So there I was flying without wings, held tight by strong, manly arms…so I freaked out…naturally.
Without even a glance at my rescuer, I flung my arms around his neck and held on for dear life. My face was smashed against his grungy collarbone and I had grabbed fistfuls of his linen shirt. I began to hyperventilate…and, you know, that can't be at all attractive, fogging up some boy's chest like that…but I mean I was freakin' hurtling through the air at practically the speed of sound!
I hate it how some people would describe their first time flying with words like wonderful, exhilarating, or amazing, unless it's amazing or exhilarating in a completely horrible, caught by surprise way. Think about it, you are suspended in the sky with nothing but air surrounding you and there sure as hell ain't no safety net. There is no thick metal support cable shooting you to the next floor. In the sky, there are no elevator cables; you just have yourself, or pertaining more to this situation, the boy you are hanging onto. But what happens when…you snap?
I clutched tighter, my arms winding themselves around the guy's neck. I guess I did it with a little too much vigor because a few seconds later a deep voice tickled my ear, "Y-you're ch-choking me…" somehow, the tickling sensation worked its way all the way down to my toes then back up again. I don't know what was up with that, but somehow…someway it made me relax, it made me feel safe.
Insane…I know.
I heard the boy gasp for air and we continued to surge upward. My breathing slowed eventually and I tried to make myself more comfortable in the boy's arms. When I use the word comfortable, I don't mean snuggled closer to the guy. What I was doing was trying to convince myself of what was really happening; some alternate explanation…anything other than this.
The last time I had close bodily contact with a boy was when I hugged Damien…well…I guess it wasn't really a hug per-se…but whatever. He kind of caught me as I tripped at Caroline's house and spilt my sweet potato casserole all over him. So you can see the predicament I am in right…right?!
So I wasn't comfortable at all really, but I did learn something new. When you're that close to a person for a prolonged amount of time, you begin to notice things. Things like: how fast their heart is beating, how comfortable they are to lay on…how toned they are under their thin clothing…things of that nature…even their smell. Sadly, this boy's nice abdominal and back muscles did no evoke in me a stronger emotion than that of his smell. I began to, unintentionally of course, breathe him in. He smelled sweet like flowers, earthy like fertile soil, and dewy like the mist left by a midsummer rain. Every breath I took something rose in me, something I could not force back down. Some long lost part of me seemed to wake up…then I needed to know. I yearned to know who my captor was, though I think some part of me already knew who it was, and all it took was a slight raise of my head…so I tipped my chin back and strained my eyes to look at my hero. Then it happened.
With a jolt that felt like I had just awoken from one of those falling dreams, my emotions and thoughts were thrown to the back of my mind. It was all so sudden, I didn't know why or how, but I was hella scared. It seemed I looked out through my eyes merely as an observer, a guest inside my own mind. I couldn't feel my body and for the moment it seemed that all I could do was exist. I started to struggle, and believe me, I fought like hell to be able to control myself, but it was too late. I was trapped in some chamber of pain in my own mind. I tried to work my own mouth, to blubber some kind of obscenity, but every time the effort awarded me with a pain so sharp in my heart it would have thrown me into a fit of agony, if I had been in control of my own body. All I could do was watch out of my own eyes.
The boy that saved me didn't seem to notice my altered mentality as he was focused on the sky. In a few moments we would rocket through the canopy into open air, hundreds of feet above the jungle floor.
To my horror I watched my own hands work themselves from their position of clasping each other around the boy's neck…to gripping his neck between my hands. I felt a hatred somewhere that burned my mind like a searing fire that seemed to engulf my eyes because they were burning like mad. I wanted to blink furiously, but I could only sit there as my vision went scarlet. My nails began to dig into the boy's skin. I applied a slight pressure to the gap above his collarbone…then harder…and then harder. I didn't notice the boy slow down and begin sputtering again. I didn't notice when he grabbed handfuls of my skin to try to get me to stop. I didn't even notice when we started to drop slowly downward. I saw the confused and hurt look on the boys face and I felt my face twist into a sick grin. I know I didn't want to hurt this boy. I struggled harder in my mind and the pain wove its way through my heart. My soul was on fire…then something finally gave.
Something rose from my own mentality. Something that was dormant, I felt it wake. It grew through me like a fiery passion and overcame the hatred. I knew it wasn't going to hold it off though, but somehow I also knew I only needed a few seconds. My hands flew to the boys cheeks and his eyes grew wide. "Peter!" I screamed. It was my voice…the sound I mean…but I screamed in an British accent…and…I'm definitely not British. I felt the hatred growing and separating me from myself again. In a panic I screamed again, "PETER!" The boy's eyes were like gigantic blue moons. I couldn't read his expression. I didn't have any time left. My mind began to burn again, more severely this time.
In the midst of my inward struggle I noticed something whistling up through the jungle. I heard it's strange whizzing noise and watched as a blur popped out of the green and ripped it's way through the boy's shoulder. I heard a cry of pain then…
He dropped me.