The Violinist

The Violinist

Chapter Three

I walk into my room, ready to finish the reading the rule book.

I hear an unusual noise, as if something heavy fell. I look up and realize everything I see is quite low, and it was my body that fell. I stand up and hold my head in my hands. I never act clumsy, or even feel clumsy. I always won the races organized by the older schoolboys, and I don’t recall tripping in my whole life. A few seconds later, a pounding headache takes over, and I crumple onto my bed. I moan from the pain caused by the headache, and I already have my suspicions on what is going on. I walk into the bathroom and grab my shampoo, reading the ingredients. My suspicions are proven, rotian is included.

I don’t know too much about medicine, but my father studied the subject when his family still had money. Once the war started, he had to quit and go support his fatally hurt brother. Then he met my mother, a family friend. Then they had Litsbia and me, and our father taught us a thing or two about medicine from time to time. He bought a little, leather bound book on the terms on new medicine. He told us to stay away from rotian, a common ingredient used in hair products to make it shine and fix itself. But in reality, it numbs the brain for a few hours, varying on the size of the dose. I got the paper like device. I choose the option Read and search rotian. I choose the first option, The Official Encyclopedia of Medical Terms, and choose the R book. I fin a two page summary on rotian.

Rotian

 -Medical Uses

  -Rotian is commonly used to pt a slight fog over the brain for a few hours. During that time, the brain will only focus on improving the body and making sure everything is working correctly, the reason it is commonly used in medicine. Side effects include headaches, nausea, unusual sleeping hours, and fainting.

I turn off the device and lay down in my bed. It seems like a great thing to do right now…

_=.*.=_

Sunlight enters the room, giving it a brighter appearance than its usual dreary white. I head to the bathroom and read the ingredients labels slowly, making sure rotian isn’t included. They all have rotian, and I guess I know how the Tage gets everyone to do what they want. I’ll have to make sure to stop at a store and find one without rotian. I skip washing my hair, I just rinse it. I choose a simple bun this time. The lights on the side of the hallways tell me to go to a room near the living room. I try to recall memories from yesterday, but rotian makes it hard to. I walk to a different door this time, one that blends in with the wall. A large kitchen is behind it and I take a seat at the table. Litsbia sits down across from me and smiles.

But something is off about her appearance…

At first, I only notice her eyes, which are almost lifeless. They just bore holes into mine. My mother and father walk in, and their walking seems stiff. My father’s back is unusually straight, and my mother’s face doesn’t seem as smooth. Her eyes may still be blue like mine, but they are just like Litsbia’s: dull, lifeless, and no emotion is shown. They look darker and no light shines out from them. Her wrinkles have disappeared and her cheekbones stand out.

My childish sister smiles a simple smile, not the usual one full of emotion. She just smiles. No light radiating from her face, just a simple smile. Her dimples aren’t present, and her face looks sharp. Her hair is now brown, but my father is still bald.

“He-llo Mau-ray,” they chorus with an oddly robotic voice, accenting every syllable. I see what’s going on.

I push the table over and Litsbia falls with it. A sizzling sound is emitted from her mouth as she falls apart and frayed wires burn. My parents aren’t fast enough; their faces slowly melt, as if they were a photograph. I run out of the house. I ran as fast as can, feeling the uneven ground beneath my feet change in the better parts of town. I rock or two fall into my shoes. My thin flats don’t stand a chance against the ruined road of 38th street. They fall apart, causing my feet to bleed and throb, but the pain is minimal to what I am experiencing. The tears that descend down my face drop to the ground, and it seems that every time one falls, I hear them sloshing down onto the poorly made road. I finally fall from the exhaustion, scratching my face in the process. I had cried more on a street in the corner of the country more than anyone should ever cry in many lifetimes. I hear a soft thud of shoes hitting the gravel and feel being lifted up. I am dropped on a soft surface, but that doesn't effect my crying. A cool cloth is placed on my face and my feet are cleaned and bandaged. The exhaustion from all the running and crying forces me to sleep but the tears keep on crying. What happened to my parents, I don't know. What I do know is they were replaced by poor replicas. The only thing that can come to my mind is how rumors were going around about tests.

___

Shortish and not so good, in my opinion. But I was working on a different story, so yeah...