CHAPTER 2—DAY ONE
Remember, little Butterfly. Remember what you are...
"No..." I took a step back as the sixteenth from the left walked to stand in front of me, her gloved hands reaching up to push her hood away. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see what I knew was coming.
Then the dream changed, and this time I felt someone walk over. "Embrace it." The voice demanded, "Remember, Aanyx. Remember what we are. Remember who you are..." Why do I know that voice? My eyes snapped open, and one of the taller of the eighteen stood before me—male, with a distinctive, mischievous baritone. The image of a familiar, angular face with a downward triangle tattooed on either cheek flashed through my mind, his name on the tip of my tongue. What is his name?
His hands covered mine, grasping the edge of the large hood I was now somehow wearing, and we pulled it down together. The moment it was down I remembered the name, inhaled with the need to let it out before it left me again...
...And a warm, goey substance rolled down the side of my face, waking me instantly as I groaned in frustration. Stupid dog...
Wait, I don't have a dog...
Wiping the drool off on my arm I sat up and looked around, my eyes stinging.
"Good morning." A woman chuckled as she entered carrying a hand towel. She had thick, curly blonde hair and an abundance of freckles spanned from one prominent cheekbone to the other, her eyes narrow and perhaps the iciest shade of green I've ever seen. At first glance, she appeared to be a model, with her slim figure and tall stature. For those who knew better, however, this was clumsy old Mrs. Jamie Brown, all bone with a soft spot for anything caramel—who happened to frequently sport a wicked five-inch heel.
Her presence only secured my assumptions—I'd fallen asleep on the couch. "Sorry..." I mumbled weakly, rubbing my eyes—though the action was more a vain attempt to re-moisten my contacts than to rid my eyes of sleep—as their pit bull, Fido, drooled on my pant-leg. "It happens, my dear. Now, why don't you clean yourself up and maybe change your contacts and come back for tea so we can discuss this dream that's been troubling you."
"How did you—"
"You were tossing and turning in your sleep all night. Rick wanted to wake you before you fell off, but I figured you needed to fight it yourself." She stated simply, shooing me out. Well, at least I don't have to ask her about the dream, anyhow...
So, after finding a semi-clean pair of jeans and a large green tee that at least looked clean—so it smelt like chocolate, at least that stain was gone!—I switched out my contacts and, for good measure, grabbed that extra box of caramels off the top of the fridge—a little shelf-life never hurt anyone, right?—and made my way back across the street.
"Well, looks like the Sleeping Beauty didn't die from a blow to the head." Rick Brown teased, standing aside to let me in. At five-foot two he was, perhaps, the roundest coach in all of Twilight Town. Balding, pot-bellied, and with the world's least funny jokes piled a mile high, Rick Brown was once a champion gymnast...and then he hit thirty-five, and gave up his title to marry the local loon, Jamie Jensen 'The Seer'. After a ten-year honeymoon he returned with a belly twice his size, and the world has to wonder: What the HELL happened?
"Thank goodness for that; I'd much rather die from something a bit more exciting."
"Like a paper cut?"
"Sure." I rolled my eyes. Still not any funnier than the last time he asked me that.
Several somewhat painful hours later found me, as usual, late for our group's meet up. Granted, I wasn't exactly there when they decided what time, but I'm late for everything anyway.
It's not that I don't have a watch—in fact, I have seven—it's the fact that I'm otherwise occupied and never wear one.
"...I mean, it's true that stuff's been stolen around town, and we've got a score to settle with Seifer and everything. So, if he wants to think we'd done it, I can't really blame him. See, that's not what really bugs me. What really bugs me is that he's goin' around telling everybody WE'RE the thieves! Now the whole town and their mothers are treating us like the Klepto Klub! Have you ever been this ticked off before in your LIFE? 'Cuz I haven't! Nuh-uh! NEVER!" I heard Heyner fume. I couldn't help but roll my eyes as I approached; it couldn't be that bad…"Now...What to do?" I heard a few hums of thought before Roxas spoke up, making me freeze just outside the tarp door, "We could find the REAL thieves. That would set the record straight!" I threw the tarp open, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. WHAT? What thieves? What did they steal? And why the hell did Seifer pin it on us?"
"You'd know that, if you showed up on time!" Heyner growled, hands balling into fists at his sides. I mirrored his pose, "Well, excuse me for being otherwise occupied!"
"You're always otherwise occupied!"
"Am not!"
"Yes, you are! It's always gymnastics practice, or you picked a fight, or you made a bet and couldn't bail—"
"That happened once!" I protested, but he continued over me.
"—or you had to help your mom, or you were up late doing homework and slept through your alarm—"
"Excuse me for not wanting to go to summer school!"
"—or my personal favorite, you forgot!" Heyner finished in a yell.
"Sorry for not living up to your expectations, then!"
"You couldn't even think of an excuse? Just, 'Oh, I forgot, my bad' and then you expect us to be okay with that?"
"Yes, that's what friends do, they forgive each other!"
"Being part of this group means participation! How are you supposed to be a part of this group if you're never here to participate?"
That stung deep. I looked from face to face, noticing Olette and Roxas' expressions of shock and the need to keep the group together, as opposed to Pence's look of agreement. "So, that's it, then. I guess I'm outta this family too. I can't depend on mom…Just like I can't depend on you!" With that I tore out of the alley, refusing to cry. So I'm not exactly punctual. Does that really mean he had the right to ban me?
Our group was formed because we were four people who had nowhere else to go. We were outcasts at school—and when Roxas showed up, he just sort of fit right in with us, like it was ment to be. Now I see why Heyner hung out with him so much—he was supposed to replace me. Got to keep it an even number and all that, right?
"Well, well, well. Look what the dog barfed up this time." Great, this was just icing on the cake, really. The one person I hate most had to go and show up at the worst time possible…
"Look, Valenteen, I'm really not in the mood. So unless you want Daddy's expensive plastic surgery to be for naught, I'd suggest you get the hell outta my way."
The best way to describe Scarlet Valenteen would be 'Slut'. She wears strapless bras under unbuttoned shirts, sleeves rolled to the elbow, miniskirts, and high-heel boots. Her face would be pretty, were it not covered in more makeup than humanly possible; as would her hair, were it not curlier than a telephone chord.
Scarlet 'tsked' through her bubblegum, chewing like a cow between every word, "What's the matter, did your boyfriend dump you—oh, that's right, you don't have one, do you? And it's no wonder, considering you act and dress just like a boy…"
"Just because I actually wear clothes doesn't mean I dress just like a boy. At least I have dignity."
"At least I'm not afraid to show what I've been given."
"Yeah, through million-munny surgery."
"At least my Daddy doesn't leave me to snore on the neighbor's couch."
I scowled, "How did you know about that?"
"Aanyx, Aanyx, Aanyx. EVERYONE knows about that."
"Obviously not everyone…" I muttered, more to myself than not. Scarlet placed a hand on her chest in mock-concern, "What's the matter, did you and your little gang of nobodies break up?"
"It's not a gang!"
"What are you calling it? An organization?" Scarlet snorted. The image of the eighteen cloaked figures resurfaced, the word organization repeating in multiple voices. "Stop it."
"Why? Did those nobodies kick you out? Are you all alone?" The voices grew louder, some now saying 'Nobody' as well. "Shut up…"
"There's nothing worse than a nobody with no one else beside them. Especially when—"
"SHUT UP!" I yelled, unable to take it much longer. Some sort of power had come from my anger—forcing Scarlet to go flying down Market Street in a gust of what looked like pitch-black swirling smoke. I looked from my hands to her unconscious form before taking off down an alley, by-passing the curious stares and murmurs as I ran straight for home.
Tears stung at my eyes, the voices never quieting their constant buzzing.
Organization…Organization…Organization…Organization…Organization…
Nobodies...Nobodies…Nobodies…Nobodies…Nobodies…Nobodies…Nobodies…
"Aanyx!" That voice…that voice from my dream! No, he can't be here! He can't be real! I pushed myself harder, panting now, and the boy ran after me, "Aanyx! Slow down!"
Warm arms linked around me, trapping my arms at my sides as I was lifted off the ground. "For crying out loud, woman! Hold still!"
"Let me go, you pervert!" I cried, refusing to stop kicking and squirming. I felt the power once more, flooding from my very core into my hands. The grip tightened slightly, "That trick won't work on me, little fish." He said in an almost teasing tone, "You can't fight fire forever."
It was suddenly hot—too hot for a town submerged in endless twilight. Everywhere his body touched mine began to burn, and my sleeve caught fire. The man grabbed it in his hand, holding it in front of me. "I don't want to have to hurt you, Aanyx. Not all of us are evil. Please don't make me do what Saïx wants…"
For some reason, a part of me wanted to hear him out. The rest of me wanted to scream rape, kick him in the balls, and run. But Mrs. Brown's words kept me in place; "Perhaps they are a part of a life you once had, and they want you to come back."
"…Let me go." I demanded, trying to sort out my thoughts. The grip slackened slightly, "Will you run?"
"…No…"
"You're lying. Do you think I'd work with you for so long and not be able to tell the difference?"
"Work? What are you talking about? I'm not even 16 yet—I'm still too young to have a job."
"So the reports were true, then. You really did forget. That explains the running…"
"Forget? Forget what? I've lived here my whole life…and stop trying to confuse me! Let. Me. Go!"
"Tell you what; you swear on Kingdom Hearts you won't run away, and—" The grip went entirely slack then, his hair brushing the back of my head as he looked over his shoulder, "…Damnit, time's up…"
I was suddenly spun around as the man replaced his hood, "I'll be back—tomorrow. And next time I promise it won't be so hostile."
"What are you—?" His gloved hand covered my eyes, and I felt my body grow heavy as my words slurred, darkness taking hold of my brain…