Scio and I

Chapter 1

It was a slow, but painful, wake up call as my head pounded out a steady beat to bring me back to life. I was hot and sweaty all over, and some of my hair was sticking to my forehead. My tongue and throat felt like leather on sand paper (I must have slept for some time with my mouth open). The feeling was absolutely nasty and dirty, like one would have after a wicked night with the flu.

Slowly I looked around the much too bright, unfamiliar room and tried to swallow. There were actually no lights on, but rather the intense rays of the sun, bleeding in through a large window. My dry, tender eyes adjusted soon to my new surroundings.

It was a normal room, but rather empty and small. One large bed and two dressers took up a majority of the space, aside from the small walkway that lead into the room and up to the bed itself. I tried to peer out the open doorway, and it seemed like I was at the end of a long hallway.

In an attempt to make myself cool down I went to fling off the the thick comforters that were smothering my body, but I was instantly stopped. The headboard behind me rattled as I realized my left hand was cuffed to it. Pain raced through my thin wrist as I did so and I cursed under my breath. What the hell happened to me?

I tried to move my hand again, this time in hopes of freeing it, but no luck. I only caused more clatter as the cheap bed frame banged against the wall once again.

Kicking off the blankets, I huffed in disgust. Let's recap: Yesterday morning I returned an application for a community college, then I... I think I went to the store. After that I... I.....

The banging in my head pulsed loud and hard as I tried to remember, but it was all in vain. Yesterday, I managed to get myself tied up to some bed (probably in a mass murderer's vacation home, FYI). My over-active imagination began to kick into overdrive as I sat tethered to the bed.

Given the situation, I was mostly irritated, which was some what surprising. I'd never been through anything like this, but it felt like... normal. Almost like it was ironic because I was meant to be dealing with this, like I'd done this plenty of times before. 'This should be a cakewalk' my brain told me, except that I hadn't been in this situation, I had absolutely no idea what to do, and I felt like crap. Wow, I must have hit my head somewhere along the way.

Suddenly there was a noise coming from the hallway. Someone was shuffling there feet, walking in my direction. I drew in a sharp breath, preparing for the worst. There was nothing I could do but sit and watch in wide-eyed horror.

Whoever was coming was taking there time. I heard paper shuffle, followed by more footsteps. A light humming started right as they walking into the doorway of my room. A man stood there, reading a newspaper as if I weren't there.

He had black, wild, teased hair and he looked like a rock star from the 80's who integrated into the modern world, only he didn't appear that old at all. Actually he looked my age, which rocketed my mind into a whole new world of questions. His right hand was filled with gaudy rings and the rest of his clothing seem to match the style. The top of his shirt was unbuttoned, revealing that he had a significant amount of scars (pale and almost unnoticeable at first, but when your heart is pumping adrenaline at a million miles an hour, you tend to pick things up).

Upon further examination, he had a large bowie knife strapped to his waist. The man looked like a total bad ass who wouldn't hesitate to use it.

There was nothing I could do to stop myself from letting out a loud gasp. There was a certain dread that was sweeping through me as I realized the full extent of my surroundings.

The man looked up, "Casper!" He yelled, followed by a large, terrifying, fanged grin.

I screamed. There was no way this was happening. I fought against the handcuffs with all my might to escape, but I only reddened my wrist and caused panic. My brain told me that none of this was real. What my brain told me hold no relevance to what I saw in front of my face.

The man dropped the paper and came towards me, his sharp smile widening and his hands by his sides, one dangerously near the blade.

I let out another quick yell, and frantically stuck my legs in the air to kick at him. "Stop right there!" My hysteria kicked in and I said the first thing I could think of, "I know what you are, you blood sucking creep! Back up right now unless you want me to turn you into ashes!"

He stopped at the foot of the bed. "Dude, what?"

"Vampire! VAMPIRE!!" I felt like I was on the verge of vomiting as my head reeled.

The man's smile faded. "Casper it's me, Scio. You know I'm not a vampire. You're acting like an idiot right now." He crossed his arms, "Don't you remember me?"

I sat up and relaxed my muscles. My heart was racing. Before I could answer I studied his face a moment. "I think I would remember a psycho if I saw one." I spoke with as much venom as I could find.

He snorted, but couldn't resist a smile. "SCIO. Like psycho, I guess, but without the 'kuh'." He sighed and sat beside me on the bed (I couldn't move away). "You don't remember me... they really pulled a good one on you this time, huh?"

I waited. I wasn't going to talk just yet. Not until I had my pulse down and my wits back, assuming I had ever had wits. My eyes raced across him as I studied his every move.

He, 'Scio', was watching me just as well. His hand were once again near the knife, putting me on edge. He stared into my face, as if searching for something in my eyes. Eventually I was so uncomfortable I had to look away.

"Casper-"

"Who is Casper?" I cut him off.

He looked shocked as he bit lip. "Well, um, your Casper."

Where did this guy get off the spaceship at? "No, no I'm not."

He scooted closer, sending another surreal wave of fear through my head. "Then you tell me. Who ARE you?" There was a certain air of darkness about him, which he must have been aware of, using it against me.

But I would show no fear. "My name is Flynn. Flynn Fleming. Now I demand that you tell me why the hell I am here!"

By this point I was right up into his face, showing him that I meant what I said, even though I was scared out of my mind. He didn't hold my eyes for long before he busted up laughing. He fell onto his back and laughed like a mad man, bouncing the bed.

"Whooo, ha ha ha!" He wailed, holding his stomach. "Now THAT is rich!" He continued to laugh at me hard enough for tears to swell up in the corners of his eyes. "You, my friend, are Casper Rose, whether you believe it or not. Flynn FLEMING! HA! Like phlegm! Those guys couldn't have been more cruel!"

Now I was angry. Not only that, but I was sick, scared, cranky, and confused. Pissed off is an understatement when those ingredients get put into the blender together.

Being trapped on the spot I did the only thing I could to this guy. I gave him a right hook square on the jaw-line. I surprised myself that I could toss a punch that easily, even more surprised that I knew how to do it with minimal damage to my own hand.

Instantly he grabbed for his face and moaned, his laughter silenced. Distancing himself from me, he rolled back off the bed and onto his feet.

"Why. Am. I. Here." It wasn't a question as much as it was a demand.

He glared at me with a stiff look on his face. His chin was turning red and he didn't seem so happy. Crossing his arms across over chest, he cleared his throat. "Because I rescued you. Because I brought you home."

Before I had a chance to respond he walked out of the room and slammed the door. I was extremely confused and was glad that he left before he could see my weakened expression. After several minutes and he still hadn't return I began to take things in. The exhaustion, confusion, and fear swept in and over took me. Silently I cried myself back to sleep and dreamed that I was back home. My home.