Silence. I used to hate silence. It imposed upon me, left me alone with my thoughts. Now, its a blessing, some might say a rarity. A gem I don’t really seek, but am overjoyed once its in my grasps. I still don’t enjoy my thoughts, but at least they're still there. If I didn’t have silence, I wouldn’t really know if it was still possible for me to have my own free thoughts and will. Not that mind, its just nice to know you aren’t always a part of something bigger. Something other than yourself. It brings back memories of years passed. When I was still young. When I wasn’t a hardened monster capable of killing in a split second. I don’t like what I've become, nobody does. I’m not that carefree, freckle faced sixteen year old girl with a heart of gold. I’m a mutant warrior. The leader of the Resistance. The last hope for humanity.
My eyes begin to water, as I think of a simpler time. We were having a family get together. Smiles and insults flowed freely like blood from the wound on my neck. I miss them. All of them. My uncles and aunts who had supported me as I was growing up. My mother, my dear sweet mother. She practically raised me by herself. What was I to my father but an accident? He pretended he loved me, he pretended he cared, but in reality I was nothing more than a mistake. Everyone used to think I was an angel, but the hatred in my fathers eyes told me I was a monster. Ironic that he was right. No matter how much he hated me, I still loved him. I tried at least. But that night, the one that changed my life forever, made me understand that even monsters can feel loss. I wanted a soda. If I hadn’t gone to get myself that one soda, I'd be dead like the rest of them.
I remember walking out to get my pop from the garage, the early spring air made the concrete cold. It tickled my feet and sent chills up my spine. I didn’t really mind, I liked the cold. It made me feel alive and whole, it reminded me that I had been fortunate. I didn’t bother waiting til I got back inside to open my can of pop. With a gulp, I must've missed the blood splatter against the window of my Grandmas front door. The pop can fell from my hand as I rushed back into the house, only to see my baby cousin standing in the middle of a ring of dead bodies. My families bodies. Their faces twisted in permanent shock. Their bodies void of all thought. They'd never dream again. I have never been more terrified then I had at that exact moment. I feared being alone, and there I stood. Alone. Against my baby cousin, Lila Moore.
I don’t exactly remember how I made it out the front door and across the lawn, but I did. I think I was trying to make it to the cops house on the corner. Too bad my Grandma lived in the county. Then there she was. Her once gray eyes now crimson. The whites of her eyes were now maroon. For a split second, I thought she was the devil. I screamed. I pleaded with God to spare my life. I didn’t really think he would. She forced me to look at her, and suddenly I was in the cold vacuum of space. My body being ripped away from my soul. It felt like I was being scorched into oblivion by ten thousand suns. Painful doesn’t begin to describe that feeling. But just as it started, it stopped. Something had torn her off of me. Something big. My head felt like it weighed a ton, but I still sat up. My vision had been blurry, but what I could make out scared me. Some monster beast was attacking her. They seemed to be evenly matched, but I still feared for my hero. That’s when I realized I had a huge bite mark on my right arm. I was bleeding profusely. The solemn cry I released haunts me to this day. It wasn’t a scream, but a wail. The wail of a wounded animal.
They ceased their fight. He had rushed to my aid, he seemed to be getting smaller. She escaped. The devil wearing my cousins face escaped into the night. I recognized him. The man who held me in his arms. It was my best friend, Dawson Love. I was fairly certain he had disappeared four years ago, but standing before me was my humorous friend. Worry etched into his face. His scarred face. Something bad had happened to him while he was missing, that much was clear. His once pale skin was bronzed, the familiar blue eyes were now amber, and his once short, dyed blue hair was past his shoulders in dark locks. He hadn’t been a big guy, but I didn’t remember him as this lean and strong body builder that held me to his shirtless chest. Our relationship was never anything more than platonic, and I didn’t want that to change. I wouldn’t let it. I barely registered that we were moving.
