The Other Side: Exiled

For her, it was the fire.

For him, it was the voices.

Ella and Kade. They thought they were safe. That they were normal. They were totally unaware of one another's presence until fate had to draw them together.

In each other's eyes they are strangers. But in another reality they are more than friends.

It's just too bad they can't remember any of it.

Now they both face an impending doom from group of powerful people trying to kill them. At the same time trying to figure out what got them into this mess in first place.

But the answer may prove to be more terrifying than the question.

Who are they?


13. Chapter 6.1 – The First Time We Met








“Before we belonged to anyone else, we were each other's.”

― Elizabeth Noble





“That’s right, Ella. Just take it slow,”


My fingers slid gracefully along the sheen marble keys of the glistening piano as I played I Giorni by Ludovico Einaudi. Each note sent a peaceful melody into my heart, emotion rising from dramatic crescendos and diminuendos. A smooth legato sounded like a symphony of tunes dancing the waltz for the first time. An accented note stood boldly out like a soldier marching for war.


My mind was cast back. Moving images played themselves as a silent movie behind my eyes. I remember standing on the balcony, watching painfully as the stars cursed my fate onto me. The moon hiding its beauty splendour from my frightened and prying eyes.


The moment in my dream when I met that stranger. A ghost of an illusion gliding like a wisp across my vision. I remember standing close, next to him, both of us alone together underneath the lonely glare of the street lamp.


“And fine,” I whispered.


After my school exam, I had visited my piano teacher across the road from my burnt house. She smiled sympathetically as I had entered her house. I sat on her sofa, holding a steaming mug of tea in my hand. It never touched my lips. She asked me subtle questions. Did I want biscuits? Did I want somebody to talk to? She kept silent most of the time until I told her I wanted to play her piano. I liked that she didn’t push me. I liked that she didn’t mind when I broke down and cried so hard I felt like throwing up my lungs afterwards.


“If you want you can come over next week,” she said softly as I stood outside her door.


I nodded and left.


There was still a police tape strung around my house.




The street was deserted, silent and stricken with shocking grief. I wanted to visit the place of my parents’ death. Their souls, perhaps, could be wandering the house, searching for their daughter, suffering and mourning in pain from not knowing if she was alive or not. Their memories. Our cherished memories as a family, from when I’d been born to our final moments. At least I could save them.


I took one trembling step. Then another.




She shouted so loud I felt like my skeleton had jumped out of my body.


“What the f-reak!” I stammered, turning to a girl I had never seen before in my life.


“Sorry. You must be Ella Moore, right? The girl who survived the house fire?” she asked. She had wavy blonde hair and black, spider-like lashes.


“Yep,” I said, feeling a dark shadow cast over me. “That’s me.”


“I’m sorry about your parents.”


I had no response to this. She gave me a knowing look.


“Can I ask why you’re here?” I asked, trying my hardest not to appear rude.


“Oh, silly me. I was just walking from school,” she said nonchalantly, eyeing me up and down.




“So what school do you go to?” she asked.


“Oh, just the one down the road. Wetton High.”


“Do you have any friends that go there?” she continued.


“Yeah,” I answered, looking back at her suspiciously. Why was she asking me these questions?


“And what are their names?”


I backed away, a chilling feeling creeping up my spine. This stranger, whoever she was, had no right to know what went on in my personal life. I looked back at her, her clear blue eyes staring back at me. She had a smile on her face, yes, but I could recognise a mask when I saw one. And this, I could tell, was an act. This girl had something dark and unknowing inside her that she was trying to keep hidden from me. This was a game. A chessboard on which I was the pawn and she was the player.


“I need to go now,” I said as I rushed away.


But even as I walked faster, I dared to turn around and check if she was still there.


Creepers. Panic made my heart thump faster. She was still standing there. Smiling.

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