| They were flying above her, hovering, waiting. She couldn't move, she couldn't scream. Her breath came in short gasps, shallower every second. She could hear the people laughing at her torment, the awful, howling, cackle. She saw a huddled pile in the corner, saw a man approach the child , a knife in his hand, his face shadowed by the falling sun. He knelt down and wrapped his arms around the pitiful thing, as if in a hug. She wanted to shout, to tell the child to run, but could not force the words from her parched lips. All fell dark, a terrified and pained cry pierced the silence, slowly vanishing to a choking, gurgling sound. The nightmare ended and Exira was back in her room. Her crying clown poster hung on the wall, her skates lay against the closet, her backpack stuffed under her dresser and a pile of unfinished homework strewn across her desk. She sat up in her chair and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Backpack. Homework. School. What time was it? She suddenly realized the screech of her alarm clock accusing her of oversleeping yet again. When would these nightmares end, what did they mean? Her thoughts echoed in the quiet of her room. She finished tying her hair up and sent her alarm clock careening into the wall with a flick of her wrist. Taking caution not to wake up the rest of her family, she slipped on her skates and sped toward school. She fled past an empty schoolyard, past gray fences and black streets, dreary puddles and dark streetlamps. She let her skates glide her through the whole monotonous scene without so much as flinching at the all too real meaninglessness of it all. This was her life. Everyday, she completed tasks that seemed pointless to her without question, without thought. Years seemed muddled into one time, as if everything just happened for no reason other than to keep the world going. Actually, that didn't seem very far from the mark. Things just happened. That was...all? Exira skidded to a stop at the west entrance of her high school. Nishna circled around, giggling and making ignorant noises. To the right of her, hidden by the shadows of a corner, stood Battery. His red-transparent glasses covered most of his face, descending down past his cheeks in an upside-down "V". "Virus will be here soon." he stated flatly. She crinkled her nose in disgust at the mention of the Blood's leader. ''Ooh, Nishna giggled, Bloods verses Blades? Sounds fun! Too bad they won't get a chance to see us take their territory after we BEAT THEM TO A BLOODY PULP!'' She cackled a bloodcurdling laugh, then vanished into the shadows as an ominous male figure approached. His hair was spiked and dyed blood red, and he wore an expensive set of shaded goggles to keep the glare out of his eyes when he would skate. His T-shirt was green with a strange yellow symbol upon it, and beneath that was a red long-sleeved shirt, with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. His gray jeans barely fell to his ankles, revealing bright yellow skates emblazoned with the same symbol that rested on his shirt. ''Virus.'' said Battery in a condescending tone. ''Battery.'' The boy said in the same derisive way. They stared intently at each other for what seemed like hours. ''Enough! Nishna screeched, ending in a cackle that chilled the opposing gangster to his bones. You tell us what you want, or you leave!'' He turned around to see the eccentric girl standing only a few feet away, no longer hidden from the dim morning light. She had fluffy pigtails that resembled pink cottonballs, or cotton candy, or cotton-something. Her dress was short and colored in a shade of pink only slightly darker than her hair. Another girl stood off to the side, with red hair up in two ponytails and wearing what looked to be a black bra with red fishnet hanging halfway to her stomach. Her shorts were cut to be a ridiculously small, like a pair of red underpants. Her legs, covered by frayed red knee-highs, were strong and muscled, showing her to be just as competent in her skating as Virus ever would be. A pair of gray skates proved his theory, for the wheels were worn and battered. |