Room 1013

Green Obsidian

Lance clicked his mechanical pencil until the led was all the way out, then slid it back in to repeat the action. His eyes looked up to the board to pretend he was actually listening to his science teacher. His mouth moved and his hands pointed, but Lance didn't hear a word he said. It was as if he was underwater and trying to carry out a conversation.

Two taps on his desk brought him out of his head. Hunk leaned over to him and whispered, "What's the difference between chronic and acute?"

Lance furrowed his brows, "In what context?"

"Are you listening at all?" Hunk stared at him with judging eyes and motioned to the board with his pen.

Lance took a quick glance at the blue marker painted over the scratched white. Tumors. He turned back to Hunk, "Oh. Okay, acute grows fast over a shorter period of time; chronic grows slowly over a longer period of time."

Hunk flashed him a thankful smile, "You're so smart!" He returned to his desk and scribbled in his notebook.

Lance rested his head on his hand and stared out the window. The view rarely changed, but it was way more diverse than the people of the town. Flowers grew over the fields. Cars zipped past the school. Trees swayed in the breeze.

"Disgusting." Lance spat under his breath.

He almost removed his eyes from the window until he noticed a glimmer of black. He focused on the sidewalk next to the stoplight, furrowing his brows. Through a bush, a tiny wave of obsidian weaved its way into the leaves. Lance winced and clutched his head as flashes of dark purple and white clouded his vision. His ears rung and beeped as his forehead felt like it was being hit by a sledgehammer.

A hand grabbed his shoulder and shook him out of his daze. "Dude, are you alright?"

Lance looked up to Hunk, "Yeah, I'm f- ah!" Another hit pounded on his head. He sucked air through his teeth and slammed his fist on the desk as his eyes shut.

"Do you get to go outside a lot?"

Hunk wrapped Lance's arm over his shoulder and pulled him out of the desk. Lance heard him talk as they left the room, "I'll take him to the nurse, Mr. Marcus."

Lance was sent home and his mother brought him to the doctor. He sat in the cramped chair with an annoyed look. He huffed and clicked his teeth, "Mama, I'm telling you it's nothing."

She snapped open another page of the beauty magazine in her hand, "Nonsense."

The doctor called them 'migraines' and he was given a prescription to help with the pain. When he got home, his mother made him soup. He was forced to take it, but he left the tray on his desk.

Lance let out an audible sigh as he plopped into his desk chair and leaned back. He rubbed his eyes and groaned, trying to remember what he saw. He replayed the scenes in his head over and over again, scraping the memories from his mind. It was difficult. He didn't see objects, he saw colors. Always the same. Black. Purple. White. Beeping.

The beeping sound was what threw him off. It was familiar, but he couldn't remember where it was from. Like a word you know, but can't name. Where had he heard it before?

"Lance?" A small voice caught his attention.

Lance uncovered his face to look at his little sister. She was five years old and the cutest girl Lance had ever seen. Her coiled brown hair fell to her shoulders and her tan skin matched Lance's own.

His face warmed, "Hello Mia." His voice was singsong and cheerful, "What are you doing today?"

She swayed the toy rabbit in her hand and chewed on her thumb, "Mama said you were sick."

"Nah, I'm fine." He kneeled down to give her a hug, "Do you want me to play with you?"

She pulled back and hopped excitedly, "Yeah! Yeah!"

"Alright," Lance took her hand and was led to her room.