Chapter Eight: Lose
(Deyana)
Popping out another book, I thumbed through pages of useless garb, stuff I already knew. I threw the book down. I pulled up the little mattress, reaching under it to grab the only book I never read. The thick, leather binding hid pages, not quite yellow, but definitely aging. I stared at the front page of the book, where I'd written "Deyana's Team." I stared at the photograph I took a year after the change, when there were fifteen. Slightly smiling faces stared back, yet the picture had a haunted quality about it.
I traced my finger over my own youthful face. I had been beautiful and full of hope to end the change, return things to normal. If things were normal, would I like them again? Had I slipped down a slope since this picture?
I stared at Julio's quiet face, barely smiling despite the huge party we had the night before. We survived, and that was a reason to celebrate in itself. Dan looked out a huge grin spread across his young eight-year- old features. Shi Ann stood next to Julio and me, quietly smiling, staring at Julio when the camera flashed. Oh, she did love him.
I met eyes with the simple picture of Brat, who had been eight, the same age as Dan. Brat was the first one to go, at the hands of a winger. I frowned, thinking quietly of Theresa. What would her photo album look like?
Ten other various faces, all passed away, stared up at me. I flipped to the second page, meeting a picture of Shi Ann. The film that we raided partly was used for this, to make this book. I just took the pictures, not telling anyone what they were for. I flipped towards the back, where my favorite picture lay.
The picture, all in all, turned out badly, but it didn't matter. A small picture of the last time I ever felt peace struck a blow to my heart. Julio, Shi Ann, Benjamin, and I sat placidly along a bench, waiting to get on the sub to take us down here. Ten years ago, this wasn't my home, but a grand adventure and learning experience to be tackled like everything else.
I had been a naïve child. (Theresa)
"Awff," I jumped again at the weird sound I made. I looked up, realizing somehow, I'd fallen out of my little sleeping bag on a bar. I blinked, staring out at the ocean. No fish swam by the window, and I wanted to walk around, see where I was.
No, that was no use. I couldn't walk, with legs as short as my forearms used to be. I lay on the bed, rumpled up a little with my one wing bend awkwardly, and I hated the horizontal position.
Funny, I always felt safe, sleeping in a bed, peacefully snuggled under covers. Now, I loathed laying here like this, and thought about going up towards the bar again. No, laying here in the sheets brought back memories of sharing a bunk with Nadine. The dormitories were too cheap to let us have our own bed, so we shared one.
Nadine, my last real friend, had escaped days before her sad birthday. How she did it, I still didn't know. She blabbered about reading the creature's minds, but she and I were both too afraid to remove the tracer. I still wanted to know how she did it...but did it matter now? Nadine couldn't save me from what I was. I couldn't even freaking save myself!
I howled, feeling tears come behind my eyes. I shivered at the sound. The door creaked open, and a tired face of Deyana looked in on me. She gazed off, as she saw me on the bed. I swallowed, but her eyes closed, and a small smile came over her face. The woman walked into the room, closing the door.
"I see you fell down," her voice was quiet. She clutched a little, worn, brown book by her left side. "By all reason, you shouldn't have fallen down from that little bar. A winger should be able to sleep hanging from a skyscraper in a wind storm and not fall down."
Yeah, the winger side of me knew this. The part of my brain that knew how to get up towards the bar and hang there knew I should still be up there, but I still fell off.
"Proving," Deyana demanded my attention again, "that you're not a winger." She rubbed the book, a small smile coming over her face. The pain she felt, she didn't speak of, but I saw it, if only for a moment. Somehow, she'd seen my pain, too.
(Deyana)
Popping out another book, I thumbed through pages of useless garb, stuff I already knew. I threw the book down. I pulled up the little mattress, reaching under it to grab the only book I never read. The thick, leather binding hid pages, not quite yellow, but definitely aging. I stared at the front page of the book, where I'd written "Deyana's Team." I stared at the photograph I took a year after the change, when there were fifteen. Slightly smiling faces stared back, yet the picture had a haunted quality about it.
I traced my finger over my own youthful face. I had been beautiful and full of hope to end the change, return things to normal. If things were normal, would I like them again? Had I slipped down a slope since this picture?
I stared at Julio's quiet face, barely smiling despite the huge party we had the night before. We survived, and that was a reason to celebrate in itself. Dan looked out a huge grin spread across his young eight-year- old features. Shi Ann stood next to Julio and me, quietly smiling, staring at Julio when the camera flashed. Oh, she did love him.
I met eyes with the simple picture of Brat, who had been eight, the same age as Dan. Brat was the first one to go, at the hands of a winger. I frowned, thinking quietly of Theresa. What would her photo album look like?
Ten other various faces, all passed away, stared up at me. I flipped to the second page, meeting a picture of Shi Ann. The film that we raided partly was used for this, to make this book. I just took the pictures, not telling anyone what they were for. I flipped towards the back, where my favorite picture lay.
The picture, all in all, turned out badly, but it didn't matter. A small picture of the last time I ever felt peace struck a blow to my heart. Julio, Shi Ann, Benjamin, and I sat placidly along a bench, waiting to get on the sub to take us down here. Ten years ago, this wasn't my home, but a grand adventure and learning experience to be tackled like everything else.
I had been a naïve child. (Theresa)
"Awff," I jumped again at the weird sound I made. I looked up, realizing somehow, I'd fallen out of my little sleeping bag on a bar. I blinked, staring out at the ocean. No fish swam by the window, and I wanted to walk around, see where I was.
No, that was no use. I couldn't walk, with legs as short as my forearms used to be. I lay on the bed, rumpled up a little with my one wing bend awkwardly, and I hated the horizontal position.
Funny, I always felt safe, sleeping in a bed, peacefully snuggled under covers. Now, I loathed laying here like this, and thought about going up towards the bar again. No, laying here in the sheets brought back memories of sharing a bunk with Nadine. The dormitories were too cheap to let us have our own bed, so we shared one.
Nadine, my last real friend, had escaped days before her sad birthday. How she did it, I still didn't know. She blabbered about reading the creature's minds, but she and I were both too afraid to remove the tracer. I still wanted to know how she did it...but did it matter now? Nadine couldn't save me from what I was. I couldn't even freaking save myself!
I howled, feeling tears come behind my eyes. I shivered at the sound. The door creaked open, and a tired face of Deyana looked in on me. She gazed off, as she saw me on the bed. I swallowed, but her eyes closed, and a small smile came over her face. The woman walked into the room, closing the door.
"I see you fell down," her voice was quiet. She clutched a little, worn, brown book by her left side. "By all reason, you shouldn't have fallen down from that little bar. A winger should be able to sleep hanging from a skyscraper in a wind storm and not fall down."
Yeah, the winger side of me knew this. The part of my brain that knew how to get up towards the bar and hang there knew I should still be up there, but I still fell off.
"Proving," Deyana demanded my attention again, "that you're not a winger." She rubbed the book, a small smile coming over her face. The pain she felt, she didn't speak of, but I saw it, if only for a moment. Somehow, she'd seen my pain, too.