Author's note: This took quite some time, and I apologize for that.. This is the last chapter where our protagonist and deutragonist are children; in the next chapter they will become adults. (Not to mention less naive and blind.) And action and blood-spewing epic shit ensures. Enjoy. -NZ
There were monsters here.
Whether they simply dwelled in the kingdom of deception and shadows that was his inner thoughts, or if they were a frightful reality hidden from the rest of the world, Harold was still debating. He'd discovered them with his mind's eye. Snarling, screeching hideous creatures- abominations, one might say. Their skin was torn and spurting blood- accompanied by equally tattered and frayed bandages. These faded rags barely hindered the outbursts of warm, red liquid, and just thinking about it confused him. Why would you clothe hurt people with paper-thin rags, when medical attention was so clearly needed?
They snarled and oozed saliva and the white-coats poked at them, harassed them, and sometimes strapped them to big chairs. They must bleed a lot, he noted. They had a wild, animal-like glitter to their eyes, all usually bloodshot and frantic. Of course, that was for those who still possessed their eyes. Some were more unfortunate, with blank, empty sockets that sent a shiver down his spine. He could only perceive that their breath was rancid, foul, and distasteful - their teeth were in rather startling condition and the yellowing ivories reminded him of corroding elephant tusks.
They liked to bite. They secured a fair number of white-coat arms between those gamboge fangs. Naturally, those who managed to accomplish such a feat where often beaten until dried blood caked the walls of their crammed prisons. The wounded monsters often died the next nightfall.
He dreamed about them, usually when he was summoned up to the nurse's office. He wasn't fond of that place, mentioned scarcely yet more important than he'd ever know.
They were oddities, 'freaks of nature', as he'd heard his companion announce when he told her about them.
She was haughtily rambling on about how her mother taught her that phrase. But all at once she grew meek and docile when she remembered it had been used to describe the students. It failed to bother Harold; he was a sensible boy and understood why her parent abhorred him so.
He was different.
Despite the badgering, the immutable threat of being pried away from her friend by force, his little companion openly defied her parents. No matter how leering or hazardous the consequences, she'd continued to visit him.
He paused one afternoon to decide if she was either extremely brave, or extremely foolish. Brave, he finally concluded. Besides, he held a profound reverence for the gutsy kid. She was the kind of child who might stumble into trouble, punch it a few times, and then demand a refund. He could tell she was very attached to him, albeit the reason wasn't evident to his adolescent, child-like mind. Why her affections for him carried on so touchingly deep was a vast puzzle to him. Another thing that remained shrouded in mystery was her surname. Yes, she'd made it apparent on numerous occasions that her name was Keira, but oddly enough she'd never spoken of a surname.
Though one crisp autumn afternoon he'd trekked home from school (he allowed his backpack to plummet to the ground, he had homework to do - but it was math, and he was horrible at multiplication) and the television's light filtered through the room, the images flickered and revealed two young lovers in each other's amorous embrace. Their faces were inclined and their lips met and their hands clasped around one another. Harold stood, quizzically eyeing the scene.
"Ew." He finally mouthed, trotting on into the kitchen, but he continued to ponder the act.
He knew when a girl and a boy cared a lot about each other; they kissed like that and then got married.
Well, he cared about Keira very much. Did that mean he was supposed to kiss her? He abruptly paused, awkwardly resting his palms on the kitchen table. He finally concluded there must be a difference. Somehow.
He certainly disregarded the idea of committing the rest of his life to her. She was simply his best friend, his (only) trusted ally. It'd be too absurd, marrying her.
They'd previously made plans for their futures, which Keira insisted they spend still as close confidants. Harold had always dreamed of joining the military, with her by his side. The same couldn't be said for Keira, but she defiantly didn't want to be left out of anything.
All that was now simply a fading memory. He understood it was all for her own good. Keira's mother immensely detested him, and had once confronted him, threatened him. 'Stay away from my daughter,' and she used an odd word to describe him. He attempted to remember what it had been, but all in vain. So he decided it would be best to vanquish it from his head.
Indoors, the school felt doleful and vacant of emotion.. Or maybe that was just the air conditioner turned up again. Fellow students had swarmed inside as well, and filtering through the disarray, Harold noticed a particular sandy-haired student in his class.
His name was Redd. Harold already had a preference of words to describe him: boastful, arrogant, adamant... Annoying. More the last one than the first three. He was clearly close to his older brother, with enduring tales of spectacular adventures. Some were quite interesting, like the one about snowboarding, where Spencer cracked his left femur. Then Redd had gotten his hat stolen - and then he slugged a high-schooler to get it back. Harold privately doubted if he had the guts to do that, though.
Yes, although badgering was one of Redd's vast, bothersome hobbies, Harold managed to find a friend in him.
Through his endeavors to slither between the crowds, he also caught sight of the enigma of a boy that was Michael. He seemed so silent, stony, and hostile on occasion. Harold knew next to nothing about him, despite the fact that he sat next to him in class. He rarely talked, and when he did, it was usually to ask for an extra pencil.
But sometimes, into the allotted time of recess, Harold had noticed Michael eyeing his charming friend with interest. Harold's protective nature was awakened that afternoon. He'd become wary of Michael. And he developed a nearly immoral fascination with shielding Keira from him.
Although he was distraught over losing his best friend, heartbroken and desperate for a glimpse of her face, (and perhaps a proper farewell) he would smirk to himself, knowing that if he couldn't have her, then neither could Michael.
Upon arriving to the classroom, which had been absorbed in a terse silence, Harold wound his way around to his assigned desk- where he promptly seated himself. The remainder of the children stumbled through the doorway as well, often clogging the entrance with their little bodies, pushing and shoving, wrestling to get inside first.
The teacher eased herself into the room, with students scurrying this way and that. She immediately demanded they all take their seats, in a rather irritable tone, which caused the children to scuttle for their chairs. Harold chuckled to himself, and inclined his neck so he might shoot a taunting glance at Redd, who'd been one of the unfortunate standing.
He was mildly surprised to see Michael already seated as he swiveled around. He was perplexed for a moment, debating on whether the frigid classmate had simply slipped by his notice, or if he was a psychic superhuman with teleporting powers. Yeah, he'd seen a TV show like that once.
Redd posthaste tried to spit at him, which failed because of the distance between the seats. Harold mocked him. Redd crumpled up a piece of paper to throw, but their blithe antics were cut short by the teacher. She sourly instructed Harold to turn around and gave Redd a bitter glare.
She, once dealing with the two, marched back up to the front. Standing with precise posture before the class, she straightened the glasses on her large, crooked nose. The lesson plans began spewing from her immediately, with her coarse voice rising slightly on parts she felt were important. They delved into subjects such as math, history, science, and literature... Of course, Harold vaguely listened - he was too distracted by the swollen, repugnant boil on her forehead. Keira was going to laugh her head off when she heard about this...
The realization that he would never speak with her was a sharpened sword. It wasn't fair. Keira was his unshared companion... Her parents failed to see, how she affected him. How she left him brimming with blissful adulation. If there was something askew with him, he couldn't identify it. Besides, it was Keira's decision, nobody else's.
As the lesson tarried forward, the teacher's raspy voice began echoing in his head and he truly attempted to listen, but nothing caught his interest. That is, until the door's handle clicked and a woman he'd never seen before slithered into the classroom. Her movements were swift and timorous, and he could notice a malevolent glimmer in her eyes as she stooped over to whisper something to the teacher.
As the words were exchanged, Harold could clearly see a change in the teacher's expression, a pleased but surprised look. Suddenly, she veered away from the newcomer woman, and directed a solitary long, bony finger at the cluster of students before her.
"Mr. Jankowski, Mr. Becket, and Mr. Keegan, you three are needed in the Nurse's office." She hissed, glaring at each in turn.
Harold felt a rush of disappointment as his name was one of the selected three, yet he reluctantly proceeded to the front. As Redd and Michael neared as well, he caught a glimpse of their expressions. While Redd appeared to be confused, his rebellious nature still simmered through. (Even Harold knew he had a serious problem with authority.) He looked as if he was about to blurt out something, which was probably rude. Michael, on the other hand, was pokerfaced, and Harold wondered if he felt anything at all.
"Hey- where are we goin'?" Redd inquired. "Is it another stupid checkup? Why are we goin' to the Nurse's office? Are we sick? I'm not sick! Are you going to give us medicine? I don't like grape flavored m-"
"Hush and follow Miss Clark," The teacher instructed, gritting her teeth.
Miss Clark? Harold frowned, the name sounded strangely familiar, despite the fact that he'd never seen this woman before in his life.
The lady gave the boys a smile and gestured towards the door. She began an eerie amble towards it, and motioned for the three to follow. Wearily, the boys exchanged glances before marching out. There was something odd about this woman... And it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out.
After the staggering trudge across the gargantuan school, the boys found relief when the Nurse's office came into view.
"I still don't think I'm sick," Redd protested as he walked alongside Harold, "If I were sick, I'd be vomiting and I'm not vomiting. ...Do you need to check?" He opened his mouth, uttering a quiet 'ahhhh', but Miss Clark didn't even acknowledge him. Clearly annoyed, Redd heartily began another ramble.
"Did I ever tell you how much I hate grape flavored medicine? It's so nasty, I can't even swallow it. Hey, once Mom made me take it when I felt bad, but I just made it look like I swallowed it, so when she left I spit it out. Have you ever had it? Doesn't taste nice, does it? Yeah, so don't even try to give it to me." Redd finished his rant proudly, despite the painfully obvious fact that nobody paid heed to him.
Miss Clark rolled her eyes. Mr. Jankowski was a stubborn, obnoxious child, but she knew how to deal with those types.
She paused at the door of the Nurse's Office, hastily pushing down the handle of the door and sliding it open.
Redd immediately leapt forward and nudged his way inside, scanning for anything intriguing.
Harold detested the eerie ambience surrounding the room; it kindled fear, unsettled him and left him aghast. As Miss Clark began herding them inside, he felt the almost overwhelming urge to flee the scene. He took one unsure stumble backwards, casting a distrusting look towards the lady. She failed to notice it, and was instead urging Michael inside.
He suddenly rethought the idea of running. If he did somehow manage to escape, who would he run to? Harold paused, contemplating the choice for a moment. He could go to Keira. Yes, she would understand. She always did.
But she was banished currently, in a place he dared not venture near. Despite begin dispersed, Harold often caught himself wondering where she was.
He should've fled.
The aberrant woman was leering over him. Words began crawling through her teeth so quickly that they were incoherent. Before he could react, she secured her coarse hands on his shoulders, and steadily hustled him inside the steely room. He was unconscious soon after, along with the others.
was promptly started. Underground labs were revealed, and scientists were scattered about.
And the tests on the psychic monsters began.