01 | five days before
05 Days Before
Brute Onslaught Awakening
10th September, 3028
Never in my thirteen years of agonized life had I ever been this angry at myself. Angry at the constant puzzlement and frustration. Angry at whoever the hell was doing this to me.
In times like these, I wondered if my head was diddling with me. Day after day, my eyes grew heavy from the effects of excessive agitation. Even as I trudged inside my favourite class, I could feel my consciousness ebbing away, and my thoughts—as exact and succinct as they were moments ago—coming to an end.
I had not prepared for such a weakness. Yes, I’d anticipated the night terrors, the sleepless gloamings, but not this. I was frequently pounded with incoherence, an inconsistency in my thoughts. Was it the experiments that had been forced upon me years ago? Perhaps, it was the murder. It had to be. Such a disconcerting experience was more than enough to mess with someone’s mind, and I’d unfortunately fallen victim to the insanity.
“Hey.” A student excitedly tapping his knuckles against his desk one at a time interrupted me from my alarming train of thoughts, the grin on his cheeky fair face only growing wider as multiple eyes turned to look at him. “I wonder what Mr. Conan has got planned for us today. Do you think he’s finally going to talk about. . .you know. . .that?”
“Absolutely not.” Another scoffed, disdain visible in her light green eyes. “For the last goddamn time, it’s just a myth. Nothing more.”
“Exactly! Amoux, listen to her,” a third scorned, setting her bag down on her table. “Stop being so obsessed with a story someone made up.” As she spoke, the girl took the seat beside mine. Her winsome face lit up while turning to face me, light pink plump lips separating once again before she let out a “Good morning, Maeve.”
“Morning, Ana.”
Amoux leaned back against his seat, the look in his monolid eyes contorting into irritation. “None of your opinions are ever needed, especially from animals like you,” he snapped, referring to my friend and the girl who’d spoken before her. His wrath seemed to build up the more he continued to stare at the girls. The mere sight of them, me—my people, as a whole—repelled him to the core.
“You Humans are quite sad,” the first girl, whom I now recognized as none other than Ruatha Nemea herself, commented in a taunting tone. Amusement flickered in her eyes but she held herself back from uttering another word.
Before Amoux—having taken the light insult personally—could fish out his own ridiculing response, the classroom door opened and a middle-aged man dressed in his usual gray t-shirt and black shorts staggered inside. Why he still refused to wear another warmer layer of clothing even in the September cold was beyond me. With the man’s head buried in a book, he failed to take notice of the chair in front of him. Soft cackles sounded from the class once his body collided with the item.
“Mr. Conan, finally, you’ve arrived,” Ruatha teased, feigning her displeasure. “How is it that your own students are beating you to class?”
Amoux rolled his eyes, grimacing just at the fact the girl had even said a word. He made it quite easy to mock him for how little effort it took to provoke him.
“Ha, very funny.” Mr. Conan placed the book down on his desk. He seemed to fidget while doing so, as though tempted to tell the class all about the intriguing novel he’d found in Mrs. Barlowe’s class yesterday. Regardless, he held himself back, awkwardly clearing his throat. I could imagine the man reminding himself yet again that this was not English class.
“Mr. Conan—” Amoux began.
“No!” Unwilling to allow the boy to finish whatever he had to say, our teacher sent Amoux a small glare. “For the last time, we are not learning about the Darkling Days. I only teach you things that actually occurred, not some made-up story a bored person created out of nowhere.”
“So, what if it’s made up?” Amoux demanded. “I still find it pretty cool that years ago, the entirety of Earth was attacked by. . . by these creatures. It was so sudden and. . . fascinating.”
Mr. Conan raised his eyebrows. “You find it cool?”
“Yes,” the boy admitted almost immediately, possibly not realizing what he’d just said. “And I don’t think the story was created by a bored person. Something as intriguing could not have been plotted out in days. It took the creator months. You really should be able to tell.”
A loud and derisive laugh shot out of the man’s mouth, his shoulders heaving up and down, in the process. “I’ve never seen someone be so awed by such a dumb tale.” His sudden words took Amoux back, the boy’s face flushing with chagrin. “Is this the same student that would often flunk his tests and receive bad grades?”
“I think the tale is fascinating because it’s what we’re presently dealing with,” the headstrong student tried again, this time, his eyes flashing over to where Edana and I were seated. “These beasts known as Darklings attacked the planet, just as they are attacking it right no—”
“We’re not attacking you!” Ruatha shot back. “We’re not doing shit to you.”
“That’s what you all say,” Amoux sneered.
“Oh, please!” Edana was quick to chip in. “We all know the true reason you’re so interested is because of the destruction in the story. You like when people suffer. You’re twisted like that.”
“Alright, alright.” Mr. Conan held up a hand. “Let’s move on.”
At the back of the class, a dark-skinned hand shot up, politeness and determination carved onto the owner’s heart-shaped face. Dead set on speaking her mind, the girl patiently waited for the teacher’s attention to turn to her. Her beauteous features almost caused my heart to flutter—or perhaps, they did, and I was in denial—bringing me back to the days I’d been head over heels for her breathtaking qualities. If it weren’t for Edana’s twin sister, I still would.
“What is it, Dream?” Mr. Conan nodded over at the girl. His face always seemed to light up anytime she had something to say. Perhaps, it was because she was the only student in the room who actually raised her hand before speaking, unlike the rest who talked whenever they wished—Ahem! Amoux.
“Amoux is both right and wrong in this matter,” she said, her focus flying over to the said boy who continued to shake his head disapprovingly. “The story is intriguing. His opinion about my people, on the other hand, is, well. . .not.”
“You actually like that tale?” Mr. Conan was surprised, yet he really shouldn’t have been. Not a lot of people knew the girl well but Dream loved to read and write more than anyone I’d ever met. Particularly Fantasy since it allowed her to escape the unforgiving reality, I remember her saying. By unforgiving, I was certain she meant our ridiculous ongoing battle with Human Beings—something that should have ended a century ago.
“Okay, am I the only one here who doesn’t even know what the hell that tale is about?” Regardless of the disparaging glares Amoux sent her way, Sandra Damaris sat tall and bold after her question. Although I couldn’t see her face from where I was sitting, I could visualize the puzzlement lingering in her eyes.
“That’s alright,” Mr. Conan told her. “Not a lot of people know about the tale, nor the one who made it. Not a lot of people speak of it.”
“At least, not yet.”
Every being switched their attention to the student that had spoken—surprisingly me.
The man scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean, Maeve?”
“It’ll only be a matter of time before we come out of hiding—before we continue from where we left off,” my voice carried on, although, I alarmingly wasn’t the person behind that statement. Yes, it was my voice, yet. . . It was as though someone else had taken control of every word that rolled off my tongue. “Last time didn’t quite go as planned but this time. . . None of you will know what hit this planet.”
What the hell?!
“Ha! Good one, Maeve.” Amoux almost slipped from his seat as he snickered. Soon enough, more of my classmates joined in while Mr. Conan rolled his eyes. Even Edana had let out a couple of cackles. “You know, if Darklings really were real, that’s exactly what they would say.”
I suppressed a shiver, fighting a rising panic. Dread twisted in my gut as I stared down at my desk, pondering over what had just happened. My classmates played it off as an impersonation of the ferocious creatures that had supposedly attacked Earth but it was so much more than that. I couldn’t quite comprehend it but that hadn’t been me speaking.
And this wasn’t the first time.
This wasn’t the first time my own actions had left me in a state of bewilderment. It was the sole reason I woke up every morning with a pounding headache and in a bad mood, the reason I was beginning to believe my mind was screwing with me, allowing me to see or hear things that weren’t actually there and replaying my harrowing past over and over as soon as I fell asleep. At this point, thinking about sleep was more than frightening on its own. If this was the work of my powers, everything would make sense but none of my abilities functioned this way. What the hell was going on?
Did I even know myself anymore?
