Fake Love: Intoxicated

Without You, I'm Nothing

It had been two months since the chaos in the Port Ransa market. The pink haired guy was captured right away after he shot the soldier. His name was revealed later that it was Sully Albright, an enlisted personnel. He was sentenced to death but he guilty as charge therefore judge sentenced him to jailed for life on the murder charge. Fears dominated people of Araolia even the murderer was jailed. Gwen Fosters finally decided to publish her story — ‘Fake Love : Intoxicated’ to the public in the name of Snowflakes Publishing, which worldwide published novels and short stories with a philosophy to be a place of remedy to heal people’s spirits after the latest revolution of Araolia in 2023.

Within a week, people kept talking about ‘Fake Love’ instead of heartless murderers. She became well known as the youngest writer of Araolia. Members of Fosters were the first group of readers except Gerald due to he was busily engaged. That night, Foster's siblings were reading the story together in the bedroom. They laughed at the dethronement of a dictatorial government which took advantage of their position to corrupt people at the end of the story. Lilian read it in the morning and did not tell her husband about the story as if this book never existed.

The second Friday of June in the afternoon. Gwen was invited to be interviewed in the capital. Lilian woke up earlier to braid purple hair and also chose white turtleneck dress for her beloved daughter but Gwen denied wearing it.

“White is a lucky color.”

“No, mom. I prefer black,” Gwen disputed, then chose black turtleneck dress to wear instead. “It’s time to cremate the dictatorship.” She said while dressing in a striped grey long coat and black sneakers.

“If your dad heard this, you’re dead!”

“Do I look like I care? Definitely not.” Gwen smiled then pecked on Lilian’s cheeks. “I’ll be back before curfew.” Lilian was crestfallen to her stubborn daughter.

“Take care of mom, J.” said Gwen while walking downstairs to Jared. He just hung up the phone with his patients.

“You’re leaving now?” Jared asked, then Gwen nodded, “Black, huh?” Jared goggled at his sister. “You have a lot of guts, wearing funeral colors to the capital. Are you gonna destroy your reputation or something?”

“This is just a little tease. Don’t worry.”

“That’s what I'm worried about.” Jared tousled her updo purple hair, “Do you want me to go with you?”

“Don’t bother. I’ll be fine.”

By the time Gwen left the house, Jared and Lilian saw her waiting for a taxi at a taxi stop. They wished nothing would happen to her because of the funeral color that she intended to wear for today. She got in the taxi, headed to Louise Franceslo — the capital of Araolia known for its tourism and university which took about an hour from Port Ransa.

- “Without you, I’m nothing,” A verse in First Love by Suga(BTS) that represented his love for music and piano.

When the taxi arrived in the capital. Gwen saw people in the capital wearing the pompous colorful clothes. She wasn’t surprised because it was their casual dress code. Since the revolution, Louise Franceslo has improved to be one of the most spectacular capitals in the world. There were a lot of attractions to visit such as Black Swan theater which had arranged broadways every month, various museums and music festivals around the capital.

Today Gwen had an appointment at a mysterious café which was located in the alley behind the deserted theater. As soon as she got out of the taxi and saw the café with her own eyes, she got chills and ran up her spine immediately. The café was shrouded by tendrils nightshade which reminded Gwen of atmospheres in her story. There were silhouettes of the magazine crew waiting for her inside. They found her interesting as they could understand the hidden meaning of ‘Fake Love’. That’s why they invited her to discuss the story together.

“I’d like to know how you start to write a story.” said the blonde haired interviewer.

“I have written stories since I was young, to be exact, when I was 7 years old. It was after the coup. I was tired of playing with my older brother so mom gave me a piece of paper to do anything.”

“What did you do?”

“I wrote a story. It’s quite complicated,” said Gwen, “I wrote about the first moment that I let my brains work to describe my thoughts่ how gladful i am while writing the story on the blank paper. I supposed it was my first love”

“Such a smart and passionate girl.”

“Oh, don’t flatter me. I’m not that smart,” The humble writer replied, “Well… After that I never write stories anymore because people didn’t use paper anymore. Technology was taking over the world. Paper became the heritage of the post-revolution era and at that time, there were not many writers.”

“How did you cope with that?”

“I waited until 4 years later, I went to the museum nearby dad’s workplace. I saw the black beautiful typewriter displayed in the glass cabinet. Dad said it was the typewriter, an important tool of writers since pre-revolution.”

“Damn! You write your story with a rare typewriter!”

“Yeah, but before dad bought me the typewriter. He asked me to make an agreement with him first.”

“Such a kind dad,” Interviewer admired the parenthood of Gwen’s dad.

Gwen chuckled when she heard that. Buying her a typewriter was the only parenthood of Gerald Fosters that showed to her. He never came back home to have dinner with family at all after he became a politician.

“Well… I made an agreement with him that I will write only good stories.”

“Fake Love was a good story that you have written but, why politics?”

“I didn’t mean to write politics at the beginning. But isn’t that good to write a story about the truth?” Gwen asked them back and looked at the cameraman who was looking at her as he was stunned by her question.

“Are you challenging the government or something?” asked the interviewer. Gwen shrugged her shoulders but smiles were shown on her mouth corner.

“What was your purpose when you wrote and published Fake Love?”

“My purpose, huh? Fake Love is my letter for the motherfucker dictator who governed Araolia. I cried for those who took advantage of people. The three golden rules are fuck up. Araolia needs changes because the real power governing is not for the government but for the people.”

“s**t! I got goosebumps.”

Gwen went back to Port Ransa as soon as she finished an interview. She arrived home at almost 9PM – the curfew, she hastily went upstairs, took off her long coat then hung it on the hanger while undone her hair. She suddenly felt something wrong in her room. Her typewriter was gone from the table. Gwen inhaled, clenching her fist before calling Amanda to ask if she knew who got in her room and stole her stuff but Amanda shook her head. Gwen walked downstairs, looking for her typewriter everywhere in the house.

Gwen stopped at the living room. Tears ran down her cheeks before she said anything. She slowly walked into the room where the fireplace was burning the typewriter that she was looking for, Gwen kneeled on the carpet watching the love of her life was in flames, Gwen helplessly crying like a baby.

“Who burned my typewriter!?” The young writer yelled out, “After the coup, all I know and can do the best is writing. I always love to tell the story, you know that!” Gwen shouted in tears so Amanda and Mitchell ran to embrace her, “Did you forget my first story I wrote for you guys? Did you forget it already? Are you heartless or something?”

There was someone in the corner of the living room. Small gold lightbulb shone on the person who had gray hair, tanned skin and wore an olive-green uniform. Olive green was the color of a veteran who took a position as a representative of coalition government parties.

It was Gerald Fosters. He came back home when he heard rumors in the parliament about the workpiece of the youngest writer that attacked the dictatorship government in the afternoon. He always takes the side for the prime minister, no matter what. He must eliminate the writer who distrust the government. He asked everyone who knew about the youngest writer. The answer showed that it was his daughter.

He had read ‘Fake Love’ to make sure that the rumors weren’t true but his expectations hurt him so bad. Gwen glanced at her father who turned back on her and silently smoked cigarettes. His reaction answered the questions: Who burned the typewriter?

“I know you love to write but you just wasted your potential on writing things that destroyed your life.”

“Did I destroy my life, huh? You burned my typewriter!”

“I bought you a typewriter to write something good!”

“I write the truth! Isn’t that good?!” Gwen yelled louder, “People should know the truth and awake! Sixteen years are too long for people to be kept in silence.”

“You just declared yourself to be an insurgent, Gwen.”

“So what, dad? Should I care about how rebellious I am more than freedom of people in the Araolia? You are politician, you know what is the best for people. Isn’t that you who wasted your power on the dumb and selfish party who care only themselves!?”

Gerald slapped his daughter’s face to keep her mouth shut. The hit was hard so she collapsed on the floor and it created scars on her mouth corner. “Say no more or I hit you again,” Gerald extorted, “Freedom, huh? You are a writer not a heroine. That’s none of your business at all. Snowflakes’s writer must create an inspiring work piece not a political shit to disharmony the country.”

The expression he wore was cold and aloof. Everyone in the room was frightening. Amanda just saw this outrage action for the first time since she worked in the Fosters for ten years. Jared, who just walked his patient out, ran to see what happened in the living room. He saw his sister sat on the floor meanwhile his father towered over Gwen.

“What have you done to her?!” Jared shouted. Gerald didn’t answer but teeth clenched.

“Ha! Politics is not for people except politicians but remember it, dad.” Gwen sniggered as she was pathetic to herself. She gazed at her father who was about to hit her again when she moved her lips. “You can hit me as much as you want. You can change this house into a jail, but you will never steal my voice like what the government has done to the people.”

“That’s enough!” Lilian said while she was holding her daughter and glanced at her husband, begging him to not hit her, “Both of you! Please Stop!”

Gwen got off from mother’s arms to extinguish a fire alone. Gerald was looking at her from the distance with frustration that no one stopped her. She wiped her tears by her arm while she was attempting to take the typewriter out of the fireplace. Fortunately, it didn’t burn much to become ashes.

“You burned my typewriter because you know I’m nothing without it, didn’t you? Well, you’re right. I’m nothing and you just killed me. You might be disappointed to have a rebellious daughter like me. So long, Gerald.”

Gwen left her typewriter where it was — in front of the fireplace. She wasn’t looking at anyone when she walked out the room. Jared said fuck you to his father before he followed his sister. She went upstairs to bring the striped grey long coats with her. He was trying to convince Gwen not to go but she kept silent. She gave a farewell hug to Amanda, Mitchell and Jared before leaving the house where’s not home anymore.

“Miss Gwen Fosters,” A white full-dress uniform officer appeared at the taxi stops, calling out her name as if he was waiting for her. A middle-aged man walked to her and showed a document in his hands. “You’re under arrest for breaking the curfew and disrespecting the government. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

“I want to talk with a lawyer.” Gwen calmly replied.

She consented to be handcuffed by robust officers. When she got in the police vehicle, she looked back at the Fosters house where Jared and Lilian were standing at the front door. She was unable to watch them crying, therefore she looked at the sky instead. Tonight’s sky was full of stars, she closed her eyes and wished those stars were numbers of hope — to release this country from the cage.