Short Story Collection

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For as long as I could remember, I had been on the run.

I never made friends. I only showed myself to the outside world if absolutely necessary. I never small-talked to anyone.

I can't afford to make friends, or surround myself with people who like me. Love is a weakness. I could hurt them.

Nobody knows how I truly am.

On the outside, I was ordinary enough; resembling a black haired, warm-skinned girl with eyes like onyx beads. My only clothes were a rough fabric shirt with jeans and boots. I normally wore a cloak and a hood over my head. My hair tumbled down my shoulders, messy and unkempt. The only oddity one could see was my height; I was unnaturally tall for my age, about six feet.
I ignored anyone who tried to talk to me, though not many ever bother to. 

I was roused from a troubled sleep by a nightmare. My eyes adjusted to my cramped surroundings – my current place of residence is an incredibly small water-tower, abandoned since years ago. My only companion was a black cat, who had been jeered at by everyone else. My black cat, Curse. I called her that because I saw her as a reflection of myself: a hex, an inconvenience, a malediction to everyone who laid eyes on her – apart from me, of course. 

I see her green eyes stare at me from the darkness, a tiny sliver of moonlight illuminating them, making them flash like emeralds in the inky blackness.

I gave into her glare, sighing as I rolled over and let her cuddle up next to me. The exhale of breath bumped against the rusty tower interior, clattering around like it had bene magnified.
Curse's small, warm body felt comforting against my stomach. I hadn't felt that kind of comfort in a while.
Shocked into a memory, tears pricked my eyes as I re-lived the nightmare.

I stared at the blackness above me as recalled it in my head.

The disaster.

During one of my travels to the market, I had met a girl the same age as me – and she was my height, too. I remember that, it was unusual. Her eyes were as white. And she was the only one who had ever been friendly to me. 

I had been walking back home in a shadowed alleyway when she walked up to me. I remembered her happy-go-lucky demeanour, her funny laugh, her kind eyes; her determination. I tried not to blanch as I remembered her warm, soft voice asking me, "hey, are you okay?" As she stared at me with real concern in her pearly irises.

"No," I had answered, my reply in its normal low monotone. 

She smiled warmly at me, trying to be comforting. "I can help." She had held out her hand. "I'm Lumin. Would you like to tell me your name?"

I remember visibly stiffening, uncomfortable, a slight pang of sadness that I usually kept buried unearthing suddenly.

"No, I would not," I stated. "I need to go." I tried pushing past her, but she grabbed my shoulder. "Please!" She pleaded, her unnatural eyes boring into mine. "Let me help you."

I stopped, staring at her. It was kind of hard to process. This beautiful girl wanted to help me? She could be doing anything else; why waste her time on me?

I felt a sob but swallowed it down quickly, horrified at myself. 

Do not let her in. You know what will happen. Keep her out.

"Please," Lumin asked again, her voice soft. "I know you're hurting. Let me help!"

I growled, shrugging off her hand viciously. "You can't help," I growled, glaring at her. "No one can."

I whipped around and took off, needing to get away from her. Because she had seen the demons in my eyes. And it was too late to hide them from her again.