Eliane Kingsley

Braking his leg is what forced us to move. You'd never think any of this would be  because of the registry, but changes needed to be made, drastic ones. The kind that forced us to change our entire purpose for having him.

At the age of eight, Liam had fallen off his bike, because of the angle he'd been at it resulted in him braking his fibula in his right leg. I knew from the sharp and urgent cry he sobbed, it was broken. I'd never heard him cry like that before. He tried to wipe the tears away and not show any discomfort he was in, but was unable to hold any of it back. The pain was intense and my only thought was get him to the E.R.

Eminently he was taken in. While I filled out papers and called Martin to let him know what had happened the nurse took him to radiology department. Twenty minutes later I was seated by his side as the doctor reviewed the x-ray.
After a moment he looked at me, "Yep it's broken." Abrasively and he continued, "I don't see any reason to fix it, in fact I recommend donating his organs so a more deserving person can have them."

Shocked and utterly horrified by his comment I retorted, "Over a broken leg?" I paused a moment, "I'm sorry, but I don't see the problem?" Instead of looking at me directly he flipped through Liam's file.

"The problem is when people like you go and experiment with what's natural and disrupt the basic laws of nature."

"There's nothing wrong with him, it's a broken leg. And as for you telling me I've experimented with nature, you can shut the hell up!"

"Mama, if you're going to get irate I'll have to call security and have you escorted out. This is my patient and according to the laws I have the right to decide if he's fit enough to resume a healthy lifestyle. And as section 236 of the Clone Registration Act indicates I have that authority to make that decision."

His tone was belittling and arrogant as a smug smile spread across his face.  Instead of saying another word I sat there quietly, thinking what I should do. I'm sure he saw it as my way of cowering, but I could have cared less what he thought of me. He was saying all of this in front of my son. I'd run across his type before, outspoken- uninformed- and heartless toward human clones. People who didn't see them as human, like an empty shell that was disposable.

"I'll get you the forms." and he left us in the examination room. Instead of waiting for a set of forms I would never sign. I grabbed Liam.

"Where are we going?"

"Well, we're not staying here, there's no way I'll let them do anything like that to you. Let's go!" Once we reached the car I called Marten.

"You did the right thing, I'll be home in a few minutes, keep him from moving until I can set the leg."

Getting Liam to sit still was easy, it hurt too badly to move and the walk out to the car from the E.R, just about started the tears all over again. I felt so heartbroken  that I couldn't do more for the pain, a few ibuprofens, seemed to help, but really didn't do much to relieve all of the pain.

Marten picked up a few supplies for a cast and a set of crutches. Wrapping his leg beautifully, considering it had been years since he'd set a broken bone.

After a few hours, making sure Liam was completely comfortable, with a few Oxicontins and a remote. I walked back to my room. Now completely alone and the situation under control I was able to cry. Marten came in and held me.

"Did we do the right thing?" It's bad enough now. Can you even image what it might be like-"

He cut me off, "There wasn't any other way and you getting him out of there was the right thing to do. Now we know."

Sheriff Keith Parker

The bitter-sweet chocolate lingering on my tongue brought an engaging smile to my lips. With each repetitive motion the pieces crumbled inside my mouth becoming smooth while rejuvenating my senses. Everyone knew I enjoyed the occasional chocolate bar, but no one knew how necessary my desire for chocolate had become.

Not only did I crave a daily piece, but I couldn't go without it. Having become a requirement for me to cope with the days demands at the station or home for that matter. Lucky for me I had two places to stash a treat I could get my hands on unnoticed. At the station I had a top desk drawer and in the cruiser the glove compartment held anything that wouldn't melt from the desert heat.

Only on one occasion had I left a candy bar in the scorching heat of the cruiser, instead of throwing it out I chucked it into the station's fridge. Sure, it discolored the chocolate, but to me the taste wasn't any different. Chocolate was chocolate and I craved it, like some of the junkies I'd arrested. Being sheriff in these parts didn't go without a bit of trouble. Following bored and delinquent kids was part of my daily tasks. I'd grown up in the valley and could understand how boredom lead to alternative entertainment.

Not until the day I took notice of  Sharleen had I even remotely cared about any future. We'd grown up together, but like a switch being flipped, the day she walked past me in her ponytail and cheer uniform I opened up my eyes to the possibilities of her being more than just a friend. I wanted her for myself.

I thought we would end up together, but those where childish fantasies, when Joe moved to town, my life crumbled, along with every dream I once thought would happen and didn't. For me watching her life change while mine was still in shambles forced me to find my own happiness. Two years after her marriage to Joe I married Shannon. I was content with the life I'd built, by then I was working for the police station. Shannon wanted children and so to pacify her I gave in.

By the birth of my second son Sharleen gave birth to her first child, a daughter. Like a rocket, Joe walked out on Sharleen and his three month old daughter. Although I wanted to believe she was getting what she deserved, I couldn't. I felt sorry for her. My marriage vows kept me from comforting her.

Instead I looked over her daughter from a distance. When I could, I did small things for Riley, Sharleen's girl. Once while on a multi-grade field trip with my own son Riley had fallen and scraped her knee. I helped clean her up and even got the opportunity to wipe a tear. She was beautiful. At that moment I wanted her to be my daughter, not Joe's, he didn't deserve her.

Her sweet six year old voice echoed my regret, "Thank you, Mr. Parker," melting my heart. I've watched her grow up, even when she's struggled, like last year with her little adventure, I did what I could to keep her from getting a record.

Sharleen's done a good job raising her. Although we've not had many conversations together. The one we did have, Sharleen came down to the station after Riley had served her last hour of community service.

"Thank you, Keith." she said. The quiet tension between us was broken once Riley walked in, she looked at the two of us confused. Sharleen distracted her, "Riley, thank Sheriff Parker for helping."

Riley looked at me, "Thanks, for making me do community service," in a sarcastic and bitter tone, standing there with her arms crossed in front of me.
Sharleen looked at me, " Really, thanks. Giving me a smile that lit up her eyes, that's when I knew Sharleen was still as sweet as she'd always been.

Jax Flores

Jax's Movie picks

Movies that ROCK!
Matrix(only the first)
Transformers (again, only the first)
The Terminator
Blade Runner
Children of Men
Star Trek (2009)
Alien
Lord of the Rings (all Thee)
Jurrassic Park
Avatar
Close Encounters of The Third Kind
The Shawshank Redemption
The Godfather
Pulp Fiction
Se7en
Inception
The Silence of the Lambs

Teagan Linfield - Riley's B.F.F

Riley usually didn't wear much else than black when it came to picking out clothes. I would have loved to have seen her in a light pink, or even a rich blue once in a while, but she rarely wore anything out side the black, white, or gray color chart. School uniforms also made it difficult to express ones clothing style.

In fact I would have to agree with my friend, School  uniforms sucked! I loved creating new clothes, starting with the design, and moving into sewing them. Typically I took an already produced piece of clothing and accented it, giving it my own flare. It didn't matter if it was a pare of jean, hat, or even socks I'd changed all of these a time or two in order to create my fashion designs.

Most people didn't know, but I especially loved to analyze clothing choices of random people and change it in my mind. Finding a better style that would fit their body type or color choice. Most of the time it was ways to make their own outfit pop and give it a little zow!

I was currently working on a project, a jacket for Riley. I'd gotten at a second hand store with the intention of slicing it up. I'd cut the back of the black denim, sewn in a back casing and added a pink ribbon with eyelets crisscrossing the pink ribbon . It had turned out better than I'd anticipated and so feeling confident with my design choices, I was inspired to change the selves too, bring in the same pink into the cuffs.  It was amazing and the best part is that I'd made it better than the sketch I'd jotted down in my book.

Riley would love it, I knew she would. Even if it wasn't completely black I figured I'd work in a little color into her wardrobe. Pink always looked good with her skin color and I figured she wouldn't notice minimal color palette with little here and there and then in no time at all I'd actually get her to have more than black in her closet.

I guess some might have considered this manipulative, in reality I really did have her back, however-with a little flare of color. I felt like she'd gotten into a funk when it came to her clothes, but then again I was obsessed with clothes. I understood her "goth" style was a statement, I liked her in it, but sheeze!  Add some color to it once in awhile. Black, white, and gray is okay, but really adding some color here and there could really make it pop. (Now, if I could only get her to give up the rouged Docs.)