Inked Wings
CHAPTER EIGHT - Celebration

/ Noel’s POV /

I get it.

I’m alive. Yay.

This room looks more dreadful with the early cycle lights on. It is a new day, you can say.

As if yesterday has not happened, I stretch out my limbs and I am squirming on the blanket playing cushion for the floor. Muscle pain burns my sore back. I’m surprised I managed to pass out on this thing.

I stand and roll it into an exquisite roll. Repetition, fellows.

Hah. I wanna just die.

My head shakes. Gotta live.

It wasn’t in vain. It wasn’t in vain.

I desperately need to remind myself that without remembering the obvious context behind it. Horseshit, I know.

Time is moving too slowly. Gots to do something. Let’s check on my abductor, then.

I need to keep my eye on him anyway.

I slide my hands through my hair, to pull onto the small nods. Need to feel the pain to clear my mind. I scratch the sides of my undercut.

Angel is speaking to something. I recognize the breathy voice when the bedroom door closes behind me.

The backpack is on me, duh. Can’t trust he won’t snoop through my things. My guard up, I follow his shitty, low voice.

Again, he is staring into that screen, in the panel room. I think it’s the panel room. I mean, look at all those icons and screens to press.

Also, oh, the weirdo is speaking to himself.

‘You the type to monologue you evil plan?’ I casually speak.

His wings swing open so hard that a sharp current hits my corpse-like facial. The breeze...howls. Shee.

Augh. I’m coughing now... too much breeze.

‘My life, please stop sneaking like that.’ He sounds genuinely scared. ‘I could’ve injured your ass, kid.’

‘I have a name, Alzheimer’s.’ That is such a cheap shot. I already hate myself for it, ew.

It’s official: My brain cells have dropped. Ugh! Can’t even save it.

Angel perks his brows then hums.

I’m a moron.

‘Anyway - it’s good you’re here. This is today’s plan, listen up...’

‘Whoa - what plan?’ I grip tighter at the straps of my backpack. There’s been a monster sleeping in my ribcage since the last cycle.

‘I need to retrieve something before I get you somewhere safe. We’re in District ACRYLIC, heading Northway. There’s what I need.’

I shake my head in disbelief. ‘What’s the thing you gotta get?’

‘Can’t disclose that just yet, we’re inside a district. Even inside the ship, speaking vaguely here is best.’

‘Okay. How far is it?’

‘The object I need resides in the Fallen City. We’ll land about two miles farther.’ The screens close.

‘Sure.’ I grip even tighter at the straps. ‘How long you’ll be gone?’

’It’ll take us a few hours, I fear.′

‘What?’ My face drops.

‘You’re my responsibility for now. MEA has you on their Hunt List by now, surely, so it’s dangerous to abandon you here.’ He picks somethin’ from one of the panels.

He continues. ‘Especially considering you will be running away as soon as I’m off.’

I swallow in irritation.

Shoulda have hidden it better.

‘Something on your mind?’ He asks.

‘No comment.’ I collapse against the wall.

Huh.

Huh!

Now that I think about it…

I don’t know this District.

Probably very far away from home.

Crap. Where is he taking me? Is it worse than the poor neighborhoods from home?′

The Fallen City. What kind of cyberpunk novel location name is that? Dystopian name ass.

The whole ship suddenly shakes and I am forced to balance myself on my feet. Felt really weird, like vertigo or something.

‘We are here,’ he tells me.

Shoot.

I follow along. We exit the ship.

The landing spot is beautifully sick.

I don’t want to admit it but all this graffiti surrounding us - It’s, like, really cool.

It’s crazy how big it is. It’s so big. These walls are ginormous.

Where the cosmos are we?

The sense of wonder I felt looking at these pieces of art. Of legit art immediately went down the drain once I turned my head again.

I almost let out a squeak when I turned to see a stranger. Yeah, it wasn’t really a stranger.

It was the shitty angel.

Except he looks totally different.

His skin is suddenly dark brown, his hair is suddenly styled, cornrows specifically…I think.

‘Hmm.’ He’s checking himself. ‘Should be enough.’

‘What did you -?’ I can’t help but buffer.

His eyes go wide as if he’s confused about why I am reacting this way. About naturally being startled. Seriously?

‘Are you using a mask or something right now?’

He quickly nods.

No duh, Noel.

‘I often go undercover for these sort of things.’ He continues walking.

Again, I follow.

‘Stay close,’ He demands.

‘I am not so dumb as to run away. Now, I have no idea where we are. I have no sense of direction in this place, and I have no other means of going back and… how did you say it -?’ I shrug.

‘I’m hunted down apparently. So no, I’m not gonna run away. I am going to stay close.’

My sarcasm is at its Max. Yet I am not sarcastic. This is the truth.

I could die any moment.

He purses his lips. ‘All right, then.’

The walk seems like an eternity. Like we have jumped into a black hole. A wormhole.

That’s never happened to me before.

I have rarely felt time moving really slow. I have felt this sense of dread very little.

Seething dread.

It’s a new sensation to me.

And it’s very bothersome. Juggles with my insides while they’re on fire. To be specific.

The place we left the ship at turned out to be an abandoned factory.

Huge building.

We climbed the hill to enter the streets. Out is dark.

I knew it - it’s much stickier than home. These neighborhoods are dirty, smelly, sketchy ’(literally there’s graffiti and 3d printed paintings everywhere) but unlike our own, they’re lively.

There are merchants, people dancing. Kids are playing around and men are talking and gathering for a quick drink near an alleyway.

There are neon lights everywhere.

Every. Where. It could hurt a person!

My eyes are icky and I don’t even have a condition of this nature. All’s supplementing my now funked up being is Math Dyslexia and the moles marking my spine.

That’s unnecessary information.

I’m overly talking to myself again.

Are we there yet?

A pressure pops over my head. I duck, obviously startled.

Shitty Angel has tried to put a wig over my head. Short, neon, reddish-pink fake hair.

‘Where did you get that antique out from?’ My knees unbent a bit.

‘We’re here. Hide yourself.’ He shoves it in my hands.

‘Don’t touch me again. And I’m not wearing that.’

‘You don’t have a real say regarding this.’

‘What the shit you me-’

‘Do you want to be shot down?’ The fake hairs flutter at his flopping hand.

I snatch it from him. ‘Alright, alright!’ I align my palms with my shoulders.

‘Crap, you’re persistent.’ I put it on.

It itches already.

‘You said we are here?’ A look around and all I see is this empty alleyway.

‘Secret entrance or somethin’?′ My tongue clicks.

He nods and pulls out an electronic nail, then shoves into the eye of the graffiti figure. The wall vibrates. Another bag of light blinds me, now from the inside I don’t even see clearly.

‘After you.’ He gestures.

‘After you.’ I mimic him with an ugly face and a high voice while I step inside.

Whoa! It’s -

There are old school game machines everywhere.

It’s an arcade. What does he need from an Arcade?

He steps in with a dumb expression. ‘Here.’

I glance at him a second time. He be giving me a roll of tickets, for real.

‘I won’t take long.’ He drops it and I have to catch it fast.

‘What happened to sticking close?’

He tilts his dumbass head again. ‘I need you within proximity. Too close or too far is still dangerous.’

‘Gah,’ A huff booms my chest when my eyes roll so hard they’re about to pop off. ‘Whatever.’

I kill the time by:

One. Playing crane games and winning way too many stuffed, pink cyborg raccoons.

I’m, maybe, taking one along. The rest I leave in a pile, on top of the crane game that gave me a hard time the most.

Two. Stopping at a Hoop Shooter. There’s this ball which represents a soul ‘(it’s themed after a popular dark fantasy game I don’t get the hype of)’ and you gotta throw it in the “Well Of Misfortunes” ‘(a cheaply designed hoop)’.

I manage a few shots.

Three. I risk it and win some snacks from a Gacha machine. I’m starved enough to try this expired bacon sticks.

They don’t taste like anything.

Four. I spot this punching game machinery, next to that “Hit The Hopscotch” hammer hitting game. I choose to hit dolls that pop out of hopscotch marks.

The hammer’s a little heavy but it’s actually better this way. The weight will add to the force of my hits.

Alright. I shove in my last twenty tickets and wait for it to register. Makes me choose a name and I enter “Splinter”.

It’s loading...And - I hold tight onto the pretty realistic, antique hammer.

“GO!” The screen yells.

I whack them kids left. Right, left and right.

From one number to another.

I feel sweat drool down my forehead.

My head is getting hot.

I’ve worn this wig for too long.

Now, it really tickles.

The heat is annoying. It’s almost as if my head is on fire as if someone burned my hair.

I swing the hammer. I swing.

Left and right. Top Center, bottom left.

Burn.

It lands hard.

On the skull.

Burns on my scalp.

One, left.

Two, three. Right.

One hit.

Harder and harder. Another one. Left.

Harder and harder.

Another one Center.

Harder.

The heat is even worse.

One, two, three and FOUR!

It’s so loud now.

The impact blasts into my ears.

I can still see the flash of blue light.

One. Two. Harder and harder.

Stupid.

Stupid, you’re so stupid.

My hand is starting to hurt but I don’t want to stop. The game has just shut down but I’m not backing off.

I’m hitting harder and harder. Again. Again.

And again.

It’s starting to get blurry. Shit.

The game keeps saying you’re finished. “You’re finished, you’re finished”, as if I’ve lost. Honestly, I don’t know. I just keep hitting.

I should stop.

I should stop.

I am so angry.

I’m so done. It’s getting louder. And so done.

I’m so done.

I don’t want to talk anymore.

I hear breathing, is this -

Is this me?

It’s fast.

And even.

No. Uneven.

Okay, it’s time to stop.

My hands are getting -

Jelly.

The heat slows down. I slow down.

The noise is getting quieter.

Alright. Okay, I’m done with this game.

I exhale, stopping all of a sudden.

I’m breathing hard as I’m pulling the stupid wig off my head.

I give the thing the Quick Glance and then I throw it away with a gasp.

I launch it across the room. Well, not really, it hits a fake machine gun.

I grab my wrist because it hurts.

Well, I lost it for a second there.... .

How long has it been?

Well. Nope.

I love my face. But I might have mutilated it - umm - at least a teensy bit.

I rub my hands. Then I rub my face.

And there’s red.

I look into the screen of the game and I see I might have accidentally hit my forehead. It’s nothing too big or too deep, but I grazed my forehead. And the scar is bleeding, a little.

Well shit.

Ghah…

Well, SHIT.

‘Oh, have you been there? For how long?’ I nonchalantly spin around to a shitty angel.

Shitty Angel frowns, pulling the corner of his lips. I wish he still had the wings visible so I could read him easily but he does not.

I’m stuck here, feeling uncalled-for embarrassment.

He keeps quiet and signs me to follow. I do.

‘You didn’t answer my question.’ My rapid breath stumbles. Ugh, it’s getting awkward.

Shitty Angel pulls a medical patch out of nowhere. ‘I only saw you check your reflection...here.’ He briefly stops moving.

I grab it with two fingers. ‘You keep those cheap ones in your pocket?’

‘I have a portable printer on me, can’t reproduce high-tech medical resources. We’re stuck with the classics.’

‘Uh-uh. Is that what you had to get?’ I place the patch over my wound.

‘No.’ He picks up pace out of nowhere.

‘Hey! Slow down, Ratchet.’ I almost trip.

‘Don’t call me after a cartoon.’ His voice is monotone. I mean, it kind of always is.

I sigh. ‘Fastest feline in the atmosphere, what’s wrong with that?’

‘What did you have to get anyways?’ I skip into the alleyway. The secret entrance differs from the secret exit apparently.

It’s dark outside. Night dark. The neon lights lit everything, it’s a whole aesthetic we’re walking in and through.

He halts and takes a look at our surroundings. He checks the street and says ‘It’s clear.’

He’s not answering me, is he?

I scoff. My muscles feel sore as I step into the street. He grips at my hand and I quickly break free. ‘What are you do -?’

‘You have no cover. Where’s the wig?’ This man gives me a serious, edgy look while asking about a wig.

‘Hated it, got rid of it.’ I bite, my tone full of irritation.

He huffs.

‘Here.’ Once again, he pulls out something from behind him just like a magician would.

‘It’s a cloak.’ In his palm, he has a small device. The kind you insert in or around your ear, it seems.

‘A cloak?’

He turns it on with one click. ‘Put it on.’

I grumble when I plug it in my left ear. A sudden sound comes out of it but nothing more. ‘I feel no different.’

‘Do you see them? The purple lines.’

‘Um.’ My eyes twitch. There are holograms surrounding me.

They look like fireflies racing around me. ‘Sure.’

‘This will keep you out of sight until we reach the ship. When I ask you to speak, you will speak so I know you didn’t wonder too far.’

‘Wait...is this an invisibility cloak?!’

He nods.

I breathe a greedy laugh. ‘Now we’re talking.’ I admire my arms for no real reason.

This is cool. He got me here. ‘You can’t see me.’

He shakes his head. ‘Don’t get any ideas. It’s on battery.’

‘I wasn’t about to run off the second I asked, I’m not that desperate. ...You really can’t see me?’ His intense stare sends a chill down my spine. ‘Sure looks like you can.’

‘I can sense you. Keep within proximity, kid.’

That’s right. He’s a mutant.

We are heading back to the ship. Both our mouths are shut. All the way back!

The only sounds that keep me from going insane are the people partying. The clubs are open and gangs openly gather on the streets. One freak even glances our way.

He stares at Angel a lot.

Once we pass them, Angel tells me:

‘Pick up the pace.’

I scoff. ‘Fine.’

We basically jog our way back.

Once we reach the building, like, on instinct, my hand goes to my left ear. I’m about to unmask but then Shitty Angel stops me.

‘Keep it on longer. Be quiet.’

‘I didn’t speak once - what do you mean?’ I protest and follow him inside.

‘Sh.’ Echoes inside the walls.

I pull my nose and eyebrows. Oh - ho! ...I’m ready to throw a fit.

I’ve endured you enough, shitty Angel. My lips move but batshit comes out.

‘Well, would you look at that - The Dove themself.’ A voice begins.

I look around crazily but I can’t find its source.

‘It is you, isn’t it, Dove? The symbol of the rebellion.’

Angel is looking up, above our masked ship.

‘The one who carries the nametags of dead army soldiers.’

Angel tenses up, closing one of his fists.

‘Isn’t that sick?’ The voice laughs.

Footsteps come from the entrance. There are cyborgs blocking the exit and now a dude is twirling down on his round hoverboard.

It’s...the creep from before. Of. Freaking. Course.

He looks like an expired pretty boy doll.

‘Too late to hide it, I know the chain is still under that collar, Dove.’ He smiles. ‘Oh, what were you thinking coming back alone?’

Does he know these guys?

‘Who may you be ~’ Angel growls.

Holy stats, that’s menacing.

What do I do? Do I just go for the ship? Or would that be a bad idea?

Do they know I’m here too? Wait, no, they don’t. I don’t think so.

‘Cheap bounty hunters.’ Angel’s shoulders relax and his head turns to the side.

The people blocking the exit reach for their weapons.

I feel Angel’s intense stare again. ‘Leave.’ He raises his chin slightly.

Up? I see stairs on the side.

Do I really just -? I tiptoe my way closer to it.

‘Leave?! It is not that simple. Dear Dove, now you’re forcing our hand. Alright then, let’s have fun, shall we?’ The creep snaps his fingers.

The rest draw their guns. I run. I am out of here!

I climb the stairway. It’s hard to since it’s pretty old apparently. It’s crooked or something?!

Laser Shots. Colorful lights clear my way higher and higher. They get dim.

I hear screams but they’re hazy. Can’t tell who’s who. I mostly hear my breathing.

My face is getting humid from all this rushing. I finally see a door. That must lead to the roof!

I almost trip but I recover and reach for the handle. The sounds creep from behind putting pressure down my spine, lighting my feet. No!

I slam the roof door and catch my breath against it. I slide down, trying to breath normally.

Will shitty Angel also -? I sigh. Ugh.

I slam my foot down and get myself up. The clock’s still on and intact.

My ear is starting to hurt though. This new found headache ain’t helping with all this crap either. I huff.

‘I’m done for.’ A wheeze flies outta me.

I stumble to the edge of the roof. It’s high.

The view is pretty at least. All these buildings drowned in colors and lively music. You can hear the booming tracks from here.

‘Haah.’ I plant my hands on the sides of my head. ‘Ngh.’

What in the stars do I do? There’s nothing to climb down on. There’s half a pipe but the end is still too high off the ground.

Can’t jump that....

WHOA!

A light whooshes past me. The trail of a hiveboard someone is riding past and above me. They’re moving around the building like a mosquito.

I watch them circle this area.

They have...wings? Those don’t look like hands. But if that’s the case, why the hiveboard?

I step a bit into the center of the roof, to follow their movements. Please, leave soon.

They slide down their board, zooming down the building. Phew! They’re gone for now.

Let’s see if there’s anything besides that pipe- ‘AH!’ I fall on my back.

I snap my eyes open to the stranger. They’re sitting on the hiveboard, looming above me.

‘Heh, scared you a bit there, didn’t I?’

I crawl backwards. I need to get up. The plug is on the ground and I’m out of cover

‘Don’t worry, kid, I won’t do anything. I’m not with the Lucis I saw come around this corner.’

Those are, in fact, wings they’re letting hang.

‘For real. I’m Camillo and I’m seventeen.’ They open then wave their palms. ‘See? Trustworthy.’

They smile. ‘He/Him by the way.’ They...He adds.

‘What do you want?’ I muster a cliche sentence. ‘What’s your deal then?’

‘I was just passing the Nero Highway when I spotted them following you and your dad.’

‘That’s not my dad!!’ I screech.

Who the shit does this crap think they are?!

‘Sorry! Shouldn’t have assumed.’

‘How did you even see that?’ I hiss.

‘What?’ His hiveboard slides closer to me.

‘That you saw us. You weren’t supposed -’

‘Well, I didn’t exactly see you but your movement. Cloaks can only do so much but when you look hard enough you can see that posters on the ground have a sudden, obvious pressure on them. Also, I caught your scent.’ His irises become thinner.

‘You’re a mutant.’ I note.

He happily nods.

‘You’re with that guy though, right? Do you want me to check on him?’

I...don’t...My head slowly shakes.

‘He’s probably -’

‘Probably.’ He repeats after me.

‘Well, do you want friendly-neighborhood Camillo to get you out of here?’ He asks me.

‘Because trusting you wouldn’t be stinky in the slightest, huh?’

‘Do you have anything to lose, bud?’ He’s a bit sarcastic with his tone but he’s right.

‘Not really.’ I fix my backpack, pulling it tight. ‘Why are you helping me?’

‘Outsiders are often ostracized around here. We have trust issues with about anybody. Especially since the rebellion hadn’t come around with their stupid promise, if you ask me.’ He explains.

‘Promise?’

‘They would help mutants out. The society used to care but not anymore. We’re minding our own. Fuck the Rebellion. Fuck lame W.P.A, you know?’

‘So?’ I insist.

This guy hasn’t answered me yet.

‘I still kinda do. Care, I mean. At least for the younger bunch.’

‘Honorable.’ I grumble in my meanest tone.

‘You asked, bud!’ He shrugs. ‘Now?’

‘...Sure. Get me down.’

I place my legs where he suggests. Hiveboards wobble a load more than hoverboards.

‘It’s okay, just hold onto me.’

I pout, glaring at him but listen and hold onto the side of his wings. Uncomfortably bony shoulders.

The air is strong when he turns, leads higher then suddenly drops. We are practically sliding onto air. There’s some filling my nose and it’s terrible.

The air is so polluted here. More than the norm.

We’re down, a few steps away from the entrance.

‘Right here? Or do you want me to drop you somewhere else?’

I don’t really answer his question. I’m staring at the entrance door. My mind’s a little fuzzy with me not being able to decide what I want to do.

‘You wanna make sure?’ He asks me

Make sure shitty Angel didn’t make it? I shouldn’t be interested but this heaviness keeps growing and shrinking in my chest. Is like I’ve got gum stuck between my lungs or something.

‘I can check, if you want.’ Camillo offers.

‘No, thanks...I’ll be right back.’ I jump off the board.

It’s stupidly silent in there. I don’t think either of them guys did make it alive. This isn’t a good idea but it’ll be worse to wonder if my gut is right so gotta confirm it.

I’m so slow getting closer to the half-open gate. I’m...I’m just gonna take a peek.

I shift to the side to catch the view through the gates. Just one quick peek. It doesn’t have to mean anything.

Whatever I see, it’s nothing much.

My body freezes. I say that, but...there’s over five people knocked on the floor. Blood is sprayed all around them and into my view slides him.

His wings are out, rising and falling slowly. There’s blood on his hands and some on his hair. His disguise is gone and the shitty angel is standing there, in the middle of....corpses.

Without second thought, I’m rushing back to Camillo. His eyes widen when I jump back on.

‘Whoa - what is it?’

‘Go!’

‘O-okay.’

‘Now!’

A shift comes from inside.

‘Now!’ I shake him.

Camillo scoffs but takes off anyway. ‘You alright?!’

His voice distorts into the current.

He’s - ! He just killed them!

‘Hey?’

The hiveboard’s nose tilts north.

‘No!’ I mumble.

‘Keep it low. He will see us, he can fly!’ I quickly tell him and point to the alleyways.

‘Alright, but who are you talking about?’ He keeps the board steady while I keep shaking.

It makes sense but it doesn’t! Why did he have to kill them?

Shit, shit, shit! What did the creep say?

Carrying dead people’s names?

Multiple lights come and go. Camillo takes multiple turns. ‘Where should I drop you?!’

My head snaps to the sky. Nothing. Yet.

‘Somewhere -’ I gulp. ‘...as far away as possible.’

My backpack feels heavier than ever. I think I’m gonna barf, my head is ...ugh!

Just my luck!! A Pledge killer!

What’s next?!

My view goes blank. I blink, a headache hitting me as if a space ship has just crashed into me. My view becomes more clear.

I’m on the ground.

Camillo is here too. He’s pissed. ‘My board!’

He begins crawling out of view. I slowly stand.

‘Spotted the brats. The red one was the one following the Lucyns.’

A buff man is standing in front of us. He’s ugly and all in cheap metal armor. He’s talking to a device, and at his hip is strapped...a big gun.

End me now.

I watch Camillo try hard to put back together his board. My brain finally snaps out of the initial shock and now I’m frantically looking for a weapon, an exit, anything.

‘Don’t get agitated, little ones. There’s nowhere to go.’ He laughs and it’s the ugliest thing I’ve heard.

He’s right. He pushed us into a corner somehow.

There’s nothing in the ground! Not even a sharp piece. In this place full of broken bottles!!

GREAT!

What would you get to do with one anyways? He’s huge and he holds a gun of the same size.

‘Argh..’ I breathe.

Abi...I’m sorry.

‘Alright then. Sorry, tiny ones. It turns out we have no need of you. My mistake, really.’

I want to scream.

I hear a click. Camillo is mumbling some bullshit still putting his board together.

I’m...This time - I’m really done.

I get ready for the blow, shot, whatever...I count the seconds, stopping myself from paying attention to the sounds. I don’t wanna know.

I count to five but then I hear a blaring sound and something heavy follows it. Then, a thud.

My eyes snap open again, now to the man lies, knocked on the ground. And standing between me and that bugger is none other than Shitty Angel.

His glare falls in my direction. He suddenly moves and my head follows. He grabs Camillo.

‘Hey!’ Camillo protests.

He throws Camillo down next to me, and puts himself in front of us. A sharp cling thunders.

A shot. There’s a sniper on top of the wall.

Dust gets into my eyes and I cough. Shitty Angel is now at the snipers level. In a few seconds, he grabs the barrel of the gun then kicks them hard in the face.

They fall out of view. He lands.

Camillo crawls close to me. ‘Who are you?’

Angel’s arm - prosthetic, has a hole in it. His wings are shaking while he’s slightly hunched forward. His left wing moves out of the way and his face shows...worry.

19:16

‘Here,’ Shitty Angel hands Camillo his board.

‘It’s…fully restored. Thanks.’ He admires it.

The ship feels even weirder this time.

‘Take this.’ Now, he hands Camillo a chip. ‘Ra’ and Yves can offer you comfort.’

‘Who are they?’

‘Part of the rebellion. Decided to settle here but had to keep it low. Counter Activity slowed down the help process, if you get what I mean.’ Shitty Angel explains.

‘Y-yeah.’ Camillo looks at me. ‘It was nice meeting you.’ He nods.

I nod in return, not really being bothered.

And just like that he’s gone off on his board.

Shitty Angel wobbles a bit, makes his way down the hall. Slowly, I go after him. He sits in front of the control panel, on a chair that wasn’t there before.

He rests his head over it. His wings look like they are breathing.

There is a corset around his waist and a coverage on his arm, where he was shot.

I shake myself. I’ll shut myself in the guest room. Probably never come out.

‘Hey,’ His husky groan makes me jump.

I watch him squirm. ‘You okay?’

That…I can’t really answer. I hum. ‘Yeah.’

‘Good.’ He’s still now. ‘Tomorrow will be busy.’

My feet come one after another. I go into the room I slept in last cycle. …I’m back here.

My breath shakes. It’s a sharp exhale.

My back falls against something cold. Vision is getting blurry. My eyelids are on fire.

I’ve cried for how many times now?

I can’t…I can’t really breathe, nor stop.

I’m the biggest moron in this system.

Can’t do nothin’ right. Heh…such a loser.

I struggle to unzip the backpack. Checking my play-tablet, my attention stays on the date.

It’s…

My reflection faintly shifts in the wall. Shape struggling against the gloss. I watch him.

Tears are falling down your face. It’s been two days already? Apparently.

Today’s JaqueLantern, Noel, the spookiest day of the whole Term.

Happy birthday.

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