The voice echoed through the head of every kid in the district, if not every kid in the city. A coarse, harsh whisper, in a pitch that drove a feeling like an icepick to the brain deep into our skulls, leaving us to black out or blank out trying to destroy the sound we have no control over.
Everything is about to change.
For me, it already had, first thing that morning, waking up and seeing Cecelia gone. She moved out, I was accepting that, but I never felt the pain until this morning. I miss Calysta too, we were close, but we never had the same degree of closeness belonging to mine and Cecelia's relationship. It was just different.
Ironically, that was when I finally scared myself enough to fall out of bed on top of the glass bottles and successfully make a flash grenade. I also successfully partially blinded myself. It wasn't surprising. My sunglasses stayed against my face for a few hours until I could see without any severe problems.
I look in the mirror on the way to the kitchen. A pale face looks back at me, with green eyes so dark they're almost black, accented by the waves of fiery hair cascading over my shoulders. I have a fairly strong jawline, with cheekbones that descend like marble banisters. Just with a few soot lines from the accident this morning.
"Scarlet, what's goin' on?"
"Nothin' mom," I lie, trying to abolish the voice from my head. "I just have a migraine from this mornin'."
"That's not surprisin'. Especially after you were such an idiot. But I think you should know somethin'. A few minutes ago, when you went completely blank when I was talkin' to you, the CIA announced that there's been a terror attack and they'd be pickin' up the survivors. It sounds scary. But it was only in Atlanta as far as they know, so we should be fine."
"Is it a bioweapon? This is interestin'. I'm going upstairs, I'm researchin'."
"Scarlet, don't try to find anythin' classified."
"Is that code for 'don't use the Pentagon codes?"
"You're such a nerd. But yes. We don't need the CIA knockin' our door down because we have an incredibly competent teenager with unnatural hackin' abilities readin' their research again."
"I know."
I remember this later, laughing. Thinking how much it would have been easier had I been arrested for hacking. At least I knew the risks, I'd be jailed for a while, but it wouldn't be as unnerving, uncertain and dark as my future. I should have done it, it would have given me the information I needed so I could have grabbed Jack and ran. But I didn't.
I run back down the corridor, ignoring the wreckage scattered across my room grab my laptop and start searching. I ignore the soot marks up the white walls, or the holes in the carpet, or the sheer amount of smoke still lingering in the room. I keep scouring, hoping to find something useful. The only thing I can find of use on the regular internet is one image. A girl, around my age, blonde, pretty, around fifteen, with ringed eyes, with a yellow ring around the pupils, and a handful of blue tendrils, a handful of electricity, stroking her skin gently, her face curved into a knowing smirk. Smoke rises from behind her, and a person lies in the background, obviously dead, almost entirely black in color, from burning.
"Oh shit."
I think back to this morning, and something clicks, deep inside. I'm not sure what to make of this morning, it's raising alarm bells. There wasn't an ignition source to set the grenade to start with, let alone enough force to shatter the glass. That leaves a few options, and after seeing that picture, I have to try something. I search through the wreckage and find what I'm looking for. A hole in the glass, but perfectly to the contours of my elbow. A melted gap. There's something amiss.
