My Jedi powers finally worked. The ring of the bell sounds, and the commotion is surprising. Talking, chatting, I see Vivian quietly walking behind the crowd, and I walk join her-until the teacher, Ms. Waterson calls me over. From my amazingly blurry peripheral vision, I see Daniel Ahn, the kid that looks like an Asian popstar and acts like he owns the world quietly appears at her side, looking back at me smugly. I blink, bewildered. Ms. Waterson looks at me. "Ethan, I just wanted to talk about your report..." I wonder, is she going to ask questions? Is she going to praise me? Does she want me to show the art teacher, Mr. Philips? "It was amazingly well written. I can't believe the amount of amazing description and just the depth of your mindset surprises me for your age." Praise. Of course. I'm not unhappy, but praise is getting old. I don't want to be a braggart or a bigot, simply, I want a change from over achieving. Yet, at the same time, I don't want to be the middle or lower class...I can never be pleased, it seems, I will always want more of what I already have. Ms. Waterson dismisses me. I walk out, casually, seeing as almost no one was here. I walk home, I can't be bothered to drive, because if I do, I'm positive, I'll die in a fiery crash and destroy something important, and my family will be forced to pay my debt, besides, I live close enough. Outside, Sabrina Louie, some chick with red tinted hair and a douche of a boyfriend, is outside, crying. I assume something shattered her fragile paradise. I pay no mind to her incessant sobs as I plod past. I know, you want me to comfort her, look into her teary, dewy face, and realize that my heart soars and I love her, right? Incorrect. Love is bull that I don't have to put up with. I'm not the toned guy with tan skin trying desperately to be modest in narrating. I'm a skinny WoW player, I'm a pasty vampire with pitiful fangs that wants to get in your pants half the time, unless you're someone actually interesting. At least I'll admit it. I'm not going to fight some other fucking douche that wants you because he wants to grope you. I just won't. I've ranted, haven't I? I supposed it pisses me off a bit more than it should, but I'm tired of it. People are not all generically beautiful, they are not all think with big boobs and beautiful face. They're not all crystal clear blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair. They're certainly not perfect in every way, and do not have Charlie Brown parents, you know they must be there, but they only show up once or twice with no voice, just honking sounds. I arrive home, thinking about how it would be so much more annoying when adults talked if they honked like that. My perfect mother is on the porch, a wine glass in her hand at five in the afternoon with my dad, them just looking of into the cool distance. There are no creases in her brow, her face looks young and relaxed. After twenty years and two kids, they still function. They're so in love, sometimes I wonder if they're both aliens. You could always find them, on the porch, swinging quietly after a long day. I'm told I look like my father. Joseph Turner looks nothing at all like me. He has now gray streaked jet black hair, dark blue eyes, and he conveys friendliness and quiet pride, he's different. Comparing people always bothered me. I wave to them and my mom says "Ethan, be a dear and please preheat the oven to 145 degrees?" I do as she says, peeking at the homemade lasagna waiting. I head upstairs after that's done. I remember the note in my pocket. I pull it out, smelling the faint scent of jasmine and vanilla, Vivian V. I unfold it cautiously, hoping its not something stupid or embarrassing. I can feel my heartbeat quicken, my eyes widen, my senses slowing, as I read, as I read the one insagnificant piece of paper that made my reality a lie.
Do you know the horrible moment when you realize, everything is different from what you know, to know that your ignorant? What I want to know, how? There's a certain amount of doubt in my heart, I know. The side of me that says its a lie. But then, my heart tells me it's the truth I've been too blind to see. I'm-I hear a pop. my glasses fog, and for a horrible second, everything remains still. Then I feel the buckle of my knees, I feel my eyes glaze over, the numbness in my side growing like a fungus. As I fall, I see eyes. Eyes of no certain color, eyes of every color. A face that is so horrifically repulsive that it's beautiful. I wake up, and my heart rushes. My world is dark, my breathing is filtered by black fabric. This is cheap fabric. Easily ripped. I know I'm tied up well. I feel the ever restricting feel of thick ropes, set so that's can only move my wrist and fingers. I can only tap my foot. I wonder if this is what a trapped animal feels. I assume it is. It's the strangest feeling, the feeling of wrongness, being caged, the awful restriction of movement, the knowing that something has trapped you, and has you at their mercy. I feel, that if I make noise, the situation won't be so traumatizing. I wiggle my wrists and tap my feet and try to open my mouth but it feels like cotton. I hear horrific, animal sounds in the distance and I try more frantically to escape. My head snaps to the side and a searing pain burns my cheek. "STOP SCREAMING!" a female voice screams. A very familiar voice, indeed. "Yo, ese, you sure put a good goddamn fight." a male voice light with a Spanish accent and crude nature sounds to my left. "Guys, really? Let the poor bastard see." the thin string on my neck is opened, and light burns my cornea. I close my eyes, and wait for my eyes to adjust the terribly dim lighting. I shake my head and blink a couple times. I feel like I'm underwater. I look for the three voices I heard. There is only one person. She no longer looks quiet and shy, however, not at all. She wears dark pants with suspenders adorned with golden chains. She has googles atop her head, with golden chains hanging from them. She looks a bit like a character from an anime, but much less ridiculous looking. She smiles waveringly at me. "Hey, Ethan, I'm sorry you had to learn that you're so different so soon. I don't think you know entirely, however. You're an Origin. A child taken from their parents because they had inexplicable mutations. Ours and their memories were erased. But now, we're beginning to remember. We also are beginning to know our purpose for our mutations-" I'm reminded of all the alien, and superhero movies I've seen. I don't let her finish. "No. No, we aren't in a fucking Sci-fi movie, GODDAMNIT! I'M NOT A FUCKING MUTANT! I think, you're all just some delusional teenagers who have way too much time on their fucking hands! Let me go!" I'm angry. I'm angry because I'm trapped. I'm angry because I believe her. I'm not supposed to believe her. Crap. --------------End of part one---------------
Part two: Give me justice or give me death. She looks at me pityingly. I can feel an indifferent scowl creep up on my face. She put a hand on my shoulder. I spit in disgust, "Get your hands off me cretin." she looks at me with understanding. I want to rip her head off. "Let. Me. Go." I say slowly, as if she couldn't understand my words. She sighs sadly. "This is why they always choose me to initiate them." she raises her gloved hand, middle finger pointed. I watch her brow furrow, and start laughing. She's trying to use her "mutation", I suppose. I hear my cruel laughter bounce around the room. It becomes louder and louder and faster than an echo should be. It seems as if a tornado of cruel laughter is disorienting me, and the laughter seems to find a powerful pattern, pounding into my eardrums. I feel something liquid and coppery reach my lips. I taste the salt of my blood. My nose is bleeding. It screams in plain English. "STOP." It feels as if the tornado of violent sounds has been going on for hours, yet my logical mind tells me it's only been a few seconds. I stop instantly. I'm quiet because I'm afraid. My nose is gushing. I can feel the blood soak through my t-shirt. The world won't stop spinning...everything is black. I'm floating...everything is blessedly quiet. I can't even hear my heart. Then, suddenly, asif an airhorn has been blasted in my ear, "Yo, vato, you almost fuckin' died. That's funny shit man!" I can feel my eyes open groggily. Felix Rodgers is staring down at me. Fuck my life. He's grinning at me. "We know you're one of us now, cause you would've died if ya were normal. You probably didn't let Viv finish, nope. She usually doesn't do the Mr. Nosebleed the first time." I think I've gone mute. I open my mouth to say something. "Dude, her mutation is awesome. I never paid attention when she explained it but fuck man, she almost killed you!" he threw his head back and laughed. "Fuck you." I gasp out. Huh. I'm not mute after all. He laughs again. "Yo dude, welcome to Base Three." ------------------------------------------------ Short update :3