#borrowedcourage

*clears throat* It's been a while, G/T community!

I don't get as much time for writing anymore with my uni degree in its final years, but this is a one-shot I've been working on for an obnoxious amount of time now based on a prompt I got a while back: What if Kaleb, my borrower character, shrunk in class?

To set the scene since the last time I updated Borrowed Courage was in 2022 *sobs*, Kaleb and Brooke live in a world where the borrower race was discovered 10 years ago and unbeknownst to humankind, many borrowers use a drug called "Upsize" to temporarily grow to human size and blend into society. This one-shot is canon but probably won't be added to the main story for timing reasons. It's set roughly 2 months after Brooke first discovered Kaleb's secret identity as a borrower.

Part II will be up tomorrow - I hope you like!

Content warning: contains angst, swearing and nudity (not graphic).

****

“Alright. For the rest of today, I want you to work independently through the exercises in chapter two of your textbooks. I’ll be floating around if anyone has any burning questions.” Mr Bell instructed the class. From his seat at the back of the room, Kaleb gritted his teeth in frustration. On any other day, he would be more than happy to follow his teacher’s instructions; learning about human history was one of the things he’d enrolled in school for in the first place. From a young age, Kaleb had been fascinated with the way the giants that owned the world had came to be that way, while his kind— the borrowers— had spent their lives hidden away in the shadows. Today, though, he was only half paying attention. Kaleb ran his hands through his scruffy brown hair, finding it increasingly difficult to ignore the incessant pounding that seemed to reverberate all the way from his skull to his fingertips.  

Something was off. 

Part II of my little thing featuring Kaleb's existentialism and Brooke being... considerate? Consider this a teaser of what their relationship will be like two months after the events of the main story...

I hope you enjoy!

Content warning: contains swearing and themes of prejudice.

****

After checking briefly that the coast was clear, Brooke sucked in a breath and exited the girls bathroom. She walked down the empty hallway with as much purpose as she could muster, though her heart still pounded loudly in her chest. She could feel a second, much smaller heart pounding against her body as well, fluttering even faster than her own. Kaleb sat hunched up at the bottom of her jacket pocket, his tiny, shaking hands gripping the thick denim on either side of him to steady himself.  

After the two of them had recovered from their embarrassment in the bathroom and Kaleb had readjusted the toilet paper around his waist, Brooke had taken it upon herself to put the rest of their plan in action—anything to get her mind off of what she’d just witnessed. Obviously, Kaleb had protested against her planned hiding spot for him, complaining that it would be too obvious. To prove her point, Brooke had stood in front of the mirror by the sink, demonstrating how little Kaleb’s tiny form actually stood out from inside the pocket. After seeing that, Kaleb had shivered but said nothing, and dropped down into the pocket without a word. 

If anything could have reminded him of just how small he was compared to a human, it was that. 

Kaleb POV after poking the bear Brooke (he has many regrets) 

I’ve seen a bunch of other G/T creators doing this lately, so I’ll throw in my two cents ^_^

Borrowed Courage 

The shorthand premise: exterminator’s daughter meets size-shifting borrower boy in a world where borrowers have been discovered by humankind. 

Prologue: https://www.deviantart.com/randomarthq/art/Borrowed-Courage-Prologue-834187545 

Chapter 1: https://www.deviantart.com/randomarthq/art/Borrowed-Courage-Chapter-One-838199547?ga_submit_new=10%3A1587106144&ga_type=edit&ga_changes=1

Chapter 2: https://www.deviantart.com/randomarthq/art/Borrowed-Courage-Chapter-Two-839431838?ga_submit_new=10%3A1587878960

Chapter 3: https://www.deviantart.com/randomarthq/art/Borrowed-Courage-Chapter-3-850893266?ga_submit_new=10%3A1596503940

Chapter 4: https://www.deviantart.com/randomarthq/art/Borrowed-Courage-Chapter-Four-851655892?ga_submit_new=10%3A1597130864

Chapter 5: https://www.deviantart.com/randomarthq/art/Borrowed-Courage-Chapter-Five-864706499?ga_submit_new=10%3A1608689395&ga_type=edit&ga_changes=1

Chapter 6: https://www.deviantart.com/randomarthq/art/Borrowed-Courage-Chapter-Six-864856455?ga_submit_new=10%3A1608689369&ga_type=edit&ga_changes=1

Chapter 7: https://www.deviantart.com/randomarthq/art/Borrowed-Courage-Chapter-Seven-873253297?ga_submit_new=10%3A1615771780

Chapter 8: https://www.deviantart.com/randomarthq/art/Borrowed-Courage-Chapter-Eight-895233085?ga_submit_new=10%3A1634552261

Chapter 9: https://www.deviantart.com/randomarthq/art/Borrowed-Courage-Chapter-Nine-903196065?ga_submit_new=10%3A1641647121

Chapter 10: https://www.deviantart.com/randomarthq/art/Borrowed-Courage-Chapter-Ten-907920740

Chapter 11: https://www.deviantart.com/randomarthq/art/Borrowed-Courage-Chapter-Eleven-932549997

Chapter 12: https://www.tumblr.com/rosella35/749903651543416832/borrowed-courage-chapter-12?source=share 

Side Stories and One-Shots:

Kaleb’s Bad Day

Part I: https://www.tumblr.com/rosella35/746550913245822976/kalebs-bad-day-part-i?source=share

Hi everyone! I’ve decided to start posting Borrowed Courage (my borrower fanfic featuring main characters Kaleb and Brooke) on Tumblr, seeing as not everyone uses Wattpad or Deviantart. Feel free to read ahead on the sites I mentioned but if this is your first time checking out the story, I hope you enjoy it! This is just my two cents to the G/T community ^_^

[Note that this story is nonsexual, however contains themes of prejudice, dehumanisation, bullying and mentioned/implied deaths]

________________________________________________________

USA TODAY

September 15th, 2011

IT’S A SMALL WORLD AFTER ALL

Leaked footage of ‘tiny person’ sparks media frenzy: do they really live among us?

Fairy tales and mythology have entertained the existence of miniature, humanoid creatures for centuries, however recent footage has revealed that there may be a level of truth to the myth.

Less than forty-eight hours ago, a video was posted on YouTube by an anonymous user, entitled SUBJECT #215 ‘GREY’ LEAKED FOOTAGE. The clip was recorded at Oak Ridge National Laboratory (ORNL) in Tennessee over three months, and depicts a young man who is perceived to stand less than six inches tall undertaking a series of physiological and cognitive tests within laboratory conditions.  

Following its upload, the video surged across various media platforms and climbed to #3 on YouTube’s ‘Trending’ browser before being removed by ORNL officials due to confidentiality infringements. However, the footage has left a global mark, with one viewer describing the clip as ‘Extraordinary but haunting. If this wasn’t filmed from a federal government-watermarked facility, I wouldn’t have believed it at first.’

Six hours after it was taken down, the individual responsible for posting the video requested an interview with USA Today, and revealed that they were formerly part of the research team assigned to Subject #215. Employee X, who wishes to remain anonymous, described the case study in unsettling detail, explaining that the subject had underwent constant and often inhumane experimentation since being discovered in inner city Boston, Massachusetts late last year.  

“The subject prefers to be called Grey.” They said. “He appears to have a human-like level of intellect, and aside from a clear difference in proportion, his body structure and physiological features are also near identical.” When asked if Grey understood speech, X was quick to reply.

“Quite well. Since being in captivity, he has revealed little about himself, but it is evident in his dialogue that he may not be the only one of his kind in existence. Based on his choice of attire and mannerisms, we have reason to believe that Grey’s ‘species’ so to speak are well adapted to living within human settlements, albeit undetected. Further, the subject has been shown to have the same dietary needs as us, which suggests that he is accustomed to consuming human food.”

According to X, they partook in the initial course of experiments which studied Grey’s physiology, however abandoned the project due to ethical qualms. “When we were briefed on the study, I imagined we would be working with an exotic species of animal, but after interacting with Grey, and gaining insight into his perception of the situation, I, along with several other members of the team were convinced that he possessed the same advanced intelligence as a human. This was soon confirmed with anatomical evidence, after an EEG conducted on the subject revealed that his brain activity for cognitive tasks was identical to ours.”

“It wasn’t a question of science any longer.” X continued. “It was a question of ethics, and I, like many other ORNL staff, stand firmly against their method of research regarding subject Grey. The reason I posted this video was to both inform and enlighten the general public of the matter, and encourage my fellow scientists to consider their methods of research from an ethical standpoint should more members of Grey’s species be discovered.”

Following the interview, a thorough investigation into the famed laboratory in Tennessee is confirmed to be underway, however the current status and whereabouts of subject Grey remain undisclosed and consequently, we are left with more questions than answers. Is there really a race of ‘tiny people’ living among us and if so, for how long will they continue to exist unbeknownst to humanity?

Published by Pamela Cook

Chief Editor

****

Oak Ridge National Laboratory, Tennessee, United States

September 14th, 2011

5:28PM

The sun crept low into the horizon, bordering on dusk, but the couple hundred people camped out around the perimeter of ORNL were hardly fazed. They’d arrived in clusters at a time over the course of forty-eight hours, locals and tourists alike. Most were waiting eagerly with phone cameras in hand, no doubt hoping to catch a glimpse of the mysterious ‘Subject Grey’ who had made his shocking internet debut not three days prior. The biggest mob had settled around a large white van emblazoned with the Channel Eighty-Five studio logo, where a cameraman, a female reporter and her associate made their final preparations for the evening news broadcast.

The reporter, a slim woman adorned in a white button up blouse and pencil skirt, waited impatiently for the signal. Her team had set up their base of operations just outside the main entrance to the Oak Ridge facility; chosen specifically so that during the program, she would address the viewers with a convincing backdrop of ORNL’s impressive chainmail fence and mob of curious onlookers. With less than a minute until they went live, her associate listened into the audio feed of the main news program and nodded to the cameraman. Then, at 5:30PM, the broadcast commenced.  

“This is Vanessa Clarke, reporting to you live from the site where it all began. I’m standing outside the main entrance of Oak Ridge National Laboratory where the controversial video that shocked the world was filmed. Leaked footage of  Subject #215 ‘Grey’, which has since been removed from all media platforms, was recorded by a former employee right here in this facility, where it is now believed that researchers are investigating the existence of a race of ‘tiny people’. The video and its followup article from USA Today have received a global media response, with thousands of related stories surfacing, along with further evidence of what people are claiming to be miniature people caught on film.”

While the news reporter talked, a young man broke land speed records on his old moped scooter as he tore down the highway towards the laboratory. James Peterson, a recent graduate in human ethics and ambassador for the entrepreneurial ‘Speak Up for Change’ foundation, hoped he’d make it in time.  

“Thanks, Todd, and to those watching, stay tuned. We’ll have more coverage of the facility coming up shortly here on Channel Eighty-Five.” The cameraman cut off the live feed and the Vanessa let out a sigh, stepping out of the frame. She accepted a water bottle handed her way by her associate and took a sip. “Do you really think this crackpot story’s gonna boost our ratings?” She laughed lightly, leaning against the news van with a look of unconcealed scepticism.

Her coworker shrugged. “Hey, it’s all that people are talking about lately. We might as well give them a bone to chew on.” He gestured to the fenced perimeter of the facility behind them where the crowd continued to gather, some holding up handmade posters with demanding messages like ‘FREE SUBJECT GREY’ or ‘WE WANT ANSWERS’. “Besides, if we wait around out here long enough, those big-shot scientists might just give us some answers.”

“Don’t tell me…” Vanessa took another swig of water to mask her surprise. “You actually believe this crap, Charlie.”

Charlie merely smirked. “Trust me Vanessa, I stopped believing in what I heard on the news the second I landed this job.”

The reporter chuckled, opening her mouth for a witty response, when an old moped scooter burst into the clearing. The people standing nearby exclaimed in shock as it’s rider—a gangly man no older than twenty-five and dressed in a coat, wrinkled business shirt and slacks—cried out breathlessly.

“Is the news team still here? I need to speak with the news team!”

As he approached, Vanessa righted herself and stifled a sigh. There was always one crazy local who’d show up wanting their face on TV, but this guy seemed particularly desperate. She supposed she’d give him the time of day.  

“My name is Vanessa Clarke, and I work for Channel Eighty-Five.” She addressed the man, who locked gazes immediately. “Can I help you?”

At her greeting, he practically collapsed with relief, quickly parking his scooter and closing the short distance between them. “Ah, y-yes! Thank god you’re still here.” He adjusted his wrinkled trench coat as he talked.  

Vanessa nodded pleasantly. “Yes, we’re in the middle of a three hour coverage of this facility; you know, after that Youtube video went up on Tuesday.” Her trained eyes flickered over his awkward demeanour and overall nerdy attire; a classic science fanatic if she ever saw one. “I assume you’ve heard of it.”

“R-Right! Yes! That’s actually why I’m here. I was wondering if I could have a minute of your time while you’re taking a break.” He swallowed, no doubt noticing her obvious disinterest. “I promise, it’ll be worth it.”  

Vanessa barely refrained from rolling her eyes. You’ve got to be kidding me. She shot Charlie a questioning look, to which he simply shrugged. It wasn’t like there was much else available to pass time before the next broadcast. With those thoughts in mind, the reporter sighed. “Alright, I’m listening. Just make it short, okay?” She said. “We go live again at six.”

At her choice of words, the man let out a snicker, but quickly smoothed his expression and held out a pasty hand. Vanessa shook it briskly. “Y-Yes, of course. My name is James Peterson, and I’m a representative of the Speak Up for Change foundation. We deal with several public relations issues, namely the portrayal of individuals and ethical misconduct in the media.”

I know where this is going. Vanessa inwardly groaned, ready to silence his critique with a well-rehearsed monologue. “Listen, Mr Peterson, if you’re here to file a complaint about our studio, I would recommend visiting the head office—”

“H-Hold on, I think you misunderstand where I’m getting at.” James held out his hands in a peaceful gesture. “Trust me, I’m not here to file any complaints.”

“Just hear the poor guy out, Vanessa.” Charlie cajoled her from the van, which earned him a withering look from his coworker.

She sighed. “Fine. You have my undivided attention.”

James nodded, clearing his throat. “As I was saying, the role of Speak Up for Change is to bring attention to and raise awareness towards those who have been wrongfully portrayed in the media. In particular, my latest client approached me wishing to voice his side of the story, following the Small World article publication yesterday.”

“I see…” Vanessa wasn’t sure where he was going with this. “Would you like to schedule an interview with our studio?”

James almost looked bemused. “That won’t be necessary. I’ve brought my client along with me, and we were hoping to meet with you in time for the six o’clock news broadcast.”

Vanessa frowned, his words becoming less and less clear by the second. “I’m not following.”

“With all due respect, Ms Clarke, I feel like it’ll be much easier to just show you.” He fumbled with the button of his coat breast pocket for a moment, and the reporter was about to turn away with a bored scowl when a flicker of movement caught her eye.

The entire news team watched in stunned silence as what could only be a tiny person pushed the flap of the pocket out of the way to reveal himself. He looked to be middle aged, most likely in his mid-thirties, with disheveled ash blonde hair, pale skin and haunting grey eyes. Everything about him seemed so human-like, aside from the fact that he couldn’t have stood more than six inches tall.

“Jesus Christ.” Charlie breathed.

“Actually, my name is Flint. Flint Oakland.” The impossibly small man corrected him in a soft, but clear voice. “Pardon my intrusion, Ms Clarke, but I was hoping to get a word in on your next broadcast. You’ll no doubt find what I have to say… enlightening.”

For almost half a minute, his words hung in the air as they were met with the collective shock of the news team. Vanessa made a valiant effort to control her emotions, but couldn’t stop her mouth from hanging open at the sudden turn of events. Honestly, what was the world coming to? It took her several more seconds of bewildered thought processing before she exchanged a glance with Charlie, who checked his wristwatch. Two minutes until they went live. Beside them, the cameraman could barely keep up with what the news hosts were saying past his lingering awe.

“You heard the man, get the cameras rolling.” Vanessa announced, before reaching for her mobile. “I’ll get the head exec on the line.”

If this didn’t get their ratings up, she wasn’t sure what would.

Not one minute later, James Peterson and his ‘client’ got their interview, and Flint Oakland—all five-and-a-half inches of him— made history on prime time TV.

“Thank you Todd. We’re reporting back to you live from outside the Oak Ridge National Laboratory, where hundreds of people have gathered in the wake of the controversial video that shocked the world. Just two days ago, footage taken right here in this facility sparked a global media frenzy and left us with one pressing question that Oak Ridge representatives have ignored thus far: Is Subject Grey real?” She cleared her throat dramatically. “Well, to everyone watching at home, and to all of the people gathered here with me tonight, the man I’m about to introduce will finally give us some answers.”  

Falling into character, the cameraman panned across to the tiny figure, now standing in James Peterson’s upturned palm with a microphone larger than he was raised to his chest. As the unblinking lens of the camera zoomed in, he met its gaze with determined steely grey eyes. Despite herself, Vanessa felt her heart skip a beat.  

“My name is Flint Oakland, and I have a message for the people of America.” He began, and at that jaw-dropping moment, the entire world paused to listen.

“To everyone watching, congratulations. Yesterday’s news article has forced our hand, and after conversing with my fellow representatives, my people have agreed that, to ensure a successful future for our race and prevent any needless suffering, this is our only viable course of action.”

A crowd had gathered around the local news team to watch. Phone cameras flashed, and people openly stared. In the distance, several jet black vehicles could be seen exiting the research facility beyond its chainmail fence. Chaos was unfolding in the human world that Flint hadn’t been a part of until recently, but with a deep, shuddering breath, he continued. It was now or never.

“And so, I offer you my final confession.” The broadcast, which had started on a local program in the quiet city of Oak Ridge was now streaming across every news channel across the world. “My kind have lived among you since the beginning, existing in the darkness and silenced by fear and oppression.” Flint Oakland said. “Do not misunderstand; we may be smaller than humans, but like you, we have families and children, our own customs and art and culture. We are people, who, for centuries have kept ourselves hidden from you humans out of fear of an outcome such as the one you’ve witnessed over the last forty-eight hours. But, it is time for that to change, and we hope that in time, our races will come to understand one another as equals.”

The entire world held its breath as Flint Oakland uttered his final, monumental sentence.

Here’s the first chapter, introducing main characters Brooke and Kaleb, and how society has taken to the discovery of borrowers.

CW: mentioned/implied deaths, mature language, violence, alcohol abuse, bullying, dehumanisation, ideologically sensitive themes.

______________________________________________________

Ten years later…

September 15th, 2021

“Almost… there…” With a final grunt of exertion, Brooke Tucker jammed the last thumbtack into the drywall, pinning her metre-long Green Day poster above the bedhead. She fell into a crouch from her precarious position balanced tiptoed on the edge of her desk to reach the ceiling, and stretched out her aching arms. Then, retreating to the doorway to admire her handiwork, she allowed herself a small smile.  

It had taken almost the entire day, but, with perseverance—and a little extra motivation courtesy of her phone pumping out the latest rock music—her belongings were unpacked. Granted, the dimly lit five-square-meter space was nothing like her old bedroom, but if she pushed all of that aside for a moment, it almost felt like home again. For now, that was enough. There would be plenty of time to get used to living in a dingy apartment block on the other side of town, she reasoned bitterly.

Heaving a sigh, Brooke brushed the dust off of her faded jeans and wandered into the hallway (if you’d call it that) to join her parents. They’d long since taken a break from unpacking, and she could hear the familiar sounds of her mum cooking dinner at the stove and her dad watching TV from his favourite armchair in their newly dubbed living room. She hesitated for a moment, listening. If she closed her eyes and let the sound drown out everything else for just a moment, it gave her the illusion of familiarity. That is, until she opened them and entered the living room.

She swallowed back another sigh.

This was her life now, and Brooke couldn’t pretend forever.

“‘We will not hide any longer.’ Those historic words spoken by the US Borrower Representative, Flint Oakland, continue to resound in our hearts as we look back on the moment ten years ago today, when society took its first step towards what would become a dramatic change.”

The TV blared from its new position against one of the beige walls. Brooke’s father was slumped in his chair not three feet away, glaring daggers at its surface—or more specifically, the daily news. She could barely remember the man he’d been two months ago, but then again, it didn’t really matter. Now, Doug Tucker was one swig of beer away from an alcoholic, his salt and pepper hair overgrown and unkept and eyes watery and withdrawn.

He said nothing when she stepped inside, wholly fixated on the beer bottle in his hand and the news in his periphery. “His first public appearance, famously known as Oakland vs Oak Ridge, left the world speechless,” the anchorman continued, “and in the many years to come, no one could have predicted the sheer tenacity of this global movement towards human and borrower equality.”

How many times had she heard this story now? Brooke leant against the doorway, listening to the news report play out but really wishing she’d just stayed in her room.

“We flash back to September 15th, 2011, a day that started out as any other until the infamous Oak Ridge Laboratory footage which gave humanity its first glimpse of the borrower race, went live. Four months after the incident and Subject #215, who we all now know as Grey Stonewell, shared a heartwarming reunion with his friends and family as he was released from the lab’s custody. Now, Grey works for ‘Borrow-Ed’, an international charity aiming to integrate borrower children into the human education system. In his latest interview, he offered his thoughts on the last decade.”

The scene shifted to a clip of Grey Stonewell, addressing a crowd of humans and borrowers alike from a scaled down lectern emblazoned with the Borrow-Ed logo. “I think about my time in Oak Ridge a lot, and honestly could not have imagined this outcome.” He said. “Standing here now in the presence of my wife and kids, I just want to thank Xavier Sanders, or Employee X as many of you remember him, Flint Oakland, and the team at ‘Speak Up for Change’ for everything they’ve done for me and the rest of us borrowers. With their constant support, I firmly believe that coexistence is possible, and look towards a future where humans and borrowers can acknowledge one another as equals.”

“In Japan, we’re seeing the most radical change.” The anchorman continued. “Following a nationwide protest led by Borrower rights activists, Arrietty and Sho, a new bill was signed by the federal government legalising borrower-human marriage within the Shikoku and Kanto regions. The celebrity couple have already announced their wedding plans, and encourage other inter-species couples to do the same.”  

“It makes me sick.” Her father growled, chasing the statement with a swig of beer. Brooke closed her eyes and fumbled with the set of earphones in her hoodie pocket. She’d been wondering when it would start.

“We are living proof that love is love, no matter the circumstances. While, as a human-borrower couple we are faced with more challenges than most, we believe that no healthy relationship comes without them, and it’s time for everyone out there, borrower and human alike to embrace our differences and feel pride in who we are—"

“Brooke, dear, will you turn off the TV?” Her mom called pleasantly, not taking her eyes off the bolognese sauce she was stirring on the stove.

Wordlessly, Brooke fetched the remote and turned it off, silencing Arrietty’s speech mid-sentence. Her father continued to stare daggers at the now blackened screen, his lips curled into a seething frown. With a sigh, she settled into the beanbag in the corner beside his growing pile of empty bottles, knowing exactly what was coming. Just as she was plugging in her earphones, her father spoke up.  

“Those fucking pests.” He growled, slamming his fist down onto the coffee table. His eyes were glassy and speech slurred as he spent yet another night far from sober. “Actin’ all high an’ mighty like they run the place. Should’ve just stayed in hidin’, if you ask me.”

As usual, her mom took her time to respond, continuing on with dinner preparations as though nothing out of the ordinary had just transpired. It hadn’t, really. “Honey, we’ve been over this. Nothing you will say can change the outcome. Just think of this all as an opportunity. A fresh start.”

Brooke closed her eyes, feeling her father tense up at the words. These days, life in the Tucker family was like the rerun of a cliche soap opera.  

“Y’think I don’t know that, Sandra?” He snapped. “I work for a company for how many bloody years just to have the rug pulled out from under me! And while I have to work tooth and nail just to put dinner on the table every night, those little leeches get by by mooching off of us!”

“You haven’t worked a day since the trial.” Her mom reminded him gently.

“Don’t give me that—you know what I mean.” He ran a hand over his forehead, drink sloshing around. “It just pisses me off. Since that fucking video went up, everyone thinks I’m a psychopath. I ran into Lisa and Paul the other day and they just gawked at me like I was the bloody scum of the earth!”

“Which is exactly why we moved, honey. Like I said, this is a fresh start. For all of us.”

“Fucking bullshit it is.” Her father finished off his beer with a rage-induced gulp and slammed the bottle down onto the table. “Because of those little bastards, I’ve lost everything!”

Brooke heaved a sigh. It was too early for this. “I’m going out for a bit.” She announced, before he could continue. Both parents froze, her dad looking across at her with those glazed, vengeful eyes. Honestly, the sight made her want to gag.

Her mom was the first to recover. “Okay, sweetie. Just don’t stay out too late, okay? Dinner’s almost ready.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

It wasn’t like there was much else to do outside, anyway.

Brooke tugged open the front door and stepped into the dingy hallway, appraising it with bored eyes. The apartment block didn’t have much going for it in the ways of tourist appeal. It was just another run of the mill flat on the outskirts of the city, where struggling pensioners and the lower class lived out their days. As they were now, the Tucker family would blend in like peas in a pod.

How the tables had turned.

The apartment had four floors, all complete with the same beige walls, worn grey carpet and moth bitten curtains. There was an elevator, but the landlady—a twig thin woman with wiry black hair and chipped fingernails— had explained that it had been out of order for months. To reach her destination, Brooke took the stairs.

When the moving van had pulled into the street that morning, she’d noticed something interesting about the apartment besides its outdated features: it had a rooftop balcony. So, with renewed vigour, Brooke set to climbing the four flights of stairs to reach the top floor. Sure enough, at the end of the musty hallway, there was a wooden door marked ‘To Roof’. With a quick glance to make sure she was alone, Brooke turned the knob and peaked outside.

She wasn’t sure what she was expecting. It was empty for starters, not just of people but of anything. No table or chairs or lighting; just a vacant slab of concrete framed by a rusted metal railing that would probably fail every safety inspection under the sun.

It was perfect.

Left alone with her thoughts at last, Brooke leant against what she deemed to be the sturdiest part of the railing, which gave her a decent vantage point to peruse the street below. The view was about as unremarkable as the apartment itself. It was one of those neighbourhoods that she and her old friends would’ve turned up their noses at, once upon a time. The few actual houses in sight were butted against each other like sardines, most with cracked paint and overgrown gardens. There was an old diner, a convenience store and tobacco joint further down the road by the bus stop, but really, most of the view was obscured by the same dingy apartment blocks. She supposed that was what her family got for moving from their white picket fence neighbourhood to the outskirts of the city.

Brooke let her gaze trail down to the sidewalk below, watching a group of people file out of a bus. The last passenger to exit caught her eye, mostly because he proceeded to lug a rusted bicycle out the door behind him. She frowned for a minute, wondering why the guy hadn’t just ridden the bike home, when he turned around and a flicker of recognition caught her eye.

Was that…?

She groaned. Just great.

Kaleb Finch.  

He was pushing the bike along the sidewalk now while he talked to one of the other passengers, and Brooke had to look away. The way he carried himself, so confidently and with all that false bravado; it made her want to puke. She watched as he sauntered out of sight, grateful that she’d decided to come up here instead of exploring the streets below.

Just my luck that he lives in this neighbourhood.  

Brooke turned her back on the view, sitting against the railing with her knees drawn to her chest. It didn’t matter how many times she’d tried to blot it out; tried to wipe the slate clean and move on with her life. His taunting voice remained branded into her memory, a permanent reminder of everything that had happened in two short months…

****

“Check this out, guys.” Brooke looked up from her chapter book as Kaleb Finch strolled into the classroom, holding up his phone. “That guy in that viral borrower video? Turns out he’s Brooke Tucker’s dad. What a sick fuck.”

A handful of students gathered around him, watching in horror as the video played out on the cracked screen of his phone. She didn’t know how he’d got a hold of it—the video had only been up on Youtube for about two hours before it was promptly deleted due to its ‘ideologically sensitive content’—but the damage had already been done. Her entire homeroom class couldn’t take their eyes off the grainy footage of her father loading a family of borrowers into a gas chamber, where they struggled and writhed until eventually, stopped moving at all.

Then, their collective gaze shifted to her.

“I knew your family was fucked up, but this takes it to a whole new level, girl.” Amy Snyder was the first to speak up, swishing her perfect blonde hair. “Come on, spill it. How do you even sleep at night?”

Brooke swallowed from her seat, forcing herself to focus entirely on reading, but Kaleb had other plans. When she didn’t respond, he snatched the book out of her shaking hands and slammed it down onto the desk next to her.

“Yeah, spill it, Brooke.” He pressed, earning him a bout of snickers from the rest of the class. “I heard your dad’s been gassing borrowers out of peoples’ homes for years. It’s already fucked up enough that he got to walk away from it all with a slap on the back and a fine. If you ask me, a crime like that should be put on the same level as murder.”

“Yeah, totally.” Amy agreed breezily. “I can’t believe I have to stay in the same class as his daughter.”

“You’re not a psychopath too, are you, Brooke?” Kaleb taunted. “I’ve heard that kind of thing’s hereditary.”

“I’ll bet she’s already in on it, I mean look at her. Her dad probably lets her kill them himself. Snap their tiny little necks.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re right about that.” The words were out of her mouth before she even knew she was talking. Brooke rose from her seat, both hands planted on her desk as she addressed the people who, until that morning, she’d considered her friends. “But honestly, outright killing them is boring. I prefer to snap off their little arms and legs first, just to watch them squirm.”

For a moment, the entire class was silent. Brooke could feel her throat tightening in panic, as tears welled in her eyes. In the span of five minutes, she’d gone from being a mild-mannered, respected classmate, to an abomination, standing on the same bloodstained pedestal as her father. All that retaliation had accomplished was adding fuel to the fire.

“Did you hear that?” Kaleb looked outright disgusted. “The apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it Brooke? You belong in the same loony bin as your dear ol’ dad.”

His words had cut deeper than any wound ever had. He might have said more, but she was done giving him the time of day. With a hollow sob, Brooke stormed out, feeling Kaleb’s scowl bore into her back.

****

Her father was an exterminator by trade, and had operated under Eradicate, one of the city’s big time pest control corporations since before she was born. She remembered his reaction when Flint Oakland had made his first public announcement ten years ago. There was never surprise, or wonder, or excitement in his eyes. Doug Tucker watched the news with a clenched jaw and passive expression; it was the face of someone who’d harboured the secret of the borrower race for years, if not longer.

As the daughter of a man whose family lived in a neighbourhood of doctors, lawyers and government officials, Brooke had often questioned why her father earned so much money for doing what he did. Now, the answer was obvious. Doug was paid for his silence by Eradicate’s higher ups, so long as he did what he was told. As it turned out, borrowers fetched a high price on the black market, and so long as they weren’t discovered, the seemingly innocent pest control company could do with them as they saw fit.  

Doug Tucker was just one of many who bloodied their hands to get the job done.

Of course, things had changed in the last ten years. The kind of ideology that had been the forefront of Eradicate didn’t sit well in the eyes of modern society. Borrowers weren’t a novelty anymore, and as such, their demand decreased as with her father’s income. Orders to capture them alive shifted towards cheaper methods of disposal. For a time, life continued as normally for the Tucker family, shrouded as it was by the uncomfortable truth that their ‘normal’ was paid for by murder.

Brooke didn’t have a strong enough opinion on borrowers to discern whether her father’s actions were morally justified, but when all was said and done, it was just his job. It put money in the bank and food on the table. If people called Eradicate to request for the borrowers living in their house to be disposed of, her father would be the one to soil his hands and finish the deed. It just so happened that his latest clients had an ulterior motive, and before he’d even realised what had happened, a recording of him gassing a family of borrowers was already circulating the net.

The only reason her father was drinking away his sorrows in their apartment downstairs instead of in prison for manslaughter was because the borrowers he’d ‘disposed of’ hadn’t registered themselves as citizens and were therefore unprotected by the law. Unfortunately, that fact didn’t prevent him from obtaining a criminal record and fine that the family couldn’t hope to pay off without selling their house. Of course, there were other factors that went into that decision too, such as the waves of horrified borrower-rights activists that were suddenly showing up at their doorstep and shouting death threats, but that was the brunt of it.

So now, the Tucker family lived in an area almost befitting of her father’s shady past, but it wasn’t just him that was paying the price. At school, Brooke had officially ascended to social outcast status; someone her classmates would scorn upon instead of try to understand. Her mother had lost her job in social work following her manager’s claim that the knowledge of her husband’s crime would be ‘inappropriate’ for the workplace. The trial had been weeks ago, but to Brooke it felt like they’d lived this way for years. Days seemed to pass so much quicker when there was nothing memorable about them.

She imagined the next day would be the same, too. More of her father’s grumbling, and her mom pretending all was well with the world even though her family was falling apart. More of the disgusted stares from her peers in class and Kaleb Finch’s stupid mocking face. Brooke replaced her earbuds in her ears and rested her head on her arms, staring blankly out at the hazy sky.  

“Is this better?” Kaleb asked, returning to sit in front of the glowing phone screen. “I kinda forgot about how dark it would look for you in here. I don’t usually turn the lights on until later on.”

From her own desk two floors down, Brooke almost did a double-take as his now dimly-lit surroundings came into focus on her laptop’s screen. She couldn’t help but lean forward in shock. Somehow, the idea had completely slipped her mind. “Hold on, d-don’t tell me you’re actually in the—”