Author's note:
I Update really slowly because I procrastinate like a motherfucker! Sorry 'bout that!
I lay in my bed, fighting my nocturnal instincts to try and get some sleep. I looked over at my clock 12:01, break was officially over. Damn it. I let out a sigh through my nose and closed my eyes. Dammit brain, just let me sleep, I thought to myself. I turned over and grabbed the bottle of pills off my nightstand, Donomyl: the only reason I could sleep at all. Popping the top, I grabbed two and swallowed them dry. I felt my eyes close as the drugs pulled me under. I did not have good dreams.
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The girl raced across the plain, her tiny wings spread in a useless attempt to glide. Thorned bushes grabbed at her clothes, her face, her hair. But still she raced. Not fast enough. Coming over a rise, she skidded to a halt; her house, once beautiful, was burning. The fire brigade hadn’t arrived yet, but she could hear the sirens blaring in the distance. Not close enough. Inside, her mother screamed. The girl bounded down the hill, across the lawn, and hesitated on the front porch. She pulled her shirt collar over her nose and mouth as she tugged the door open. Black smoke poured out. Her mother screamed again. Panic gripped the girl; if she didn’t hurry, her mother would die. She went inside. Crouching low, she tiptoed along the wall. Another blood curdling scream. It was coming from upstairs. The girl gingerly made her way up. Then she saw her. A beam had fallen and was now burning hotly, on the other side of it was her mother. There were shouts from below, the fire brigade had arrived. The girl called out to her mother, and her mother looked up and saw her child. She gained a hopeful expression that disappeared as quickly as it had come. The mother yelled for the girl to look out. Too late. A piece of dry-wall the size of an armchair fell away, showering part of the girl’s face with flame. She screamed. The pain was blinding. Behind her, strong arms caught her waist. She was being pulled back. She screamed again, not from pain, but for her mother.
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I woke with a start, mouth open in a silent scream, covered in a cold sweat, hands clutching at my face. I tried to slow my breathing and pounding heart. Doing as the doctors told me to do, I took in a deep lungful of air and slowly let it out. My clock read 6:30. Time to get up.
I went through my morning routine; brushing my boy-short hair, my teeth. Looking in the mirror, I saw the price of living. Across the left side of my face, from my jaw to my hairline, barely missing my eye, was a silvery scar. Normally, this kind of wound would make a person’s face red and puckered, but I wasn’t normal.
After getting changed into my uniform, I started packing; most of my school stuff was already at Bluemoon, but there were a few items that I always had with me. My wood flute, journal, sketch book, pencil case, kindle and IPod, along with my toothbrush and other essentials, were all packed neatly into a duffle bag. Stopping and listening for a moment, I heard my adoptive family talking noisily downstairs. I headed down.
