Lost Doves

All kids are entitled to a good life, but that's not always foreseeable. When the oppressed children of Hestia are reaped of their luxurious lives and banished to Sicily, they decide to band together to form a dangerous legion, called "The Young Death", and fight a torturous, bloody war against their unforgiving, tyrannical leader for what used to be theirs. Mariposa Nonecesito loses everything after her dysfunctional family is sent to live in the merciless world of Sicily, and she is determined to get her life back. So when fate visits her house one night during a riot within her city of civil unrest, she takes the opportunity to regain her long lost happiness and joins the Young Death, despite her family's disapproval of her choices. Mariposa goes through many treacherous, nerve-wracking trials to get herself and her family back to Hestia by playing with death itself, testing her emotional limits in the hands of tricky love, and uncovering deadly secrets.

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1. My Own Kind

A/N: Hola, guys! This is a story that is really important to me and I really hope you all like it! If you don't understand something, you probably never will (lol) or will come to understand it in later chapters! And yes, the word "Sicily", is used in this story, but I'm not referring to the Italian island, so chill! I luv Italy! XD. Listen 2 da song above 2 get a better feel for dis story! Please, vote, comment, share, etc. Enjoy the story, but I honestly feel that it's better quality on Wattpad! Cheers! <3

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  "Don't call or text me! I done with you and this family!"

    I watched through my room window, brushing the dingy purple curtains out of my view as my father yelled empty threats at my mother and ran off down the street, away from the house, away from responsibility, and away from life with nothing but his phone and the nice clothes on his back. The locals would probably jump him to try and make a quick buck when they saw what he was wearing, if he didn't sell his clothes and wedding ring immediately. Only Hestians wore such nice clothes, and we'd just been banished from Hestia, like many unfortunate families, a few hours ago.

  "Fine! We don't need you here to make our lives worse! God knows I wouldn't let you ruin mine when you first knocked me up! Good luck finding a job in this Hellhole!" My mother barked so many insults as she hanged out the doorway that she was left breathless a minute later. Her voice cracked every few words, each rise in her firm voice piercing my heart.

    She slammed the door shut and I crawled into my bed, sitting up against the headboard. I hid my head in my knees and let the tears graze them.

  It was bound to happen, I guess...

  The Next Morning...

    I peacefully awoke, my coffee brown eyes fluttering open. I was ready to start the day! Instead of being awoken by the beautiful sunshine shining through my lovely pink curtains to create a bright, pink aura on the smooth white walls, I sat up to a rickety, old bed that creaked with every slight movement I made and the tattered purple curtains with no sunshine to shine through it, due to the humid, clouds blanketing the skies that silent, dim morning.

    I tried to quietly get out of bed, but the creaky bed wasn't on my side at the moment. I liked how soft and comfy the old, dark green carpet with rotten yellow spots felt under my cold feet. It gave me a sense of security after the brutal night my family had had the night before. I winced and rubbed my nape; my new mattress smelled of cheap, old perfume and had a huge depression in the middle of it. I usually slept on my stomach, so my spine had curved inwards for the whole night, which didn't make for a good sleeping position or a good night sleep. Whomever used to sleep there probably lied in bed a lot, and used a little too much perfume.

    I lightly walked to my doorway, the floor creaking under me every few steps as I went to the kitchen to find some breakfast. Well, those videos on life in Sicily my school would always show us in Hestia were right. I opened the freezer to find a bunch of bland microwavable food products (probably filled with GMO's), a pack of frozen chicken (filled with GMO's), and sticky food stains covering the walls of the freezer (crawling with GMO's). Considering what the educational videos had shown us, if I ate any of this filth after being raised on such a healthy, organic diet all my life, I'd vomit my guts out thirty minutes later.

    I grimaced and searched the fridge instead: packaged hot dogs, eggs, expired milk, bologna, and some other expired stuff. I sighed and grabbed the eggs, which thankfully hadn't expired yet. Unlike the kids in Hestia, who relied on their parents for everything, I knew how to cook, well the basic foods, anyway.

    As I preheated the rusty skillet on the rusty kitchen stove, I flinched at the unexpected sound of my mother's voice some feet behind me in the living room,

  "When you eat that, you take tiny nibbles and eat slow, alright? I don't wanna be cleaning up vomit this early in the mornin'." I turned around to see bags under her worn out eyes and her hair falling in all directions. She looked like she'd been fighting for her life. Well, actually, she had, all of our lives. She'd tried her hardest to keep our family living decently in Hestia where the olive trees stood strong, but our olive tree's branches turned brown and brittle as the years passed.

  "Okay." I nodded and turned back to my cooking. I heard her footsteps growing nearer, then I felt her tender, golden brown arms wrap around me.

  "I know last night was upsetting for you, and I apologize for not being able to give you and brother better lives. We're gonna be fine, just trust me, Mari."

  "It's okay," I silently replied. "You didn't do anything wrong, Mom. Things like this...just happen. 'You want any eggs?" I kindly inquired, trying to change the subject. She released me and tried to keep a happy tone, "No, thank you." She sucked her lips in. "I'm good."

    After I ate my breakfast, I was about to go outside when she stopped me again. How do mothers know?...

  "Don't you go out there, lil' girl! This is Sicily! It ain't safe outside no mo'!" she exclaimed from her room. I sighed and went back to my own room, rummaging through drawers out of curiosity. I found much lingerie and some rusty, bloody razors too, weirdly enough. I opened the closet door, my eyes widening with surprise when I saw nothing but dark emptiness and a simple note sitting there on the floor. As I picked it up and got a better look at it, I noticed tear stains staining some of the words, but it was still legible for the most part; unfortunately a lot of Sicilians could barely read and write, due to the failing education system.

  "Dear Aunt Pam,

    When I had no choice but to live with you after my father was shot, I wasn't estetic (ecstatic, I think?), and I realize that my feelings are resonable now. You dont care for me or what vile things I have to do just to support myself at all, so you shouldnt care when I die, right? I'm tired of living in this merciless, godforsaken sh*thole of a world. If I can never get back to Hestia, what's the point of living? I remember the doves that would fly over my Hestian house when i was little. They stopped coming around one day for some reason. I guess my parents' failing marrege (marriage?) scared them off. I wish i could've flown away with them and kept my freedom in Hestia.

Goodbye,

Lyla"

    I gasped and dropped the note, abruptly shutting the closet door and scrambling back into bed. I wrapped my hazelnut arms around myself in a calming hold.

  Stop freaking out, Mari. Things like suicide are normal in Sicily. Just remember the videos they showed you in school back in Hestia. I tried to calm myself with soothing thoughts of my parents, brother, and I driving around in the car with the happy-go-lucky Hestian music playing as we drove around the colorful, vibrant city. Hestia had the best music. The songs were in a bunch of different languages, but the people still loved it nonetheless. My favorite pop group, Blue Rose had mysteriously disappeared though after a they released their best song, "Rusty Bells". I loved the dark, yet vivacious vibes of the melody and lyrics, the way each of the girls so beautifully reached the whistle notes as the song's mystic octaves rose and fell. I never knew what the song was about, but it sure made me feel things I didn't know I was capable of feeling.

    After a few seconds, my breathing slowed back to its normal pace and I brushed my long, black hair out of my face. I went to grab the paper again.

  "I am so sorry, Lyla," I whispered to the paper as if it were really her. "All of us Sicilians are being consumed by the inner voids that our missing parents left, some faster than others. We're all here with you. You didn't have to go, even if it seems like there's no way out. I'm here for you."

    I hid the note in my nightstand drawer and lied down again for a bit.

  Parts of my family are probably here like Lyla's, I thought. My parents would always shush my brother and I whenever we asked about the rest of our family, but we always knew they were in the dishonorable world of Sicily. I wonder where in this vast, scary world I can find them? Would they accept me as part of the family?

  Hours Later...

    I still lied in bed, sulking about my lost future. No high school graduation. No college. No steady job. Nothing. There was a knock at the front door. My mother rushed to look through the peephole to find nobody there. She then opened the door and found a stack of mail plastered on its front. I desperately rushed to the entrance, almost knocking her over.

  I need fresh air!

    My nose wrinkled and I immediately covered my it, gagging for mercy from the revolting scent of chemicals and landfill that intruded my nostrils.

  "Girl, quit bein' silly and get back in here before you let some bugs in." Mom rolled her eyes and left the threshold. She sat on the living space couch, only to have the leg, supporting the part of it that she sat on, fall.

  "Ooh!" she squeaked as she and the broken couch slumped down. I giggled and closed the door behind me. She yelled for me to come back inside, but I need some time to get used to my surroundings. I stood on the unstable front porch/balcony of our weak, shaky tree house, yes tree house, and examined the other dying tree house homes around our own. I hated how humid and disgusting the air felt, but at least it was silent. We were taught that Sicilians awoke very late, maybe at 12 or 1 PM, if not later.

  Well, I guess I'm finally with my own kind, I thought, sitting down on the edge of the porch where a feeble ladder and rope were nailed into the porch. No more having to hide my issues from my peers; we all have them in Sicily.

  Meanwhile in Hestia ...

    His father happily clapped his hand down on his raven-haired son's shoulder. The boy looked up with two, wide muddy brown, almond-shaped eyes, stunned by his father's smile, his genuine smile.

  "Aren't you happy, Tyler?" the man asked as they watched a jet black-haired woman walking to the front door of the house through the luxurious living room. She sat a bright blue suitcase on the smooth, wooden brown floor before the door. Tyler diffidently blushed and avoided his dad's eyes as he too smiled.

"Yes, Dad," he simply replied.

The woman then walked up to the father and engulfed him in a melancholy hug and many kisses. She tried to hug Tyler, but he pushed her away with a standoffish scowl.

  "Bye, robot," he scoffed. She gave him a hurt smile, grabbed her things, and was out the door.

  It's only a matter of hours before my real mom comes back, he thought, and his lost simper found its way back to his lips. She'll show you that nobody can ever replace her, especially not a stupid robot. 

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A/N: Thx if u made it this far! I tried to make this short and sweet, but still informative on my characters' backstories. Tell me what u think in the comments, vote, share, etc! Luv u all! <3

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