Fan Fiction ❯ The Child's Blood ❯ The Beginning ( Chapter 1 )

The Beginning

They all closed their doors to me. They locked them with heavy iron keys and chains made of steel. They closed and barred all the windows and left me there to die. And I did the same to them. I locked all the doors and windows. I hid behind my eyelids. I curled up into my mind and let them watch as I did not fall, I did not stop or falter. For, the truth be told, I was never really there.

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I looked up the sky: a clear blue that stretched as far as the eye can see.

`What do you think?'

`Be quiet. Focus.' that was all she told me. I did her bidding and looked down across the narrow bridge.

`Do you really think this will work?' I inquired.

`Yes'

I walked forward to the edge of the cliff, letting the bridge stretch out before me, and placed one small foot onto the wooden bridge. I braced myself for the impact a moment before it came. Then, from about two hundred yards behind me, the ground exploded. As the dust began to settle, I relaxed, moving my arms back to my sides and my head upright and took another step. Sirens were whirling in the distance, coming closer.

`Ignore them,' she told me. `They cannot hurt you.' And I listed to her. Another step, then another, I was half way across the bridge when the cars pulled up. One of the men got out of the car and shouted something to me. I wasn't listening. He couldn't hurt me. I turned to face the ocean, so that the man to the left of me. He started to run across the bridge. I took the knife that was strapped to the small of my back. It was about 7 inches long and was positioned so that the handle was down and the tip of the sheath was just below my bra-strap. I placed the knife under one of the ropes which held the bridge upright and with a quick upwards motion, cut the rope in two. Immediately the bridge began to fall apart. I smiled as I spread my arms out beside me, and heard her words. `You were never really there,' and I leaned forward.

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"I'm out at 3:15," I said to the diver of the red, Ford Angier and stepped out of the car. I looked very different to the kids who were piling into school. I stood, 5"7 with a knee length black skirt, black a purple striped tights, a dark purple spaghetti-strap top which laced up the back, black eyeliner, eye shadow and dark purple-gold lipstick. A pair of black lace-up boots completed my ensemble, matching the raven hair which was braided back and fell to my ass. The people in front of my kept looking over their shoulders and there were two boys laughing behind me. I took no notice, this had happened far to often for me to be worried about. Entering into a new school, when it is your thirteenth and your only halfway though grade ten, gets boring after a while. I looked at the time table that the school had sent to my foster mother. `Math' first followed by `P.E.' Well bugger that. `English' I just might be bothered to do, so that meant that school would last from noon until 2:30. Not a bad start. I went into the school, registered as a new student, then left for the café about 3 blocks away.

I arrived for my period of Hell at 1:00 and took a seat at the back. 30 seconds later. the rest of the class filled in. More funny looks. I took it in, and so did return this glances with a sadistic smile and scowl to those who's wondering eyes would linger. Finally the teacher came in. He was a tall man, of Asian origin and looked around the class.

"I see we have a new student." I hate it when they say that. Next step I have to come up to the from and introduce my self, say a little about me, why I got kicked out last time, and what I want to accomplish this year/term.

"Why don't you come up to here and tell us a little about yourself." Damn! Here we go again. I got up and walked to the front of the class. Turing to face them I let my eyes wonder off every curios face staring openly at me.

"Hello" I began, having nothing better to say. "My name is Kalina. Kali is fine. This is my thirteenth school. Thank you." That was all the information I was willing to give out about myself. The teacher smiled a little hesitantly.

"Thank you, Kali. I am Mr. Andrews. Welcome to your new school." He said and held out his hand. I looked at it for a moment, then turned and returned to me seat, my eyes shooting daggers to anyone who was unfortunate enough as to so much as look at me.

"Well," Mr. Andrew's continued, "We will be starting a new topic today, can anyone tell me what it is?" He was looking very shaken now. Good.

Some pipsqueak in the first row raised a hand. "Life, and other philosophical elements." She said in an equally squeaky voice.

I inwardly groaned and slumped back in my seat. Five minutes into my first class of the year and I was bored out of my mind. Right, English was off my `classes to attend' list. I picked up my time table to see if I could be bothered to even come in tomorrow. Nope. Wednesday? Well, I haven't done chemistry in about six months, maybe I could make the lab explode. I chuckled to myself.

When the bell rang I couldn't have been more happier. The thing about this school is the way everyone seems to like it. Even worst, they even seem to like life! Janice, my step mother, pulled up outside the school in the same beat up car as she had done this morning.

"It was fine." I said as I got in, before she said the motherly cliché, "How was school?" I hated her. My father had come home about a year earlier and said, "Hi, this is my new girlfriend. Be nice." I had looked up briefly, then returning to the privacy of my crypt. But ever since Dave and her got married, she's been all motherly to me and it is sickening. Dave was my biological father, they I never called him "Dad." He didn't deserve it. My mom had left about ten years ago and die shortly after. Not that I cared. I hardly knew the drunken drug-aholic that was in my life for five and a half years. I hardly even saw her. When she wasn't at work or in a drunken stupor, which was hardly ever, she was a quite person and spent all her time on the computer. I guess that's where I got my natural familiarity and interest with technology from. But my mother never had any time for me.

But now that Janice was my new `mother,' I stayed shut up in my crypt. It wasn't really a crypt, only a basement, but since my mother and brother left, it has been mine. I redecorated it and everything, even with a padlock so as to keep the adults out. It was renamed `the crypt,' as it is a basement and is so cold, and it has everything that I might need in it: computer with fast internet connection (yay!), bed, fridge, bathroom. As I said, everything.

Janice knew how I felt, I think. I never really hid it from her, nor did I do what she did: put on a fake smile and pretend, however briefly, that we lived as a "happy family." Everyday when I returned from school, I would retreat to the crypt. Tonight, perhaps, I might go online, perhaps talk to the only people who I had managed to become friends with: people like me. Dave, my father, may have wondered what I was up to, spending sometimes over 48 hours at a time in my tomb. Not for very long however, Janice would say something like, "she's having a hard time with all this. Our relationship is affecting her in ways we can't imagine. She's been yours for so long and isn't used to having another woman in the house." Then they would go into their room, very probably to have sex. They had been doing that all summer and now, to make things even worse, Janice was pregnant. Stupid woman. She just had to show up and suck up to me by being in a continual sickly motherly state. As if she could every be my mother. Over the summer I, myself, had not gotten much. I slept mostly. It was the only way to get away from them. I lost a lot of weight then, almost 30 pounds.

When I wasn't sleeping, I was working. I wrote poems and short stories in a local newspaper that neither Dave nor Janice ever bought. That's how I got to know people like me. Two other writers in this newspaper were Villain and Chaos. Their real names were Adamar and Raven. Adamar (Villain) was a 22 year old African man who worked in an art gallery in the center of town. Raven (Chaos) was a 16 year old Goth/punk who worked as a crime-scene photographer for the national newspaper. She loved the blood. We had met at several intervals over the summer; attending parties or just hanging out in Villain's apartment; he was the only one of us who had left home. The school started and Dave made me go back to school. Bastered. If he wanted to go to school so badly he should have gone himself. I haven't seen Villain or Crow since mid August and now its September. I talked to them online; thank God for my computer and internet. I would be really fucked if I didn't have it.

Down in the crypt a grabbed an apple out of my fridge and lay on my bed, munching quietly. I have ten more months of this shitty school. `Well bugger this' I thought `I'm not going and woe to them if they try to make me.' I lay down on my bed and closed my eyes. I had nothing better to do. I slowly drifted into sleep, letting my mind wonder out of my and into the world known as reality.

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I closed my eyes and reopened them. The picture in front of me was still there. She had long black hair and bright blue eyes. Both of which stood out against her pale white dress and even paler skin. She was smiling slightly, as if in a trance. She sat with her knees bunched up by her chest the middle of a four lain road, just over the yellow line which split the road in two. Not a hundred yards from her were the cars. Some of them revved their engines but none of them moved. Then, the lights changed. Four lanes of traffic sped forward, she was looking straight at them, watching them come. From the sidewalk, were I stood, I called to her. I have never seen this woman before but I felt some bond, some connection to her and knew that I could not let her die. I cried out to her. Get out of the way. Run! She could not or would not hear me. Then the cars were there, speeding passed. I lost sight of her in the mass of colour that was the cars and exhaust fumes. I looked away. Terrified of what I might see when the fumes cleared. The roar of noise, which had filled my ears when the cars began to move, lessened as the cars moved away. I cautiously look up to were the woman had been, who would, by now, by nothing more then a bloodied pulp, mangled and demented by her mechanical murderers. A hair had fallen loose of my braid and across my face, so that it blocked my vision for a moment. Through the hair I could see the woman smiling at me. She let out a childlike laugh, I brushed the stray hair away from my face, and she was gone.