Request filled~
Here it is, my first foray into the fic and art exchange... I stayed up late two nights in a row to get this done, because lasafara was making me feel inadequate. ...In a good way! Anyway, this goes out to remorsful_devil, who wondered what Kevin's day was like before he got kidnapped. I hope you enjoy, and that this answers your question.
I had fun getting inside Kevin's pathetic, emo head... poor kid. I learned a lot about him while writing this. For instance, I never noticed before that he was reading The Screwtape Letters by C. S. Lewis when he got nabbed... how appropriate is that?! Much love to our Esteemed Author and Artist for sneaking that in there... more proof that the true awesomeness that is Metanoia lies in the details. If you haven't read the book, I highly recommend it... so freaking hilarious, and one of my new favorites. There's more to C. S. Lewis than Narnia, folks!
Anyway, without further ado, I give you:
Bad Day
At some point I became more awake than asleep, and the blaring of the alarm clock invaded my dream. After a few seconds, I ventured one of my arms out from under the covers and flailed around until I found the clock and switched it off. I curled up under the covers again, but it was too late to go back to the dream; my eyes were open, and the last threads of the dream were melting away like morning mist. I sighed.
It’s hard waking up alone, in an empty bed. I mean, not that it hadn’t usually been just me- Zan and I never- I mean, I know he couldn’t, I understood that. And I was okay with that. I really was. But sometimes... just a few times... we had slept together. I mean slept, just that, sleeping. Together, in the same bed. I liked that. It was nice. It was something I missed. And it was so hard to wake up alone, now.
I sat up slowly and looked around my room. I sighed again. Then I got out of bed and shuffled over to the bathroom. Washing my face at the sink, I looked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. The water dripped down from my damp bangs, running rivers down my cheeks and falling in fat cold drops from my chin to soak my shirt. I stared at my face and wondered what other people saw when they looked at it. Then I toweled off and headed for the kitchen.
The last of the pears had gone bad, developing large brown spots overnight. I could’ve sworn they were perfect yesterday. “Great,” I remarked to the empty kitchen. Now I was completely out of fruit. I needed to go to the grocery. I threw the pears away and grabbed the bread, throwing a slice in the toaster oven. As I was digging for eggs and bacon in the fridge, the phone rang. Setting them on the counter, I went into the living room and reached for the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Kevie, it’s your mother, what’s going on with you? It’s been forever since you called me, I was wondering what happened to you, how come you don’t call me more often?”
I winced. “Ma, I called you last week.” Of course it was my mother. Who else would call me?
“Last week, Kevie, sweetie, you could call your poor old mother more often, I want to know what’s going on with you, I never hear from you and you never visit, I miss you sweetie, it breaks my heart I don’t hear from you.”
I sighed. “I’m sorry, Ma, I’ve been really busy, I was going to call you soon, I promise.”
“Well tell me what you’ve been up to sweetheart I want to know. What’ve you been doing? Tell me.”
“Um... I dunno....” I scratched the back of my neck. “Nothing, really.”
“Nothing, don’t tell me nothing, you just said you were really busy, don’t tell your mother nothing, I want to know what you’ve been up to, why don’t you tell me anything anymore?”
I rubbed the heel of my palm into my temple. “Ma, there’s nothing to tell. Yeah, I was busy. I dunno, it’s nothing interesting. I went to work, I worked on my thesis... I told you about my thesis already, you don’t even like to hear about it. What do you want me to say?”
“Yes yes, heathen magic, spending all that money to study that, what kind of future are you supposed to have? Why can’t you be an engineer like your father, that’s a real career, how are you supposed to support yourself with a job like that?”
“Ma, I’m not a- I can’t be an engineer, I’m bad at math. I don’t want to be an engineer, I’m an anthropologist, it’s a highly respected profession. I like it. It’s what I’m good at.”
“Well yes, obviously, I can see that, it’s all you talk about. Is that all you do all day? Work on your thesis? Don’t you do anything fun? Why don’t you go out with your friends, maybe you’ll meet a girl. You need a girlfriend, do you have a girlfriend yet Kevie?”
Not this again. “Ma... Ma I’m not going to get a girlfriend. I’m not just going to magically meet the right girl because you want me to, it doesn’t work that way. I don’t like girls. I’m sorry, Ma, that’s not going to change.”
“Well, Kevie, I think you’re being silly, I don’t think you should just give up on the idea-”
Something smelled funny. Something smelled like burning. Something coming from the kitchen. “Shit!” I exclaimed.
“Kevin! Such language-”
“Ma, Ma, something’s burning! Hold on, I’ll be- I’ll call you right back!” Slamming down the receiver, I sprinted for the kitchen. The corner of one of the potholders I kept piled on top of the toaster oven had got caught in the oven door, and black smoke was pouring outwards from it, making me cough. Yanking the potholder from the toaster oven, I dropped it in the sink and turned on the water, smothering the glowing red embers. I stood there by the sink, one hand on my forehead, just staring at the offending potholder for a minute. The toaster oven dinged. My toast was done. I went back to the living room and dialed my parents’ number.
“Hello?”
“Hey Ma.”
“Kevin, what was that all about, hanging up on me so suddenly? And using such foul language, shame on you! Didn’t we teach you any manners?”
“Ma, I’m sorry, there was a fire in my kitchen.”
“Well that’s still no excuse to swear like that, I’m not used to hearing such language. What happened to you, since when do you curse like that, what sort of crowd have you been hanging around with, Kevie?”
“Ma, everyone swears.”
“Not at their mothers. You need to be going to church more often, when’s the last time you went to church? Did you go to Mass this week?”
I sighed. “No, Ma.”
“Why not? Kevie, you need to being going to Mass every week, this is why so many things have gone wrong with you, Kevie how come you didn’t go to Mass this week?”
“Father David told me not to come back.”
“You really should go to church sweetie, we worry about you- oh, sweetie, Kevie, I gotta go, your father and I are going to a fundraising brunch. You call me, okay? I love you sweetie, bye-bye.”
“...I love you too, Ma. Bye.” There was a click, and the dialtone. I set the receiver down and went back to the kitchen.
The toast, at least, was perfectly fine, and still warm. I put some butter and jam on it and fried up the eggs and bacon. Pouring myself some orange juice, I left my breakfast on the table and went to get the newspaper. Shoving my feet into moccasins, I wrestled with the sticky doorknob and let myself out. It was cold out; all I was wearing was my pajamas, a thin t-shirt and flannel pants, so I hurried to the line of mail and newspaper boxes on the fence in front of the old house that contained my apartment. Retrieving the paper, I hurried back and hauled on my doorknob to let myself in.
I hauled on it again. And again. I twisted the knob back and forth, then tried rattling the door. “You’re kidding me!” I exclaimed. The sticky doorknob which had plagued me for so long had finally choked and died, and I was stuck outside my apartment in the cold. I dropped the newspaper and wrestled with the nonfunctional doorknob for a few more minutes, until I was shivering and my fingers were numb. Running a hand through my hair, I picked up the newspaper and went around to the back of the building.
The window to my bedroom wasn’t latched- it never was, the latch was broken- but it was a difficult job prying it open and lifting it, and almost as difficult climbing up into it. I sprawled onto my bed, trying to keep my dirty shoes off of the pillow, shutting the window quickly behind me to keep the cold out. Kicking off my moccasins, I went back to the kitchen with the strenuously-acquired newspaper. My breakfast was cold.
After I finished breakfast, I fetched a screwdriver and spent a few minutes trying to pry the door open. Eventually I succeeded, causing a bit of damage to the doorframe while I was at it. It quickly became clear that the doorknob was now completely unusable. I duct-taped the latch in the open position and shot the deadbolt.
“...This place is falling apart,” I said to myself. I’d been bothering my landlady about that doorknob for months. And the window latch. And the leaky sink. And a bazillion other small stupid problems in this apartment. “...Fine. I’ll do it myself.” I quickly put together a list of things I needed, groceries and hardware stuff. Then I brushed my teeth, got dressed, and stepped out into the cold, locking the deadbolt behind me.
It was sort of a gray, bleak day. The snow from the other day hadn’t stuck very long, except for what had been scraped off the street and piled in the gutters. Even that had almost completely melted by now. It was cold, but not very. That was nice at least. It would’ve been nicer if it wasn’t for the wind. I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself, and hurried down the sidewalk towards the little twenty-four hour grocery store I frequented.
That was another thing I missed about Zan. To list just a few out of thousands. He was so warm. If he had been with me, walking down the sidewalk to the grocery store, he would’ve wrapped his arms around me and it would’ve been as if the cold had never existed. I don’t even just mean the way I felt inside when he held me, that glow that filled me all the way to my fingertips; I mean he really was warm. The man fairly radiated heat, it was amazing. I missed snuggling with him under a blanket on the couch, watching movies, “Donnie Darko,” “Porco Rosso,” or “Poison.”
I missed a lot of things about Zander.
I still couldn’t believe that he’d broken up with me. I kept thinking that if I waited around long enough, he’d realize he’d made a mistake and come back to me. I couldn’t understand... we were perfect for each other, he had to come back. I really believed he would.
And then... that Star guy. I didn’t care what Zan said, “It’s nothing like that. I just work with him.” I didn’t buy that for a second. ...Well, okay, maybe they weren’t dating or anything. Yet. I saw the way that creep was watching Zan on the dance floor. I half expected him to get a nosebleed and pass out, like they do in manga. And I knew Zander well enough to know he was showing off.
So I guess... realistically... I couldn’t expect Zan to want to get back with me. As hard as that was to take. It really was over, through, done with. He’d moved on. He didn’t want me anymore. And that hurt. That really hurt, knowing that.
...What I really didn’t get, though, is why that Star asshole? Freaking Chuck Norris wannabe bastard. What kind of name was Star anyway? Who did he think he was? Prince? ...Madonna? No one actually named their kids Star. I don’t know who he was trying to impress, with a dumbass name like that.
I just couldn’t understand what Zander possibly saw in him. I mean, yeah, okay, he was pretty. Really pretty. In a mean way, like those popular cheerleader bitches from highschool. The kind of pretty you had to hate. And he was mean... even if he didn’t threaten me, and throw me onto the sidewalk, I could’ve told anyone that. His aura fairly oozed with venom and rot. I felt uncomfortable just standing near him. I could tell he’d hurt people, a lot of people, and that he didn’t particularly care one way or the other that he had. As demonstrated. On me. The bruises were just starting to turn funny colors.
Why would Zander leave someone like me for someone like him? He was evil, I... I loved him! Did Zander really want me to be meaner? Was that the kind of guy he liked? It just didn’t seem to-
“Oh, God dammit! Argh!” Crossing the street, the grocery store just ahead, I had stepped into a slushy puddle that had formed at a blocked drain. My right shoe was now soggy and cold. What was it with today? Was this “The Universe Hates on Kevin Sobiezki” Day? Or... were these omens? ...Omens of what? Omens that my life was going to suck even worse than it did already? I sighed, shaking my sodden right foot and squishing across the street toward the grocery store.
I shopped quickly, happily filling my brain with prices and sales and nutrition labels. I ignored the inane pop playing on the loudspeakers as best I could. I tried not to buy too much, so I could use the express checkout and get home faster, and so I would have a free arm for my other purchases. I stared into space, thinking, as the teenage girl with freckles and braces rang me up. I would have to take the bus to Ace Hardware... why had I gotten groceries first? Oh well, I hadn’t bought milk or anything that would go bad....
“Have a nice day!” said Braces Girl, handing me back my debit card. I pretended to smile and headed for the door with my bag of groceries, digging in my coat pocket for my book. I was in the habit of carrying around small books, paperbacks and such, to prevent boredom on busrides. Or long walks to the bus stop. Whatever. It was better than thinking about Zan and... that other guy.
I flipped to my page in The Screwtape Letters. Screwtape was having a fit about Wormwood’s patient’s new love interest. I knew I should be laughing at C. S. Lewis’ brilliant and heavily sarcastic wit, but my heart just wasn’t in it. Still, it was a good distraction.
I didn’t even know they were there until I felt hands on my neck, curling around my throat. My groceries went flying as I was yanked backwards, pulled with unnatural strength for such small, slender hands. I caught a glimpse of a girl catching one of my oranges as I fell back against someone’s body... another girl. My arms were pinned and I opened my mouth to shout for help, only to have it gagged by the orange. The acrid taste of the peel filled my mouth, and my eyes watered.
Their auras... were like the absence of auras, spiritual black holes that sucked and pulled at my soul. I could feel my heart hammering against my ribcage, as if trying to escape my chest. I felt cold, colder than the weather. “Mf!” I said, desperately trying to shout past the orange.
The girl in front of me leaned in close, trailing manicured fingers down my cheek. “Ssshh, prettypretty. No talking,” she said, her voice mockingly sweet. Her eyes.... I shuddered, and she smiled. “...But you can cry if you want to.” Her eyes were empty black, hollow, like her aura, like her soul.
I knew then that I was going to die.
I had fun getting inside Kevin's pathetic, emo head... poor kid. I learned a lot about him while writing this. For instance, I never noticed before that he was reading The Screwtape Letters by C. S. Lewis when he got nabbed... how appropriate is that?! Much love to our Esteemed Author and Artist for sneaking that in there... more proof that the true awesomeness that is Metanoia lies in the details. If you haven't read the book, I highly recommend it... so freaking hilarious, and one of my new favorites. There's more to C. S. Lewis than Narnia, folks!
Anyway, without further ado, I give you:
Bad Day
At some point I became more awake than asleep, and the blaring of the alarm clock invaded my dream. After a few seconds, I ventured one of my arms out from under the covers and flailed around until I found the clock and switched it off. I curled up under the covers again, but it was too late to go back to the dream; my eyes were open, and the last threads of the dream were melting away like morning mist. I sighed.
It’s hard waking up alone, in an empty bed. I mean, not that it hadn’t usually been just me- Zan and I never- I mean, I know he couldn’t, I understood that. And I was okay with that. I really was. But sometimes... just a few times... we had slept together. I mean slept, just that, sleeping. Together, in the same bed. I liked that. It was nice. It was something I missed. And it was so hard to wake up alone, now.
I sat up slowly and looked around my room. I sighed again. Then I got out of bed and shuffled over to the bathroom. Washing my face at the sink, I looked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. The water dripped down from my damp bangs, running rivers down my cheeks and falling in fat cold drops from my chin to soak my shirt. I stared at my face and wondered what other people saw when they looked at it. Then I toweled off and headed for the kitchen.
The last of the pears had gone bad, developing large brown spots overnight. I could’ve sworn they were perfect yesterday. “Great,” I remarked to the empty kitchen. Now I was completely out of fruit. I needed to go to the grocery. I threw the pears away and grabbed the bread, throwing a slice in the toaster oven. As I was digging for eggs and bacon in the fridge, the phone rang. Setting them on the counter, I went into the living room and reached for the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Kevie, it’s your mother, what’s going on with you? It’s been forever since you called me, I was wondering what happened to you, how come you don’t call me more often?”
I winced. “Ma, I called you last week.” Of course it was my mother. Who else would call me?
“Last week, Kevie, sweetie, you could call your poor old mother more often, I want to know what’s going on with you, I never hear from you and you never visit, I miss you sweetie, it breaks my heart I don’t hear from you.”
I sighed. “I’m sorry, Ma, I’ve been really busy, I was going to call you soon, I promise.”
“Well tell me what you’ve been up to sweetheart I want to know. What’ve you been doing? Tell me.”
“Um... I dunno....” I scratched the back of my neck. “Nothing, really.”
“Nothing, don’t tell me nothing, you just said you were really busy, don’t tell your mother nothing, I want to know what you’ve been up to, why don’t you tell me anything anymore?”
I rubbed the heel of my palm into my temple. “Ma, there’s nothing to tell. Yeah, I was busy. I dunno, it’s nothing interesting. I went to work, I worked on my thesis... I told you about my thesis already, you don’t even like to hear about it. What do you want me to say?”
“Yes yes, heathen magic, spending all that money to study that, what kind of future are you supposed to have? Why can’t you be an engineer like your father, that’s a real career, how are you supposed to support yourself with a job like that?”
“Ma, I’m not a- I can’t be an engineer, I’m bad at math. I don’t want to be an engineer, I’m an anthropologist, it’s a highly respected profession. I like it. It’s what I’m good at.”
“Well yes, obviously, I can see that, it’s all you talk about. Is that all you do all day? Work on your thesis? Don’t you do anything fun? Why don’t you go out with your friends, maybe you’ll meet a girl. You need a girlfriend, do you have a girlfriend yet Kevie?”
Not this again. “Ma... Ma I’m not going to get a girlfriend. I’m not just going to magically meet the right girl because you want me to, it doesn’t work that way. I don’t like girls. I’m sorry, Ma, that’s not going to change.”
“Well, Kevie, I think you’re being silly, I don’t think you should just give up on the idea-”
Something smelled funny. Something smelled like burning. Something coming from the kitchen. “Shit!” I exclaimed.
“Kevin! Such language-”
“Ma, Ma, something’s burning! Hold on, I’ll be- I’ll call you right back!” Slamming down the receiver, I sprinted for the kitchen. The corner of one of the potholders I kept piled on top of the toaster oven had got caught in the oven door, and black smoke was pouring outwards from it, making me cough. Yanking the potholder from the toaster oven, I dropped it in the sink and turned on the water, smothering the glowing red embers. I stood there by the sink, one hand on my forehead, just staring at the offending potholder for a minute. The toaster oven dinged. My toast was done. I went back to the living room and dialed my parents’ number.
“Hello?”
“Hey Ma.”
“Kevin, what was that all about, hanging up on me so suddenly? And using such foul language, shame on you! Didn’t we teach you any manners?”
“Ma, I’m sorry, there was a fire in my kitchen.”
“Well that’s still no excuse to swear like that, I’m not used to hearing such language. What happened to you, since when do you curse like that, what sort of crowd have you been hanging around with, Kevie?”
“Ma, everyone swears.”
“Not at their mothers. You need to be going to church more often, when’s the last time you went to church? Did you go to Mass this week?”
I sighed. “No, Ma.”
“Why not? Kevie, you need to being going to Mass every week, this is why so many things have gone wrong with you, Kevie how come you didn’t go to Mass this week?”
“Father David told me not to come back.”
“You really should go to church sweetie, we worry about you- oh, sweetie, Kevie, I gotta go, your father and I are going to a fundraising brunch. You call me, okay? I love you sweetie, bye-bye.”
“...I love you too, Ma. Bye.” There was a click, and the dialtone. I set the receiver down and went back to the kitchen.
The toast, at least, was perfectly fine, and still warm. I put some butter and jam on it and fried up the eggs and bacon. Pouring myself some orange juice, I left my breakfast on the table and went to get the newspaper. Shoving my feet into moccasins, I wrestled with the sticky doorknob and let myself out. It was cold out; all I was wearing was my pajamas, a thin t-shirt and flannel pants, so I hurried to the line of mail and newspaper boxes on the fence in front of the old house that contained my apartment. Retrieving the paper, I hurried back and hauled on my doorknob to let myself in.
I hauled on it again. And again. I twisted the knob back and forth, then tried rattling the door. “You’re kidding me!” I exclaimed. The sticky doorknob which had plagued me for so long had finally choked and died, and I was stuck outside my apartment in the cold. I dropped the newspaper and wrestled with the nonfunctional doorknob for a few more minutes, until I was shivering and my fingers were numb. Running a hand through my hair, I picked up the newspaper and went around to the back of the building.
The window to my bedroom wasn’t latched- it never was, the latch was broken- but it was a difficult job prying it open and lifting it, and almost as difficult climbing up into it. I sprawled onto my bed, trying to keep my dirty shoes off of the pillow, shutting the window quickly behind me to keep the cold out. Kicking off my moccasins, I went back to the kitchen with the strenuously-acquired newspaper. My breakfast was cold.
After I finished breakfast, I fetched a screwdriver and spent a few minutes trying to pry the door open. Eventually I succeeded, causing a bit of damage to the doorframe while I was at it. It quickly became clear that the doorknob was now completely unusable. I duct-taped the latch in the open position and shot the deadbolt.
“...This place is falling apart,” I said to myself. I’d been bothering my landlady about that doorknob for months. And the window latch. And the leaky sink. And a bazillion other small stupid problems in this apartment. “...Fine. I’ll do it myself.” I quickly put together a list of things I needed, groceries and hardware stuff. Then I brushed my teeth, got dressed, and stepped out into the cold, locking the deadbolt behind me.
It was sort of a gray, bleak day. The snow from the other day hadn’t stuck very long, except for what had been scraped off the street and piled in the gutters. Even that had almost completely melted by now. It was cold, but not very. That was nice at least. It would’ve been nicer if it wasn’t for the wind. I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself, and hurried down the sidewalk towards the little twenty-four hour grocery store I frequented.
That was another thing I missed about Zan. To list just a few out of thousands. He was so warm. If he had been with me, walking down the sidewalk to the grocery store, he would’ve wrapped his arms around me and it would’ve been as if the cold had never existed. I don’t even just mean the way I felt inside when he held me, that glow that filled me all the way to my fingertips; I mean he really was warm. The man fairly radiated heat, it was amazing. I missed snuggling with him under a blanket on the couch, watching movies, “Donnie Darko,” “Porco Rosso,” or “Poison.”
I missed a lot of things about Zander.
I still couldn’t believe that he’d broken up with me. I kept thinking that if I waited around long enough, he’d realize he’d made a mistake and come back to me. I couldn’t understand... we were perfect for each other, he had to come back. I really believed he would.
And then... that Star guy. I didn’t care what Zan said, “It’s nothing like that. I just work with him.” I didn’t buy that for a second. ...Well, okay, maybe they weren’t dating or anything. Yet. I saw the way that creep was watching Zan on the dance floor. I half expected him to get a nosebleed and pass out, like they do in manga. And I knew Zander well enough to know he was showing off.
So I guess... realistically... I couldn’t expect Zan to want to get back with me. As hard as that was to take. It really was over, through, done with. He’d moved on. He didn’t want me anymore. And that hurt. That really hurt, knowing that.
...What I really didn’t get, though, is why that Star asshole? Freaking Chuck Norris wannabe bastard. What kind of name was Star anyway? Who did he think he was? Prince? ...Madonna? No one actually named their kids Star. I don’t know who he was trying to impress, with a dumbass name like that.
I just couldn’t understand what Zander possibly saw in him. I mean, yeah, okay, he was pretty. Really pretty. In a mean way, like those popular cheerleader bitches from highschool. The kind of pretty you had to hate. And he was mean... even if he didn’t threaten me, and throw me onto the sidewalk, I could’ve told anyone that. His aura fairly oozed with venom and rot. I felt uncomfortable just standing near him. I could tell he’d hurt people, a lot of people, and that he didn’t particularly care one way or the other that he had. As demonstrated. On me. The bruises were just starting to turn funny colors.
Why would Zander leave someone like me for someone like him? He was evil, I... I loved him! Did Zander really want me to be meaner? Was that the kind of guy he liked? It just didn’t seem to-
“Oh, God dammit! Argh!” Crossing the street, the grocery store just ahead, I had stepped into a slushy puddle that had formed at a blocked drain. My right shoe was now soggy and cold. What was it with today? Was this “The Universe Hates on Kevin Sobiezki” Day? Or... were these omens? ...Omens of what? Omens that my life was going to suck even worse than it did already? I sighed, shaking my sodden right foot and squishing across the street toward the grocery store.
I shopped quickly, happily filling my brain with prices and sales and nutrition labels. I ignored the inane pop playing on the loudspeakers as best I could. I tried not to buy too much, so I could use the express checkout and get home faster, and so I would have a free arm for my other purchases. I stared into space, thinking, as the teenage girl with freckles and braces rang me up. I would have to take the bus to Ace Hardware... why had I gotten groceries first? Oh well, I hadn’t bought milk or anything that would go bad....
“Have a nice day!” said Braces Girl, handing me back my debit card. I pretended to smile and headed for the door with my bag of groceries, digging in my coat pocket for my book. I was in the habit of carrying around small books, paperbacks and such, to prevent boredom on busrides. Or long walks to the bus stop. Whatever. It was better than thinking about Zan and... that other guy.
I flipped to my page in The Screwtape Letters. Screwtape was having a fit about Wormwood’s patient’s new love interest. I knew I should be laughing at C. S. Lewis’ brilliant and heavily sarcastic wit, but my heart just wasn’t in it. Still, it was a good distraction.
I didn’t even know they were there until I felt hands on my neck, curling around my throat. My groceries went flying as I was yanked backwards, pulled with unnatural strength for such small, slender hands. I caught a glimpse of a girl catching one of my oranges as I fell back against someone’s body... another girl. My arms were pinned and I opened my mouth to shout for help, only to have it gagged by the orange. The acrid taste of the peel filled my mouth, and my eyes watered.
Their auras... were like the absence of auras, spiritual black holes that sucked and pulled at my soul. I could feel my heart hammering against my ribcage, as if trying to escape my chest. I felt cold, colder than the weather. “Mf!” I said, desperately trying to shout past the orange.
The girl in front of me leaned in close, trailing manicured fingers down my cheek. “Ssshh, prettypretty. No talking,” she said, her voice mockingly sweet. Her eyes.... I shuddered, and she smiled. “...But you can cry if you want to.” Her eyes were empty black, hollow, like her aura, like her soul.
I knew then that I was going to die.