Born of Smoke and Shadow

Normality Is An Illusion

She descends the staircase towards the whimpering she hears downstairs. She turns down the hall, heading for a door she knows should not be there. This isn't home, she realizes with a start, for she knows her home intimately, every nook and cranny, and this place is an unfamiliar hole that does not feel safe the way her nest does. The door is open and dimly lit. She gags as she walks in. It smells of sweat and blood. Vomit and metal. There is a figure sagging against the wall across from the door. In her peripheral vision, she notices another figure against the wall adjacent to the door, and does not turn her head, for she knows instinctively that she doesn't want to look there, at it. She can't. She can't figure out what it is, a niggling voice in the back of her mind says that everything would unravel. As she nears the figure, it whimpers, causing her heart to constrict. She wants to help it. As she draws closer, she realizes one crucial fact. The figure cannot be helped, for the figure is her.

I wake up in a cold sweat, my head pounding like I'd just fallen from a bridge to land on my skull and survived. My body sang a chorus of a thousand aches and pains as I tried to sit up, rubbing my head. It had happened again. That nightmare, that fucking recurring nightmare. As if I needed reminders of a time best forgotten. I shivered involuntarily, goosebumps running the length of my spine. I hated that I couldn't escape from it. I'd clawed my way and fought tooth and nail to get to where I am, to earn my place, and I still couldn't fucking escape it.my past, the nightmares, the pain, pain like a brand, a neon sign that screamed at everyone to stay away. Don't come near me. Run. I curled in on myself, and tried to breathe. I scrunched my eyes shut tight and tried to hold the darkness at bay with shaking hands. My body trembled, as frail as a leaf in the wind in that moment as I tried to regain myself. It was too early for this bullshit, and I didn't have the patience to confront the things that were causing me so much pain. I unfurled my limbs and lay entangled in my bedsheets, the sun glaring at me through the domed ceiling window. I lived in a sort of loft, at the very top of a too tall building. The windows were the only way in or out. I kept no doors, and it had saved me many a time.

"Thuron, cloud the dome, the light hurts," I called out scratchily. My throat felt raw from unshed tears. I rubbed my stomach to try and ease the ache of the void in my gut. I winced as it growled, but it was hunger this time and not something else, thankfully. I raised my head to confront the glaring sunlight and too bright sky as anger started to boil in my belly. Damn the useless AI, what was the fucking point of building one if it couldn't follow my fucking instructions? Cripes.

"Thuron, goddamnit, I know you're up since you don't fucking need sleep anyway, answer me, damn you," I snarled in no particular direction. Disgusted, I threw off the sheets and rose from my too large bed. I grunted as they peeled off the healing skin on my back, ripping the wounds afresh. "Fuck," I groaned. I padded over to the control panel only to have the shutters only to have the glass overhead tint, causing the entire room to dim. So. The bastard had been listening. I curled my lip and dragged a hand through the hair on the top of my head, because it's not like there was any anywhere else on my head. It really was a common hairstyle nowadays, and I did everything I could to blend in. If I remember correctly, I walked in to a barber's shop in the most popular sector within two galaxies of here and asked for the most requested cut among males. I regret it a bit now. Shaved almost all the way down everywhere but the top, which ran like a skunk strip don the center of my head, but was long on the sides, long enough that one almost didn't notice that it was all the hair on my head. It was long enough to tuck behind my ear, but short enough that it kept falling and swinging in my face because of my dead center widow's peak. It was naturally silky and straight, but not thin. as expected, given my seemingly northeastern asian descent. Probably Japan, if the way my parents named me was any given indication.. I sighed dejectedly as I padded to the bathroom. Everything here was open, no doors, nothing but walls obstructing my view of everything. I had very little furniture, a bed, a nightstand, two armchairs and a couch, and various beanbag chairs littered throughout the bedroom and den. If one could count those as furniture. Everything outside of the bedroom was in muted tones of green and brown, with the exception of the bathroom. Black marble and white towels. The floor was basically an indoor pool, several shower heads adorning the rim should I need to be quick. Miller kept it clean for me, as well as the raised area off to the side that held the toilet. I took it all in. "Pathetic," I muttered to myself. I was referring to my general preference of slightly subtle decadent living quarters. I jumped in and swam to the far end.