Shine ~ Guardians #1 (BEING REWRITTEN, MAY TAKE DOWN)

~III~

III

THERE ARE ALWAYS those days when I wake up feeling one of two emotions, quite strongly:

a) ready to rip someone's head off with my bare hands, skin them alive and dangle their dead bodies from the top of the tallest building for everyone to see, or

b) happy enough to tap-dance and throw multicoloured confetti and sparkly glitter around with a grin wider than the Cheshire cat's.

Today is most certainly not a tap-dancing day.

Even through my closed eyelids, my retinas burn from a harsh light somewhere above me.

I groan in a very loud and unladylike fashion and roll over. My face presses into the soft mattress of the bed, body aching painfully as though I had been sleeping on a wooden board all night long."Fooooox, turn the goddamn light off - bloody hell my back! Owwwww."I moan, knowing it's obviously my best friend who decided it would be fun to hang a light over me so I would be blinded when I wake up. It's not the worst thing Fox's done, though; for my fourteenth birthday he snuck into my room and at exactly twelve at night he poured a bucket of freezing water over me while I was sleeping, then started singing happy birthday at the top of his lungs.

A voice suddenly fills the air and I freeze, face still buried in the mattress. It definitely isn't Fox - I'd know his voice anywhere."You can't!"

"Yes I can."

"Mad, you can't rhyme bed with regrets."

"Yes, I can!"

"Oh my god, no - you - can't! Rhyme it with misled or dread or something - and change what it's about."

"But-"

"You are not reading a poem to a bunch of eleven year olds about using protection, dammit!"

"They need to know!"

"They're eleven!"The first voice argues, sounding ready to throw whoever the other person is off a cliff.

"You humans are strange."There's distaste in the other person's voice. They're both male, that I'm sure of. They both have deep tones and, either I'm going bonkers or, they're definitely coming closer.

My mind is whirring a hundred miles an hour. Who are they? Why are they in my house? Where's Rachel? What are they doing here? And why, for the love of god, did the second one think it was acceptable to not only talk to eleven year olds about protection, but rhyme bed with regrets? It just wasn't right!

"Is she awake?"The voices are quieter now, almost whispers.

"How should I know?"It sounds like the one speaking has some kind of accent, the irritation making it stronger and more pronounced.

Before the other person can reply everything's suddenly jolting, shuddering around me. I'm thrown around on the bed I'm on and I have to bite down on my tongue to stop from crying out as I almost pitch over the edge.

"Goddamn it!"The one with the accent hisses before letting out a strong of what sounds to be cusses in another language, one that sounds a lot like Spanish."Stupid freaking turbulence! We're so getting a better Aero next time we fly in a bloody plane!"

Turbulence?! Plane? As in, on a plane, flying in the sky, hitting a pocket of air?!

My eyes fly open and I bolt upright, snapping my gaze to the boys sitting on the other side of the room, or what appears to be a room at least. From what the accented one said, we're on a plane and if we are it's most likely some sort of private jet. I'm instantly drawn to the closer of the two, the one with messy black hair and blue eyes. His chin rests in his hands and he gives me a smile that's half-apologetic, half-sympathetic.