Wide eyed, Lillian sprung out of bed. “Lillian Grace!” she heard her mother yell from downstairs. She tiptoed to avoid the pencils and paint scattered across her bedroom floor, headed straight downstairs. As she progressed down the steps, hints of turkey, pie and her mother’s homemade bread filled her nose.
Avoiding her mother, Lillian noticed her vacuuming the living room's carpet vigorously, but quickly ran towards the kitchen for something to eat. She opened the white cupboard and effortlessly grabbed her favorite cereal. When Lillian closed the cupboard door, her mother stood behind, standing waiting for her to close it. “I told you I needed you to help me get the house ready! … It’s eleven, company is expected at one!” she continued, “Is it because you stayed up last night again?” Lillian nodded her head and proceeded to pour milk into the bowl.
As she ate, her father sat across from her with his eyes peering over the newspaper,
“How’s it coming out kid? I haven’t gotten around to asking since I got back from my trip.”
“I need to add a few more details, I’m trying to make the skin as realistic as
possible,” Lillian said eagerly.
Her father’s face seeming pleased, “You got into your dream school, so getting that
scholarship is a piece of cake, right?”
“Right,” said Lillian who was about to tip the bowl to drink the milk at the bottom of it. Leaving her bowl on the table, she ran upstairs to get dressed. “Wear something
that’s not covered in paint!” yelled her mom. Digging in the back of her closet, she finds a sweater with the price tags still on it that her grandmother bought her last christmas, she puts it on in hopes of pleasing her. Lillian, still running, makes her way to the bathroom and brushes her teeth. She looks at herself in the brightly lit mirror and simultaneously combing through her knotty black hair and examining the blue bags under her eyes.
Walking downstairs Lillian hears the thuds from her three brothers wrestling in the living room, which was nothing out of the ordinary. Upon entering the kitchen, she decides to pick up her bowl from earlier and places it in the dishwasher. “Check the apple pie, if it’s golden please take it out,” her mother said from the dining room table.
Annoyed, Lillian asks, “How come Chris, Camdyn, and Connor don’t have to help?
They’re eleven, I was doing my own laundry at their age.”
“Sweety they’re not ready, you were a very responsible and independent child!” replied
her mom.
Later, as guests begin shuffling in, her mother sets the table while Lillian and her father greet their family. They all sit at their designated seats in the dining room. Camdyn reaches for a roll in the basket across from him when their great aunt interrupts, “No food before the prayer!”. The children roll their eyes but follow along, sneaking food while their relatives close their eyes and gave thanks. Dinner continues and Lillian’s grandma mentions a photo album from Lillian’s childhood, she had brought it with her.
When dinner concluded the family gathered in the livingroom and discussed plans for christmas and what they are thankful for. It was seven o’clock now, and everyone had gone home besides Lillian, her mom, dad, grandmother, and the boys who were upstairs in their rooms. Grandma pulled out the thick photo album and began telling stories based on the pictures. “This is when we went to the beach, you loved the sand and boardwalk Lillian!” she explained with a smile. The pictures seemed vintage in quality compared to newer photographs, they were the same age as Lillian, even younger. Their family always traveled and moved frequently when Lillian was younger, but settled down in Massachusetts when her grandfather had passed away and the triplets were born.
Lillian and her father listened as her mother and grandma told stories and shared memories of the photos. Looking at a photo of Lillian’s poorly drawn pictures when she was two years old, her mother says jokingly, “you were even an artist back then!” As they flipped the pages, Lillian and her family grew up and grew old. The last picture was a photo of Lillian and her grandfather in front of the castle at Disney World.
“Those pigtails!” said her mother in a high pitched voice, “How adorable!”.
“He would always tell me this was his favorite picture, Lillian.” her grandma explained.
Lillian smiled and got an idea, “Hey grandma, can I borrow that picture? I was thinking
of using it for an assignment in art class.”
“Of course, take the whole album. There’s plenty of photos to use,” replied her grandma.
Soon after the album was put away, her father took her grandmother home, which was a two hour drive and the house grew quiet. Lillian made her way up to her room and decided to look over all the photos in detail, such as how her dad had her grandmother’s eyes, but her grandfather’s nose.
Lillian had a lot of questions for her dad to answer about different pictures. Until he arrived home, she decided to sketch out the picture of her on her grandfather’s shoulders. In the matter of ten minutes, she was finished. Moving on to the next picture, she sketched a picture of her mom and dad eating ice cream in Central Park. Once she reached the details in the background, she felt deja vu, like she’s done this before. She finished the drawings and laid them side by side. The same man was in the background of both pictures, she chuckled to herself at the coincidence and could not wait to point it out to her father.
Growing impatient waiting for her dad to return home, she flipped through the album once more. The man in the previous backgrounds of the pictures, was in the background of every single picture in the album. She threw the album with a thud, “Woah, no way,” she said to herself.
Her mother who was downstairs cleaning up tiptoed up the stairs and into Lillian’s room,
“Quiet! The boys finally went to sleep. They haven’t stopped moving since six this morn-.” her mom said, whispering, yet shouting.
Lillian cutting her off, “Mom you won’t believe this! There’s this man in the album, it’s
really freaky!”
“Let me see, there’s no way,” as Lillian handed her mother the album, but quickly
slammed it shut after skimming a few pages. “Wow… that-that’s so strange sweety. I’m going to bed. I’m exhausted.”
Lillian let her mother head to bed, but once she heard her bedroom door close, she called
her father.
“Pick up. Pick up,” Lillian urged when she heard it was ringing.
“Hey Lillian, is everything OK? I’m driving. Can it wait until I get home?” her dad said.
“Dad everything is OK I just need to ask you-,” Lillian blurted out as she was cut off by
her dad.
“Oh! Your mother is calling me, I’ll see you when I get home, love you,” and then he
hung up.
A million different thoughts collected in Lillian’s head. Why was her mother acting so
weird? Is she hiding something from me? An hour later, her father returned back home and she rushed down the stairs with the album in her hand. Her mother was sitting on the couch with him, legs crossed and he had a hand on her knee, waiting for Lillian.
Surprised, “Dad look! Isn’t this so weird? I wonder if it’s the same man or a bunch of
different look alikes!” looking at her parents with a smile, that soon turned flat when she noticed the serious expressions on their face. “Is everything OK?”
“Everything is fine sweety. We just need you to listen to dad closely, George?” her mom said in a low voice, placing the attention on her father.
Rubbing his hands together while his elbows rested on his knees, “We haven't exactly been telling you the truth.”
“Why? What happened?” Lillian demanded answers.
“It all started a few months before you were born. You know how your grandfather was a
businessman and I was his partner? Well...  we weren't actually,” her father began explaining.
“You’re in the business industry now though, right? You went on that business trip for
three weeks and just came back for Thanksgiving. What does this have to do with the man in the pictures?” Lillian was confused.
“I’m getting there,” her father said with a sigh. “My father and I were.”, he paused, “well, I still am a part of this group-”
“What kind of group?” Lillian interrupted.
He sat back, becoming frustrated at Lillian’s eagerness to uncover the truth. “The group
deals with bad guys, we take care of them and make sure they’re not harming anyone,”
“So you’re like a cop? Why is that a big deal?” she said giggling.
“It’s greater than that. We make sure everyone around the world is safe, well, at least try
to… it’s similar to the FBI.”
“That’s so cool!” Lillian stood up but immediately sat back down, embarrassed  and
composed herself, for her parents’ faces were blank.
“We were dealing with a case in France, a powerful man was threatening to harm
France’s civilians… because of our high involvement in the case, our lives were in danger, so we had to start over.”
“What do you mean start over? Like move?” the questions continued to pour out of
Lillian's mouth.
“Witness Protection. We feared that you and the rest of our family was in danger. We left
everyone we knew behind, and close members changed their name and location too. That’s why we constantly moved around so much when you were little,” her father explained.
“Does that mean you have a different name other than George? Is my name still Lillian?
What’s mom’s name?” She urged.
“I can’t tell you anymore about it, but the man in the back of the pictures was like a
family member we never talked to. He would follow behind us everywhere we went to ensure our safety.” her father’s voice grew bold and vicious.
“Why isn’t he with us anymore? How come I don’t remember him? Was he like a
bodyguard? I’m sorry I’m asking so many questions.”
“You can say that. This conversation stays between the three of us, you hear?” leaning
towards Lillian with his index finger pointed at her face.
The whole family departed and that is the last thing they said to each other that night. No
“goodnights” or “I love yous” came out of either of their mouths. Lillian returned to her messy bedroom and sat at her desk with her computer, in hopes of finding out more. It was three in the morning, her eyes began to droop but could not find any information on her father and grandfather.
Without remembering how or when she fell asleep, she woke up to the sound of her mother’s voice calling her downstairs for breakfast. Trudging down the steps she hears her brothers once again fighting, her father reading the newspaper and her mom setting the table.
“Good morning! How did you sleep Lillian?” her mother said in an upbeat and fake tone.
She began wondering if it was all a dream, like it never even happened.
“Good morning, I slept fine mom,” the first words of the day that came out of Lillian’s
mouth sounded like a frog’s croak.
Her mother said, “I’m glad to hear!” while wearing a smile that nearly stretched from ear
to ear.
Arriving at the table, there was a plate made for her, she had always been told to make
herself a plate during meals, it was odd for her. Not complaining, Lillian dug her fork into her favorite breakfast, homemade belgian waffles. Her mother only made waffles on her birthday. “How do you like it?” her mother asked. Lillian nodded her head in satisfaction while her cheeks were filled with breakfast.
“Hey, I was thinking. We haven’t gone to an art show in years. How ‘bout you and I see
one in Boston later?” her father suggested.
Swallowing the breakfast she had in her mouth while her mother was talking to her she
replied, “It has been a long time, huh? Sure dad.”
Pleased, her father urged her to get dressed and wear something nice for their day out once she was finished with her breakfast. She walked upstairs and got ready, grabbed her nicest dress out of her closet and put it on, a little out of the ordinary for her. She looked at herself in the mirror with the dress on and began reminiscing on the days where her family would take whole weekends off to go to New York City or New Orleans for art exhibits. She also began thinking of the previous night and the conversation she had with her parents, saying to herself, “why are they being so nice?” and “I haven't been treated like this since before the triplets were born.”
Snapping out of it, she hurried downstairs to her mother cleaning the mess she had left on
the table, “Your father is waiting in the car for you, have fun!”
Lillian replying, “Thanks mom, see you later.”
The cold air took her breath away as she opened the front door, but once she got into the car she noticed her father had already warmed it up and let out a sigh of relief.
While putting the car in drive, “I was thinking about packing a lunch for the trip but I decided we’ll go to that Oyster House place on the harbor that you love,” her father said.
“Oh wow! Thanks dad, but why are you doing all of this for me today?” she was curious.
“Because I love you and we haven't spent time together in awhile!” he replied.
Her father was usually not a sentimental guy, he was always hard and serious, her
suspicion grew stronger. Their two hour drive to Boston was filled with joke and story telling. The hectic traffic made the commute an hour longer than intended, her dad had started to become irritable. He was tapping his hands on the steering wheel violently and continuously checking the car’s temperature. It was sixty-three degrees inside the car but his forehead was sweating bullets.
Lillian became concerned, “Everything OK?”
“I’m fine,” he shot back.
“I don’t mean to sound rude but you look terrible dad, you look sick,” she sounded concerned.
“Thanks Lillian, I’m fine,” he shot back.
The GPS was telling them their destination was approaching, but they were nowhere near Boston. A million thoughts ran through her head but they were quickly settled when she knew her father would never put her in any harm, or could he? They had arrived at their destination, nothing like the other venues she had been to for art galleries. An old run down industrial building sat in front of them. “How rustic,” Lillian said while giggling in a sarcastic manner. Her dad ignored the comment and led her to the buildings entrance, a large metal door. Her had knocked in a pattern. “Why do you have to knock? Isn’t this an open exhibit?” He again, ignored her. A pair of eyes peered through a slit on the door. Lillian looked at her father in confusion, “Are we in an action movie?” The same eyes that looked through the slit in the door were placed on the body of a large man. Lillian and her father were led down a hallway by two men in suits. Her father walked confidently while other people walked past them, “Good day Mr. Richards!” Her father would respond with, “Not now,” to every single one of them.
The hallway led to a brightly lit room that matched nothing like the exterior anesthetics. Everything was white, just a white table and white chairs. “This is freaky,” Lillian whispered to herself. The two men left, and her father pulled out a chair for her to sit in and he followed behind the other two. “Dad where are you going?” Lillian yelled frantically, “I don’t want to be alone!” while running towards the door that was already locked. All she heard were the lights running and her eyes welled up with tears. Feeling hopeless, she returned to her seat and curled up in a ball. Time felt like hours for her, but it had only been a matter of ten minutes when the door opened.
Releasing from her curled position, “Dad!- oh wait, grandpa?” Immediately standing up
in confusion, thinking that her dad had returned.
Her ‘dead’ grandfather walks into the room and begins explaining, “Hi Lillian, I’m sorry I’ve been-,” cut off by Lillian.
“Wait... No way,” she said, taking a step back.
“Uh- I know this isn’t a very good time-,” cutting off her grandfather once again.
“I- I mean, we were so sad. What happened? How are you here? I saw your casket be
lowered into the ground,” she said, sounding skeptical at the thought of her dead grandfather coming back to life.
“I never passed, I had to leave for everyone’s safety, I wish it never had to end up like this. I miss you all terribly,” her grandfather explained.
“This makes no sense, are you really grandpa Richards?”
“It’s me, I’ll help explain it all as best as I could,” he was sounding extremely serious.
“OK,” Lillian replied as they both took a seat, her grandfather sitting across the table.
“When we finally started to settle down in Cambridge, I was called back into work. I had
retired from the agency since the witness protection, but the enemies were growing stronger and they really needed your father and I,” he said while tapping on the table with his pen out of nervousness.
“Do you live in this warehouse thing, or what is this place?” Lillian asked.
“I work here, I wish I could give you my address but I can’t. It’s really hard hiding from your own blood, I apologize,” tears welled up in his eyes, she had never seen her grandfather like that. “Your father did not know what he could and couldn't tell you. I don’t even think your mother knows as much as you do.”
“No it’s ok, don’t be sorry,” Lillian said.
“I trust you not to tell any of this to anyone. Don’t even discuss what happened to your father.”
Lillian agreed and they continued to talk for hours, not about his disappearance, but of memories. When it was time to leave, her father interrupted and they said their goodbyes. Lillian had no idea when the next time she would see her grandfather, so she wept silently walking down the hallway when she first arrived. Because there were no windows in the building, Lillian was surprised at how dark it was outside.
Looking at her father, “Was it really that long?”
“It was awhile but I’m glad you took your time,” he said while smiling at her.
They sat in the car for the whole ride without saying a word. When they arrived home, they both dragged themselves through the door, everyone else in the house was asleep. Plagued with tiredness, Lillian said goodnight, while her father remained downstairs. Lillian woke up late, once again, but not because of her painting. She got dressed, told her parents she was heading to the library with a friend for a project, and headed out.
But when she got to the library, no friend was waiting for her, she did not invite anyone. Her father and grandfather did not answer all of her questions, so she sat at a computer and began searching her family’s previous and current names. Nothing came up besides her grandfather’s false obituary. Losing hope, Lillian logged off of the computer, and grabbed her belongings. As she walked out of the door, two men dressed in suits grabbed her, placing their hands over her mouth. An unmarked rusty van pulled up and they all gathered in the back.  Screams were coming out of her mouth, but they were muffled by his glove. She could not see any of their faces the entire ride, but when the vehicle stopped and the it’s doors opened up, the daylight revealed that there were several men crowding it. One man quickly covered her eyes with a piece of cloth and she was carried into a building. The sounds of the men’s footsteps echoed in her head as she decided to remain quiet to avoid any problems. They sat her down, and tied her to a chair, without removing her blindfold. Terrified, Lillian was shaking uncontrollably. From what she could feel, everyone had left the room and she was alone.
       Again, the clicking of shoes ran through her head, but it was the sound of a woman’s high heels this time. The door opened and the woman removed her blindfold. She sat across from Lillian. Her face was stiff and her hair was pin straight.
        The woman’s French accent was thick, “Do you know why you are here?”
“If I knew why I was here I wouldn’t be so freaked out!” Lillian shot back.
       The woman began opening up a manila folder, “These, is this you?” showing Lillian a picture of her sitting at the library’s computer.
       “Umm-yes? Why do you have that?” Lillian replied.
       The woman shook her head with a grin on her face, “Foolish girl, do you not know when to stop? Or as you Americans say, ‘curiosity killed the cat’?”
Confused, Lillian shot back, “Just tell me what’s going on!”
“You will find out in a little, Antonie! Come here,” the woman called to a man who entered the room wearing a suit, paired with black glasses and gloves.
The man began speaking French. Lillian not knowing what he was saying became frantic. Thinking What could I possibly have done? and Who are these people? While the two exchanged conversation in French, Lillian sat there trying to figure if she could hear a word that was even the slightest bit familiar to her. Then, she heard her father's name spoken.
“Who are you talking about?” Lillian asked.
The woman replied, “None of your concern little girl, just keep quiet, it will make things easier for both of us,” while the man stood back, not able to understand.
Lillian remembered her father’s story from Thanksgiving night, she recalled that her father was in conflict with the French, “So you’re telling me this has nothing to do with my father? Just let me go, i won’t tell him what happened.”
“Antonie, untie her. Get her something to drink,” the woman demanded.
The room was silent while he untied the rope that held her to the chair and until the man returned with a glass of water, “Madam,” he said while placing the glass on the table in front of her.
“What has your father told you?”
“Not much, why?” Lillian asked
“This is very serious. If you give us any information we will help you. We can get you a house with an art studio where your brothers won’t bother you,” the woman said with a obviously mischievous smile spread across her face.
“OK- wait. How did you know?-,” the woman cutting Lillian off.
“It’s crazy what you can find in a simple click on the internet,” she said while laughing, “Where’s your dad?”
“He’s at home. I’m not saying anymore,” crossing her arms and sinking into the chair.
“If you want it that way then...Enzo! Come get her, she’s done speaking,” she yelled to another man who came barging in.
He effortlessly grabbed Lillian and took her out of the room, as the woman yelled, “Au revoir!” Unlike before, Lillian was kicking and screaming, trying to get out of the man’s grasp. She was brought to an empty run down room and the door was immediately closed behind her. She jumped up and began banging on the door, trying to get anyone’s help, but after a half your, she gave up. Sitting in the room’s corner, she twiddled her thumbs, surprisingly calm. Then there was a knock at the door, she immediately stood back up and was greeted by an older man.
“Good afternoon,” he spoke without an accent, something familiar to her.
“Are you here for me? Take he home! My parents are probably a nervous wreck!” she jumped at him.
“That is not going to happen today, I’m sorry.”
“Why isn’t one telling me anything? Let me know what’s going on!” she was screaming at this point.
“I’m not sure how to put this…” he stalled. “Your family has been running away from us for years.”
“Well of course! You guys are terrible!” she yelled.
“No, we’re part of America’s Federal Reserve. We manage money. Your family has stole nearly ninety-million dollars from banks across America.-,” he was cut off by Lillian.
There’s no way! We don’t have that kind of money! We live a normal life, nothing extravagant about it!” Lillian had tears welling up in her eyes.
“I’m sorry you’re caught up in this. The French have helped us immensely with the tracking of your family. Your brothers will be here soon,” there was knock at the door, “This is them now.”
Her brothers came shuffling in, terrified. Once they realized Lillian was there, they ran towards her. Tears soaked their cheeks.
“You will be placed with an alternate family, they’re waiting for you. Come on now.”
Helpless and trapped, Lillian and her brothers followed the man down a hallway that was lined with windows to rooms. Every room had a member of her family. Aunts, Uncles, her grandmother, everyone who she just saw at their family’s Thanksgiving dinner. Their faces and eyes peering down when Lillian and her brothers made eye contact. The room that held her mother was filled with men, she never even noticed her children leaving. “Can we atleast say goodbye?” Tears ran down their faces. The old man shook his head. Her father in the last room had his head resting on his hands, looking down, but raised his head when he realized they were walking by. He mouthed ‘I love you’ the kids stopped but were pushed along, not able to say it back.