The Generation Series: REBIRTH

Sakura had spent years wrestling with her struggles around people. Words often failed her—she could not find them, or they tumbled out wrong when she did. Her awkwardness made her an easy target for judgment from children her age, leaving her isolated. Making friends had always been a mystery she could not solve, so she never made any on her own. Instead, she resigned herself to waiting for others to reach out, retreating into the safety of her darkened room.

But one day, everything began to shift. The strange man she'd met earlier had sparked something in her, and she added him to her visitation list—a small but significant decision that gave her a glimmer of hope. For the first time in years, Sakura felt a sliver of joy at speaking to someone "normal."

She longed for a connection beyond therapists and those who shared her struggles. And though a small, cynical part of her joked that if the man turned out to be dangerous and succeeded in kidnapping her, at least she would not die alone in her room.

On the first visitation day, Sakura sat nervously in the barren white visitation room, her hands trembling slightly in her lap. Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the plain walls and the small table in the center, where two chairs were opposite each other. Robbie entered the room with a warm smile, his kind eyes immediately putting Sakura at ease. He wore a casual button-down shirt and black jeans. Sitting across from Sakura, he leaned back in his chair, giving her space.

"It's nice to see you again," Robbie said softly, his voice filled with empathy. "You have trouble speaking with people, so take your time. Tell me everything from the beginning, and we can get to the top together."

Sakura nodded, grateful for Robbie's patience and understanding. Taking a deep breath, she began to open up about her past. She recounted her early years of abuse and survival, growing up in a group home in Ireland from the start of primary school. The other children bullied her relentlessly, and no matter how much she begged for help, the adults turned a blind eye. Eventually, a social worker found a potential family for her overseas. Her foster family, eager to rid themselves of the burden, sent her away without a second thought, and Sakura admitted she had felt the same relief. Perhaps she was better off somewhere she could be cared for and loved.

The social worker accompanied her to America, where Sakura's life seemed to take a turn for the better. In middle school, she met Athen, her boyfriend, and Lillian, her best friend. For a while, life was good. But the family she had been placed with soon began to reject her, their patience wearing thin over her awkwardness and struggles to communicate. Once again, she found herself back in foster care, alienated and adrift in the American foster care system.

Everyone seemed to misunderstand her—except for Athen. He had loved her deeply, fiercely, in a way no one else had. He accepted every part of her, even her darkest corners, and supported her without hesitation. He loved her so dearly that he would have willingly poured the gasoline just to let her strike the match and watch the world burn.

When the leaves turned vibrant shades of gold and crimson, and a light frost kissed the ground, Sakura ran away in her black gothic dress and combat boots. As a middle schooler without a real family, she believed no one would come looking for her. Exhausted from living with people who didn't care, she convinced herself that the world would be better off without her, leaving her only option: to disappear.

In the sprawling park beneath the iconic Hollywood sign, she met Athen under the dim glow of a half-moon. Emerging from the shadows in his gothic trench coat carrying a small black bag over his shoulders, he spotted her on the path and called, "What the bloody hell is going on? Why the late meetup?"

As tears streamed through her trembling fingers, Sakura broke down, burying her face in her hands. "Get me the feck outta here, Athen," she pleaded, her voice shaking. "I can't live with 'em anymore."

"What happened?" Athen asked, rushing to her side. He wrapped his arms around her, wiping away her tears. Though he listened intently, his expression betrayed that he already knew the answer.

Sakura sniffled, her words muffled by his chest. "The shitehawk of a man is piss drunk again," she whispered.

Athen clenched his jaw, his frustration barely contained. "I wish I could help," he said softly, "but it's not time yet."

Sakura pulled back, her brow furrowing in confusion. "What are ye talkin' 'bout, Athen?"

Avoiding her question, Athen glanced toward the mountains and gestured. "There's an old, abandoned house up there. Probably someone's summer getaway. We could use it for now."

Sakura studied him momentarily, noticing his unusual behavior—how he seemed uneasy, sweating slightly and avoiding her gaze. Though the shift in his demeanor unsettled her, she decided not to press him further. Maybe, she reasoned, he was hiding a surprise for her, something he did not want to spoil.

"Fine," she replied, exhaling a shaky breath. "Take me."

Athen opened his mouth to speak but faltered, letting out a heavy sigh. He shrugged, resigned, and guided her toward the hidden path. Fireflies lit their way, flickering like tiny lanterns in the darkness, leading them deeper into the unknown, and the trees swayed side to side in the black of the night.

The summer cottage stood at the edge of a dense forest, shrouded in mist that clung to the ground like a ghostly veil. The paint on its wooden panels had long since faded to a weathered gray, and ivy crept up one side of the structure, weaving into the cracks. It was not much, but to Sakura, it felt like a sanctuary far removed from the chaos of her foster home.

Athen pushed the creaking front door open, stepping aside to let Sakura enter first. "Here it is," he said. "I know it's not much, but it's quiet."

Sakura stepped inside, her black combat boots clicking against the old hardwood floor. Her long black hair fell over her shoulders like a silken curtain, framing her pale face. The faint moonlight streaming through a cracked window glinted off the silver chains and crosses that adorned her gothic dress. She glanced around, taking in the simple interior: a small fireplace with a stone hearth, a dusty sofa with sagging cushions, and a kitchen corner with chipped countertops.

"My new gaff, grand," she said quietly with relief.

Athen followed her inside, brushing his long black hair from his piercing blue eyes. His gothic trench coat swayed slightly as he moved, the chains on his boots jingling softly. He placed the bag he'd been carrying on the floor near the couch and turned to face her. "No one's lived here in years," he explained. "But it's sturdy. I've been fixing it gradually every time I come out here."

Sakura wandered to the fireplace, running her fingers over the cold stone. "I cannot thank ya enough," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "For all of this. We were but wee babes when we first met."

Athen stepped closer; his expression was severe but gentle as he chuckled. "We met two years ago, and coming of age is approaching."

Sakura turned to him, her dark eyes shimmering with gratitude. She felt a tiny spark of hope for the first time in ages. The two of them set to work. Athen gathered wood from the surrounding forest for the fireplace while Sakura swept the floors with an old broom she found in a corner. They worked in silence, a comforting quiet that needed no words.

"I'll grab some firewood," Athen said, opening the creaky door and letting in a gust of cold night air. "Don't wander off, alright?"

Sakura nodded, her voice barely above a murmur. "Okay."

Athen stepped outside, disappearing into the darkness as the door shut behind him. The stillness of the abandoned cottage wrapped around her like a heavy blanket. She rubbed her hands together, her breath visible in the chilly air.

Exploring further, she wandered into one of the small bedrooms. The space was barren, save for a worn mattress lying on the floor, its surface draped with a dusty quilt that had seen better days. She pulled the quilt free, shaking off a cloud of dust, and carried it back to the living room.

Sakura settled onto the old couch, tucking the quilt around her as she kicked off her boots. The hearth sat cold and empty, but the promise of warmth lingered in her mind. She closed her eyes for a moment, lost in thought.

Before long, the door creaked open again. Athen stepped inside, his arms full of firewood. He worked quickly, arranging the logs in the hearth and flicking his lighter until a small flame caught. The fire crackled to life, its warm glow chasing away the shadows that clung to the walls.

Athen dropped onto the couch beside her, leaning back with a satisfied grin as the fire grew more substantial. "It's not exactly a mansion," he said, the smirk on his lips playful. "But it's ours now."

Sakura leaned her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes momentarily. She whispered, "Life always found a way to remind me to be grateful I was born."

Athen leaned back, resting his head against the couch. After silence, he asked, "If you'd been born here in the States and ended up as president, what kind of leader do you think you'd be?"

Sakura turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "Where's that comin' from? Why such a random question?"

He shrugged, his blue eyes glinting in the firelight. "I just want to know what kind of person you'd become after everything the universe has thrown at you. Would you rise above it, or would you end up the villain of your own story?"

Her expression darkened as she pulled the quilt tighter around her shoulders. "Everyone called me a monster 'cause I couldn't communicate like a normal lass. Growin' up, I didn't always know what was right or wrong, but I did know what it felt like to be judged, to be pushed aside. The reason for that is that I've always tried to be kind and respectful of other people's feelings. I'd never want anyone else to feel the way I did."

Athen tilted his head, a slight, thoughtful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Most people would take all that pain and use it to make others suffer, to force the world to feel what they felt. But not you. You're... different, Sakura. Special."

Her frown softened into a faint smile. "If I were a queen, the world would know my name. I'd offer refuge to anyone trapped by their painful past."

"Ah, so you'd be like an American democrat," Athen teased, a playful glint in his eye. "I avoid politics like the plague. All it does is divide people. You could have a lifelong friend, but the second you're on opposite sides of the political fence, it's like none ever mattered."

The bustling crowd leaving the visitation room interrupted Sakura's story. Chairs scraped against the floor as families gathered their belongings and left. A janitor moved through the room, swapping out sizeable black trash bags for fresh ones, signaling the day's end.

Leaning back in his chair with his arms and legs crossed, Robbie listened intently. "How did you even get the drugs?" he asked.

Sakura sighed deeply, her Irish accent tinged with regret. "Spring had come, and I met an old fella in the woods. He handed me his stash, claimin' it was some magical cure. The eejit had me believe a wee bit of confetti could fix everything."

"You were desperate," Robbie whispered, sympathy softening his tone.

"I was," Sakura admitted, her voice quieter now. She glanced around the room, aware of the dwindling time. She hurried to finish her story as the staff cleaned up, signaling the day's close.

Sakura described that fateful spring afternoon. She was alone in the cabin, watching flower petals and leaves swirl in the breeze outside the shattered window. Athen gathered firewood and hunted rabbits for dinner; she knew he wouldn't return for hours.

Lying on the couch, her arms rested above her head, she pulled out a small bag of red pills. The promise of escape, even if fleeting, had been too tempting to resist.

But the moment she swallowed them, everything went wrong. Her world spun uncontrollably. For a brief moment, she felt good—free—but then her stomach twisted violently. Her vision blurred, her eyes darting uncontrollably. Her heart pounded as if it would burst.

She rolled off the couch, hitting the floor hard. That's when the nausea overwhelmed her, and she vomited all over herself.

Sakura paused, her voice trembling. "That's all I remember from that night," she whispered.

Robbie sat in stunned silence, his gaze locked on her as he tried to process the weight of her words. The janitor's clanging trash bins and the chatter of departing visitors faded into the background. The room felt heavier now, the story lingering in the air like a shadow.

Conveniently, Athen had returned earlier than expected that afternoon, carrying more pheasants than rabbits. Sakura vividly remembered the way he later recounted the events of that day. He had walked into the cabin with a proud grin, loudly announcing, "Hey, guess what I caught today!"

But the moment he stepped inside, the silence struck him as unnatural. The house, usually alive with Sakura's movements or occasional remarks, felt eerily still. An unshakable unease settled in his chest, heavy and suffocating.

Following his instincts, Athen approached the couch, his stomach twisting with dread. That's when he saw her—collapsed on the floor, pale and lifeless, her body covered in vomit.

Somehow, he claimed, he managed to lift her frail body and carry her down the treacherous mountain to find help. The sheer distance, though, made her doubt his story. The cabin was far too remote, and the walk was impossibly long. By her own calculations, she would have died before they reached safety.

No matter how often Athen told the story, Sakura could never reconcile the timeline. She had no memory of what transpired that evening, and Athen never offered more detail than his initial account. The truth of how she survived remained a mystery.