Nephilim: Genesis

Chapter 1: AZ Academy

I had always wondered what it would feel like to get punched in the face. I knew it would hurt, but how much? Was it a pain that would flare up, intense and sharp, and then fade away? Or would it be a dull ache that lingered, a constant reminder? Did it depend on where you got hit or who was throwing the punch? I'd never been in a fight before. Honestly, I wouldn't even consider this a fight, given that my hands were tied behind my back and I was strapped tightly to a chair.
To answer my own question, getting punched in the face hurt like hell. Especially when it happened over and over, just as I was about to slip into unconsciousness—then bam, another blow landed, keeping me awake. My face was burning, probably from the swelling, and eventually, I could taste my own blood. It wasn't as disgusting as I'd imagined, which was probably why vampires were so into it. An acquired taste, I guessed. Not that vampires were real, of course.
And then there were the headaches. The throbbing, pulsing agony was enough to make me wish I were dead. At this point, I wanted him to just kill me already. But instead, he kept asking the same question I'd answered at least twenty times. And every time I didn't give him what he wanted, he punched me again.
"Where are the twins?" he screamed, his voice ringing in my ears. I could barely catch my breath to mumble another "I don't know" before bracing myself for the next hit. Didn't he get it? If I knew what the hell he was talking about, I would have told him by now. I wasn't a snitch, but I wasn't about to die for anybody—especially not for twins. Twins were weird, anyway. Someone walking around with your same face and birthday? It was too much to wrap my mind around.
But he didn't believe me. He leaned in, his voice low and dangerous as he asked one last time. I could barely see his face through my swollen eyes, but I could hear the click as he cocked his gun. This was it. I was going to die, and part of me was almost relieved. Death seemed better than this endless torture.
"Where are the twins?" he spat through gritted teeth. I couldn't even muster the energy to give my usual "I don't know." Instead, I forced a weak smile, wanting my last words to be something memorable, something defiant.
"Eat my dick," I whispered, just before I heard the gun go off.

"What in the hell did you just say to me?" The voice jolted me awake, and I looked around, disoriented. I'd been sleeping in the car for hours, caught in the same nightmare that had been haunting me for months.
"Huh?" I blinked, trying to shake off the lingering fear. My mom was squinting at me from the driver's seat, her hands steady on the wheel. "I, uh... Ding Dong Ditch?" I muttered, scratching my head. "That's... what I said... I think? I don't know, Ma, I was having a nightmare!"
"Mmmhmm," she replied, pressing her lips together and giving me a sidelong glance. Her eyes softened as she cracked a smile.
"Ma... are we even there yet?" I whined, my voice still groggy.
"If we were there, would I still be driving, Daxton? Or do you think I just love driving for nine hours straight? Weee, so much fun!" she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Of course not, mother. What I meant was, are we close?" I shot back, matching her sarcasm.
"Dax, I can multitask. You know I can smack the sarcasm right out of you while staying in my lane and following the navigation, all at the same time, right? So, let's tone it down, okay?" She smirked, and I couldn't help but laugh.
"Oh, you think it's funny? Watch this!" She reached over and playfully tapped my face a few times.
"Maaaa, stop!" I cried, laughing. "We're gonna get into an accident!"
"No, we're not, boy. I told you, I can multitask," she said, laughing as she pulled me toward her and kissed my forehead.
"Okay, okay, you've made your point. Can we at least stop to get something to eat?"
"I guess, Dax. You know I don't like stopping unless we have to. This drive from Georgia to Virginia is nauseating," she sighed dramatically.
I loved my mom. She was my best friend. We did almost everything together—but not in a creepy Norman Bates way, just in the way a son should love his mom. She looked twenty years younger than her age, with dark brown skin that was flawless, high cheekbones, dimples, and teeth as white as piano keys. Her long natural hair was always pulled back, and her eyes were both fierce and kind. She was incredibly fit for a forty-year-old woman, working out or doing yoga almost every day.
"I told you I didn't want to go," I said with a shrug.
"Like you have a choice, Dax. You're fifteen," she replied matter-of-factly. "Going to AZ Academy is like going to an Ivy League high school, baby."
"Yeah, a high school I have to live at," I muttered, pouting. "I didn't even apply to go there."
"I know. They recruited you. Probably has something to do with you being a straight-A student." She rolled her eyes playfully.
"Mom, being a straight-A student in Atlanta isn't a big deal. The education system is trash."
"Hey! I grew up in that same trash education system, and now I'm the DA. I think I'm doing pretty well for myself as a successful lawyer and single parent." She glanced at me, her expression softening. "Look, baby, I love you. I'm always going to want the best for you. And believe it or not, I know what's best for you." She smiled, and I couldn't help but smile back. "You trust me, right?"
"Yes, ma'am," I answered.
"Good, because we're here," she said, turning off the engine.