Broken Genes

Chapter Two

I wake in my bead covered in sweat. I pant loudly and spring up into a sitting position. Just a dream I think over and over until I can convince myself it is true. Eventually I give up and let my thoughts drift to the details of the dream. It felt too real to be a normal nightmare. Besides, I haven’t had one of those since I left the orphanage.

Having let my head fall into my hands without realizing, I lift it to glance at my clock. Three twenty six in the morning. I sigh a low heavy sigh and drag myself from my bed, absently letting the book I had been reading fall from my chest. As I hear it drop to the floor I jump, then I remember that I had been reading before I had fallen asleep. I pick up the book curious to see if it had anything to do with the dream. I flip it over in my hands and see the plain cover of Moby Dick. Clearly not the cause of my nightmare.

Despite my weariness I get up, not wanting to go back to sleep with that dream waiting for me.

I drudge into my small cell of a kitchen and breathe in the smell of the herbs growing on the small window sill. I go over to the cupboards and reach down in to grab the narrow box containing pop tarts. I grab two and chuck them in my old microwave, not wanting to have to do anything more elaborate. As I wait I go back into my room and sit on my old stool in the corner. It is times like these that I wish I had a parental figure. Everybody around here thinks my mother died in childbirth and it is just me and my dad. They all think he has business out of town and has his ‘local sister’ call in to me every day. That’s just the story of course but I do sometimes hate living on my own. It can get lonely. I can take good care of myself though. I can forge documents – which is always a benefit. I am also very cautious and can hack computers easily.

I do that regularly just for fun. I go to school but it has ended for Christmas break so now I just spend my time with Jase or at home. As for food, I can cook fairly well, but I wouldn’t call myself a gourmet chef.  Money has never been much of a problem either, I was lucky enough to find a huge wad of cash under the mattress when I first arrived here. I learnt to do all the things like computer hacking in my free time – which I always have a lot of.

My thoughts are interrupted with the faint bing of my microwave. I lurch of the chair and into the kitchen. I reach into the microwave and grab the pop tarts. I bite into the pop tart, not waiting for it to cool. On a day like today, the pain from the burning in my mouth is a small reminder of the fact that I am awake, which is my only relief. Once I finish with my ‘breakfast’ I head back into my room and sit on my bed. As I sit, I let out a slow pained sigh. Eventually I give in to my weariness and let myself flop onto my bed. I still refuse to close my eyes, afraid to let sleep take me. I let my thoughts drift to deeper things. I think about what my mother and father would have looked like. I can imagine my mother having dark blue eyes like mine that, in the right light can look black, and having long curly, copper coloured hair that would shine in the sun.  I can hear her sweet voice and can imagine her caring nature. Then I can imagine my father with green eyes and short brown hair with grey streaks. I have a feeling he was a strong man with a well-built body and a strict personality. But I can also imagine him loving us, him always putting us first.

Of course these are just my ideas. I can only base them on myself. But part of me knows that my parents wouldn’t just abandon me, there had to be a reason.

Eventually sleep takes me despite my residence. I prepare myself for the night of terrible visions

 ***

I wake later at seven thirty and pull myself up. As I heave myself up the memories of the visions come back to me. Unlike before I hadn’t woken panting, however, looking down at myself, I realize I am still drenched in sweat. What else could I expect? The dream had been similar to last time although I knew there was something different, I just couldn’t identify these changes.