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*Final instalment in the 'Little British Girl' Trilogy *
One year after Elia’s death, and the entire planet is rebelling. With the news of Xander’s assassination attempt against his own daughter alarming the world, Elda and Luci are leading a powerful resistance, competing with the Southern rebellium, with no powerful government to stop either of them.
And yet, nothing seems to have changed.
Annabeth, alongside Beverly, Zacharia, and Steve Ryans, hide out amidst the chaos , unable to prevent what’s happening right in front of them. Disheartened and helpless.
Then one day, a girl turns up, a girl with heterochromia, with some interesting letters, and some even more interesting information. Could it be that Xander Moore had another daughter? And that Luci has a half-sister?

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1. Chapter 1

The ground I’m spread out across is damp and soggy, and there’s something on my face, something wet...water...rain? Yes, it’s raining. My eyes dart open, and I suddenly remember where I am. The woods. I came with Daniel to help Elia, we found the note...she’d gone after Luci on her own...but, but Luci attacked me, she got my gun and-and...what then?

I sit gradually sit up, my head throbbing. My vision begins to settle, and my eyes focus on something...a gun, a gun splattered with blood. I get to my feet and rush over, examining the weapon. I look around, but there’s no one else here.

I don’t understand.

Where’s Daniel? Where’s Luci? Where’s Elia? What happened? I remember the gun being snatched, I remember Luci saying something...I remember lunging in front of Daniel…but that’s it. I stand back, sighing. Suddenly, I see something in the corner of my eye.

A rock, and under it, a slip of paper. I walk over and pick it up, recognising the handwriting immediately as Daniel’s.

She’s dead. I’m sorry.

Daniel.

My eyes dart open with a start at the sound of a beeping to my left, my alarm clock sounding as seven a.m approaches. I slam my hand hard down on the top, silencing it quickly before I sit up, giving my heart a chance to calm down. I bury my head in my hands, forcing back the tears that threaten to escape me, forcing back the memories. Then three sharp knocks interrupt my peace.

“What?” I snap, fighting the urge to smash something against the door.

“It’s just me,” Beverly calls from the other side, sighing, “Just thought you might want to know that breakfast is ready, Steve made pancakes.”

“Alright, I’m sorry…” I apologise, finally waking up from my nightmare, “I’ll be down in a minute.” I wait until I can no longer hear he footsteps before I get out of bed, walking heavily other to my dresser, chucking on a mud-stained pair of jeans and a slightly-dirty tank top, quickly spraying my myself with dollar-store perfume to hide the smell before I leave my room.

I pause at the top of the staircase, staring down into the alive house below me. I don’t want to do this. I want to go back to bed and sleep through today. I don’t want them to talk about what happened, to reminisce about her. I just want today to end already.

I shake my head, pulling myself together and storming down the stairs, refusing to be broken by something as small as a number in a box on a calendar.

“Good morning Annabeth.” Steve greets me as I walk into the kitchen.

“Good morning Steve,” I force a smile, “Thanks for making breakfast...again.”

“It was no trouble,” He grins, “I just like to be helpful.”

“You don’t need to be helpful, we’re the ones crashing at your house.” I remind him, walking over to fill my glass with water.

“You’re always welcome here, you know that.”

I smile, for real that time, heading over to take my place at the table. Zacharia’s already sat down when I get there, scanning through the morning paper. He looks up when he sees me, reacting subtly to my presence.

“Did you not sleep well again last night?” He asks, not looking up from his paper, mildly concerned.

“Nope.” I sigh, unsure of what else to say on the matter. I had a nightmare again, or rather, I revisited a bad memory. I’ve been doing it for a while, almost every single night. Everyone knows it, and there’s nothing much anyone can do about it, so why bother discussing it?

“Didn’t you try the tablets I got for you?” He checks, turning a page.

“It’s not the getting to sleep that’s the problem.” I remind him, sitting down. “What’s in the news today?” I ask, quickly changing the subject.

“The usual, the rebellium are wreaking havoc in the South, Luci and Elda are wreaking havoc in the North, civilians are being caught in the crossfire...and the only think the government cares about is protecting the world leaders, and maybe trying to prevent the odd attack here and there.” He summarises, his tone bitter and cold. I don’t blame him, it makes me angry too. The government know they’re fighting a losing battle, and so they’ve given up, not caring about how many innocent people will die as a result. Ever since Luci and Elda released Report A341 into the public things have been getting progressively worse and worse. Nobody wants the government to win this war, but nobody’s really sure of who will take over if they don’t, or who they want to take over. Luci and Elda think it should be them, and they don’t have any problem with killing anyone who disagrees. The Rebellium are pretty much the same. So, here we are, with Luci and Elda in the North, and The Rebellium in the South. It’s ironic how zoning seems to have managed to survive this. Zacharia looks up again, “Are you sure you don’t want to get out there and do something about it?” As soon as he says it I feel a lump swell up in my throat, my conscience attacking me.

“I did, we did.” I remind him, “All it did was nearly get us all killed. I’m done. I give up.”

“I never thought I’d hear Annabeth Garcia Jackson say those words…” Beverly trails off, coming up from behind me and taking her seat to my right.

“Not knowing when to quit can get you killed.” I shrug, laying it out as it is, too tired to bother attempting to sugarcoat it. Beverly just hums under her breath and fills up her glass with water, sitting patiently. My own words still echoing in my mind, I reach into my back pocket, pulling out the creased piece of paper. I re-read the words inscribed on it, stroking the ink with my ring finger.

She’s dead. I’m sorry.

Daniel.

“You need to stop torturing yourself with that note.” Beverly tells me, sighing at my behaviour. “Throw it away, get rid of it...it’s only bringing you pain.” I shake my head vigorously, she’s got it all wrong.

“No, it brings me hope,” I correct her, “It tells me that he’s out there somewhere safe and healing, that he’s doing what’s best for him, and putting himself first...and that makes me happy.”

“It doesn’t bother you how he just left you there?” Zacharia checks, surprised by my words.

“I’m no stranger to my cousin ignoring me.” I say, cracking a smile and even managing a small laugh. It’s true. Ever since we were kids and I wanted him to hunt for easter eggs with me in spring, or go trick or treating with be in autumn...Daniel was always too busy doing his own thing to be bothered about his annoying younger cousin Annabeth.

“Does that mean you’re not going to reach out to him?” Zacharia guesses, “You do know where he is after all.”

“I say she should let him come to her.” Beverly cuts in, replying before I get a chance to, “She doesn’t owe him anything.”

“Look, Elia died, and that hurt Daniel, he needed some time to grieve and heal alone, so I respected that and gave him his space. When Daniel’s ready, he’ll come back, and if he’s never ready, well then...then I guess he has all my sympathy because that sounds pretty awful if you ask me.” I snap, raising my voice a little as I speak. I don’t need them getting involved in my own family dramas. We have enough on our plate as it is.

Luckily, Steve comes in a few moments later with plates full of pancakes, shattering the tension around the table. I shove the note back into my pocket and begin to dig in, keen to get away from this breakfast table as soon as possible.

“Thank you again for all of this Mr Ryans.” Zacharia thanks him, finally putting the newspaper down, resting it on the floor beside his chair.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s my pleasure.” Steve smiles. I can’t tell if he’s lying or not. He’s like Elia in that sense, so good at calming everyone down that you forget to think about how they’re doing.

“Well, anyway, Beverly and I should be out of you hair soon enough. We’re both planning on heading to the South soon, I just want to go home, but Beverly wants to give Grace a good smack in the face.” I can’t help but laugh at the end, nearly choking on my food. The resistance had died and dispersed over this past year, and Grace took up a new leading role in the rebellium, much to Beverly’s disapproval.

“She’ll get what's coming to her...that’s for sure.” Beverly murmurs, smirking.

“Yes, well, hopefully they all will.” Steve says. The smile on his face dies shortly after, the second meaning to his words hitting and sinking in, dragging the mood of the table done with it.

Suddenly, we’re all reminded of today’s date.

March 29th.

The anniversary of Elia’s death.

“Yes, they will.” Beverly breaks the silence, her tone as firm as the stone-like stare in her eyes.

“Max and Elia died fighting, they died believing, they died with hope...good on them for that,” Zacharia nods, raising his glass up towards the centre of the table, “To Max and Elia.”

“Max and Elia.”

“Max and Elia.”

“Max and Elia.” I echo, bringing the cold class to my lips and forcing myself to drink.

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