IMPORTANTE.....really

Hello Readers!

I'm sorry to inform you that I will not be updating Blank for a while. Before you curl into a fetal position and sob for 5 hours, please hear me out.

Blank is undergoing some serious changes editing-wise. If you would like to know the changes that are going to happen to Blank please read the newest post on the News Page.

I'm hoping to edit Blank as fast as I can so I can update new chapters for y'all! I'm also probably going to delete all of my chapters on this blog after it is edited so that new readers won't be confused about whether or not to read the old or the new edited chapters.

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Thanks for reading,
-Liym Enello

Chapter Sixteen: Created

A/N: This chapter was fun to write! I hope you enjoy!

p.s.- please comment on this chapter! It seriously makes my whole day! You should also comment on my post called **IMPORTANT MESSAGE** because it's really important! 

Chapter Sixteen: Created

                 “Jeane.” I embrace my aunt with my good arm, the other hanging limply by my side. I don’t feel any pain, probably because my brain is still in survival mode. She embraces me fully, her big curly hair covering my face entirely.

                “I’ve missed you. You haven’t visited me like you promised.” She kisses the side of my cheek before backing away a few inches.

                “I’m sorry. I’ve been…” I glance at Sam. “Occupied.”

                “I can see that.” She looks at my broken arm with disgust. “Them?”

                Glancing at my mess of an arm, I nod yes. She clicks her tongue and gently places her palm over my chest.

                “Jeane?” I ask nervously.

                “Shh…” She pushes her palm against me, sending a fiery jolt through my spine. I gasp in pain, and Sam who is close behind me growls. Then, a cold wave passes through my body, from my chest all the way down and out of my toes. I’m transfixed as I watch my arm magically replace itself and heal completely; my cuts and bruises also fade. I clench and unclench my hand, testing the muscles in my forearm. It’s perfect.

                “To hurt,” Jeane speaks in a whisper, “passed down from my great-grandparents, The Tidbit Taylors. And to heal, my second power that developed on its own when I was born.”

                Tears well up in my eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?” How could she keep such a huge part of herself hidden from me?

                “Oh, the cliché motive dear. You were just too young. I knew it was a possibility that you might inherit my gene, being that your mother is my sister and we share the same blood… but…” She pauses, gathering her thoughts and crossing her arms. “I never really believed that you would get it. I thought I would pass it on to my children, if I ever had any… not to you.”

“Do Mom and Dad know? Does anybody?” I ask.

“I’ve never told anyone. Not even Daisy.”

I chuckle. “Daisy’s a dog, Jeane. She has no idea what you’re saying.”

“I guess you’re right.” She smiles back. It’s a good feeling to have, knowing that I’m able to make small talk after what just happened. Everything is –almost—normal.

I turn towards Sam. “Are you okay?”

He nods, but he’s shaking. I immediately give him a hug, with both arms this time. He wraps his arms around me too, and leans his head on mine. We stay like this for many moments before Aunt Jeane clears her throat and we both pull apart awkwardly.

“You’re very talented. Sam, is it?” Jeane says, giving him the up-down.

“Yes. Nice to meet you, Jeane.” He shakes hands with my aunt.

“I don’t know how we would’ve gotten out of there alive if it wasn’t for you.” She says, letting go of his hand.“Teleportation is a very rare gift. I’ve only known one other person that could do it, but he died years ago. Is teleportation your first or second power?”

“It’s a-” Sam clears his throat. “My first. Strength is my second; it’s only twice that of a human’s though.”

“I see.” 

"This bathroom looks familiar. Are we at your house, Sam?" I ask rhetorically, glancing at the acquainted medicine cabinet. I look at myself in the mirror. I’m covered in dust from head to toe. I run my fingers through my hair and ruffle it, sending a cloud of dust in every direction.

“We’re a mess.” I state. Jeane and Sam are covered in the dry bits of cement and debris also. I turn a handle on the sink and bend over to wash my hair. Sam and Jeane immediately copy me, using the other two sinks in the room. Once our hair and faces were washed down, we patted out our clothes as best we could.

“Sam?” Jeane says as she brushes dust off her tennis shoes. “Where are we?”

"My house. New Haven, Connecticut.” Sam says, brushing dust off his shoulders. “We shouldn't stay here. They won't take long to regroup and track us here. This is a very obvious place for us to be." 

"Where can we go?" I ask, raising my eyebrows. 

Sam gives Aunt Jeane a look, silently asking for any ideas. She shakes her head. "I'll figure it out."

************************************************************************

I've never seen Sam eat so much. As Jeane and I sat on the couch in the den Sam ran around the house with a big black backpack full of clothes, money, and disposable telephones. Every time he passed the kitchen though, he would reach in the fridge and pull out any kind of food and gobbled it down. I don't blame him. Sam had mentioned to us earlier that they had barely fed him at all back in the facility. Only small scraps, just enough to keep him alive. Sam was starving. 

After a few minutes of sitting, Jeane sighed and walked into the kitchen. I leaned back in the puffy brown couch cushions and soaked in the ultra-soft feeling. My eyes were drifting when Jeane plopped a plate on my lap full of ham-and-cheese sandwiches. I was gobbling down my fourth one when Sam came into the den, backpack close to bursting. 

Then a very obvious What-The-Hell-Were-You-Thinking thought popped in my mind. 

"Where's your Dad?" I set the plate down on the coffee table in front of me. 

"I just texted him. He went hiking in East Rock Park yesterday morning. He shouldn't be back until tomorrow night. I'll tell him about what happened. He could stay with my uncle upstate." 

"Why wasn't he worried about you? We've been gone a week!" I shout, furious that Sam's dad would take a vacation while is only son was missing.

Sam gives me a look that could cut glass. "He's used to me being gone for a few days. My dad knows that I can take care of myself."

"Oh." I glance at my stubbornly dirty converse in shame, my cheeks flaming. "Okay. Will-" I pause, feeling sorry for Sam's dad. "Will he ever be able to come back home?"

"No. None of us can."

***********************************************************************

"Sam, I have to tell you something." I say as Jeane re-ties her shoes and Sam double-checks his backpack. 

He gazes up at me with his silver eyes. "What is it?"

"Back in the... um, facility..."

Sam's eyes darken but he doesn't tell me to shut up and forget about it. "Go on."

"They said that they were able to study my brainwaves while sleeping in those cells. They figured out my powers --in detail."

His eyes sparkle with interest as he curtly zips his backpack and slings it over his shoulder. Jeane also looks at me with interest. I clear my throat and speak.

"All your theories were right, Sam. Everything. My first power is telekinesis, and my second is, um, futuristic insight through dreaming."

Sam's jaw drops. "You're saying that your dreams... are real? Or going to be?" 

"We're in luck." Jeane drapes an arm over my shoulders. "I've always wanted a physic in the family." She said with morbid humor. They both knew I had nightmares. Sam and Jeane didn't ask about them, and I'm glad they didn't. 

I've cried enough today.

*********************************************************************

"I don't know how I'm going to break this to Annie." I tell Jeane as we walk out of Sam's front door. He leads the way down the gravel pathway. We still haven't decided where to go yet, but Sam was practically having anxiety attacks about staying in one place too long. 

"I'll tell 'er." Jeane states, taking her hand in mine. Our boots clash against the gravel in a similar rhythm. 

"No, no..." I pause indecisively. "I will. I can't make you do that... but what do I say Aunt Jeane? I can't just go: oh, hey Annie! Sorry that I've been missing for a week. I was kind of kidnapped by monsters. Oh, I have superpowers too. Isn't that neat? Well, I have to go now. Bye forever."

"I don't think it'll turn out quite like that...." Jeane ponders, staring at her shoes. Sam pulls out his cell phone and types something into it. Probably texting his dad about the situation. 

"How about you write Ann a letter?"

"A letter?" My eyes glaze over, a sudden image flashing in my mind. For always and ever?

   “Hey,” Sam says to me as I open the front door for him.

   “Hey.” I mumble against his chest as I embrace him and breathe in his delicious scent. Firewood, lasagna, and the rustic smell of his clothes from all the old drawers he keeps them in. Divine. I gulp it down, savor it.

   He doesn’t pull away for a long time, but when he does, I whine. He laughs at me.

  “Common, we have to go. Have you said goodbye to Annie?”

  “No, I thought it would be best for her not to know where we’re going.” I inform him and pull my thick sweater on, tucking my braid under the cloth at the nape. Hurriedly, I scoop up my backpack, ready to heave it onto my shoulders but Sam takes it from me and slips it on an arm.

  “I’m so-”

  “Don’t do that. You’ve said it enough. It’s my own fault, anyway.” I mutter, an almost depressed feeling overpowering me.

  “No, it’s not-”

  “You can say all you want how it isn’t my fault, Sam, but it is my fault. I’ll never accept that it isn’t, so accept that…” I say. That sounded saner in my head.

  “Okay.” Sam knows not to argue with me when I’m in this mood. I feel a dark depressing wave wash over my emotions, but I push it back to the deep recesses of my conscious. Who’s been quiet for a while.

   Why aren’t you talking to me…? I ask it, almost pouting and jutting out my lower lip. I like your snarky attitude and advice. I’m all alone in my head, now… I grab Sam’s hand instinctually as he lead me through the doorway. I take one last look at my dining room across the foyer, staring at the bowl of cereal I couldn’t choke down this morning due to the lump in my throat. There’s a small little note tucked under it, addressed to Ann. I figured it would be too cold-hearted to leave without some kind of note. Isn’t that what runaways do? Leave a final note? It’s almost like closure to me. Closure from this life, I guess.

  An icy wind breaks through my sweater, causing gooseflesh to pop up all over my body. Sam takes a deep breath and we disappear from Boston.

 For always and ever?

 Back in the dining room, a thousand miles away from the girl with the midnight hair, a blonde, older girl enters a small dining room, welcomed only be an unfinished bowl of Cap’n Crunch. Furrowing her brow, the blonde grabs a note tucked neatly underneath the glossy container.  

            I’ll love you, Ann.

       For always and ever.

 So it really is true. Some gene in my body gives me the ability to see the future in my dreams. 

"Sounds like a plan." I say. Aunt Jeane can read even my most minute expressions expertly but she doesn't ask me what's wrong. "Sam!" I call ahead, and he turns around, throwing his cellphone into the woods  on his left. The trees were starting to lose their leaves and a brilliant collage of orange and yellow pick up with the wind and surround us. "We need to go to my house, very quickly, I don't want Annie to see me. So, um, can we go to my room?"

"I don't know if that's the safest idea." Sam says protectively. "That's where they found us."

"But you said that they need to regroup! How long does that usually take?"

"I'm not sure..." Sam says, pawing at the back of his neck. "A few hours? Maybe?"

Jeane glances at her wristwatch. "It's only been an hour. We have time. Eneile needs to do this, Samuel."

The mention of Sam's full name gives Aunt Jeane the allusion of authority. Sam bows his head. 

"Fine. Ten minutes tops. If I even catch a glimpse of a black cloak we are out of there." 

"Thank you, Sam." I say as Jeane and I grasp his forearm. We disappear and land in the middle of my bedroom almost silently, only a few runaway leaves spiraling around us before landing on the floor of my room. Aunt Jeane lands softly --she's a natural. Immediately, I dive for my backpack to search for a pencil and paper. As I'm shifting through my school supples I notice a white oblong shape. Curious, I did it out and look at it. 

It's the letter. From them. 

You never even opened it.

I quickly glance behind me. Sam and Jeane are sitting on my bed silently, listening for any kind of disturbance whether it be Annie or one of Them. They don't take notice of me. I cough as I rip open the envelope and pull out the heavy industrial paper. In neat, digital writing, is a single sentence. 

"We're coming for you."

My hands start shaking and I stuff the letter into the depths of my backpack. They're sick. Absolutely sick. They sent that as a warning, so I would be fucking prepared. 

Because they always want a challenge.

As calmly as I can, I pull out a pencil and sheet of paper and write to Ann. My finger fly across the paper when I remember that we can't stay here long. 

      I’ll love you, Ann.

   For always and ever. I'm okay, and there is no need to worry. Tell mom and dad I love them. See ya around.

 

 I fold the paper into fourths and tuck it in my jeans pocket. Then I go to my closet and pull on a thick gray sweater and stuff the rest of my clothes into my bag. I also pack my journal, a toothbrush, makeup, shampoo, and soap, just in case we couldn't find a shower somewhere. I pack a few books and the fluffy pillow Aunt Jeane gave me years ago. 

"Do you think Annie's in the house?"

Jeane checks her wristwatch again. "My time-zones are screwed up."

I frown and glance at my digital clock on my nightstand. It's three in the morning here. "She should be asleep."

I open my door cautiously but the damn hinges still creak anyway. Sam and I both flinch while Jeane keeps a calm demeanor, ever the adult one. 

We slip down the hallway past Annie's room without much trouble. I go to the cabinet and pour a bowl of Capn' Crunch. This way she'll know the note was sent by me and not some serial killer who's studied my handwriting. 

"Okay," I whisper and hold back a fresh wave of tears. I wipe my nose with my shirt sleeve. I also braid my hair quickly so it's out of my face and tuck it in at the nape of my neck. He holds his arms out to me and a wrap mine around him in a fierce hug, breathing him in. Firewood, lasagna. 

"Time to go." Sam keeps looking over his shoulder and out of the windows into the pitch black night. They could be watching us and we wouldn't even see them. He pulls away from me.

"We don't need to stop at my house." Jeane whispers, almost to herself. I'll call some friends that can take care of Daisy."

Sam nods. "We'll go to New York. The three head Blank viceroys are based there. They'll take us in." 

Jeane seems uncomfortable with this but holds on to Sam's forearm anyway. Excited and terrified to meet the three leaders of the Blank world, I grasp Sam's arm and we disappear from Boston, Massachusetts for the last time. 

 End of Chapter Sixteen.

Chapter Fifteen: Ephemeral

A/N: New chapter! I really liked writing this one. It was bloody good fun. I will update the theme song for this chapter in the next few minutes. Hope you like it!

Chapter Fifteen: Ephemeral

The dark figure’s face is standardly unrecognizable. The evanescent red orbs in the depths of Vassago’s hood glow with delight. He raises a hand to point a clawed finger at me.

“Ingénue, this one.” A dark chuckle escapes him. My eyes grow wide and my hands tremble in fear. We were so close. The spicy scent of pine trees and the soft dirt under my shoes proves it. But we didn’t make it.

You almost escaped.

“You-” Vassago shifts his point to Lucas who tenses up and clutches Sam tighter in his arms.  “Have betrayed your own kind.”

Lucas gulps audibly. His fingers tense tighter for a single moment before relaxing completely, letting Sam slide out of his grip.

“No!” I yell, and reflexively lurch for Sam, but I’m not fast enough. Sam falls to the ground with a loud thud as a pained grunt echoes from his mouth into the trees. That fall could kill him in his condition.  Now I’m on my knees, holding Sam’s head in my lap. It’s much like my nightmare, except there is no rain and Sam isn’t dying by my hands.

 Without Sam’s weight in Lucas’s arms, he lurches toward Vassago and the other dark figure beside him, aiming for their faces. The two enemies don’t move, surprised with Lucas’s actions. But as Lucas grabs hold of Vassago’s neck, the other being simply grabs hold of Lucas’s wrists and tosses him into the nearest tree, shaking thousands of needles off of the branches.

“You Blanks are difficult.” Vassago hisses and turns to me.

“What’s happening?” Sam whispers, his silver eyes sluggishly making their way to mine. I’m not sure how to respond.

You’re going to die.

“No, Vassago! I’m your enemy now, fight me!” Lucas shouts while staggering to an upright position. For a moment, Vassago is distracted. His head returns to Lucas to look at him, but the other figure has its attention on Sam and me, huddled in the dirt. I put my arms around Sam’s head in a protective gesture. The dark figure slowly ghosts over to us until it is about a meter away, and tilt’s its head.

“Shall I finish him, Vassago? He’s spoiled.” A woman’s voice emerges from the dark hole in her hood. She tilts her head marginally to the right. Sam’s eyes go wide as she says this. I clutch his hand. What can I do?

“Wait a moment.” Vassago approaches Lucas under the shade of the pine tree. Lucas defiantly spits by Vassago’s booted feet which makes him chuckle. Fast as a heartbeat, Vassago clutches his hand around Lucas’s neck. He didn’t even see it coming. Vassago squeezes as his victim gasps. The feeling of helplessness overwhelms me as I watch from the sidelines.  Sam is able to grasp my hand tighter, but it tires him, there is sweat beading on his forehead. His concentrating on something.

Lucas takes Vassago’s final embrace of his hand, and stops breathing altogether. Vassago lets him crumple to the ground, Lucas’s exposed face and neck buried in the pine needles. There isn’t even time to cry. Vassago joins the womanly cloaked figure and they stare at Sam and me. At least I think they are.

“You’ve caused us many a great trouble, Eneile.” Vassago purrs. “I can’t let you live.”

“Sam,” I frantically whisper at the broken boy in my lap. “Get us out of here, please, try.” I hold one of his hands in both of mine. “I can’t fight. I’ll be outnumbered. I can’t…”

“Although, your insolence amuses me, I cannot prolong your life. You’ve proven to be able to use your powers inside the facility, which most Blanks do not have the ability to do.” Says Vassago, earning a disinterested grunt from the feminine figure.

        “Please, let us live. I won’t tell anyone, not even my sister. You’ll keep your secrets, and I’ll keep mine. You don’t have to do this.” I whisper.

        “Impudent fool.” Vassago says, inching closer to us, his bloodstained fingers twitching slightly with anticipation. “You’re powers are far greater than they seem. You must be disposed of.”

        “Why did you keep me alive then?” I say. “Why would you keep me alive?”

        “We want Jeane!” In an unintended fit of rage, Vassago’s voice lowers to a demonic growl, and his wrist snatches out to connect with my face, sending me flying in the same direction as his blow. Sam is knocked only a few feet after he feel from my lap, and blankly stares at the sky. Too injured, tired, emotionally marred to move, or care. This all happens in the few milliseconds that it takes me to smash into the nearest evergreen, all breath escaping my lungs at once. I hear things inside my arm and hand crack, but I feel no pain.

        In no time at all, I see Vassago’s booted feet crunch in front of me. I’m going to die. In the last resort of defense, I raise my hands to cover my face, when suddenly I hear a familiar cry of a woman.  Vassago’s boots fly out of my line of sight, and I hear a crash, and a distressed moan. Then a higher, shriller woman’s scream echoes as I watch her be thrown into the cement building.

        She shouldn’t be here!

        “Go back!” I scream at her. “Go home! Leave!” I stagger to an upright position, clutching my broken arm with my good hand.

        Vassago, having pulverized four trees with his body, finally rises and faces her.

        “Run!” I stagger toward her, but she ignores me, her back is turned. A small pale hand stretches in front of her, and an invisible force knocks Vassago back into the trees. Her hand still raised, she silently twitches her barren ring finger downwards, sending the cement roof of the facility crashing down, covering us with dust and smoke.

        “Quickly, we have to go.” She grabs my uninjured hand.

        “Wait! Sam!” I shout, straining against her hand. He’s lying in the dirt, covered in dust; cold, alone. I won’t let him die here.

        “The boy? We have no time. Leave him.”

        “I can’t. Jeane, he’s important…”

        Jeane Taylor was eleven when she first found out she was different. When her mother and father left for work early in the morning, Jeane would wake up and get out of her warm pink bed to eat cereal before her sister Margot’s friend’s parent came to take her and Margot to school. While Margot dragged herself into the bathroom for a hot bath, Jeane would make cereal. She’d raise her hand, and tell the wooden stool with her mind to “come here, please”. Once the stool was in reach, Jeane picked it up and placed it under the cupboard and climbed on top of it to reach the ceramic white bowls. Barely twitching her ring finger, the Lazy Susan twirled itself to her liking until her favorite cereal, Cap’n Crunch appeared. The cardboard box floated out of the Susan with ease into Jeane’s waiting hands, where she would pour the cereal for both herself and her sister.

        Sometimes Jeane wondered why Margot didn’t make her cereal this way.

        On stormy nights, while Jeane’s mother and father tucked the girls into bed for the night, Jeane and Margot would get a special treat. Mom and Dad told wonderful stories about their grandparents, The Tidbit Taylors.

        “Would you like to hear a story tonight, Jeane? How about you Margot?” Dad tucked the blushing sheet under Jeane’s chin as Mom tucked the yellow sheet under Margot’s.

        “Yes, yes!” They would both holler excitedly, despite the late hour.

        “Okay…” Their father would begin, and the girls were entranced immediately at the sound of their father’s voice booming, the words of the riveting tale echoing in their ears. Mother silently acted out some parts in the background, using makeshift props --if they were around-- like the girls’ stuffed animals or toy squirt guns.          

        “The Tidbit Taylors were your great-grandparents.” Dad would start.  “One night, only a few days after their grand wedding had taken place, they were abducted by aliens!”

        On cue, the girls would gasp as their mother ran around the room, running from invisible aliens before finally being captured and transported to the closet. The closet doors shut.

        “Everyone in town, the very town where we live today, gossiped for days about where in the heck the two lovers ran off to. But none of them knew they had been abducted.”

        “Idiots!” Margot would scoff, closing her eyes in disappointment of the townsfolk’s insolence.

        “But, weeks later, the two lover returned, cloaked in black clothes as dark as the night they arrived.”

Mother burst out of the closet, now donning a big black sweater she found in the girls’ closet, her hair disheveled from changing so quickly.

“The town asked millions of questions: ‘Where were you?’ ‘Do your parents know your back?’ ‘We thought you left for good! What’s wrong with you?’ ‘Not even a goodbye!’, things like that.” The father paused for breath.

“The townspeople never got a full answer though, only hearing tidbits of information from the Taylors as they began to pack up their belongings from the home they just moved into a few weeks ago. That’s why they were named the Tidbit Taylors.”

Mother started lifting invisible boxes and piling them in a red toy truck.

“Tell us what happened next!” Jeane was always the first to exclaim, before Margot gave her nod of approval.

“Well, the townspeople were pretty ticked off. No one ever left the town of Juneau. Ever. And the Tidbit Taylors were gonna do it twice! So they started annoying the Tidbit Taylors, saying they needed to stay in Juneau for their old parents’ sake. They would knock on their door at midnight, while the Taylors were still packing, (they wanted to leave as soon as possible), and giving them baked goods, begging them to stay. And why wouldn’t they? The Taylors were the most respected and richest family in town. Who would take over Taylor Grocery if the young mister Taylor and his pretty new wife didn’t take his father’s place? But eventually the Tidbit Taylors had enough of the townspeople’s badgering, and aggressively fought the neighbors, hollering at them and occasionally throwing them out of the yard by force. All they wanted to do was pack and get out of there! But…” Father would always pause here to create suspense.

“Tell us how they threw them out of the yard.” Jeane said seriously.

“That’s the best part. The Tidbit Taylor’s would raise their right hands together, move their ring finger slightly down, and send the annoying townspeople straight across the street into the dirt! People left their house with broken bones and bloody noses.”

Mother raised her hand quickly and repeated the movement, attacking faceless people with her imagination. The girls always thought their mother was the most beautiful this way, her face full of passion while acting out a script.

 “Soon, the town thought the Taylor’s were practicing dark magic, and let them finish packing up their furniture, books, and other things into their truck. The Tidbit Taylors left two days after they had returned, leaving the injured and pissed townspeople behind.”

Mother pushed the toy truck with her foot, sending if flying across the room and slamming into the door.

“Does anyone know what happened to them?”

“Of course! We do.” Father chuckled and kissed both of the girls’ foreheads as Mother took off the black sweatshirt and hung it back in the closet before fixing her hair.

“The Tidbit Taylors died four years later. Some freak accident. Not even the police could explain it. Child services sent their only son, John, back to Juneau to live with the Tidbit Taylor’s parents. The town hated him because of his parent’s dark and witchy ways, and thought him a demon child. Still, after the original Taylors grew old and died too, John took over the grocery, married, and had a son. Me. Then I married your mother, and now you’re here. Taylor legacy!”

“Your confusing, Daddy.” Jeane and Margot would say at once.  Father would chuckle as he started to follow his wife out of the girls’ bedroom. Before closing the door, he would say:

“I might be, but it’s important that you learn your family history. It’s the reason you’re alive and live in this wonderful little town of Juneau.”

“Whatever Dad. I’m going to marry someone rich and handsome and move to a big city.” Margot would say before turning to face the wall and closing her eyes to gently drift to sleep.

“Goodnight, Jeane.” Father said, flicking the light off, leaving only a stream of light from the open door to fall on Jeane’s face.  He starts closing the door, even though he knows his daughter will say that one word that stops him.

“Daddy?”

Father smiles and opens the door again. “Yes, my sweet Jeane?”

“I’m different like the Tidbit Taylors.”

“I’m sure you are, honey. Now go to sleep.” He closed the door for the night.

Quietly to herself, Jeane spoke. “But I’m never going to leave Juneau like they did, Daddy. I won’t leave you.”

She never did.

Aunt Jeane looks at me with a pained expression before running over to Sam’s body and kneeling down in the dirt, her curly auburn hair swirling around her pale face.

“What are you doing?” I ask as she places her palm on his chest. “What are you doing?”

Sam’s breathing wildly, but his eyes are closed and his wounds are bleeding. He’s been hurt so much. He’s barely a ghost of his original self.

Jeane presses onto Sam’s chest with her hand, almost like some strange CPR. Sam’s back arches and a jolt runs through his body. She does this twice more, Sam thrashing more wildly each time before he snaps his eyes open and miraculously gets up on his own. He looks at Aunt Jeane, confused, for a moment, before settling his eyes on me, my broken arm, and finally Vassago, who is struggling to stand, but moving nonetheless. There is no site of the dark female figure. Sam realizes where we are and grasps Jeane’s hand, running with her toward me. He grabs my good arm and we disappear, traveling through the black tunnel of space. Pressurized air crushes my body before we all land in a clean white bathroom. Our clothes are covered in dirt, dust, and blood but-

We’re safe.

End of Chapter Fifteen.

Chapter Fourteen: Flucht

Chapter Fourteen: Flucht

                I’ve probably been waiting in the monotonous gray room for hours, now. Thinking about what he said. When he left the room, I was a complete and utter wreck for at least fifty-seven minutes. Sam’s locked up somewhere, my family is probably looking for me, Phoenix too, if he’s out of the hospital yet, I’m trapped in a situation that stabs me on either side and the sheets are FUCKING GRAY! I rip them off of the mattress and fling them across the room in a sudden fit of wrath, breathing heavily.

                A buzz comes from intercom on my nightstand. “Do not defile our property.”

                I pick up the intercom and I slam that against the wall too, shattering the little white box into tiny pieces.  “Fuck you.”

                I sit on the de-robed mattress and think. I only have three options. My hands automatically search for a pen and paper. Writing down your options in a situation like this makes it easier to choose which one.  I fumble through the drawers in my nightstand and am surprised to come across a lot of paraphernalia. And old coke bottle cap, some safety pins, ponytails, an old book…

                These must be the things left behind by other prisoners that have lived here.

                Okay… but why haven’t they confiscated their belongings? Why leave them here for me to see?

                My guess is to spook anyone that lives here. It means there’s no escape. You’ll turn into one of them or die.

                Thanks for the confidence booster. My fingertips connect with a familiar shape, so I pull it out. A pink sharpie pen. Perfect. There’s no paper, so I walk to the blank gray wall opposite the bed, and write.

               

Option One: Die

       Option Two: Become Them

       Option Three: Escape

       To be frank, I’d rather not go with Option One. Or Option Two, for that matter. But Three? When I’m locked in this room and surrounded by monsters?

                And then it hits me. I have telekinesis. I drop the Pink Sharpie and scuttle to the locked metal door and put my hands on the knob. I push. And pull. And push some more. Nothing. I crease my eyebrows and concentrate on the tiny metal bubble. Just willing it to break, loosen, unlock, something. A bead of sweat condenses at the back of my neck. I wipe it away quickly and return my fingertips to the knob.

                Harder than it looks, no?

                Shut up.

                I would encourage your actions if I didn’t know that what you’re doing is impossible. My subconscious smirks at me.

                You’re really not helping.

                Fine, fine. I’ll leave.

                Thank you. I concentrate on the knob once more.  Maybe if I think about something that makes me angry, I’ll be able to control it. All the times that I’ve used my power have been the result of anger, or instinctual self-defense. Sam’s lifeless eyes come to mind. My forehead wrinkles in pain. But it’s not enough to break the knob. I think of Annie, home alone with nothing but my goodbye-note to comfort her. My knuckles whiten. Phoenix’s blood oozing into dirt. Melanie’s taunts. Cotter’s assault. Blood red eyes. Their eyes.

                The knob convulses under my fingers and molds into the shape of my hands like play-dough.

                “Yes!” I push the doorknob through the opening and it clatters on the hard floor on the other side of the door. “Shit…” I flinch. Did I make too much noise? If they capture me-

                When. When they capture you.

                What will They do when they capture me? I know I’m important to Them, somehow. They can’t just kill me, right?

                No. But they’ll kill Sam. And then force you to join them.

                I take a deep breath and open the massive metal door, anyway. I look down the hallways, left, right, and left again like I’m some little kid crossing the street.

Stop, Look, Listen.

                No one is there. I take a timid step out into the open. I know this may sound ridiculous, but it is very hard to walk when you’re legs are shaking and feel like Jell-o. But I can’t stop thinking of one of Them hiding behind the next corner. It really is the worst feeling.

                I flinch every time I take another step. The sound of the plastic bottoms of my shoe hitting the metal floor echoes and sounds so loud. I pace through the corridor with an uneven feeling in my empty stomach. If they find me, I’m dead, or worse, I’ll be turned into one of the. Sam would be killed, and hell, they might even knock off my whole family while they’re at it.

                Especially Aunt Jeane. She’s the one they’re really after.

                I heard a creak abouve me and jumped.

                “only the airvents.” I whispered to myself. “Calm down!” my voice was so low I swear I didn’t even speak. Wait, that wasn’t in my head-

                Got that right.

                -It was coming from a door I just passed. I pweered through a window set in the door without considering the consequences. I saw the boy that came into my room this morning, his brown hair and clear skin gave him away. And the gashes on his face. Why isn’t he wearing his hood?

                One of them, cloaked in the usual dark hood and demonour, was placing a cloth over the wounds.

                “How could you let this happen?” the dark on esaid.

                “You told me it was a possibility.” The boy spoike back, wincing as his cuts closed by the touch of the cloth.

                “Yes, so you would be prepared. You are stronger than her, Lucas. You have disgraced our name.” The dark figure turned and walked thorugh another set of door in the room. I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God he didn’t have to go through the door I’m peering behind. Then Lucas looks at me. Straight at me, his eyes penetrating mine. I’m suddenly paralyzed by his stare.

                But he doesn’t shout ‘Escaped! The prisoner has escaped!’ like I expected him to. He turns and walks a few paces to open the door. I take many steps back, and he continues to hold my gaze. My back presses up against a wall.

                “How did you get out?” He whispers calmly.

                I lift up my trembling hands. He nods. That’s all the explanation he needs. He takes my hand and I yelp in surprise at the rough callouses on his fingers. He puts a finger over his lips and shakes his head. I snap my jaw shut as he leads me down the desolate hallway.

                After a few minutes my hand starts to sweat in his and I’m feeling a beit anciety.

                “Where are you taking me?”

                “To that boy you love so much,”

                I let go of his hand. “I don’t love him.”

                He raises an eyebrow but keeps walking, motioning for me to follow him. I have no choice.

                As we silently walk from corridor to corrider, the cold grows even colder. We must be heading for the cells.    

                What if he’s taking you there?

                No. They need me, right?

                Ya. As bait for your aunt.

                Liar.

                Consider the possibilities.

                I realized it was true. Back in the interviewing room, my interrogator talked of nothing but my Aunt Jeane. What if she’s on her way here to rescue me?

                Or trade.

                What are you talking about?

                A trade. She’ll be willing to trader her life and powers for yours. Because she loves you.

                I gulp in some air, trying to calm myself so I don’t hyperventilate in front of Lucas. He would throw me in a cell just for being an idiot.

                “We’re almost there.”

                “Where?”

                “Mr. Reethe’s cell.”

                “Sam’s close?” My eyes light up. If they hurt him…

                “Yes,” Lucas puts a finger to his lips. “be quiet. There usually isn’t anyone patrolling this area, but there is a chance.”

                My mouth snaps closed once again, but questions are threatening to burst from my lips like rabid dogs after meat.

                “Why are you helping me?” I blurt.

                Lucas scoffed darkly, and doesn’t answer. Instead, he  stops at a large metal door much like the others. He places his palm on the door and a small green button appears, seeming to float in midair from an invisible lens. He presses the button and the door automatically unlocks. He gives me a sad look before pushing the door open to reveal Sam chained to a chair. The chains are thick and unbreakable.

                “Sam!” I slip under Lucas’ arm and rush to him, my converse applauding against the cement floor. “Sam. Sam?”

                He’s passed out. Probably from the pain. There’s a stream of blood falling from his wrists.  He’s tried to escape many times. His wrists and ankles are rubbed raw from the chains. The old wounds on his chest left from my fingertips from that horrible spectacle in the woods ooze red and yellow liquid.

                I take the rim of his filthy shirt and pull it up, the cloth almost glued to his skin. His wounds are badly infected. Sam’s veins around his chest pulse an unnatural purplish color. Blood poisoning.

                “Sam, wake  up… please.” I lift his chin, and his eyes squeeze before snapping open, a silent scream in his throat. “Please, you need to teleport us out of here.”

                “He won’t be able to use his powers in this building.” Lucas says. “He looks too weak, anyway.”

                “Then how could I use mine?” I snap at him, frustrated that we’re going to have to escape this place on foot, and with a shifty guide, at that.

                “I’m not sure…” Lucas shifts from foot to foot.

                Well I’m not about to waste time theorizing. “Lucas, how do I get this off?” I rattle the chains. Lucas glances nervously behind his shoulder before leaning down over Sam to unlock the chains with a key. He slides them off and throws them across the room.

                 I rub the skin around Sam’s wrists and ankles, forcing circulation into his limbs.

                “Hurry.” Lucas says, grabbing Sam under his arms and lifting him up like a baby. “I’m not authorized to enter this room. My superiors must already know I’m in here.”

                My eyes grow wide. “Lead the way.”

                We dash out of the cold and damp cell, Sam in Lucas’ arms. His eyes have opened and are frantically staring at the ceiling, the irises wide and full of fear. As we’re running through hallway after hallway, I grab for Sam’s hand and hold it tight.

                “We’re okay, we’re okay,” I mumble in a mantra. Sam’s eyes finally find mine and he seems to relax; his fingers do not grip me as strongly.

                “Eneile…”

                “I’m right here.” I whisper.

I expected our escape to be a lot more… noisy. There’s no alarm blaring, or the sounds of angry shouts  in the distance, only the soft patter of Lucas’ and mine’s feet on cement.

“We’ll have to go out a back door.” Lucas says, looking left, then right, before deciding on the left and sprinting down it, me lapping at his heels.

“Will there be any of them at the back door?” I breathe. Hard. Lucas runs fast.

“I don’t know-”

“You don’t know!?” I whisper-shout. I’m dead.

“Here it is-” Lucas stops running abruptly and I almost run straight into him. It’s a normal, metal door, identical to most of the doors in this building. Except I can see sunlight through the window set in the door. Lucas takes a deep breath and shoves through the door on his side, still holding Sam in his arms. I quickly follow after him, and shut the door behind me.

Lucas isn’t running. Why isn’t he running? Lucas’ long black cloak shades my eyes, so I stand on my tiptoes and peer over his shoulder.

“Hello.” The cloaked figure emerges from behind an old tree. I recognize the voice. From my first nightmare about them. “I’m Vassago.”

                                End of Chapter of Chapter Fourteen.

Blank: Chapter Thirteen: Nothing Can Be Explained

A/N: New Chapter! It's almost 2 a.m. but I was in a writing mood after listening to a certain song on repeat about 10 times. The title of the song is the same as the Chapter title. Links to the song will be under the "Theme Songs" tab on the home page.

So I wanted to give you guys SOMETHING before I go on a four day trip to the Black Hills to spend some time at a cabin and swim in a lake and go hiking and such and such. I'm sorry if it's a bit short. Well, here it is.

Chapter Thirteen: Nothing Can Be Explained

                “Yes.” He says as he walks forward with alien grace. “I wanted to speak with you.”

                “What do you want?” I take an instinctive step backwards towards the bed covered in dismantled gray sheets.

                “I want to explain everything to you. Better than Mr. Reethe could.”

                My eyes tighten slightly at the mention of Sam’s name, but I don’t say anything. I’ll let him speak. That’s the only way to get him to leave. 

                “You are a Blank. That means you were born with genes that give you supernatural powers. The gene is passed from a family member that also has the same gene. Your powers are usually similar to the person who gave you said gene.” He pauses.

                Understandable. I nod. What power does aunt Jeane have?

                “The first Blanks were created by my own kind in order to make killing off humans more… entertaining. But humans evolved to their situation and began passing on more potent powers through reproducing.” He scratches the side of his finger for a few moments before continuing.

                “Why do you want to kill us?” I blurt out, my fists clenching. I hear him scoff as he ignores my outburst and keeps talking.

                “The black book without words, the book that was in the bag in your place of residence,”

                They went in your room!

                I gulp softly at the thought of one of them standing in my room, looking through my things.

                “Is believed to be created by three of the early Blanks, one helped created it with his power to make objects disappear, which is why the words appear and disappear to his liking. The second, had the ability to make the Blanks attracted to it if they are in a certain distance from the book. The third, used the power of illusion. That is why only Blanks can see its contents. Normal humans see their fifth favorite book in the pages. Is this all clear to you?”

                “I-I think so…” It’s hard to wrap my brain around, but I’m sure he explained it as simply as he could, so I’ll just have to deal with that. “But why did the three early Blanks create the book in the first place?”

                “My kind does not know.”

                I smirk, feeling a bit smug that the Blanks are able to keep at least one secret hidden from them.

                “As my kind said before, back in your cell room, we have gathered enough brain waves to determine what powers you possess.”

                This sparks my interest. “I have more than one?”

                “Many Blanks have developed a second power, though the second is frequently weaker.  Take Mr. Reethe, for example.  His strongest power is teleportation, and his second power is strength. His strength is only two times stronger than that of a human, not as impressive as his first power, you see.”

                That’s why Sam was able to break Cotter’s arm so easily!

                “You’re probably wondering about your powers.” He hisses. I flinch and stare into the black depths of his hood, if I concentrate, I can see the nasty red glint of his eyes.

                “What can I do?”

                “You have telekinesis. This enables you to move objects with your mind. It frequently transferred through hand movements, which we have realized through study.”

                My mouth hangs open. Sam’s theory was right. That explains the shattered window, moving desks, the dents in Melanie’s car, and the horrific moment in the woods when Sam lost control and I hurt him.

                “Your second was hard to comprehend, but when you were sleeping, we were able to analyze another power.”

                This sparks my interest. What do my dreams have to do with anything?

                “We’ve come to believe that your dreams may have insight to the future.”

                I almost gag on my tongue. “F-Future?”

                “Yes. Many dreams you’ve had are very likely to become true, given you’re circumstances.”

                “No. Sam- he’s not going to die-”

                “You have no control whether the boy will live or die. With the snap of my fingers his life could cease.”

                “You monster!” I through myself at him, clawing my fingers in his eyes. He screams, and falls backwards, sending me with him. I’m on top of him now, my knees digging into his arms to keep him still. “Let Sam go!”

                “It’s not under my control!” He gasps between screams as I continue to abuse his body. My fingers reach the hood of his cloak, I tug on it slightly. “I swear I’ll take this hood off. I’ll see the real, hideous you.”

                “Do it.”

                This takes me back. There is black blood oozing between my fingernails, my knuckles hurt, and bleed their own blood, yet I’m taken aback.

                “You’d let me?”

                He nods. I slowly take the hood off, to reveal the face…

                Of a normal, human boy.

                A squeal almost escapes from my throat as I push myself away from him, backwards on my hands in knees in a insane crab walk until I feel the back of my head touch the wall.

                “You’re human.” I manage to breathe. God, I’m shaking.

                His red eyes are full of remorse. “I was.” He smiles sadly, showing sharp, pointed teeth.

                No, not quite human.

                “Wh-…why?”

                “That, Ms. Soole, is a story for another day.” His smooth pale skin is in complete contrast with the scaly skin I’ve seen on their hands before. He has a very boyish face, and smooth, brown hair. If it weren’t for the red eyes, sharp teeth and nails, I would say he was a normal high school student. There are a few claw marks on his face from my attack, and I almost feel guilty. Then I remember  that he’s one of them. And they’re keeping Sam captive.

                “The real reason I was sent to talk to you is because I look the most human. My superiors suspected something like this would happen.”

                “Oh.” I whisper.  “So what do you really need to say to me?”

                “What I came here to say is this: we’re recruiting you.”

                “What?”

                “You’re going to become one of us.”

                It hits me. A black cloak whipping against my shoulder, my tears washing Sam’s bloody face as I lean over him. Dead.

                “I’m…going to become… one of you?” I say, tears beginning to burn in my eyes. “And if I refuse?”

                “We’ll kill Mr. Reethe in front of you. Then take your soul by force and you will cease to exist.”

                “If you’ll believe me, this is a lot to take in and I would like to be left alone as soon as possible.”

                “Understood, Ms. Soole.” The brown haired boy turns to leave, before I get up quickly and take a fistful of his cloak.

                “Wait-!”

                He slowly turns his shoulders and watches at me. “Yes?”

                “Is that what happened to you?”

                He chuckles darkly, and turns away. As he closes the door I can make out one, simple sentence.

                “That, Ms. Soole, is a story for another day.”

End of Chapter Thirteen.