I stared, waiting for a dramatic pause, then conjured Ille up around me.
Punch him, punch him, PUNCH HIM!!!' I thought, as Ille took a sharp uppercut to his chin.
But unlike all the other times before (where she was just an illusion and unable to have a real physical form) fist really hit jaw. The white- haired man went flying back about twenty yards or so. Nothing I'd ever be able to do.
You'll-- you'll regret your choice! Humans will never accept you! he yelled, sprawled on the pavement, unable to move.
And yet, my hands never moved an inch...
I cried, What the heck have I done? Dammit!
I couldn't help but run all the way home.
Why me? Why...
I stared at the glass kitchen table, my eyes going in and out of focus as they usually do when my glasses are off and my eyes are dripping wet. But for that matter, it also happens when someone is speaking monotonically to me or... Or...
Couldn't be that --- could it?...
The other was when my quote-unquote started acting up. Those little red bumps across my back that I've had for like, forever? Since I was five?
But, really, those were no little eczema marks. I pride myself in being a science whiz and I know that whenever nobody is looking eczema doesn't magically turn from a random bunch of reddish dots dots to an exact replica of an X with a circle around it that shines bright silver. I'm not a Dexter but I do know real eczema when I see it (which this isn't). But there's more to this abnormal mark- it changes from silver to blue when something good is about to happen, and from silver to black when something bad is. And it burns whenever my Ille is arguing with me. I peered behind me and looked at my right shoulder back. Although my eyes were still extremely blurry, I could make out my wheel'. It was a harsh, almost demanding black... and then, right before my eyes it turned to silver, and then the most beautiful baby blue. And like that wheel, I had an odd feeling that a revelation was going to crash on my head any minute now...
Oh, Sara, it will...' Ille murmered.
I leaned back again, with my eyes still in and out of focus. The glass table almost looked as if dolphins were swimming in and out it, crashing down into and swimming in the frothy sea in perfect formation. It was probably just my imagination. Yet, I still felt sick inside. What about my mark? And Ille? What did it mean?
And, as weird as that man was- the Darth Vader guy with the stop sign, I wasn't going to kill him. And then again, I wasn't even the one to punch him, was I?
You spoke the command. You were the driver behind the wheel. I am a guide, but what you do is of your own accord....'
WAS I?!?
YOU are the one to be blamed. You're the skitz. Really, Sara. You did. Maybe not with your own fist, maybe with your illusion's-- your illusion's punch that materialized for a single second to send Stop Sign flying... You are the one...'
But was it ME?
Yes. You are the guilty party Sara. You always have been.'
I am not gilty! Something possesed me to do that, I couldn't stop myself!'
Oh, really? Then who forced you to act? Who else was there?'
I came to a sudden and terrible realization. What if... I wasn't hearing myself, an alter ego? What it this voice I've always heard is not my own?
You. You... you can control me, you bitch!
I, control you? But how can i, if you're the skitz!'
I AM NOT A SKITZ! I screamed, at nothing in particular besides myself, which was now uncontrollably writhing like a dying snake on the floor.
But it wasn't nothing, as my brother ran down the stairs and came upon my almost warped state.
Sara!!! What happened to the TABLE!!!! my brother yelled at me in sheer disbelief, breaking the blazing silence which was searing acroos my body, my back. Loud, burning silence... silence.
And silence can kill.
Sara. Britney. Chankey. What the hell happened to you? AND WHAT-HAPPENED-TO-THE-TABLE-DAMMIT! Michael screamed, again and a little louder this time.
I snapped out of my argument with myself' and replied, choking on my own words. Look I don't even know what you're talking about, oka--
Yeah, you do know what i'm talking about. There are miniature dolphins swimming through the table! Look, freak, if you can't tell me how far I am in Final Fantasy IX, I'm calling the cops on on mutant impersonation of my sister.
Look, Michael, it's me. And, FFIX? I'm at the Ifia Tree on Disc 4. And in FFVII I'm at Aeris's house on the first disc. FFVIII? Try Esthar on the third CD, near the end of it. And FFX? You're in Besaid and I'm at the Zanarkand Dome, okay??? As for the table, I said, completely recomopsed and quite mad at my brother, then realizing I did put an Ille in the table, I was... uh... trying out my new hologram-projector.
Holo-poje--? Whoa, Sara, we're not in Star Trek, here. Sara, I want to know what's really going on. You know you can trust me. Please tell me the truth. I...uh, I just don't want to see you get hurt, he said then added, By anyone other than me, of course. You did look like you were trying to strangle yourself or something. Are you a Yeerkin search of the nearest Yeerk pool? Cause I think there's one under the school, Visser Twenty- Seven.
Laughing, I stared at him through fogged up glasses, then carefully, deliberately, cleaned them off to see what was really going on. He waited.
Take your time, he said simply.
I put my cleaned glasses on, and for the first time through all this, got a chance to really look at the table. A pod of illusion glass dolphins swam through the table, occasionally popping straight into the air to perform one of those mind-boggling feats dolphins do naturally. It was almost... beautiful. Perfect. I slumped into one of the wrought iron backed chairs and started to cry. It was too overwhelming. My mind, a sea of wreckage! A mess!
And a storm started to show up in the illusion's waters, sending the dolphins on a wild rollercoaster ride in the fake ocean.
Calm down, Sara, Michael sighed, If you continue to cry like that, whatever you're doing to the table will just get worse. Is there some way you can call that thing off?
Through tears, I mumbled a and tried to clear my mind. Like a bad TV connection, the illusion fizzed, then disappeared, leaving plain, boring, kitchen table, 100% dolphinless. Relief.
Michael, I'm ... I'm a mutant, okay? And I do think I'm possesed by something. i hear... voices. She won't leave me alone...
Waited for shock. None came.
Yeah. I knew that since you were born. Anything new I should know about? Oh, and voices, It's probbably those subliminal messages they stick in music. I've been altering those burned CDs you asked me to make. He laughed and gave me that annoying brotherly slap on the shoulder. This time I didn't seem to mind. Good old Mike. Always knew what to say in a tough situation.
Can you not tell Mom? At least, not yet?
Sure. But, he stopped with a stomach churning pause, I don't think she would be very happy when she found out her daughter was a little atom child.
Who would?
Sara, you're forgetting one thing. Mom and Dad founded FH just after you were born. Nearly fifteen years ago. he said uneasily.
FH? Sara, you IDIOT!!!
Friends
of
Humanity.
Mutant haters, I think. Well, at least something along those lines.
They want it to be a legalized law that all mutants are to be registered, numbered, and watched. They think mutants can't be trusted. Dammit!! Why me... of all the people in the world???
And you think explaining an on your report card is hard to do...
I can see it mow....
And in recent news... Kevin and Lisa Chankey, founders of the Friends of Humanity, now have police outside their very own home! Seems their daughter Sara is a mutant herself! Now she can't even leave the house without an escort! How's that for irony, folks!
Ohhh, dammit.
