A/N: HAILLOW, ERRYONE. Thanks for sticking with me and (hopefully) not forgetting this story? In case you missed it, Chapter Six- Sex God is up. Sorry it's short, but it needs to be read, if you want to know what's going on. Anyway, I know I said I'd try to update at least every week, but i've been lacking in inspriation. ANYWAY, WELL, SO ya. (: comments are always recommended. I LOVEEE reading them. Happy reading. Oh, and sorry this Author's Note is so damn long!
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I tried to control my dreams. I did. But, there are few people that can. Dreams are always on the edge of reality, teeter-tottering over that damn edge like it just can’t decide to go up to ‘real’ or tumble down in the depths of insanity. Well, there’s a fat kid on my seat of dreams teetering towards insanity.
“Why don’t you just kill her?” His right-hand abettor confronts him with a withering look that doesn’t faze him. He picks at some human gunk left in his long fingernail from his last mission. It had been almost too easy, and it was a stretch, saying that. He was starting to get bored with the weak, humdrum Blanks. He wanted something that he could put a mind to. Something that will make him think, ponder, reason, and then take action. Putting his still-mucky nail out of mind, he turns to his accomplice, his black cloak swishing against his ankles as he did so.
“I want her powers to grow stronger.” He murmurs under his breath. “I want a challenge this time. I know she’ll be great, being how powerful the one who gave her the gene is. This could be fun.”
“Normally, I would report this kind of insolence to the Head.”
“But you won’t.” He smirks, reminding himself not to cross his arms in a human-like way to express domination.
“No, I won’t.”
“Good. Normally, I would ask you to come with me, but again, I say, I need the challenge.”
“Even with her increased powers, it won’t be too much of a contest, I assume.” She says, picking a piece of lint off of her midnight cloak. Her boss never drained during an assignment, he only finished them.
“You assume correctly.”
There is a brief silence before she speaks curtly. “What are you going to do about Reethe?”
“Obviously, I can’t have him in the way during the assignment. He must be disposed at the soonest possibility.”
She nods her head to him and walks down the cold metal hallway, the scales on her legs making more noise than the swish of her cloak as they briefly rub together. As her hand clutches the knob on the door she turns around to face her accomplice. “I’ll dispose of him for you.” She then unfastens the door with a loud clank and leaves the room. He smiles and sits down in a chair, staring into his computer with all the multiple screens that he loves, loves, loves. So many possibilities with a click of a button. Caressing the mouse with the idea of checking up on his subject of the assignment, he furrows his brow. What if the girl really is a challenge for him? He kicks the idea out of his mind quickly. As long as he focuses, the girl will be dead, and all will be well in his world. There is one idea though, that he allows to stay.
The thought of ripping her weak human limbs apart and watching her bleed on hard ground.
For the first time, I don’t scream when I wake up from the nightmare. I accept the horror and decide that screaming won’t solve anything. In fact, it would only cause Annie to wake up, or a bird to have a heart attack outside my window and die… or something. That’s what I keep telling myself anyway. They are dreams, and nothing more. Why should I be afraid?
Sighing, I open my eyelids and pick at the morning crust left in them. I stare at the clock. It’s four in the morning. I’ve only slept… what, three hours? Whatever, I’m not tired anymore. The covers pull back on my bed and I clobber across my room and make my way to the kitchen. I pour a big bowl of Cap’n Crunch and stare at the implausibly blissful cartoon children on the back. It’s disgusting. What do they have to be so happy about? They’ve held the same position for as long as they have been on that box. And let me tell you, Cap’n Crunch has had that design for years. Who would want to stay in one place for all that time?
A sudden knock on the door makes me jump and drop my spoon which lands with a loud clap on the wood floor.
“Jesus…” I mumble and rub my upper arms, catching a chill. It’s just my luck to be the one to have to answer the door at four in the morning. I look through the window to make sure it’s not a murderer, but the angle I have must be wrong because I don’t see anyone. Could it be some crazy tween, on an early morning dare? What if it is a murderer?
Hah- who would come to murder you?
No one. I tell my conscious. I’ve never done anything worth being killed over. My mind flashes back to my dream. I jerk with my hand on the knob at the sudden memory. I shouldn’t open the door. I should let go of the knob, close the curtain, and make a hearty dash for my cereal in the safety of the kitchen. But I don’t. Without thinking, I swiftly undertake the lock and yank open the door, the muscles in my arm screaming along with my conscious (now) blaring:
NO, NO, NO!
The porch is empty, save for a few moths buzzing around our light fixture. What the hell? I poke my head outside of the frame, my bangs tickling my face. I quickly use a few fingers to tuck them behind my pierced ear. My breaths come out in puffs as I try to make them even.
I close the door and lock it. About to close the curtain, I decide against it and pull it back more, taking one last lock outside.
Why do you feel so paranoid?
I don’t know. A faint whisper respires from the trees outside in the small front yard, the leaves tumbling summersaults into the foyer, echoing the haunting feeling in my gut. Suddenly feeling sick, I heave the curtains into their place and dash for my room. My bed welcomes me in and I gratefully take it, sliding under the covers and pulling them up over my head. A shiver wracks my body and I convulse wildly. I don’t feel like I’m controlling my body.
Something is going to change.
How could the alarm go off if I don’t remember setting it? Ah…
I jab at the alarm until it wheezes and finally calms down. Shit… It’s a new day. I’m not ready for this. My bed is so warm, seducing me to a few more hours of sleep.
Wait, it’s Saturday. Oh, how I love early-morning forgetful-ness. I close my eyes selfishly and tumble down to darkness.
This time, it’s not full of cloaks and scales and slithering words spoken in the night. Sam’s here.
“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 slightly blue tint take over my vision under my brown contacts, 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.
