WASTE
Two
I always thought dying would be peaceful, you know? Like floating on a cloud in the pitch black, not afraid of anything type of dying. Apparently it's not like that. At least not for me.
I could still feel my body. My head was pounding as if I were a thousand feet under the water, and I could feel liquid in my ears. My arm was twisted awkwardly to the side, and every time I breathed pain shot through me like hot steel. My lungs were on fire. My legs were tingling, and worst of all, I opened my eyes.
I wasn't dead.
Rain was pelting my body, ice cold. Mud was beneath me. I could only see the blurry shapes of the trees, or I would have, but things were looming over me. I blinked a few times, and suddenly every thing was crystal clear.
Wild. That's what they all looked like. Savage. They were all smiling, maybe five or six of them. More, since I could hear the shuffling around me. Clothes that were in tattered rags, skin pale, white. Dark rings around red-tinted eyes. Vampires. And they were all so beautiful, as if death had killed the ugly along with it. Even though they all were completely different, they all looked exactly the same. A frightening look was in all of their eyes, untamed and untapped.
Someone screamed nearby. It lasted a long while, this blood-curdling sound. Then it was cut off, yet it still echoed in my ears. Tears came to my eyes, and mixed with the rain. Because I knew. Dex wouldn't see his mother again. Never ever.
"Hushhhh." A cold hand touched my cheek, almost in a comforting way. The cool fingers stroked the hair from my eyes. I focused on the face of a girl. Her eyes were the same red as the others, had the same look. But a shred of humanity clung in the depths. They had to kill to survive, and since humans were weak we would die. It wasn't right.
With great effort, I turned my face away from her hand, feeling the throb of my head start up again.
"Stupid." I heard her hiss. I half smiled at that, because it was true. I was stupid. She smoothed my my hair down a few times, fighting an inner battle, before yanking my hair back in a fierce, quick pull.
Jagged teeth tore into my neck. Into my arm. Into my leg. I could feel each tooth individually in my skin, tearing deeper each time they moved. A scream ripped from my throat, one so loud that I would still be hoarse a week later. Black edged around my vision. Tunnel-vision, I think is what it's called. Everything became blurry, besides the pain.
I wished I would just die already.
Then slowly, the pain began to fade, little by little. The teeth were gone from my wrist, and inner elbow. Then there was no more tearing near my ankle. And finally, the teeth from my neck were replaced with a numb, cooling sensation.
Now, I was really dead, I guessed, as the blackness closed in over me. At long last, not more pain. I blinked my eyes one last time as the shapes around me closed in.
Then I felt nothing. Nothing at all.
The first thing I did when I opened my eyes was ask if Noah really did fit two of every creature into an ark. I figured that God or one of the angels would tell me, since I just died. I figured they would be sympathetic and answer my question. But no. All I got was hee-hawed laughing, and a headache from moving my mouth.
I wiggled my fingers and felt pain.
I moved my legs and felt pain.
And when I sucked in a breath at the realization that I still wasn't dead, I felt pain.
I didn't try to open my eyes, because I knew it would hurt. I didn't want to see the vampires staring at me either. I didn't know why I was alive. Why would they let me live? A cold spike of terror shot to the base of my spine. I couldn't be. I wouldn't. I sat up from the rough couch and opened my eyes. There was no one else in the room.
I stood up from the old lumpy piece of furniture and looked at my hands. My skin wasn't any different. Not any paler than it had been. My hand flew to my chest and I felt for my heartbeat. Stupid. I felt around my neck and checked my pulse. Still there. My legs were just about to give out, aching something fierce.
"You're not a vampire yet." I jumped and turned around, a wave of exhaustion hitting me. I sat down. Now that I wasn't worried about being a freak, I could feel the pain in my body. My ears were buzzing, and my head hurt, as if my brain were trying to bust through my skull. Besides that, my shoulder was sore, as well as every other inch of skin.
"Hurts, doesn't it?" The girl in the doorway was staring at me, her cinnamon eyes half lidded with a bored expression. I didn't even try to nod, and instead stared right back at her. She looked away first. "Tabitha said you shouldn't have lived through that. You should have died. You should have turned into one of them." I closed my eyes, trying to block her out. I didn't like her. "You're lucky. Otherwise they would have had to kill you." I didn't flinch when she said that. No sarcastic emotion was in her tone.
She closed her mouth and stared at the floor, frowning. It was blessedly silent.
"What's you're name?" She sat down next to me and the couch sunk in a little. It was such a sudden move that I couldn't help but flinch. Gritting my teeth through the tightness in my neck, I lifted my head to where I was staring her straight in the eyes.
"Fly." My voice was gravelly and cracked, throat rough and sore. I coughed loudly, and the straining in my chest loosened.
"Parents weren't sticklers for normal names, huh?" she asked, trying to lighten the mood.
"My mother thought it was funny." A spark of hope flared up in my chest and I opened my mouth to say something. If Dex was alive, then everything would be okay. This endless cycle of death could end.
"No. He was dead by the time we got to you. They took his body with them." She said it so bluntly. I looked away, then, not wanting to appear weak in front of a stranger. My eyes watered, until the tears spilled over my cheeks. It wasn't fair. All this dying, and hurting. It wasn't fair at all. It wasn't fair that an eighteen year old boy had to die because of a stupid mistake. My fists clenched against the cushions, dirty nails digging in.
If I hadn't fallen asleep, I could have done something. By now we would have been inside the safe-house, still laughing about how horrible I was with guns. My uncle might have even humored me with putting me on watch with the rest of the group until nightfall. I could have at least tried to save him. I could have done something more. Sacrifice myself to the demons? It could have given him some time to run. He might have made it back if they decided to play with me. He could have. Dex had been a fast runner. I couldn't even imagine how my uncle or his mother felt right now. She had been a tough one, constantly nagging that the safe-house should be built larger, or walls should be put up around it, to where the children would have a safe place to be. But she had been kind, and soft. Like a mother should be.
"-but I think you can if you want. Sound alright?" I snapped my head sideways. She was already standing in the doorway, eyebrows drawn together in an unreadable expression.
"Huh?"
"Malachi said you probably shouldn't walk around for a few days, but you look better than you did two days ago. If you feel up to it, you can walk with me to get some food? Stretch your muscles a bit?" Her expression was guarded. She looked like she was hiding something. Something important. Something I needed to know.
"No. I'm not... not..." I couldn't spit out the world. Not because I wasn't hungry, because I was and my stomach growled, and ached, causing my body to automatically cave in on itself. As if to prove a point that I had to feed this body, when all I wanted to do was cry. I looked at the ground, then, glaring.
"I'll bring you back something." She was gone before I could nod, her footsteps retreating as the door closed shut. I was glad she left.
Tears streamed down my face, and I clenched my teeth to keep from screaming in pain and frustration. My breath came in hiccuped gasps. I hated crying. Every time I thought I was beginning to calm down, another thought filled my head. Of Dex smiling, or laughing. My heart would give a little, painful jump, and a fresh wave of tears would start. A high, keening noise entered my ears. It wasn't hard to figure out that I was making that. I would probably be doing that a lot.
Then all of a sudden I stopped crying, and I was made aware of a bone-creaking exhaustion. I slumped into the cushions of the ratty couch, and took deep, ragged breaths. My nose was too stuffy to breathe through and my face felt swollen. I closed my teary eyes, knowing that if I went to sleep now, I wouldn't feel anything anymore.
And that was exactly what I wanted.
I wasn't sure how long I slept, but it couldn't have been long.
"Are you sure that's natural? Her breathing pattern?"
"I'm sure it's normal. I'm also sure that you're a freak."
"You can't be mean to me. I'll tell Dad."
"Go ahead and tell your Dad ya runt!'
"Hey! Don't call me a runt!"
"I can call you a runt if I want to, runt!"
"No you CAN'T!"
"Yes! I CAN!"
"No!"
"Yeah!"
"No!"
"Would you two just shut-up already?" The voice was scary, and made my eyes snap open. Tear-crust covered my lashes, making them stick together, and I rubbed fiercely at my eyes. My head throbbed at the action, but I ignored it, along with all my other bones creaking in protest.
"See? She's awake. She's fine," the now not-so-scary voice said. My eyes flickered to the open doorway, where I could see the back of a man disappearing. Suddenly two faces invaded my space, leaning close into my face. Then there was one, because apparently the taller girl had pushed the shorter boy away.
"She doesn't want you staring at her like a freak, runt!" the girl hissed into his face, her black hair flying. The boy pushed her back, and suddenly they were rolling around on the floor, yanking the others' hair, kicking and punching. I hadn't noticed before, but there was another kid in the room. She was standing against the far wall, shaking her head slowly as she watched them roll on the floor. She looked like an exact clone of the boy: black hair, blue eyes and fair skin.
The two were still kicking each other when the door opened. My savior in the form of my caretaker with the cinnamon eyes. Her eyes were still lazily half-lidded as she handed me a tray of food. With deft movements, she had grabbed both of the kids by the back of their shirts and was tossing them into the hallway.
"Take your dirty selves somewhere else, and quiet down!" she hissed, bopping each once on the head, before shutting the door. She eyed the little girl in the corner for a moment, before shrugging and walking out of the room.
I sighed, staring down at the food. I picked at the bread, tearing pieces off before dipping it in the soup,and occasionally glanced up to look at the girl. She wasn't staring at me, but occasionally she would lift her eyes in a milli-second of a glance. Not even halfway finished with my food, I set the tray down, and picked up the thermos, downing most of the cool water in it. I set that down, too.
"What's your name?" I asked the girl. My voice was still scratchy and rough, but my throat didn't hurt nearly as bad, and my mouth wasn't too dry when I spoke. Her blue eyes stared at me, now, though she stayed silent. With a determined look on her young face, she nodded to herself, before opening her mouth.
"Nora."
"I'm Fly." She nodded again as I said this, and her eyebrows squished together. Standing up and straightening out her dress, she came to sit by me. Her movements were awkward and jerky, as if she were contemplating running away any second. For the first few minutes, she sat stiffly, hands in her lap and face forward, but after awhile, she relaxed into the cushions next to me, her face turned towards me.
"Do you like green?" she asked suddenly, and since we had been sitting so long in silence, it made me jump. She flinched when I did, but I gave her a reassuring smile.
"It's my favorite color." She nodded again.
"Mine too." And then she smiled, and it was the most adorable thing in the world.
We went back into silence. At first, I was too occupied by her to think of anything else but the strange child sitting next to me, but then I felt it. The pain in my chest, like a fire, spreading to invoke terrible memories. Just when I though I was going to cry, Nora looked up at me.
"You look like her. But she wasn't as sad as you are." Then, she patted my arm, awkwardly. It was comforting. Nora then slid off the couch and went across the room to sit against the wall, like she had been earlier, right before the door opened and in came my caretaker.
Her eyes darted to Nora, before she closed the door behind her.
"Malachi was wondering if you're up for a chat," she said simply, bending to pick up the tray. "Are you ready?"
I sighed, standing and stretching my bones and sore body. I smelled like I had rolled in something dead, and the dried blood was flaking off my dirty clothes.
"Maybe you'd like to shower first?" She seemed to have noticed my discomfort. I nodded. She then turned to Nora. "Can you tell them that I'll bring her in an hour or two?" Nora nodded.
The little girl then left the room silently, and the girl with the cinnamon eyes ushered me out.
The place I was in wasn't what I was expecting. The room that I had been in had no windows, and the floor had been plain cracked tile, with cement underneath. In the hallway, it was brick walls with cement flooring. Ten feet from the floor were windows that let to the outside. Black metal, what I guessed were shutters, were propped up by pieces of steel, and three latches were on the inside. Probably to keep the windows locked shut when it got dark. Down the hall we went, passing other rooms with broken doors on the right, and boarded up windows on the left.
The air was thick with dust, but so much easier to breath in than in the stuffy room. We rounded a corner, and to the left were two sets of stairs, both leading to the same place. We went further down the hall, passing either broken doors or new ones. Then further still until the hallway branched off in two places. There, we took a left, going down until we came to a set of double doors. They weren't boarded up. The cinnamon eyed girl pushed them open, watching me impatiently as I followed at a snail's pace. Finally, we were outside.
It wasn't safe. Gray clouds lingered overhead, blocking all sunshine.
Fear was nailed in the form of an icy spike in my brain, and I flinched backwards to the doors. But she grabbed me.
"It's alright. They can't come here." I didn't want to believe her, but I had to. She dragged me down concrete steps, and I chanced a glance behind me. Blurry words were carved into the stone. The most I could make out was 'middle school.' Whatever that was. Down a concrete path we went, walking around the outside of the school, until we came to another building. It was plain, with the same concrete steps as the larger building. We walked into it and came through the entrance in the form of broken, or no doors. Dull wood floors could be made out through the dusty light coming from the open upper windows. It was shaped like a smaller version of a stadium.
The one thing that made me freeze were the people. They didn't have on the sad, inevitable expressions of my home family. They were happy, joking, laughing. Some were angry. And there were children. Lots of them. At the safe house child-births weren't something to be joyous about. The mother usually lost the baby in labor, because of the hardships we had to face. And then, if they did survive, they wouldn't live long because of the sicknesses that came with the cold.
Then I was being tugged along again, passed them, and down a short hallway. At the end were two doors, one leading to the right, and one to the left. She took me into the left one. Curtains lined the far wall, each providing privacy for a shower stall. To the left were shelves full of home-made soaps and linens to dry with, along with spare sets of clothes and undergarments. The girl stacked my arms with soaps and rags to clean with, along with clothes, before shoving me into the nearest stall and instructing me to toss my dirty clothes out.
I knew how to use a shower because at the safe house they had one. The only reason we had running water there was because the pipes fed off of an underground well. I can't even imagine how they got running water here.
I shed my clothes and tossed them over the curtain, turning to move the knob to turn on the water. But before I could, I noticed a mirror. It was old and covered in rust in places, cracked in others. But most of it was clear.
The girl in the mirror looked nothing like me. Her eyes were empty, dull, lifeless, and bloodshot. Her skin was pale, paler than normal, with dark blue and black bruises covering every other inch of skin. Blood was caked to her neck, and mud to her feet. Bite wounds marked her arms, leg and neck, almost completely healed. Large claw marks were scabbed over from her upper thigh to knee.
All in all, I looked like I had been attacked by a pack of wolves.
Turning on the water, it came out hot. I didn't expect it to even be moderately warm, yet steam filled up the stall quickly. A sigh escaped my lips as I stepped under the spray. At the safe-house, hot water was rare unless you were willing to heat it over the fire.
I watched as the dirty water went down the drain, slowly getting clearer and clearer. Grabbing the home-made soap, I quickly scrubbed away the dirt and blood from my skin, being extra careful around particularly sensitive bruises and wounds. When I was satisfied with the cleanliness of my skin, I moved on to my hair. It was a thick, knotted mess, matted in some places with twigs and grass, and in others with blood. Grimacing, I scrubbed all that I could out, flinching as the soap from my hair got into my eye. It didn't bother me much. A vampire bite hurt much worse.
A wave of pain swept over me and I froze. My heart thumped weakly in my chest, drawing a gasp from my lips. It wasn't physical pain. That, I could handle. But this, this feeling of despair and depression was something new to me.
"Fly, would you hurry up?" I had forgotten about her. Whatever her name was.
I turned off the water and dried as best as I could before slipping on the clothes she gave me. The under-clothes fit fine, but the shirt and pants were far too big, and faded from over-use. At least they were clean.
"I'm Maggie, by the way," my caretaker said as I pushed back the curtain. I stared at her for a long moment, wondering if it had slipped her mind to introduce herself. "Let's go. Tabitha isn't a very patient person."