Somehow around 5:30 in the morning, I go inside and fall back asleep. Problem is, I have to wake up at six every morning if I don’t want to miss the bus. So when six o'clock rolls around, I am dead tired. I slowly open my eyelids, knowing that quickly I must get dressed, eat breakfast, get ready, and leave for the bus. I close my eyes, feeling like all of my energy has been sapped from my skinny body. I know I have to get out of bed, but some other part of my half-dead brain wills me to stay in and sleep.
The battle of the morning is in full motion, both sides fighting relentlessly against the other. I finally decide to intervene and get ready for school by getting out of bed. What I don't expect is that I roll off of my bed and onto the floor. With a thump on the ground, I am now more awake than before, in pain, and am tangled in my bed sheets on the ground. Thankfully my parents go to work early so they wouldn’t have to see me in my predicament. Red with embarrassment, I’m struggling to get out as I see my cat, Twinkie, eyeing me with suspicion. I could almost see that in her eyes, she was laughing at my sudden downfall.
“Don’t breathe a word of this to anyone, understand?” I whisper to the yellow tabby cat outside my door, her green eyes still staring me down, almost like she was challenging me. “Do you understand?” I repeat with a little bit more conviction in my voice. At that point, I guess I wasn’t interesting enough to maintain her attention, so with a flick of her tail, she left me in my bedroom.
After a couple of minutes, I had somehow manage to unravel my blankets from around me and I check the clock. 6:47. “Oh, crap!” I exclaimed as I grabbed my sweatshirt and shoes from the night before, and the first pair of pants I set my eyes on. Even though my room is a total disaster, I know if I book it out of my house I might have the slightest possibility of making it to the bus stop on time.
6:52. I’ve changed into all of my clothes that I’m wearing for school and I grab my backpack from off of it’s hook. I hurry and grab an apple to take with me for breakfast, then I run out of the door.
I’m outside now and I am running faster than if I was being chased by a grizzly bear that weighs 800 pounds, faster than if I was running from a cheetah, faster than if I saw a big ol’ juicy cheeseburger with chunky green guacamole, ripe red tomatoes, crisp green lettuce to give the exact amount of freshness and crunch, a sizzling burger that smelled like heaven, gooey cheese melting down the sides, a fresh sesame seed bun, and to top it off… with strips of bacon layered in the inside. (Bacon makes everything taste better!) My legs were moving faster than even if I saw the burger made from heaven on the end of the street. Hey, I do have a sweet spot for cheeseburgers.
I continue to run when I see the bus-stop, it’s just at the end of this street. I check my iphone, 6:58. That almost seems to give me the energy I need to sprint to the end of the street. I see the bus pull up and high school kids file onto the bus, almost like the bus is there to pick them up for a prison sentence. As the bus starts its engine again, I shout, trying to get the driver’s attention so I don’t have to walk the couple miles to school. Even though 2 miles may not seem like a lot, there are not too many teenagers who delight in walking that long when they're already running late.
At the last moment when I see the bus close her doors, I put my hand in the way of the shutting doors that I know will hurt if it closes completely. Thankfully, the bus driver sees my hand, and in a panic, slams on the button that opens the doors. I breathe a sigh of relief and climb into the awaiting bus while the bus driver seems to mutter something about me being a stupid sophmore. As I walk to the back of the bus, I get the privilege of having all of the people on the bus stare at me, much more than usual. I sit down in my designated seat, embarrassed as the rest of the bus resumes to whatever conversations they seemed to be having previously, almost as if what just occurred never happened.
I pull out my book to review what I had been studying for the last month in preparation for my test when I feel this sudden sickness in my stomach. I start to have thoughts of escaping this place in which I have no desire to be in, to be free, be who I want to be, be with the moon. As they come into my mind in a frenzy, I realize that something’s wrong. I don’t know what, but I have this sick feeling in my stomach that I cannot find the origin of. I try and shake the thoughts from my head when I finally notice someone sitting beside me.
It must be a new girl, because she doesn’t seem familiar and she must have not heard of my psychoness. And yet, she looked familiar as well. She has this rich brown skin with no flaws whatsoever and luscious black hair that was carefully plaited into the most intricate braid I had ever seen, any girl who cared about her looks would be either praising her or planning how to take their revenge for this newcomer taking their “title” of looking the hottest.
She had a fitted white shirt, a red leather jacket, and a long golden necklace hanging from her neck with the most delicately designed sun as the emblem. It looked as if the sun were bursting and was captured in gold. I’m pretty sure she’ll fit right in with the rich kids. She's wearing these black ripped skinny-jeans and these bright red high heels that I swear make her six inches taller.
Her face is what draws my attention. She looks like she spent hours in the bathroom that morning just to do her makeup and she was good at it. Her lips were more of a caucasian skin tone, but darker, and her eyeshadow seemed to shimmer from gold to copper, both seeming to be fighting to dominate the other. But what catches my eye is her eyes, they were blue with golden flecks. They almost made the illusion of a sunken ship’s treasure twinkling as it sinks into the sea. She seems to notice me staring her so she looks at me, almost like she was trying to figure out who I was as well. Recognition appears in her sea-blue eyes as she says, “Hi. I’m Adeline Porter, but you can call me Addie. Can I sit here?”
I cannot believe my ears. It may be the shock of someone not immediately looking at me like I’m an alien or of hearing her melodious soprano voice saying words to me, but she wants to sit next to me? She even told me her name! For heaven’s sake, I thought that nothing could be weirder until I heard myself reply “Sure. I don’t mind… Are you sure you aren’t confusing me with someone else?”
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
“Nope, I’m pretty sure I’m talking to a girl who is wearing a kind of run down sweatshirt. No offense. What’s your name?”
“Riley,” I replied cautiously “Riley Stanton.”
“Hm,” Her iphone apparently wasn’t keeping her attention anymore. She was focused on me and seemed intent on talking to me. “What grade are you in?”
“I’m sixteen, so I’m a sophomore.”
“Really?”
“Yeah…”
“I’m going to this school too. Hopefully they don’t have much more of this electricity stuff there.”
Luckily the school bus stops or I might have a heart attack. I was not ready for this much human interaction. As the students file out of the school bus, this weird odor seems to make itself known. It smells like rotting fish sitting out in the sun for a long time. Just then, my brain pulled one of the memories I had filed away so long ago.
- - - - -
I was eight years old at the time. I was with my parents and we decided to go on a family vacation to San Francisco. I was elated and could hardly stay in my seat, I mean, how could you when this was your first time out of your hometown and you were not extremely mature? As soon as the plane touched the ground and passengers were told to exit the plane, I raced out of the plane, into the terminal, and was wandering around the airport.
My parents didn’t mind that much because they had one of those phone watch things on my wrist. My jaw dropped as I wandered from terminal to terminal, shop to shop. I had even purchased a bagel with cinnamon sugar from my parent’s credit card, my parents still have never figured out why a hundred or so dollars have vanished from their crediting account. They never would have guessed that I, their only daughter, would have memorized the code of their credit card.
After wandering around the airport for hours, taking in all of the colors, music, and the energy of it all, I felt my wrist vibrate from the watch and my mom’s face appeared on the screen. I sighed aloud, knowing that my parents were trying to find out where I was via facetime and direct me back where they were. I suddenly had an idea.
I was passing by a restaurant and grabbed the closest knife as I passed. Quickly I answered the call and yelled, “Bathroom break!” and hung up. My parents never want to be in the middle of my private business, so they let me be. I saw my chance. I ran into the bathroom, into a stall, and I took a deep breath.
I quickly took the knife and tried sawing at the material keeping the watch on my wrist. This idea, of course, didn’t work: I’ve tried that trick too many times, so my parents have found a tougher material to keep the watch secured. Exasperated, I quickly exited the bathroom (not before washing my hands thoroughly because, ew, I was in the bathroom).
As I returned to the shops, I gazed in wonder and awe at each shop, person, and even luggage bag that passed my direction. Eventually I wandered out of the airport and started to walk outside in the city. I hear the buzzing noise with, again, the picture of my smiling mother. Knowing that yelling bathroom break would not work a second time, I ran as fast as I could to get behind the building.
Looking frantically and hearing the ringing piercing my eardrum, I laid my eyes on a garbage can. While I tried not to gag, I scoured the garbage for something sharp enough to cut whatever material this was. After a couple of minutes of rummaging through the trash, I heard a voice behind me.
“Looking for this?” A boy about my age was standing in front of me with hair as wild and black as a frightened cat whose fur is standing on end and he had the most interesting eyes. They looked like my eyes, but with copper instead of silver flecks. He wore a white t-shirt with a gray sweater and he wore corduroy slacks. He had these white tennis shoes and a mischievous smile as he looked at me. In his hand he held a knife, a well made knife that would cut effortlessly into any material I could think of.
With wanting evident in my eyes I summoned as much authority as I could muster, looked at him and replied “And who are you?”
“Who am I? I was just about to ask who you were. A homeless person searching for food in the trash, a young child who got her wee fuzzy bunny thrown away and is hurriedly looking for the piece of fuzz, a girl who wants a knife so she can cut the annoying device off of her arm?”
I gazed in astonishment at the boy. He just guessed the exact reason why I was searching through the garbage can so thoroughly. I looked up with suspicion, “Why are you asking?”
“Because I have a sharp object that will penetrate that fabric easily and won’t do something bad to your body. In other words, I’m your only option.”
“How old are you?”
“Eight, and you?”
“Eight… What’s your name?”
The boy looked at me and then looked down, his expression was twisted with indecision. “Siris... You don’t need to know my last name, so you can call me by my first name. Now before you fly away to your parents, do you want to cut the cellphone watch thing off or not?”
I feared I had no other option. My ears seemed to be bleeding internally and I shoved the guilt from ignoring my parents into the back of my mind as I replied “Fine. Just give me the knife.”
With the slit made in the rubber attachment, the watch fell from my arm and landed on the ground. It then shattered upon impact and was now lifeless. I looked at the boy and eyed him warily. “Why did you help me? As you so clearly stated before, I’m an outsider, the new kid. Why would you want to spend your time helping me?”
“Because,” he spoke softly with a goofy grin spreading across his face, “ I have to finish something from an... arguement we had earlier.”
In my confused state, I didn’t comprehend it fast enough until the boy had pummeled me to the ground. We wrestled as fiercely as eight year olds could until, out of pure exhaustion, I fell down. He grabbed my arm and searched for something from his pocket. He pressed it to my wrist and started to murmur something in a low voice. Amidst my struggles I felt this searing sensation on my wrist. I screamed in agony as I wriggled in pain.
It was the most painful thing I had ever experienced, even now the pain I have with my dreams don’t compare to what I felt that day in San Francisco.
Close after, I squeezed my eyes shut in hope that it would deaden the pain. After what seemed like hours, the boy’s hot breath was on my skin as he softly whispered, “My name’s Siris. You mean a lot to me. Please remember that, no matter what happens.” I felt the breath leave my face and then my body being dragged by my leg. I was exhausted from fighting this boy that I was limp as he dragged me across concrete passageways and wooden planks that left splinters in my skin.
My wrist was still aching as I felt him stop. I looked up for a brief second and now I wish I never did. The pennies that hid in his eyes glittered as he looked upon me in pity. He looked down upon me and said “With this mark, you will now be mine.” I happened to have the strength to raise my arm a foot or two to take a glance at my wrist. The scar was in the form of a star.
When I was distracted with my wrist, the boy pushed me off of the old wooden pier. I was surrounded by the putrid smell of fish as I landed in the net full of the wriggling slippery catch of the day. With a wave of utter shock, my eyes rolled back and all went black.
That was when my dreams began.