks. They knew how to network, to seek out the wonders of this open world that interested them most and feed off of it like two fish in a symbiotic relationship. The two of them were capable of putting the past away far better than I was, and never spent more than a moment thinking about the turn of fate that changed their lives from underground teen mutants to functional young adults. They were hard workers with brilliant IQs, young, stylish, and far better adjusted to a world of normality than I had ever been, pre or post Camila.

On the other hand, I was stuck watching pieces fall like the ground beneath a planet's hollow core.

Lauren, I'm worried about you. One of the girls would tell me nearly six times on a good week, whether it be over a spontaneous lunch or a midnight cup of coffee. You're letting the past control your future right now, you can't spend the rest of your life wondering about what could have happened two years ago. That's no kind of mindset to have.

But I wasn't willing to stop watching my ground fall. It wasn't something I could just turn away from like an open operation, or the scene of an accident. I turned my attention back to the screen of the computer and watched as a loud-mouthed host wearing a fancy suit and tie did a one-on-one interview with a particularly young female competitor. Out of the corner of my eye, a shadow crossed the window that sat a few feet to the left of the monitor, something that looked particularly unnatural.

"Did you guys see that?" I questioned, pushing Normani's feet off my lap and squinting at the curtain less window.

"See what?" Normani chewed, glancing at me. "What's up?"

"There's something outside." I stood up, unable to catch any other hint of movement from the currently illuminated den. "You guys don't have some sort of late-night gardener?"

"No." Ally shrugged, still watching the show. "I think you're just seeing things Lauren, there's nothing out there."

Rolling my eyes at her, I started to the front door, heading outside and rounding to the left edge of the property. Some neatly trimmed shrubs and a small garden was situated neatly across the grassy lawn; Normani and Ally's landlord was famous for hating the house itself, but loving the limitless potential that the garden had for experimentation. I crept around the side of the house, eyes peeled for signs of life.

"Hello?" I questioned into the darkness, frowning at my pitifully empty environment. "Is anyone there?"

Some rustling in the bushes a few feet away startled me, and I spun around with a few steps backwards until my shoulder blades touched the side of the house.

"Who's there?" I narrowed my eyes, ready to either scold a peeping tom or tear of the head from some sort of inhuman mess. The bushes rustled again, and from the inner-most part of the trimmed growth emerged a head, a snout, and two perky grey ears. It was a dog, it's fur a black and grey marbled pattern and head much larger than average. I lowered my shoulders, crouching to the ground and holding out my hand to coax it out. "Hi." I offered, meeting it's eyes. The colour was indistinguishable through the dark, but adorable and soft nonetheless. "What are you doing here? Do you have an owner?"

The dog simply stared, tilting it's head to the side for a moment before emerging from the green and revealing about half of it's body. I had to scoot backwards a foot or two, taken aback at how large the animal was. It didn't have a collar, and was reluctant to approach further.

"You're too cute." I grinned, reaching forward slowly and brushing the palm of my hand against the side of it's muzzle. The dog made a soft noise of content, nuzzling against my hand and closing it's eyes momentarily. "Wow..."

"Lauren?" Ally had left the couch and followed me outside, stepping across the garden and looking around. "Hey, did you find anything?"

The moment she spoke, the animal ducked away, taking a few paces backwards into the bushes and vanishing into the darkness. My heart fell a little, and I stood up, watching it dart through the night until it was out out of sight completely. The canine was even larger at it's full reveal, far bigger for a domestic dog but not quite as big as I'd imagine a feral wolf to be. It's friendly and trusting demeanour had me believing that it was far from wild.

"Um... no." I looked at the girl, stepping over a bed of flowers to follow her back to the front door. "Sorry, I guess you were right. I was just seeing things."

***

Freedom was not a concept. It wasn't something breakable, something we could achieve and destroy, or even symbolize with a series of stars on a red, blue and white flag. For us, freedom was a sensation that coursed through our body and pumped our heart, giving us life. For a human like Dinah-Jane, freedom was like an innocent child who could be fought for and protected, while for a fledgling like Normani, it was a lifeline. It was the only thing that kept us alive, for without freedom, history had indicated that we would not have the capacity or logic to survive.

I knew that as I sat down on the couch and fixed my attention back on the television, that a peaceful world was more than any of us could hope for during the time we returned to Miami. That while the general populous were interested in dealing with corruption in the Oval Office, I was waiting in the shadows for the culmination of that corruption to come to it's fruition. For whatever enemy still lurked out there to finally attack the world at it's most vulnerable, broken state.

When the painful episode of the Bachelorette finally came to an over-exaggerated conclusion, Normani declared that she needed to work on burning off the cheddar duster popcorn. I accompanied my friends on a brisk walk through the neighbourhood, wandering without much of a destination.

"I really think that Matthew should have gone with Dana." Normani mused as we moved, trotting like a high-school clique down the sidewalk. "She was so perfect for him, athletic, adventurous, rebellious. Lisa was just too much of a bookworm, I don't think they're going to last very long."

"You never know, opposites can attract." Ally replied, nudging her friend playfully. "You guys wanna go get ice cream? I think Ed's is still open."

"I just ate a pound of Canadian bacon." I informed her with a smirk. "I'm good on the junk food for today."

"Lucky." Normani grinned over her shoulder. "How about Ally and I will go get ice cream, and you can wait outside and hold our purses?"

"You're an ass."

"Testified."

I followed the duo down to the small shop, tucked away in the quiet area and family owned by a sweet elderly man and his enthusiastic daughter. Waiting on the bench outside, I kept my eyes on the streetlamp, which brightened a small circular space of green park on the other side of the road.

The figure appeared, slender and feminine, standing on top of a series of tall, climbable rocks used for children's games. She was dressed in all black, her arms hanging idly by her sides and long brown hair gently lifting off her shoulder with the breeze. I frowned, getting to my feet and haphazardly crossing the road. Camila? I questioned silently, wondering if my dreaded anniversary was coming to an inevitable pinnacle. But as I got closed, the figure was revealed to be anything but. She was so much like Camila, yet the emotions that bubbled up as the light hit her face were the complete opposite of love and longing.

Lucy. The silent name echoed through my head like a feral growl, black dust seemingly cloaking my line of sight and igniting a flame of pure rage in my chest. You're dead. I commanded, holding her cold dark gaze and clenching my fists. I don't care how many times I see you, real or not, I'll kill you over and over again to make sure of it.

She seemed to be unmoving, almost like a statue that was bound to haunt me whenever the sun set. Her image brought forth nothing but guilt within me, reminded me