Prologue B - 0.1
This story's context begins in the year twenty-eleven, in the month of January. It actually began years before, but that is a much longer, currently unnecessary, story to know at the moment. For now, just know that it includes betrayal, scorn, and the combined trauma of three different girls, two of which mainly caused mine.
About a month before the story began, I died.
I lay as still as my heart on a stretcher in an ambulance, an IV hooked up to my left arm, and a breathing apparatus to my mouth. I was only dead for ten or so minutes before I was resuscitated by a man I would later know as Doctor Ryan. He will be relevant later.
As for the death, it felt…odd. I do not remember what I saw on the other side, but I know that I did not like it; there was a reason I didn't stay dead. I eventually found myself waking up in a different bed, in a different location. There were bright lights, the floor moved from under me, voices and noises of all kinds from everywhere rang out. I was filled with too much pain to fully take it in, and I passed out. It was then that I triggered.
It was difficult to notice the first changes, those that were not related to my trigger. I had been in the emergency room for a few hours and had just woken up. They told me my father was on his way. I felt a strange feeling inside, or rather, the lack of one. There was something there; I could definitely feel it, but it was just out of reach. If it were tangible, I would be struggling to even brush my fingers over it. When my father appeared at the door, terrified look on his face, I hoped that it was just a random, brief, post-traumatic symptom that I wasn't aware of. But when he tried to hug me, something that would normally make me break down and fill with unbridled melancholic joy, I still "felt" the same thing.
Nothing.
After I was discharged and a week had gone by for me to readjust, I went back to school, where I found out about the second thing that had happened to me. Class, as normal, had been quite dull and uneducational, but whatever work they gave us, I would be done within minutes, breezing through with no trouble at all. I found this strange, as, even though I was not stupid, I was not the most intelligent before this locker incident. At this revelation, I felt a small rumble in my bones. Maybe it was my new form of happiness? But what scared me, or the closest thing I could feel, was that I hadn't even felt this way when my father had held me. The "feeling" subsided quickly with a faint recognition of how horrible this really was, and how I might be on the verge of losing myself. I then proceeded to finish question fifteen of the worksheet.
School life was very different. For the first few days back, my regular bullies, who I had nicknamed the Trio long before these things happened, had stayed away, perhaps worried that they would go too far again. Or maybe some sense of empathy or compassion had entered their collective mind for a second, convincing them to give the NDE-haver some slack.
I chuckle inwardly whenever I think of that possibility. That would never happen.
My home life also changed drastically. My father and I hadn't had the most close relationship beforehand, but after the hospital, we had become even more distant. Perhaps it was due to my newfound lack of humanity, though I believe it was because I kept finishing the cereal before he could have any.
Now, why am I telling you about these seemingly unnecessary things? You want the story of what happened next, do you not?
Well, context is a necessity, especially when it comes to these sorts of things. I am not able to care about being rude as much as I did before, but I can be honest. This story is not for the faint of heart. For those sensitive to bloody subjects, insults, occasional slurs needed for the context of the story, please turn away. I do not see a point in warning you again.
As for why?
Well, who doesn't like a good story?