Green and Gray

Chapter Two

Chapter Two - Adarra

The woods isn't as dark as the cabinet, but it's close. I wander aimlessly through the trees, not looking for anything, not not looking for anything. It's complicated. Long story short, my father did the same thing to my mother as he did to me. Just in a different spot. And now she's dead. I ran while he was asleep, only bothering to bring a change of clothes. No one really likes the woods, but there's no one there to look at me. I hate when people look at me. Who knows what they're seeing? Who knows how they see me? Do they see me like I see me? They probably do. A stick breaks nearby and I jump, looking wildly around. It's just a squirrel.

I exhale. I need to stop getting scared at nothing. My dad was right. I am a wimp. Except I didn't like hearing it from him, which is why I left. And, y'know, because my mother is dead. I think that's a solid reason as well.

Gingerly, I reach towards the - rather fresh - cut across my cheek, trailing down my neck a bit. "I probably should've left earlier," I mutter to no one in particular. Maybe I'm just talking to myself. Maybe there is someone I'm talking to, I just can't see them. No, there's probably not.

"I overthink things too much," I say softly. "Or maybe everyone else just underthinks things."

"Yes," a gravelly voice responds. "Think."

I whirl around, my heart leaping into my throat. No, no, no, no no no, I think, my breath comes in quick, short, gulps..This wasn't supposed to happen. I'm supposed to be alone in here.

"Hi," the mysterious figure comes into view. Long, white hair cascades over his shoulders, almost hiding the three green eyes piercing into my flesh.

"Wait-" I gasp, stumbling backwards and slamming into a tree. "What? Please, get- you're- please don't hurt me. You- you monster!"

His eyes widen. "Where?" he looks around.

"I- what?"

"Where monster?" He asks, his wings flaring a bit.

"You!" I yell, my hands shaking. "You're the monster!"

He's silent. "Oh," he blinks a few times, then turns and walks away. "Bye."

"Huh?" I stand up fully from my lean against the tree. The angel of death disappears into the dark wood.

Why is he here? I take a shaky breath. Is this real? Did I actually just have an encounter with the angel of death? He should've been dead eleven years ago. Why is he still alive? How is he still alive?

With that last thought I crumple to my knees, my eyes and throat burning with the hopes I had for this place. "What?" I choke out, though the word has no real prolongation. That or it has to many. What is happening? What is my life? What do I do now? Am I just going to starve out here? Will I get attacked by some wild animal? I shift my gaze to the forest ahead, the trees blurred by empty tears.

I should look for something to eat, I think, but my body won't move. It feels like I've been confined to the ground by my whirling thoughts. I can't get them under control - can't get them to stop hammering at my skull. I don't prefer living at home over this, but this isn't much better. Would I rather be abused by my family, or by myself?

Probably myself, honestly, I grumble in my head, hauling myself to my feet. I take a final glance around the woods and begin to walk forward. Life doesn't stop, so I probably shouldn't. Hunger doesn't stop, either, which is half of the reason I got myself up. The woods isn't known for it's copious amounts of food, but surely I'll be able to find something. I mean, it's not like I got to eat much at home, anyway.

I sigh and rub my eyes. It'd be nice to have a friend or something, but it's not like I have the mental capability to talk to anyone. It's not fair. Why am I like this? I make up scenarios in my head; ones where I can communicate with people normally, ones where I can have friends. They seem realistic, like something I can do. I can't.

After about an hour or two of scouring what seems like every last corner of the forest, I've come up with nothing but a handful of berries and just enough water. I should've thought more about what I'd actually do once I arrived in the forest. I should've paid more attention to how dark and leafless the trees are, the impending sense of doom hanging above the wood. Tears sting at my eyes again as I down the last berries and try to clean my cut.

Useless, I think. That's all I've ever been called, that's all I am. I swipe the tears away and open my small rucksack, eyeing the change of clothes. I should've packed more, too.

I reach up towards my horns. They only rise about three inches away from my hair.

I don't have anything to cut my hair, either, I realize. It'll just keep growing. My hair is one of the only things, if any others, that I'm actually confident in. It's a pretty color, light green, like the first light shining through the leaves. My skin, however, is an ugly shade of green. It's pale, dull, and covered with freckles. And soon enough, I'm sure, there'll be a scar on my face. Another insecurity unlocked. I bury my face in my hands. Why do I have to be so ugly? Even the angel of death is prettier.

Angel of death.

My stomach twists at the words. I'm scared of him. I mean, I'm scared of everything, but especially him. Who isn't?