Rohan
Tuesday, March 22nd, 2022 (The day of the Shutdown)
Rohan’s eyes shot open.
Momentarily forgetting where he was, he slipped off the couch and crashed onto the ground, startling the nearest students. He learned in Chemistry class that recurring dreams are common, so to have them twice shouldn’t be any cause for alarm. Unless it was that traumatizing. Cautiously surveying the room, his eyes fell on the windows.
The colors outside hadn’t returned to their original state which was oddly relieving. He expected to wake up and see it having disappeared.
It was only a nightmare in the end.
Rubbing his eyes to try and fully awaken, no one noticed him as he stumbled to the bathroom. Opening the door, the stench of urine welcomed him inside.
Pale light streamed through the thin window above the bathroom stalls, accentuating the contours of his face as he looked in the mirror. He’d only experienced the nightmare twice, but he never felt so weak and strained as he did now.
Turning on the tap, he found comfort in the sound of flowing water. Breathing in from his nose, he released his pent-up stress as he exhaled from his mouth.
He repeated it for a while until he cupped his hands underneath the tap and splashed it on his face, washing away the last vestiges of trauma. His black hair plastered to his forehead and his thin arms were visible against his sweat-stained long-sleeved shirt.
Rolling back his sleeves so they would stop clinging to his skin, he stood motionless as he observed something peculiar on his left arm. What the… He moved to an area where there was ample light and pulled back his sleeve.
Where there used to be nothing but his tan skin, a tattoo of a serpent in the style of the Mayans wrapped around his entire arm like an arm sleeve.
This can’t be… no this… is this because of the nightmare?
Continuing to stare, enraptured by the design, it took him a few seconds before realizing that the ink was moving.
Twisting his arm to see the back of it, the triangular head of the serpent was swaying on his skin, its tongue flickering out as if it was studying its new environment.
Rohan remembered the gargantuan snake that towered over the clouds and he leapt towards the sinks, desperation seizing him like a fever.
Grabbing a paper towel, he scrubbed his arm until it was chafed raw, but still, the serpent looked undisturbed by the effort.
Already considering the worst-case scenario, his brain yelled at him to remove the skin before it spread to the rest of his body like an infection. Nails pressed into his skin and he dug deep into his flesh until it drew blood.
Breaking past the initial layer of skin, the pain was swift to follow, making his fingers twitch in reluctance.
He couldn't move himself to do it.
Steadying himself against the wall, despair overwhelmed him and thick tears flowed freely from his eyes. The dread that the horrors in his nightmares weren’t just his imagination anymore… he could feel his throat closing in on itself.
The snake continued to coil around his left forearm.
“The damned fucker branded me,” he choked out, the bitter truth realized once he said those words aloud.
What other explanation was there for the same creature that had killed him twice in two separate dreams and the tattoo on his left arm?
Clenching his teeth, he reached for a paper towel and patched his arm. Twisting the tap until it screeched in protest at being turned too far, he let the water cleanse the blood from under his nails, watching streams of red flow into the drain. He took a deep breath.
I just shouldn’t tell anyone and I’ll be safe. The last thing is another snark remark from Serena. Just imagine nothing is wrong.
Losing track of time, the light fluttering from outside was starting to change.
Rushing to Room 212, the sound of candy wrappers being trampled echoed around the halls as his feet smacked against the tiles.
Stopping at the door, he watched all of the students crowding the windows, trying to push others out of the way until they were pressed against the glass. Outside, fissure lines crisscrossed across the velvet view, slowly expanding, until all at once the sky shattered and fell towards the Earth.
Students screamed and hurried away from the windows, trampling each other as they raced towards the door. Ignoring them, Rohan continued to watch through the window as it dissolved into the air making the whole thing seem like a trick of the light.
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
No snake.
The original hazy gray returned as if nothing happened and with it, the ominous threat that hung over their heads vanished. The light panels remained dark.
Yet as students looked at the light panels to see if they would return, they were left disappointed.
Disappointed, they went their separate ways, a few eyeing him warily like he was rotting meat. Oblivious to their disdain his eyes remained fixated on the sky.
Jake caught sight of him in the corner of the classroom and walked over, curiously eyeing his damp hair and agitated behavior.
“What happened to you? Did you go and take a shower?" Jake jested, stopping in front of him.
Frowning, he covered his nose with his hand. “Dude, you smell repulsive. Did you shit yourself?”
“... What?”
For a second, the overwhelming tsunami of anxiety that threatened to bury him disappeared as he tried to understand Jake's remark. True enough, a rancid smell permeated from his body causing more people to distance themselves and move closer to the open windows.
“Oh, I didn’t… notice…” he muttered, examining the classroom. In a hushed tone, Rohan asked, “Did I smell like this the whole time?”
“No, or I would’ve told you otherwise,” Jake responded in a nasal tone, plugging his nose. “Go wash off or something.”
Grabbing a nearby meter stick, Jake prodded at him, pushing him out.
Swatting it away, Rohan said, “Yea— yo I got the idea. Stop with the poking!”
Spinning around, Rohan walked out and the students released a collective gasp of relief.
He contemplated just hiding in the halls. There was no one to stop him… no one to talk to. His parents would come eventually when this was all fixed — he chewed on the thought for a while — unless they were dealing with troubles of their own.
The bathroom was more cheerfully lit than before, but if anything, that filled him with greater unease. Locking the door, he started stripping.
Once they’d all been peeled off, he disposed of his clothes on the floor and stepped backward so his gangly set of limbs were all visible in the mirror.
His initial thoughts were that he was taller, but that wasn’t the case based on his reflection.
Parts of his body appeared to have sunken, making his bone structure more pronounced. His skin was pulled taut over his muscles and ribs as if his fat content had been secreted from his pores. From barely underweight, he’d become the poster child of famine.
Tracing his index finger along his narrow chest, he left a very distinguishable trail behind. Frowning, he moved closer to get a closer look at his face and immediately regretted it.
The light case of acne he’d been afflicted with for the past year had exploded to cover his face in pus and excess oils. The same was true for the rest of him. His stomach turned and he started wiping at the thick layer of grime. When he finished he was left marveling at the result.
Every blemish and freckle he possessed was expunged and his skin became unnaturally glossy. Even the serpent tattoo felt the difference, its behavior metamorphosing into lively movements. It appeared a bit larger, the trunk a bit thicker. Fucking parasite. So you’re the one responsible.
Staring at himself in the mirror, one microscopic part of him exuded joy at his new appearance because aside from the aesthetics, he did look… like a malnourished action hero. Even the gouges his nails had torn into his flesh had mostly healed leaving only pale marks.
Just as he was finding respite in his situation, the snake, whose movements had been limited to his forearm moved past his elbow. That was enough for Rohan to trample the “hero” notion in its infancy. It was ridiculous to imagine anything remotely “hero-like” coming from a creature of his nightmare.
Watching it slither all across his left arm, he nervously touched it. The tattoo stopped its movements and started circling the point of his finger. Covering its head, he held back the impulse to try and strangle it.
It won’t be damaged by something like that. You’ll only hurt yourself.
Putting his clothes on, they hung loosely on his thin frame and their dampness made him shiver but at least he felt less exposed. Additionally, the serpent was hidden from prying eyes by the long sleeves.
Walking out the door, he kicked aside some of the wrappers that hadn’t been swept by the janitors and sat down against the wall. Without much fat left to cushion his bones, even something as simple as sitting was a painstaking process.
Everything that happened in the past hour seemed so chaotic that he hadn't really had the chance to sit down and take it all in.
To start, he had his damned tattoo to deal with. Nothing in his world could explain the inner mechanisms of it meaning he had no idea how to control it.
The second thing was how to prepare for the future.
It was an extreme response, but nothing here spelled "normal". At the very least, there were still basic things that he could take care of.
In any survival situation that he’d read about, people struggled to thrive because they couldn’t adapt to the land fast enough.
Yeah. Maybe reading enough books about plants in the wilderness might be a good place to start.
Doing his best to brainstorm contingency plans, each one becoming more dramatic and ridiculous, he didn’t notice the students filing in front of him until one of them tapped his foot. Breaking out of his revelry, he squinted through the beam of light in his face to see a drab face glowering at him.
“Get up. Mrs. Crouch is calling the students down to the front entrance. The local police want to talk with us,” Laura, the president of the Youth Excellence club informed him.
Using the lockers as support, he managed to get to his feet, and the two of them walked side by side in silence as everyone else grumbled and complained about their empty stomachs. It was nearly 7:00 p.m. and most of them hadn’t eaten since 12:45 p.m. when they had their last break period.
“You look… different,” Laura dryly commented, looking at him from the side of her eyes as she held one of the few flashlights they managed to scavenge from the second floor. “You okay?”
Tilting his head to face her, he tried studying her to see if she was genuinely concerned.
“Y-yeah,” his voice was more hoarse than he remembered. “I'm just dealing with some things.”
Laura blankly nodded and left things there.
Reaching the atrium, a handful of soldiers along with some of the local firemen were waiting for them, and by the looks of it something had them agitated.