The Hybrid Chronicles: The Offspring

Chapter 1

       Ack! My hands begin grasping as though I’m reaching for something that isn’t there. Bleh! Something is shoved into my face! Umph! The air is instantly knocked from my body as an invisible force punches my stomach. I can’t breathe. I can’t see. I can’t hear. The only thing I can do is pray my alarm clock rings soon to wake me up.

            The dreams usually happen sort of like this. Robbed of basically eery sense, except touch, I’m left helpless in the hands of a ghost-like force that constantly attacks my body. My alarm goes off every morning around 6:00 and I wake up covered in sweat feeling exhausted. This time seems different though. As the blows continue to come, I notice them getting harder and harder. The air in my lungs all but gone, though this tie I’m no longer struggling to find it. It’s as though I no longer need it. My arms are no longer just grasping for air, but finally searching for something to grab onto. I’m in the same place as usual, lying on my back in bed, feeling completely motionless, though now that my arms have become useful I find my way to my nightstand. ‘Not sure why this is necessary… I can’t even see what I’m touching’

            Suddenly my sense of both sight and sound return. I’m no longer left in the dark but as I begin to open my eyes to catch a glimpse of my attacker, I am suddenly forced awake. Buzz! My alarm clock rings in my ear so loud I almost fall out of bed. Rubbing my eyes, I notice that for once I’m not drenched in sweat after this dream. I sit up and look around to make sure nothing has changed. ‘Yep, same boring bedroom.’

            We’ve lived in this house for as long as I can remember. Even longer than that, my room has been the same shade of dull blue. My closet, barely big enough to hold the 4 shirts I wear nearly ever day, sits next to my small bathroom. Inside holds an old whitish toilet, shower, and a vanity with a cracked mirror above it.

            My eyes trail to my walls, where I notice one slight difference. A picture of my mother and I lies on the ground, as though someone had knocked it off the wall. ‘Odd…’ Unfazed, I sit up, cramming my palms into my temples to try to push off my raging headache.

            “Ugh!” I groan as I stand up to get out of bed, my cami clinging to my stomach and sides. With one stretch, and a crack of the neck, I walk into the bathroom and start my daily routine. Sit on the toilet. Use the toilet. Unclog the toilet… again, because it can’t even handle one piece of toilet paper without complaining. Take a 5 minute cold shower, hot water never reaches this room. Then take 45 more minutes to blow dry and straighten my hair. I look into the mirror to see exactly what I have to work with this morning. In the mirror a version of me that I would almost consider to be beautiful stares back at me. My eyes, a bright lavender color, barely compliment my charcoal black hair. With a basis of flawless pale skin, I could almost pass for your normal, average, everyday teenager… if not for the depression, social anxiety, ADHD, and OCD.

            I flip my hair out of my eyes, in your normal everyday scene kid fashion, then walk next door to my closet. ‘What to wear? Eenie, meenie, minie, moe!’ I grab my favorite band shirt, then walk over to my dresser and slip into a pair of size 0 skinny jeans.

            “Alice! Hurry up, the bus will be here in 15 minutes and you haven’t even eaten…” My mom’s voice trails off as she goes off rambling to herself downstairs, losing her train of thought long enough for me to grab a black hoodie and run out of my room. AGH! Rushing to get to the kitchen, I forget I’m on the second floor and go tumbling down the stairs. ‘Tuck and roll’ I land the fall standing straight up, brush the dust off my knees and march into the kitchen proudly.

            “Where have you, why are you, are you… What happened?!” She spits questions at me, not giving me enough time to answer all of them before holding up my hand to get her to stop.