Until Dawn

Chapter Six

                                                                  Dawn

I woke to someone shoving my shoulder, and at first I thought it was my dad. But before the relief could settle I opened my eyes, almost yelping at the sight of the first girl I had seen yesterday; Cerise, the Darkling with the red Marks. Her red hair was in a tight bun, glassy eyes freely glaring at me as she yanked back the covers. Her mask-like Marks seemed darker today, probably with the frustration leaking from her skin like a radiator.

“Here.” she said in a clipped voice. In her arms were a bundle of clothes, leading me to realise I was still in the clothes from when I had woken up the first time around. I had a rip in my favourite jeans, which were also covered in dirt, and my t-shirt certainly needed a wash by now.  I didn’t even dare to think about the mess my hair was in. I huddled the fresh clothes towards me, not really looking at them as I looked up at Cerise.

“I could do with a shower.” I murmured, my voice weaker than it had ever sounded.

“And I could do with a pay rise, so deal with it.” she snapped. Just as she spun on her heel to leave, the sound of my aggressively growling stomach seemed to stop her. She peered at me, glowering in annoyance, before puffing out a heavy sigh.

“I guess you need some breakfast?” she asked in a defeated tone. All I could do was nod stiffly, and with that she left the room with the grace of wound up cat, shoulders squared and her spine unnaturally straight. There was something off about her posture; due to her young appearance, there wasn’t a shape to her, not the curve of a waist or the mound over her chest. The dress she wore, layers of different tones of red lace with a black apron around her waist, had no figure to cling to. She was beautiful, yes, but unlike the rest of the Darklings I knew of, she was hardly desirable to any other race.

I wondered how old she was, and then cursed myself for my silly curiosity.

When she relocked the door I rolled back onto my side, pulling the bed sheets over my head. I felt empty, drained of all emotion. Everything inside me ached, the pulsing in my head a distant discomfort. I kept thinking about my attempt at an attack on the girl who appeared in my dreams. I could still feel the prickling hate beneath my skin, waiting to be driven to the surface once more, like poison spreading through my body from a snake bite.

What was wrong with me?

I’d grown up to hate Darklings, everyone had; they were dangerous, creatures that shouldn’t exist. But Jesus, I’d never felt the impulse to murder one. That was so unlike me. And yet yesterday I went full on animalistic, shrieking as I strained towards the stranger no older than sixteen years old. I’d wanted to scratch her eyes out, cave her head in, glove my hands in her blood, and for what? It wasn’t like I had the same reaction to the others!

Suddenly I hissed, my Marks stinging uncomfortably within my skin. I touched them with my fingers, which were cold. After a moment the pain disappeared, the numbness returning.

I wanted to yell at my Marks, curse them for being there. They were the reason everyone hated me at home; the only Marks people had imprinted on their skins now were Darklings, since tattoos were banned after their rise in population. I would never forget when I was a little girl, probably five or six, when a bunch of people came over to our house.

Mum had been in the kitchen preparing lunch, while I sat at the dining table colouring in some drawings. I’d just turned the page to that of a pony in a field, cartoonish as it smiled at me. Mum had gone to get the door when there was the repetitive ringing of the doorbell, too desperate for my liking. When she’d opened the door, she’d openly cursed the man and woman who marched inside, dressed in black business clothes; the man in a suit, the woman in a skirt and button down shirt. They’d come straight towards me, eyes locked on my Marks, and I would never forget the panic in mum’s voice.