IVITA

You only live…forever.

CHAPTER ONE.

Cameras, more cameras and then even more cameras.

Interviews, more interviews and then even more interviews.

I was finally glad to take a break from my new sort of celebrity life; I was the ‘Miracle Child’ – the sole survivor of the accident on the Betsy Ross Bridge that killed seventy-two people.

As an emancipated minor and a seventeen year old high school graduate, there was only so much I could do for money.

Surviving this tragedy was more than just a miracle; it was a blessing in disguise. I squeezed out as much money as I could from these interviews, what was a struggling girl like me supposed to do?

I walked home, a month after the accident, with my bag of groceries clutched to my chest. It was late and all I wanted to do was have dinner on my sofa while watching some terrible reality television show.

The usually crowded street that was on my way home was surprisingly empty that night; the night was quiet – no excessive honks or swearing taxi men within ear shots; the foggy street was eerie; the full moon was up.

“Ivita?”

I heard my name come out of what seemed to be the endless darkness of the night. At the moment, I realized I was the only one the street…then I wasn’t. Leaning against a car ahead of me was a young boy who appeared to be within my age bracket, he continuously flicked a lighter open and close – tormenting the fire with freedom and then having freedom elude the fire.

“Yes?” I answered cautiously.

I was used to people coming up to me on the street, people who recognized me from the TV, people who generally just wanted to congratulate on my second chance at life. He was not one of those people.

“Can I help you?” I asked him, standing at what I had believed was a safe distance away.

“I’ve seen you on TV. You’re a very lucky girl.”

I smiled nervously. “Thanks.”

He had not looked at me once.

Eventually, he finally stopped staring at his feet and looked up at me with piercing blue eyes; I stared curiously at the face I would later come to define as gorgeous.

“What do you want?” I asked finally, my fear giving way.

He put the lighter away, “I just have a few questions for you.”

This was the part where I was supposed to run, I knew I was definitely supposed to run but I couldn’t bring myself to move, I was immobilized by fear.

Run, he’s dangerous. My mind kept telling me, but all I could do was let my hands give way – letting the grocery bag fall to the ground- when I saw the silver gun come out from under his overcoat.

“This won’t hurt a bit.” He said slowly as he pointed the gun at me.

I stared blankly at him.

Scream, shout, duck, do something for chrissake, RUN!

I continued staring blankly at him, trying to figure what I had done to this person to make him want to kill me.

 “It’s okay,” He said “You’re already dead.”

Bang! Sounded the gun, ringing deadly through the silent night.

***