FLAWED

Chapter 3

xX William Xx

-Now-

I don't want to, but what choice do I have? I'm their only hope. I can't lose my position, not when I'm learning so much. Not when I'm getting the information I need. I can't make Nico mad, even if it means answering to the likes of Aaron.

I grit my teeth. I can't believe I'm going to do this. It's going against everything I've been fighting for.

God dammit, Aaron, you fucking bastard. How dare he. And then he breaks the rules-- and makes me look bad! The only reason why he can get away with anything is because he's Nico's right hand man.

And then there's Aislin. Seeing her face was a bit of a shock. I mean, of all the damn people to run into. She was way different from the mental image I conjured from all the rumors. I expected a dumb blonde type, but Aislin has shoulder length brown-blonde hair. Her eyes are golden, but they have a worn quality to them. Like she's been through a lot. I feel bad for her, I really do. But I can't help every sob-story kid. She'll be dead as a door nail before the week ends. Either through class or assassination sent by higher-ups, like Nico. He doesn't want any rebels. I want to help her--but I have too much on the line now. Aaron already suspects I'm not who I say I am. I can't draw any more attention, I can't make any mistakes. I have to be careful. She's going to have to fend for herself.

***

xX Aislin Xx

-Then-

It started six years ago. I was ten. At the time, I didn't understand. Then again, no one did. It came suddenly, the origins still unknown. Every teen, young or old, fell ill. Not at once, but slowly and gradually, until it spread throughout the whole of America. It was a horrible sickness, it rendered the victim defenseless as seizures wracked the body while visions assaulted the mind. Ninety-seven percent of the American teenage population died. While most mourned the loss of their children; those with the survivors feared for their lives. Because in their eyes, their children were no longer humans. They were freaks, monsters.

Thirteen year olds would set houses on fire. Floods would happen sporadically in the states along the Pacific line, caused by a group of teens who called themselves Liber8. Lightning storms would occur all over the Midwest, striking fear into the hearts of citizens. The earth would open, swallowing all in its path. Tornados and sandstorms would start up and continue for days on end. Strange shadows would dance on the walls at night and horrific images would haunt the minds of the innocent.

This disease-- it not only gave the living teens control over the elements; it took away the attributes that made them human. Guilt. Empathy. Humanity. Consciousness. Fear. All gone.

The adults called it the 'Fluxions Leaving Anatomical Wreckage Encompassing Death,' disease, for short, F.L.A.W.E.D.

Flawed. That's what we are. Flaws. A flaw in humanity. A flaw in our 'perfect world.'

I'm a flaw.

***

I walk outside, and I get my first really good look at the school. It reminds me of one of those medieval castles, with towering walls and little turrets. But that's all I can glean before the crowd of teens swell and I'm pushed forward against my will. In my direct line of sight is a forest about a hundred yards away from the schools' grounds. There's a lake to my right, further out. I might also be looking at a distant waterfall--but I can't tell.

I let the current of the crowd push me, and I'm lost in the sea of bodies. It doesn't matter, I wouldn't know where to go if I didn't have these people to follow. They're too busy trying to get a look at the platform coming into view than to notice they're standing beside the famous Aislin, the loser, the wannabe, the bitch. Which is good, I guess, I really don't need any extra attention right now.