A cold splash drenches me, waking me up to Gomes’ mischievous grin and a wooden bucket in his arms. I leap out of my bed and kick him lightly, “I swear to Prince Carlos I will have your head on my dinner plate if you do that again.” He laughs at me and fake winces.

“Very scary, Angelina.” Gomes mocks fear as he puts the bucket down on the stone floor, a slight echo is heard.

I sigh. That boy will be the death of me. I have roomed with Gomes for as long as I have been in this “royal guard.” We were originally bunk mates, forced together in a room full of other grimy street boys.

Confusing and concerning to some, as I am genetically female, but I was mistaken for a boy. The only reason they would get that impression is for my very petite stature, lack of chest (for being a child although it still has not improved over my maturity) and raggedy short hair, I was found and taken in. I really forget who found me, she was pretty that’s for sure, a princess I bet. It felt straight out of those fairy tales, I almost couldn’t believe it, like God gave me a second chance at life. This second chance, however, wasn’t glamorous like the stories. The boys taken in ranged from orphans to the homeless, even vandals.

One of these vandals was Gomes, originally asserting his dominance out of the group by fighting the smaller boys (or at least scary the ever living Christ out of them). Threatening the younger, scrawnier boys, with the only thing he had brought over, a carved knife his uncle made for him. The only way he was able to keep it, as I was very curious how he was allowed such a weapon in our cell, was that he made it very clear this was all he had left of his family.

I felt sorry for him and so did most people.

The sob story brought the Spanish Guard to let him keep it, and he only took it out behind closed doors. During the time of our bunking we developed a relationship, it was a brotherly love, we fought and argued like children, but at the same time had rare vulnerable moments. I’m the only one who's seen Gomes cry. It’d happen in the middle of the night (when the rats are even asleep) and he’s scared awake by his nightmares. The poor boy doesn’t realize he goes to me, forgetting about the entire situation in the morning. I don’t plan on telling him about that, seeing it’d hurt his ego.

Over the course of these years we got older, stronger, more experienced. Our cell got changed into a small cobblestone room with two beds, where we stay now, and where I was rudely awakened. We only did such outlandish things if we were going under attack, or if we woke up late. I didn’t think I overslept, seeing as it was still dark outside. I wiped some more water off of my face, now questioning his behavior.

“Why’d you wake me up?” He was across the room now, not even facing me till I broke the silence of my thoughts.

“Oh, yeah,” Gomes dug in his pocket, pulling out a small crinkled paper before squinting at the scribbled Spanish, “Angelina..reportar a...Emperor Charles... ahora.”

To be continued.

Edgy, she thought, gazing into the light of the flame. This was very edgy, even to her standards.

All she had to do was bring the old birthday candle’s flicker of fire into her mouth and extinguish it with her own tongue.

Simple, right?

No matter how much she was threatened by the prospect, she had to do this to join their ranks.

The candle was held by its unlit end as she slowly hovered the fire over her slowly parting lips, a small tremble as she did so. She could taste the wax dripping dangerously close to her tongue.

3, 2, 1.

She bit down on the flame, charring her tongue and leaving a smoky taste in her mouth, but she liked it. It was only her mouth that had any contact with the now extinct candlelight, but her whole body felt like it was on fire, trembling with adrenaline. She knew she done the deed.

A familiar demon pops up across from her, mouth spread in a wicked grin. “You did it, edgelord.”

The girl simply takes out the candle from her mouth and discards it in the trash. “Yeah, I did. So?”

“Alright, alright.” The demon snaps his fingers and a crimson portal appears besides them. “You’re welcome to mess with the fires with me now.”

This was gonna be fun.

Hey.

I know it’s been a while.

I’ve seen the normal life we had fade away.

You left in February.

It’s almost May.

Your birthday. Another birthday with you. Sorry- without you.

Seventeen, quite the scene, kind of wish you were here with me.

I know they say the air is cleaner north,

And the people sweeter down south.

But nothing has left a bitter taste quite like this.

My friends have gotten used to your absence.

Sometimes they ask if you’re okay. If you have new friends yet. If you found a new girlfriend yet.

That stings, I won’t lie.

But it’s bittersweet. Like everything is.

I know you’ll be happier with time.

A new state, new friends, new life to live.

To be honest.

I’d rather you stay.

But if it means your happiness.

And a future brighter than the one we had

By all means

Go.

I won’t promise that we will have the life we wanted together.

But I’m sure it will be akin to the one you have now.

Happy birthday.