A!N: Hiya! I hope this story takes off. It took a few rewrites before I was happy with this first chapter. I also have a Halloween fanfic that is going to be getting some new life again soon. Feel free to leave any comments, or follows and favorites! This story is based off the remakes, a year after The Beginning. 3
When it all started, all I could smell was smoke. After, though, anytime I tried to inhale, I sucked more blood down into my throat, which I then had to cough out. My nose wasn't broken, but it sure felt like it. My lip was plenty swollen, and where could I even begin when it came to my body? Half of my nerve endings were on fire, and the other half just seemed too overwhelmed to fire. I should probably be grateful, though. I was the only who made it out of the car wreck alive.
I couldn't say what happened for sure. All I can remember is one moment we were on the road, and the next we weren't. My instincts had to have kicked in at some point, because next thing I new, I was crawling out the shattered rear window and hitting the wet grass. The noise I made didn't sound human, seeing as my throat was coated with all the blood pouring from my nasal cavities.
It was late at night, I can remember that much. It was also pouring rain. My clothes were soaked and heavy the moment I hit the ground. The long braid my hair was in stuck to my back, and some of it escaped and stuck in my face, clouding my already twisted vision. "S-shit." All the blood I had swallowed fought back, and I was just barely holding myself up on my elbows when vomit poured out of my mouth. It slicked the long grass like oil, and every bit of my body cursed. I never should have agreed to this trip. We made it all the way to bumfuck, nowhere Texas from New York, only for it to all go downhill in the backwoods.
"August..." I muttered. That was the month. Myself and a few friends had decided a vacation to Mexico would be a good idea. "1970." I was twenty three years old and in my third year of med school. I always wanted to be a doctor. You'd think that in the event of an emergency, someone with training would know what to do. I did, I knew what to do, but I couldn't for the life of me find any shred of energy or motivation to do it. However, I was sure nothing was broken. Slowly, I rolled onto my back in the grass, rain water hitting my face full force. I must have crawled away from the car enough, because all I saw now was the full moon, staring down at me like the mess I was.
That was when I heard them. At first it was faint, but it got louder. I heard a man talking loudly, and the rumble of a car engine. He was shrill, and there was no way he was alone. He was clearly talking to someone else. Slowly, I managed to lift my body into a position to sit, despite the sharp pains tearing into my hips and lower back. My vision was blurred, but I could see the car. I had only crawled a few yards away, but I saw the movement, and the faint red light back at the road. A cop!
"O-" I felt more blood mixed vomit come up and immediately spat it out. I was freezing now from the rain, which seemed to dull out most of the rain. "Over here!" I saw them twist, hopefully looking towards me. "Help!" This time I heard them.
"Go get her, Tommy! Don't scare her now, boy." I didn't understand the phrasing until I realized the man coming towards me, this 'Tommy' was a literal bulwark of a person. He wasn't dressed like a cop, but at the moment I didn't care.
"I don't think I can wa-" I gasped as he so easily slipped an arm under my legs and behind my shoulders, lifting me up and against him. It made sense, I was a small woman. About five feet tall, and barely over a buck. I gripped onto the front of his shirt, and was surprised by the apron. Secondly, I was surprised by how warm he was. Even soaking wet, his body seemed to emanate heat, and I gripped tight and held close. I was sopping wet and freezing, after all. Somehow, my clinginess seemed strange to him, but he never said a word to me about it.
I tried to stay awake, fearing a concussion, but I must have zoned out, as when I finally came to, I was in the back of the police car, the second man driving. I whimpered, shaking hard now from the cold. "Lucky girl. You're the only survivor." I paused as I sat up in my seat.
It didn't hit nearly as hard as I expected, but all the same, they were my friends. "Shit." I sniffled, the blood in my nose having dried up. It was dark, but looking up, I saw a large white house. For a moment I thought it was a hospital, but looking longer, I realized I was wrong. "Where-?"
"Welcome to Mama's house. Tommy, lets introduce her to Mama." I looked into the rear view mirror as they got out. My black hair was half torn from the braid and stuck to my face. My eyes were bloodshot, which made the golden brown of my iris so much brighter. My skin, oh no. They were going to see my skin. I felt Tommy's arms wrapped around my midsection as he tore me from the car, but thankfully put support under my legs. I took to the heat of his body like a moth to a flame. I looked up to Tommy, pausing at the black mask that covered everything below his eyes. His dark curls were matted against his head from the rain. "Don't stare at my skin, please." His eyebrows went up questioningly, but we were already through the door and into bright light.
I was always terrified of the way new people looked at me. I could take the confusion or the looks of people who were disturbed, but I had grown tired of the pity. I hated the way my family treated me because of it, and despite knowing full well there was nothing wrong with me, I still hated looking at myself too. Make-up helped sometimes, but only on my face. As for the rest of my body...
"Lord have mercy, Hoyt." I heard a woman, and the tone of voice caused me to curl in tighter to the man holding me. I tried to pull my hands into my sleeves, but was barely able to.
"Don't look at me." I had to take a breath, but felt someone grab my arms, push my sleeves up.
"What in the hell is wrong with her?" Hoyt, that's who it had to be. I turned and looked at him, and caught eyes with the older woman. "There's spots all over her!"
"Hoyt you leave her alone! You go take care of the rest." I kept my eyes on the old woman as Hoyt huffed and left out the door. "Tommy, put her down." I felt his arm slack under my legs, and slowly lower them to the ground. I was able to put some weight, but pain shot up one leg. I had no choice but to latch back onto Tommy to hold my body up. My face was buried in his chest, and the height difference was now much more apparent.
"I think my ankle is sprained. I-it's minor, I can-" I felt this woman, Mama they called her, close the gap and grab my face, then my arms, and then lifted my shirt to look at my stomach. I was too shocked to stop her. It wasn't the first time. "It's not contagious." Was all I whimpered out.
"You.. Honey you are beautiful." It sounded earnest enough, which was all the more terrifying. I stared down at myself. "What are you?"
"I- What?" My head must have still been spinning.
"Where ya from? I know ya ain't white, but ya don't look black either." I had to yank my arm away from the woman.
"I'm Indian. My families from India." The amount of times I had to make the distinction that I wasn't Native American was too many. Mama continued to stare, and Tommy never moved as I kept a grip on him. I looked at my hand that she'd been touching so much. My skin was naturally very dark, which was strike one with my family. Then as I got older, the spots began to appear. Large and small patterns and patches of white, or even pinkish skin. Parts of my body that no longer held any melanin. "It's called vitiligo. It's all over my body. Everywhere."
Mama looked at me. At my cheek, where a large splotch rested on the right side. It even affected the color in my hair, as a thick patch on my head, about two fingers in width, was pale white. By my families accounts, I was a freak. "You're not going to call me any names?" I had pretty much braced myself for that.
"Oh God no, honey." Mama then took hold of me and moved me away from Tommy, turning me to face him. "That's my boy, my son Thomas. You see that mask he wears?" My eyes opened a bit.
"Facial degeneration. " He stared at me, brows a bit furrowed. I could tell he was wary of me, but at the same time, intrigued.
"Well, yes. Growin' up, he got picked on for it too. Lord, my poor boy came home every night with bruises. He finally gets to meet someone he has something in common with." Mama patted my shoulder, but I was still looking at Tommy's, or Thomas' face.
"Can I see it?" For a moment I forgot my own discomfort. My brain was buzzing. Not only was he similar to me, but the medical part of my brain rushed. I'd never seen a case like this up close. Or ever, actually. He clearly seemed perplexed. I paused. "Uh, you don't have to. I'm sorry."
"He's a little shy, is all." Mama patted my shoulder. "Lets go get you a change of clothes, you'll catch your death." I glanced back at Tommy, who took his apparent chance to escape and was back outside. I nodded at Mama and allowed her to lead me up the stairs, which I did very haphazardly. Once we reached the landing, I ended up sliding onto my rear end, groaning as my vision seemed to muttle a bit.
"My head.." But it didn't seem to take much at all for Mama to help me stand and shuffle us both down the hall. However, a wrong step on my ankle shot pain through my body, and it seemed to be enough for me to topple. Everything faded out, and it still felt incredibly cold.