Chapter Ten

She won't be mist

I was lonely. That's how it always starts, the feeling.
Almost impossible to explain, it feels like someone dropped a toaster in an ocean and the waves are licking my brain. Feels like stretching phantom limbs, feels like pressure crushing me from the inside and outside hard enough to equal out.
It's the day before our school suffered that inexplicable fire and boy, do I had an itch in my limbic system.
Of course I know what this feeling is, believe it or no we do have health classes up North. Ok so we have Google search up North. Nitpicky m**********r.
I'm in the cafeteria where there's a pretty good view for people watching but not good enough. If there was an assembly to gather them all up, or a beauty pageant, or a catalog "...yearbook!" I accidentally exclaimed.
"What, Damon?" asks the girl with a lip ring beside me. Oh yeah, I forgot that's what I told it my name was. Too punny.
I suppress a giggle and say distressedly "I just remembered my cousin is coming over and can't for the life of me remember what his name is. Lee? Ling? God damn it he's picking me up this is gonna be so awkward."
"You don't remember your own cousins name?"
"I have a lot of cousins," I sigh and it nods falling back on the asian stereotypes it's learned.
"He graduated from here last year. Do you have a copy of the yearbook that I can look at?"
"Uhh, what kind of school spirit do you think I have for this shithole?" It laughs, flicking a crumb off it's Nirvana T-shirt.
I scrunch up my eyebrows, "F**k..." Useless piece of skank trash.
"But I could check my locker." It offers quickly.
Oh my god, bless you Queen.
I place a hand on it's thigh casually with a bright smile, "Sweet, thanks."
It turns it's head slightly and lifts one side of it's mouth. "C'mon, lets get out of here."
"Sure." We get up and leave the dingy windowless cafeteria. It takes an eternity of small talk to reach the damn locker. It cranks out the combo quickly and unlocks the locker. It then proceeds to rummage around in the pile of papers. My patience is wearing as thin as my waistline. The feeling is growing, worse than the last time.
"Here we are."
"Great." I snatch the book up flipping through greedily. There's something, someone here. Pulling me in. I stop abruptly.
F**k . My. Brain. With. A. Blender
I fall back on the row of lockers with a resounding bang.
A photo of a boy my age. Porcelain skin and elegant bone structure. The graceful angle of his jaw and prominent cheekbones. Tauseled chestnut hair falling into his eyes. His eyes. A striking luminous green. A green that makes you think of Eden.
Mark Chance.
Is the name typed out in small neat print. A name that would change me forever.
Shivers fun down the length of my body, the air around me is electric.
My teeth grind and I tilt my head to the left, the movements jerky and forceful.
"You ok?" Comes an unwelcome voice. I draw myself up to my full height and take it by the wrist.
"Where are we-?"
I put my finger to it's lips, "I need you to trust me," f**k uuhh "Terri." Our eyes connect and we stare like this for a moment before it responds, "I trust you."
We travel to the very end of the hall, and into an old maintenance closet in the east stairwell. I scoped this place out weeks in advance in case of an occasion like this. I close the door behind us firmly and turn.
It lets out a giggle. "Damon, what are we-" Grabbing a handful of black hair I slam it's head into the wall. I've found my soulmate, nothing can be left to jeopardize that.
The blood is rushing in my ears so loudly I barely hear the pathetic whimpering. I step on it's throat, partially crushing the trachea to prevent screaming. Next I land several sharp kicks,rewarded with the sickening thud of ribs cracking. I allow myself the pleasure of crouching down and prodding the newly bloodied spot. It's hot and squishy. My eyes roll into the back of my head. In that instantly of defenselessness I feel nails being raked across the tan skin of my face. Immediately I spring into action, pushing it back to the ground and crawling ontop of it, pinning the torso and arms down. Then, as it exudes a raspy shrieking, grab it by the shoulders and smack its head into the cement floor repeatedly. Once that's done, I lift it's leg, sure the knee is locked and slam the shin down over my knee. There is a definite fracture.
I stand up, brushing the dirt and blood off my hands and peer down at is curiously, heartbeat erratic, adrenaline infused hail beginning to fall.
It lies there vulnerable, I would assume, shocked and/or afraid. If I squint, the blue on it's shirt almost looks green.
I could f**k it right here but that would be bestiality. Like f*****g a pig.
Instead I drag the girl up by the skin of it's chest, drawing blood. Unintentional fog begin to form beneath the low ceiling, enveloping us.
"please..." Tears fall onto my lace and leather pants. It claws at my arm trying to pry me off but the concussion is taking it's toll. With my free hand I form a small charged cloud.
The fear and confusion in the girl's eyes are unmistakable, even for me.
A string of ionized air binds us and I pump it's body full of 300 kilovolts of energy. Quickly, I yank a molar from warm gums and with the sound of it's breathing in my ears, rush out of the room.
The thunder clap reverberates through the halls. Students stop and look around shocked and confused, I copy them. Then I go to the nearest window. I create puffy nimbus clouds in the sky by subtlety dragging my finger. Like tearing a seam in blue velvet to let cotton innards out. I blot out the sun and add a few lightning strikes nearby to add realism. I wonder who I'm going to eat lunch with now.
I drive myself home through the rain shakily. This storm is taking a lot out of me. My parents are waiting for me with snacks.
They're both retired. Worked as meteorologists stationed by the arctic circle to monitor air currents. But they're in their late seventies now and decided it was time to move somewhere warmer, besides it was getting hard to afford food and gas on their pensions.
I collapse in a chair, "Hiya Mom, hiya Pop! How are you?" I scoop up the canned ham which is drowning in mayonnaise and lick it off the cracker. I'm on a purely carnivorous diet, anything else makes me sick. They know that, so either they're pretending I'm normal or they've forgotten again. Mom and Pop defined the use of acid in the 60's.
"Great, I finally convinced your father to come to the Y today."
"Convinced me? You never asked! Of course I want to see my favourite girl in a bathing suit."
Mom blushes pink as bubblegum and I don't get it. They both have the colouring and physique of wet mashed potatoes.
"Oh stop it you."
He coughs, "So how was your day son."
"Fine, I handed that dumbfuck English assignment in and I conjured up a thunderstorm. I think I'm getting better-" They give each other a look. It isn't any look, I've seen it many times, I hate it. Raised eyebrows and urgent stares flicking from each other back to me, like I don't notice, like I'm too stupid to notice.
"Achie!"
My hand is full of the glass I crushed absentmindedly, "Huh."
"Is something wrong honey?"
I let out a humourless laugh, "Wrong? Why-a I don't know, why-why-why don'tcha let me, since you both seem to have the inside scoop."
"Well...d-dear. You're covered in sweat and there are scratches on your face." Mom lays her hand one mind, I notice the tremors are back.
"We're worried about you Acheron." Pop says gruffly.
"Don't. Call. Me. That." I grind my teeth and tilt my head to the side.
"Ach-"
"Stop!" I leap across the table and pounce on my mother, tackling her to the ground. "You think I'm just some kind of monster, something to be ashamed of!"
She responds calmly as she can, "No dear, we just w-wanted to keep you safe."
"KEEP ME SAFE?! YOU KEPT ME TRAPPED! I DIDN'T LEAVE THE HOUSE TIL I WAS SEVEN. DIDN'T GO TO SCHOOL TIL I WAS 12! I NEVER GOT OUT OF TOWN! I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW WHAT I WAS!" My spit flies into her face, which I keep immobile by her hair.
"Sweetie, you were too young, you couldn't control-"
"Control!? You think I give two glittering f***s about control?" I growl leaning into her ear.
Suddenly a sharp pain erupts across my back and within seconds I black out.
I wake up in the basement. As per f*****g usual. Pop must've brought the tranquilizer gun with him, sly b*****d.
I creep to the top of the stairs and eavesdrop on their conversation.
"He's getting worse," Here we go again Moms crying.
"I know Hellie, I know." Ugh and Pop too. Suuuch old news.
"What do we do?"
"We can't keep locking him up like this."
"I'm so scared Roger."
"I know, I know. But he's our boy. We have to keep trying."
Blah blah blah. Boring. I swear they're like two broken records. How many times do we have to go through this routine. I go through all the steps to try and get them to let me out. Crying. Apologizing. Pleading. Begging. Faking promises. Faking injuries. Screaming. Screaming for hours. But they weather the storm. They always do.
It's the middle of the night when the open the door, pointing to the deep grooves I scratched in the door with my nails. I just giggle. And soon they laugh along with me, but not in their eyes.
I ask them if they want me to make dinner. I'm the best chef in the building. They politely refuse and I go up to my room.
But I'm not here long. I go straight to my laptop and Google Mark Chance, without too much digging I find an address and decide to go pay my soulmate a visit.

Flash forward to the next morning and I collect some interesting gossip at the breakfast table. I'm primped to the max with half a can of hairspray in my colourful locks, a black choker and genuine peacock feather pants tight enough to make your daddy bleed.
"So now dear, your father and I have been thinking."
"There are some things you need to know."
"Mmhmmphh," I reply my mouth full of sausage. To be honest, I was ignoring them up to now. Choosing instead to imagine this thick juicy sausage was my darling Marky's d-
"You've always been a little....different than the other kids. Because you're a ...a" he falters.
"A demon?" I supply through a mouthful of pork.
"Yes, we- we've told you that much. Now, Achie you realize, the real reason we kept you isolated all those years, the reason we had to move from Old Crow is...is..."
"It's those god damn fallen angels!" Mom exclaims hysterically.
"Mm-ha! Nice one Mom." I give her a thumbs up.
"We're serious honey."
I turn to each of them with a smile expecting a crack in their stoney expressions. I get nothing and begin to panic. "T-that was just a story you used to tell me."
"They're real. And they won't stop until you and anyone else like you are completely eradicated. It's time you knew. We can show you how to recognize them. How to fight them. We don't know much but we'll tell you what we do."
They caught me off guard. I don't like it. I don't like them having the upper hand. Makes me feel small. Like a little boy again. I don't want another thing to hide from. I stare at my untouched orange juice, processing.
"Oh look at the time! You'll miss the school bus!"
"Aauuughh Mom do I have to?" I whine, "Why don't I stay and you can tell me about the creatures that are coming to kill-"
"No no no." She ushers me towards the door, "We'll discuss it when you get back. I for one, won't help you play hookie."
"Hookie? Mom whaaaat?" I go limp in her arms and with her husband's help they haul me to the front door and down the steps, waving awkwardly to their equally white neighbours. The bus approaches.
"Whelp, bye mom, bye pop love you."
"One more thing young man."
"Yeah Pops?" He looks tired, haggard. I can't think why.
"Listen son,since we're telling you the truth, the whole truth. You should know...you're....you're a...oh nevermind. I'll tell ya when you get back from school."
"Roger roger." I give him a salute and he sends it back. Pop fought in Vietnam for years before he met my Mom at a rally. Completely turned his world around. A story I've heard a bazillion times.
The yellow charter of snotheads and pantie lickers pulls up.
"Hey Mom, Pop," I consider coming clean about the Terri thing. But ultimately decide against it. I don't wanna get grounded from seeing Mark. "Give 'em the old razzle dazzle." I wink and get onto the schoolbus.
And for once keeping my mouth shut turned out be the right idea, as half the school blew up today along with my little secret.
Afterschool, I formulate a plan while sitting in the cab of my truck tossing Terri's molar around blasting Susan Boyle. Get a prostitute, get Blaze, get Mark, get your pants, get out of town and find the one thing that can save us.
The Queen of the Forest.