Leaning against the railing, Calvin made sure that the sliding glass door behind her was closed. She knew it was coming, the pinging in her chest was enough warning to get away from him.
Tonight- the sky was clear. There were no storms, no rain that could wash away the nightmares she had just woken up from. The only moisture on her body was the sweat and tears that she kept hidden from the sleeping man in the room behind her.
"What's it like?" Kick's voice echoed in her head. Immediately she tried shaking it away. Calvin knew it was fake, none of it that she was hearing was real. Even if it did happen long ago, it wasn't real now. She was here with Jake, she needed to remember that.
Swallowing the tightness in her throat, the soldier gripped onto the metal bar tighter trying to fight the conversation in her head. This was her most dangerous place, the only place where she couldn't control her own words. Calvin could hear her voice answer. "What do you mean?"
An image of Kick flashed behind her slammed eyelids. "To try and hide it. You're always hiding what you feel. Why?"
The memories of that night began encompassing her like a cool dark blanket. "I have to." Calvin's inner voice breathed.
"But you don't." He shook his head gripping her hand. It was almost as if the pressure in her dream happened in real life, she could feel his touch on the railing ahead of her. The grip on her hand, it tightened with every word he said.
"What I feel Sam... It isn't human."
"What do you mean?"
Trying to shake away her next answer, Calvin felt the tears form in her eyes. Her throat burned with the words she knew she said, because even today- they were still true.
"I like it."
"Like it? Like what?"
"The feeling of the rush, of the fight, of the kill."
His eyes had widened towards her. It was an image that she would never forget. No matter how old she got, or how long it had been since the life left his bright blue eyes- she would never forget the look he gave her that day. It wasn't because he was scared of her, it was because the look he gave her was pity. Samuel Kick actually pitied her. She was the monster of the group, she was raised up in pursuit of an objective, raised to be a weapon- even if Walker didn't intend for it to be that way. But Kick still felt bad for her, like it wasn't her fault.
"No!" She cried out loud dropping to her knees. Above her, Calvin still held onto the railing with a death grip. She couldn't think about him, it wasn't real. Kick was gone.
She didn't want to be the monster that she was, the constant need to feel the adrenaline in her veins.
A quick vision of her snapping a man's neck flooded her site.
It was because of this craving, because of this constant need she had that it should have been her. The world would have been such a better place she if was the one that went down in that chopper. One less resented child to deal with.
"Again." Walker commanded while walking around her.
"No." The younger form of Calvin denied. "I don't want to."
A strong kick sent the young Cal off of all fours and onto her back. "Good luck telling that to your captors."
"No!" She tried choking out again. Calvin was hyperventilating. Walker meant good, he always meant well for her.
YOU ARE READING
Rising From The Flames
FanfictionMax was dead. The Loser's were safe; their fight was over, they had won, they were satisfied. All that is, but her. Calvin is on her own, eyes blinded by the rage of her fallen friends. She needs to find Simmons, take him down, but the question is...
