Welcome to my world… A dark environment that breeds hatred, lust, and power. This is a story of children that lost their innocence in an hour.
They looked like us. Human, only to the eye. Until you got close enough to smell their rotten flesh. I happened to touch one of them. Their skin ruptures with the slightest pressure applied, and the stench is nearly impossible to remove. It's much more revolting than the smell of formaldehyde on a taxidermists' hands. I felt like I needed to bathe, but washing the smell would cause you only to stand out more. They could identify you from your smell. They could hear you, but the only judgments that they didn't possess was the ability to see. Staring blankly back at you, from their deformed bodies, twisting their eyes around to express their interest in a location though they never recognize it. They were animals on a leash, and we were their treats at a distance. This leash would not hold. How did we get here?
"Damien," Missy yelled, seeing me in a position that was all to familiar to me. But, still, I didn't want her to see it. I didn't want her to see me in the dumpster, behind the school building, where I'd been mugged.
"Yeah?" I stated, shuffling into a corner.
"You ok?" Her eyes met mine.
"No." My head was bloodied, and my black, curled, woolly, hair was caked together from the mess. She attempted to console me. I pushed her away. I couldn't help it. I wanted to be ignored, just as the teachers ignored me, and I didn't want help. "You know…"
"Know, what?" She interrupted.
"You know I don't like to be seen like this. I know you think I'm weak and incapable of helping myself. But this is enough. It's high time I get to be like the dead, at peace, and forgotten."
"They aren't forgotten."
"Says you." My words to her were sharp. I knew she'd lost her parents in a catastrophe, the twin tower catastrophe, but she didn't need my help to fix that broken mirror that was her figure. She was alright in everyone else's mind. She just had a pious attitude that led her to look after others.
She turned away, looking at the ground, kicking the gravel with my fresh blood on it, and looked up only because of a blood curdling scream that approached from our rear. We turned around, staring at a mass that convened on another. It pulled away at the other's body and large pieces of "something" were torn away. We stepped back in terror, too afraid to scream, running in our minds but unable to move. We shivered, urging ourselves to move. A warm liquid trickled down her and my legs alike. We were in no position to make fun or prod at each other. I looked up, thinking that I was going to faint or wake up. I didn't understand what I was doing. Then, I realized she was in my arms while I ran, escaping from the murder.
This day was bad. Ominous to a degree…