《The Sebastianverse Anthology: Shorts, Sides, and Drabbles》 Becoming: Act I (Angel) It started with the cravings. It was funny, actually. I suddenly had the urge to consume immense amounts of dairy. Cheeses I previously couldn¡¯t stand the smell of I ate like I was starving. And yogurt was a delicacy. Then came the protein cravings. I ate so much meat that my family went vegetarian out of worry. I replaced those meats with nuts and beans. If it had protein, I was eating it. Everyone figured it was just a weird thing for a growth spurt. I suppose it was a kind of growth spurt, but it wasn¡¯t because I was getting taller. I was in school when the first incident happened. I was in the middle of a math exam that I was failing miserably. I leaned back to crack my back, because being curled over a paper is less than comfortable. The next thing I know I¡¯m on the floor with the sound of my classmates screaming and the concerned face of my teacher hovering over me. They took me to the hospital. I was tested over and over again. Nothing showed up. No tumors, no brain issues, nothing. I was perfectly healthy. I was so healthy they were confused. Everyone has some bump or scratch or something, but I was perfectly fine. The second time it happened, I was asleep. I fell out of bed, screaming. I hurt. Like the worst muscle spasm you ever had, but it was concentrated to the entire length of your spine. But the sounds were somehow the worst part. Pop, pop, pop. My vertebrae jolting then locking then jolting out of place again. I was aware of my spinal cord, felt it being stretched and stretched. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. This time I didn¡¯t seize. I was awake for all 15 minutes of that absolute hell. When I went to the doctors this time, something new appeared on the X-rays. My spine had managed to twist itself in a way that meant I shouldn¡¯t be alive. But I was. And aside from that and the trauma of that quarter hour of pain, my body was a perfect specimen of health. My parents consented to the hospital to keep me under observation. Nothing happened for a week, and then it happened again. This time it was longer and it hurt more. It felt like someone was pulling my spine apart. I could hear it cracking and shifting. They had to knock me out to keep me from writhing, but I still remember feeling the pain even while I was asleep. When I came to, I was looking at confused doctors and my horrified parents, all staring at a screen from my latest scans. They had taken images from the day before the incident, as they did everyday. There hadn¡¯t been any change. The pictures from afterwards, however, were drastically different. My spine looked like it had been redesigned. New vertebrae had formed in my spine, along with tiny bones that leached into my ribs, looking like support beams. But the big thing were the two new sets of bones that appeared between my shoulder blades and my spine. Two bones locked into a joint on either side, with slim filaments of cartilage sprouting from them.
They started to grow steadily after that. No more spasms, no more sudden bouts of pain. Now it was a constant, dull agony. As the days went by, the scans showed the masses were starting to get bigger. In turn, the skin on my back started to bruise, then pale when they pressed up against my skin, making my skin go taut and painfully itchy. They told me not to scratch it, that I would just inflame everything, as if my back being inflamed was the worst of my problems when I had two ¡°masses¡± ready to burst out of my body. At one point, the itching annoyed the doctors enough to handcuff me. They didn¡¯t want me to contaminate their experiment. I don¡¯t think they realized how desperate I was. I went into a bathroom and dragged my back against an edge, until I was bleeding everywhere. I didn¡¯t care, I just needed the itching to stop. They were banging on the doors, demanding I unlock it for them, then calling security to break it down. Too late. My skin and muscle finally gave way and the new bones and sinew attached to the masses fell out of me in an ungraceful mess of blood and other bodily stuff. They found me on the floor crying with the two lumps of meat and bone splayed out behind me, attached to my back. Becoming: Act II (Sin) At some point, I finally lose my mind. I''m so tired. I try to kill myself. I do everything I can think of. And my body betrays me and puts itself back together again. The doors burst open. They must¡¯ve heard me. ¡°You¡¯re going to hurt yourself!¡± The guards grab me, and I see a doctor flicking a needle. ¡°No! Let go of me!¡± I can barely see through the tears. ¡°Let me go!¡± The doctor approaches me. ¡°No! Get away!¡± My voice breaks and all of a sudden the lights flick on. ¡°What the fuck?¡± Someone yells. I struggle harder, and the lights flicker brighter. ¡°Let! Me! Go!¡± Stop touching me, let go, let me go, I want to go, make it all go away-- Fingers are digging into my brittle bones as the lights start to strobe. I grit my teeth and scream. Make them burn. The lights shatter and all of a sudden I can¡¯t see anymore, all there is is white. But I can hear them. A sizzling sound. Screams. I smell hot blood. It all goes dark a moment later. I can¡¯t see, my pupils dilating to try and adapt to the darkness. When I can see again, I want to throw up. I do. The guard and the doctors lie on the floor, their skin charred, and white¡­ something... dribbling out of where their eyes should be. I crumple to the floor, staring at it all. More people rush in. I don¡¯t hear them. I don¡¯t struggle when someone pushes a needle into my forearm. All I can see is the corpses and their eyes.
People take me away after that. It was their right too, apparently. My parents signed away their parenthood months ago. I''m an experiment now. I hope they¡¯re happy. They throw me into a padded room with no lights. On good days, I get the mittens. On bad ones, I¡¯m in a straight jacket. Good days are when I participate willingly in the experiments where they need my cooperation. Not all of the experiments need that. They can cut me open at will, see that my bones are hollow, steal my blood, and then by the end of the day everything inside me is put back together. They keep me in darkness all the time except for the experiments. My room has no windows and no cracks for light to seep through. When they fetch me, they black everything out and wear night vision goggles. The only time I see light is when they put me in a bright experiment room. Every time, my formerly blind eyes feel like screaming orbs of pain. I¡¯m starting to dislike the light. The darkness is lonely and maddening, but at least it doesn''t hurt me. Besides, in the dark I can think of things to accompany me. In the light, everything is far to clear.
Use your light to break this glass. Ok. Use your light to melt this metal beam. Ok. Use it to kill this chicken. What? Do you want the straight jacket? No. I¡¯m sorry, chicken. Kill this prisoner. What? No! Why not? He¡¯s a person. He¡¯s a prisoner of war. I don¡¯t care! Fine then. Shoot him. Wait! BANG BANG! Lock her up. No wait please-- Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Again and again and again. Day after day after day.
¡°Hello?¡± I look up at the sound. There are floating colors in the darkness. ¡°I know someone is in here with us.¡± ¡°Who--¡± 12 circles appear suddenly in the darkness. I gasp, shutting my eyes, expecting the sharp pain of the light. Nothing. I squint one eye open. No pain from the light emanating from the circles. Not circles. Eyes. All in different colors. ¡°Who are you?¡± I ask the eyes. I feel that I should be crawling up the walls, screaming for help because there are strangers in my prison. But I don¡¯t. ¡°Not who. What.¡± A pair of eyes, a dark purple, come closer to me and interrupts my thoughts. ¡°And we should be asking you that. You are the one who gives us our forms.¡± The voice is smooth, dark, and sounds like the finest of music to my ears. It makes my muscles relax, almost against my will. ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡± ¡°Of course not, you¡¯re hanging onto the human definition of sanity like it¡¯s the last thing you have.¡± He, I think it¡¯s a he, based on his voice, pauses. ¡°Oh, it is the last thing you have, isn¡¯t it? And you¡¯re not doing a great job of keeping it.¡± His voice is making it hard to think. ¡°Why are you here?¡± ¡°You made us.¡± ¡°No I didn¡¯t.¡± ¡°Ah, but you¡¯ve forgotten. Your mind is no longer intact.¡± ¡°So I¡¯m crazy, then?¡± I¡¯m not exactly surprised, but it still stung to hear it from someone out of my subconscious, apparently. ¡°In the human sense, yes.¡± Human sense? Like they are something else? Well, I suppose they are something else. But what about me? Oh right. I¡¯m not human anymore. ¡°What is your name, not-human child?¡± Purple eyes asks me, pulling me out of the whirlpool of despair I swirl down whenever I re-realize my species status. ¡°My name?¡± I had one of those, didn¡¯t I? When my parents still loved me. When I was more than the growths on my back. ¡°I¡­ I can¡¯t remember. I¡¯m not sure.¡± ¡°Oh? That¡¯s no good.¡± There¡¯s a shuffle of sound, and the eyes get closer to me once again before they dip. I feel warmth and something solid to my side. ¡°We need to call you something.¡± ¡°The people outside call me Subject.¡± ¡°That¡¯s no name.¡± ¡°I know. But that¡¯s all I have.¡± ¡°No it¡¯s not. You have your wings.¡± My lip curls and I look away from his eyes, all the eyes, and into a corner. With a rustle of sound, the one with green eyes comes forward and drags their hands down the edge of my right growth. I yank it away with a hiss of sound. ¡°Maybe we¡¯ll call you Angel.¡± Green eyes says. ¡°No!¡± The word is torn from my throat. ¡°I¡¯m not an angel. I¡¯m the farthest thing from an angel anyone can be.¡± ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Purple is silent for a while. ¡°Then I¡¯ll call you Sin.¡±
¡°You still haven¡¯t answered my question.¡± I say, staring up at what I¡¯m assuming is the ceiling, but I can¡¯t be sure because of the darkness. The six others are lying in a circle around me, enclosing me in a circle of warmth. They¡¯re a comfort, even though I can still only see their eyes, each pair a different color. ¡°What are you guys?¡± Purple shifts beside me, looks down at me. ¡°Sins, of course.¡± ¡°Sins?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± His gaze shifts away from me. ¡°Why don¡¯t we introduce ourselves? I am Lust.¡± The one with orange eyes sits up. ¡°I am called Gluttony.¡± One with lemon yellow eyes is next. ¡°Greed.¡± Someone with pale, pale blue eyes speaks up next. ¡°Sloth.¡± Next, emerald green eyes. ¡°I am Envy.¡± And finally, molten silver eyes. ¡°The sin of Pride.¡± It was odd. Aside from Lust, all of their voices seemed to constantly shift. It was impossible to tell their gender, the cadence of their tone, nothing. ¡°Interesting.¡± I say. I don¡¯t know how to respond to this. ¡°That¡¯s all you have to say?¡± Lust laughs. It¡¯s a very nice laugh. Husky. Sweet. ¡°Aren¡¯t you curious as to what we can do?¡± ¡°You can do stuff?¡± ¡°Obviously.¡± ¡°Oh. Well, you don¡¯t have to tell me if you don¡¯t want to.¡± I still don¡¯t know how to respond to this kind of thing. Lust is right, I¡¯ve well and truly gone mad to think of this stuff. He tsks at me. ¡°Oh this won¡¯t do at all. Where is your backbone?¡± Warm fingers tilt my chin up to his purple gaze. ¡°One does not grow wings, does not summon us, without a fire in their souls. You want something.¡± I can¡¯t keep up with his gaze, and my eyes flick away from him. ¡°You are mistaken.¡± ¡°Bullshit.¡± His voice allows no dissent. ¡°Regardless of anything and everything that has happened to you, you still want." "Uh--" ¡°I am Lust. When someone looks at me, I appear to them as the person they want the most. The person they would do anything to possess. Everything about me, my looks, my smell, my voice, all of it is tailored specifically to whoever looks at me. To you. But you don¡¯t beg for me or my touch? That means that you want, you need, something else. Something that none of us can offer because you aren¡¯t going insane for us.¡± ¡°I don''t want it. I don''t want you.¡± ¡°But you want something.¡± His hands grip my shoulders, shake me a bit. ¡°What do you want?¡± ¡°Nothing.¡± ¡°Lies!¡± The door bursts open as Lust shouts. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± the guard says. ¡°No.¡± I want to stay with them. With Lust. They¡¯re safe. They don¡¯t hurt me. The darkness doesn¡¯t hurt me. ¡°Grab her.¡± ¡°No!¡± I shriek as they tear me away from Lust. ¡°No, I want to stay here!¡± ¡°Crazy bitch.¡± ¡°Lust!¡± I cry out. ¡°Please!¡± ¡°What do you want?¡± Is all I can hear him say as they drag me out and slam the door, trapping the sins inside.
They keep me in the light room, the experiment room. Every day I don¡¯t kill the person they want, they keep me in there for another day. Week? Month? I don¡¯t know anymore. I want Lust. I want the sins. They make me feel safe. ¡°Kill this prisoner.¡± ¡°Please let me go back.¡± I whisper. ¡°Let me go back.¡± ¡°You can go back when you kill this prisoner.¡± I look at the man in front of me, bound and gagged. He looks at me. My growths. I think he¡¯s praying. To who? To me? ¡°Kill this prisoner.¡± I don¡¯t want to. ¡°Kill this prisoner.¡± Bang bang? Kill him. Kill him. KILL HIM! I want something. Everything is a blinding white for a second. And then it¡¯s all black. Becoming: Act III (Wrath) I can see. My eyes don¡¯t hurt. Lights are out in the experiment room, but the light is not gone, not like in my room. Small pieces of it fade in from other places in the building. Everyone is burned to a crisp. ¡°Sorry.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be.¡± I turn my head to the new source of sound. Gluttony, their orange eyes glowing in the shadows approaches me. Their form isn¡¯t much of a form. It¡¯s a vacuum, like a section of space shaped into a human, except for their eyes. They notice me staring at them. An orange curve appears on where their face is supposed to be. ¡°So you''re one of us now.¡± ¡°One of-- what does that mean?¡± Their shadowed form bubbles, seems to become more solid. Now I see a solid outline of someone. Stick thin arms and legs, spindly torso. ¡°Think about it.¡± A long, bony finger taps their head-shape. ¡°You¡¯ve long since been something human. You¡¯ve rejected your body, your angel-ness, I guess.¡± Their voice transitions, becomes deeper, more male. ¡°We call you Sin, but you weren¡¯t quite there yet. But now?¡± He gestures to the carnage, a cracked skull starting to phase in underneath the shadows. ¡°You burned people alive! I¡¯d say you¡¯ve made it all the way there.¡± I open my mouth to respond, but then alarms go off, and I hear people running. ¡°We have to contain the subject!¡± If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. A strange sound comes out of me, along with want. ¡°Go.¡± Gluttony¡¯s eyes bore into me. ¡°I think you¡¯ve figured out what you wanted. Lust will be so pleased.¡± My body turns on it¡¯s own. It feels like it¡¯s possessed by something other than me, but it feels so right. I follow the sounds of the people who hurt me. They¡¯re coming towards me, trying to find me. I want to be found. I¡¯ll do what they ordered me to do. ¡°There!¡± I turn around, my growths, no, my wings, brushing the floor. I smile at them. I pull the faint light from all the resources around me. I let the bloodlust take over. The hallway goes white and then back to normal. I sway then fall to the floor, exhausted but exhilarated. I start to laugh as euphoria fills me. There¡¯s blood everywhere. That hot, tangy scent surrounds me and makes me feel high. I hear footsteps and look up, ready to fight again. I stare into beautiful purple eyes. The form I gave Lust is from a dream I didn¡¯t know I had. Hair that looked so much like gold it could probably cut, perfectly tanned skin, and those eyes. So beautiful. ¡°H-hi.¡± I squeak out. He drops in front of me and smiles, so brilliant I could faint. He wraps his arms around me and I breathe him in and close my eyes. I feel like I¡¯m at home. I feel like I¡¯m loved. ¡°Look at you! My angel, my sin, my wrath." He tugs me and starts to run, a huge smile on his face. Before my eyes, wings like mine sprout behind him. "Come on, we need to teach you how to fly!" Fever: Day 1 Thor awakens to a headache. With a groan, he rolls out of bed, then nearly stumbles as the blood readjusts itself, black spots clouding his vision. He stood there for a good two minutes, feeling his tongue tingle in a not unpleasant way, but not exactly healthy. He finally feels steady enough to not fall down the stairs, and he walks out of the bedroom and downstairs. Sean is in the kitchen/dining room area, the wonderful smell of grease and bacon and butter filling the air. ¡°Hey Thor. You¡¯re up early.¡± Thor groans in response, plopping down on a wooden chair and letting his head fall to the table. The movement makes the pain in his head do¡­ something. Moving but not. Ow. A plate is placed in front of him, and Thor feels sudden rejuvenation in the face of bacon. ¡°You alright?¡± Sean looks down on him curiously. ¡°Mm, my head hurts.¡± Thor chews on buttered toast with half of his usual eagerness in the face of Jack¡¯s food. ¡°I¡¯m probably just dehydrated or something.¡± Sean presses his hand to Thor¡¯s forehead. ¡°Ooh, you¡¯re kinda warm.¡± He frowns. ¡°Maybe you have that bug going around. We should stay home today.¡± ¡°No¨C¡± Thor starts. ¡°I¡¯m serious, you should stay at home, I¡¯ll take a day off to¨C¡± ¡°Can we really afford a day off?¡± Thor mumbles. Sean sighs. ¡°You don¡¯t have to worry about the¨C¡± ¡°Stop treating me like a baby.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not¨C¡± ¡°Yes, you are. I can help.¡± ¡°Oi.¡± Sean¡¯s hand meets the table in not quite a slap, but a warning. ¡°You¡¯re 13. You don¡¯t have to worry about the bullshit.¡± ¡°But¨C¡± ¡°You¡¯re not winning this.¡± Sean grins. ¡°I¡¯m the adult here.¡± Thor sighs. They¡¯ve had this argument over and over and Thor never won, and this time Thor felt too weird to actually do anything about it. ¡°Fine. But go to work.¡± Sean opens his mouth but Thor cuts him off ¡°I¡¯m fine, it¡¯s probably just a head cold, I¡¯m 13, I know how to call 911 in the severely unlikely event that something happens, you have work. You missed two days, remember? I probably just had what you had.¡± Sean¡¯s jaw works before he finally says ¡°ok. But call me if anything happens, ok?¡± ¡°Yeah yeah.¡± ¡°Seriously, I don¡¯t trust emergency services not to be diverted elsewhere.¡± ¡°You work for emergency services.¡± ¡°Yeah, and that gives me firsthand experience. There¡¯s not enough resources to go around and too many problems.¡± Thor grabs a glass of orange juice and snorts into it. ¡°That¡¯s the Emergency fuckin¡¯ Task Force for ya.¡± He slurps it up. ¡°Can¡¯t bear all those resources to go to places with us regular people around.¡± ¡°Thor?¡± ¡°Am I wrong?¡± ¡°They¡¯re still dealing with fallout from the Sins.¡± ¡°Yeah, from like a century ago.¡± Thor snickers bitterly as memories from history class play out in his mind. Seven teenagers, that¡¯s what they were, not monsters or anything, just kids who had been dealt a bad hand in life. Blood-splattered and staring into the camera. Some of those eyes were alight in glee at the carnage they had wrought, others looked dead, as if nothing could hurt them anymore, not even their own murderous tendencies. ¡°They ended a war.¡± Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°Because they were the common enemy.¡± ¡°Yeah, I passed history, I know.¡± Thor leans back in his chair. ¡°Whatever. I¡¯ll call you if something goes wrong with emergency services.¡± ¡°Yeah ok.¡± Sean rushes to the door, patting Thor absently on the head. He turns to a picture framed on the wall. ¡°Bye mom, bye dad.¡± He says to their parents in the picture. ¡°Bye Thor!¡± ¡°Bye!¡± Thor calls back, already grabbing his phone and scrolling through the internet.
Thor awakens for the second time that day on the couch. He doesn¡¯t even remember falling asleep here. He tries to sit up and gasps as the world spins. His eyes flit from wall to wall, trying to figure out what the hell was happening. ¡°Uh¡­¡± his mouth is dry. He should get water. Hydration is good, Jack always says. Always drink water when in doubt. Nurse¡¯s orders. He stands and immediately hugs the wall like a starfish as the room sways in the weirdest rhythm. It¡¯s like¡­ in time with his heartbeat. It takes a whole five minutes to get from the living room to the kitchen sink, something that should really only take five seconds. He fumbles with the cabinet, opens it, and squints at the cups inside. He has to be very careful. If he breaks another glass Jack was going to tear him a new asshole. Slowly, slowly, he wraps his fingers around the glass, and hisses at the temperature. It¡¯s so cold. Was it in the freezer or something? Or maybe Thor was just really hot. Oh, wow, yeah, he was really hot. He was burning alive. Water is a really great idea. He takes the cup and sways to the sink, gripping the faucet handle harder than necessary and turning it. Water poured out and he became distracted for a moment before realizing he had to put the cup under the water in order to get the water in the cup so he can drink the water from the cup. He does just that. The cool water is such a relief to his burning skin when drops bounce out of the cup and onto it. He removes the cup and puts it to his lips, sipping it. His tongue feels like cotton but he¡¯s just realized that swallowing takes a whole lot of effort. Bur Sean said he should drink water, and Sean was a nurse, so he should probably do what he said. So Thor slowly drinks the water. Verrrrry slowly. It takes, like, ten minutes. He sets the cup down, braces his hands on the edge of the sink, and lets his head hang. His head feels really heavy. He lasts all of thirty seconds before he¡¯s vomiting water and then bacon and eggs into the sink. Ah, he thinks, maybe it¡¯s time to call the hospital. Oh fuck, but his phone is all the way back in the living room. Fuckity-fuck-fuck. ¡°Mmm no.¡± He says aloud. ¡°I¡¯m not doing that.¡± Instead he plops to the floor, then lies down flat on his back. The tile is so beautifully cold. It¡¯s sooooo nice. His eyes roll back.
¡°...n, Thor, THOR, Jesus Christ THOR wake UP!¡± The third time Thor wakes up today is rather unpleasant. His brain is playing a heavy metal song in his cranium with speakers at max volume. ¡°..t¡¯fuuuuu,¡± he says elegantly. ¡°Thor? Thor, are you awake?¡± Oh, it was Sean. God, his brother was an asshole, couldn¡¯t he see that Thor was taking a nap? ¡°Hi?¡± He mumbles. ¡°Thor, Jesus Christ, why didn¡¯t you call me?¡± ¡°¡®M mean, was tak¡¯n nap.¡± He didn¡¯t think his sleep habits were any of his brother''s business. ¡°Yeah, on the fucking kitchen floor!¡± Mmmm, that didn¡¯t sound right. With great effort, he turned his head. Hey, what¡¯d you know, he was on the kitchen floor. ¡°Hm,¡± he says. ¡°That¡¯s not right.¡± ¡°No.¡± Does Sean sound a touch hysterical? ¡°No, it¡¯s not.¡± Sean reaches for him, probably to prop him up, and Thor hisses, pulling the taken arm away. ¡°Hot. Too hot.¡± ¡°I¡¯m too hot?¡± Sean¡¯s hand hovers just above Thor¡¯s forehead. ¡°Holy fuck how are you still alive?¡± Well that didn¡¯t sound too good. Sean sits back on his heels, pushing violently red hair back. ¡°Ok. Ok. Jesus.¡± He stands up and Thor doesn¡¯t bother to look, his head suddenly just way too full. He hears the rustle of cloth and the kitchen sink running. ¡°Come on.¡± There¡¯s something cool against Thor¡¯s skin and a soft sound leaves his mouth. His eyes crack open again. Jack has a cold, wet towel wrapped around Thor¡¯s arm, so Jack can hold him up. ¡°Come on, upstairs.¡± ¡°Hnnngh.¡± Thor allows himself to be dragged upstairs. At some point he tries to help his brother and attempts to walk normally, but his legs refuse to work properly. Finally they make it upstairs to the bathroom. Sean topples Thor into the bath without giving Thor an accidental concussion, then starts the water. It¡¯s so pleasantly cold, but then Sean turns the heat dial and Thor grits his teeth. ¡°No. This is fine. I¡¯m fine.¡± ¡°You are so far from fine it should be illegal.¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t¡­¡± make any sense but now Thor was out of energy. His eyes roll again back as Sean yells at him to wake up. Fever: Day 2 This time when Thor wakes up it¡¯s to find himself shivering violently. Sweat is glistening over his skin, the evaporation making him even colder. ¡°O-oh g-g-god,¡± he chatters, clambering over his bed, when did he get to his bed, to the edge and looking down on the floor, where he had kicked off his blankets. He grabs at it desperately, stopping only in the way-too-arduous task when his stomach roils painfully. He gags. Nothing came out but a glob of saliva, but his stomach cramped over and over again. By the end of the painful spell, Thor is shuddering in effort on top of the shivering, and he feels so drained. Every unconscious movement hurts. It makes him wince all over again, only that movement hurts, and the cycle continues. He doesn¡¯t have the strength to bring the blanket up to his bed so he rolls, landing with a cut off, pained yelp in the blankets, before wrapping himself up as tight as he can in the blankets. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. There are footsteps, thudding up the stairs rapidly. Thor¡¯s door bursts open. Thor squints at the shape. Why were his eyes so blurry? The only reason he could recognize his brother was because of the blob of impossible red that was Sean¡¯s hair. ¡°Shh, shh.¡± Sean comes down to his knees in front of Thor. ¡°I¡¯m here, I¡¯m here, you don¡¯t need to cry.¡± Thor was crying? Why the hell was he crying? He was sure he would notice the wracking sobs¨C Oh. That was happening. Goddamn, no wonder why he was in so much pain, says the one part of his brain that seems to have held on to sanity. Sean manages to gather up Thor, holding Thor close and rocking slightly. Thor hasn¡¯t sought out this kind of hug since¡­ he was nine, at least. It¡¯s nice, actually. Thor wishes that they did this before Thor felt like death itself. ¡°Oh God, am I dying?¡± The words are barely a rasp of air over his lips, chapped and burning. His body curls tighter into Sean. ¡°I don¡¯t wanna die.¡± Sean stills, his grip tightening. ¡°You¡¯re not going to die.¡± The words are fierce. ¡°You will not die. Do you hear me? You¡¯re not going to die.¡± ¡°Ok.¡± Thor burrows in deeper to the warmth. Fever: Day 3 He¡¯s hot again. He¡¯s so hot. He¡¯s burningburningburning. This, he thinks, must be hell.
You know the rules and so do I (do I) A full commitment''s what I''m thinking of You wouldn''t get this from any other guy Gotta make you understand Never gonna let you down Never gonna run around and desert you Never gonna make you cry Never gonna say goodbye Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you Your heart''s been aching, but you''re too shy to say it (say it) Inside, we both know what''s been going on (going on) We know the game and we''re gonna play it Don''t tell me you''re too blind to see The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.Never gonna let you down Never gonna run around and desert you Never gonna make you cry Never gonna say goodbye Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you Never gonna let you down Never gonna run around and desert you Never gonna make you cry Never gonna say goodbye Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you Your heart''s been aching, but you''re too shy to say it (to say it) Inside, we both know what''s been going on (going on) We know the game and we''re gonna play it Gotta make you understand Never gonna let you down Never gonna run around and desert you Never gonna make you cry Never gonna say goodbye Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you Never gonna let you down Never gonna run around and desert you Never gonna make you cry Never gonna say goodbye Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you Never gonna let you down Never gonna run around and desert you Never gonna make you cry Never gonna say goodbye Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you Fever: Day 5... probably Apparently, the only thing worse than being delirious is being aware that you¡¯re delirious. Because then you understand oh I¡¯ve gone off the fucking rails and then can¡¯t do anything about it and its an overall sucky situation. Oh, and Thor knows he¡¯s delirious because he can feel his fucking organs. He can feel the ebb and flow of blood. No, it¡¯s not like he can feel the rushing in his ears or feel the thud-thud-thud of an overworked heart. No. If he curled his hand into a tube and placed it into a stream, feeling the current running through the circle of his fingers, that is what he feels right now. Except his fingers in this situation are in fact his veins and the stream is his blood. The worst part is it doesn¡¯t hurt, it¡¯s just really, really discomforting. But you know what does hurt? Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. His organs fucking failing. Now, usually with organ failure, one passes out, according to Sean, for medical reasons blah blah pain and concentrating energy and there¡¯s a reason why he failed so epically in both health and biology. So sue him he wasn¡¯t a goddamn science person and was squeamish about how squishy and moist the human body was, ok? So that¡¯s how he knows he¡¯s gone off the deep end. Because he cannot be aware of organ failure. That and the occasional hallucination of ducks. Seriously, why ducks? Couldn¡¯t it be like, he didn¡¯t know, dragons? He pukes again. And passes out. He¡¯s out cold when Sean comes rushing back from his bathroom break to see traces of scarlet in the vomit. Fever: Day... something Sean¡¯s little brother had jumped from a headache to early, high-grade fever in a matter of days. Thor was barely hanging on. It was a miracle he was alive as it was, a fever of this temperature should¡¯ve killed him. This virus had killed. It was so, so rare and so, so new. Constantly evolving. Different for each person. There had been a constant stream of announcements to all medical personnel in the ETF. How a virus that did not spread but simply appeared was picking off victims one by one. And then, they stopped. And all the messages were deleted save one, new message. False alarm. Do not discuss this further. The ETF wasn¡¯t exactly a good thing. It was incredibly bureaucratic, only acknowledging things that they knew they could solve. To make a good story. But they never left its members in the dark. It was illogical. They needed a constant stream of information, hoping for that next Cinderella story that made them heroes. So then what the fuck was this? A sharp sound made Sean look down at his phone, now cracked from his grip strength. He stared, not quite taking everything in. He was tired. It had been at least a week since Thor¡¯s body decided to go to war with itself. From the Fever. Capital F. The ETF and the higher government might want to keep this quiet, but the public was never something that could be silenced. Especially not now, with the internet integrated in the latest generations. He had been barely sleeping. Part of him recognized the scattered, jagged thoughts. The fact that he was staring at nothing as Thor heaved ragged breaths. Dissociation, both from shock and sleep deprivation. And grief. Because his brother was going to be taken from him one way or the other. Because Fever kills almost everyone. And everyone who doesn¡¯t disappears. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. It¡¯s not hard to figure out what¡¯s happening. Right when the messages went down in the thread, a new one started, demanding that all patients in hospitals with ¡°discolorations¡± be given to the government for specialized quarantine. He stared at the crack in his screen. There was no way he had the grip for this kind of thing. And he didn¡¯t have any adrenaline left in his system to aid his strength. How odd. Thor¡¯s breathing stuttered for a beat too long and Sean¡¯s head shot up. Thor¡¯s eyes were moving frantically underneath the fine skin of his eyelids, purpled from strain. Sean staggered upright, dropping his phone and rushing over to his brother. Thor¡¯s skin was draining of color, becoming so white it was nearly transparent. Sean watched in horror as the veins of his brother¡¯s wrist bulged and pulsed against the skin. What the fuck was this? Sean¡¯s fingers brushed in morbid curiosity against the swollen veins, feeling his gorge rise as he felt the weak, speeding blood flow. This¡­ he had no idea what this was. He didn¡¯t know what to do. Thor¡¯s breaths restarted, but now they were wet and he was half-choking. Sean shook his head, demanding himself to get back into it, just another minute, Thor needed him, concentrate goddammit. He braced his hand against Thor¡¯s back, forcing the younger boy to sit up. Fluid in the lungs, keep them from choking. Elevate the body. Increase airflow. Ruby red bubbles from Thor¡¯s lips, dribbles down his chin. His nose drips crimson too, steadily becoming a stream. Sean¡¯s eyes go wide, he fumbles for the sheets in an attempt to slow the bleeding. No time, too many things happening. The veins in his wrists aren¡¯t the only ones swelling. Inner elbows, the sides of Thor¡¯s neck, and Sean would bet his femorals as well, all were swollen, pulsing with blood and what the fuck was this?! There¡¯s nothing Sean can do, think of doing. Instead he watches the blood in the carotid creep up Thor¡¯s jaw, up and up, the skin under Thor¡¯s eyes swelling with fine veins and blood vessels. Suddenly, Thor goes utterly, horribly still. He doesn¡¯t fall limp in unconsciousness or death, but Sean can feel dread rising up his gullet, knows that something is so, so wrong. Then Thor¡¯s head jerks back so fast something cracks. His body starts to shake violently. His jaw oh-so slowly starts to open, as if something is prying the joints apart. His eyes fly open, and Sean sees an impossible blue where there had been brown before, and then the screaming starts. Sean starts to shake. He does not notice his own veins start to stand against his skin, or the fact his eyes glow amber. He just moves. Fever: Later All Thor can taste is iron. It floods his mouth, coats the back of his throat. Liquid runs down his cheeks but he knows it¡¯s not tears. It¡¯s too hot, too thick, dries oddly. He opens his eyes and everything is just too bright. He feels¡­ better. A little chilly. Really gross, he feels sticky and crusty and can smell himself, fucking yuck. He props himself up into a sitting position, his arms a little shaky. His head feels¡­ lighter? He brushes his hand through his¡­ nonexistent hair. He pats at his scalp, irrational tears building in his eyes. What happened? Why? He liked his hair. He was trying to grow it out like Jack¡¯s, not that he would ever tell him that¡­ This was stupid. He brought his hands down, attempting to force the tears back¡­ and stared at his hands. Blood completely covers them. Wet in some spots, flaky and near black in others. His hands go to his face, which feels exceptionally crack-y, feels dust come off his face. It flutters to his sheets in black, brown, and dark red. His movements become more and more frantic, desperately trying to scratch off all the dried blood. His skin feels too tight, the scent of iron and salt is too strong, the bitter, rotting taste of blood on his tongue enough to make his stomach cramp in an attempt to puke for the umpteenth time in less than a week. If that was even right. He doesn¡¯t know what day it was¡­ Footsteps. Thor looks up as the door creaks open. Sean walks in and Thor feels the need to throw up all over again. He looks gaunt, as if he hasn¡¯t eaten in a while, and the skin under his eyes was purpled. But the worst was the bandages over his arms, leaking crimson all over the place. But when Sean saw Thor upright and conscious, a huge smile spread over his face. ¡°Oh thank god.¡± Sean rushes over to Thor and grabs him into a hug. Thor remained stiff in his arms. ¡°W-what happened?¡± He rasps. ¡°You¡¯re ok, you¡¯re ok¡­¡± Sean repeats it like a mantra, ignoring Thor. ¡°Sean.¡± He pushes weakly at his brother. ¡°Sean, what happened?¡± Sean pushes him back so suddenly that Thor''s head spins. ¡°Not enough time. They¡¯re coming.¡± ¡°What? Who?¡± Panic is rising in his chest, and he¡­ he doesn¡¯t know how to explain it. It¡¯s like he is feeling taste and color. Thick, gray, flavorless stew that coats the back of his throat (fear, fear, panic, they¡¯re coming) and bright, snapping electric-static-mint (ready, ready, get ready, protect). His hands start to tremble and his eyes burn. ¡°Sean, there¡¯s something really wrong¨C¡± Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Someone pounds at the front door. Sean goes tighter than a violin string and slowly turns around towards the sound. For a split second, Thor swears that his pupils flicker, but everything else is flickering too, his head throbbing and his heart pumping and the distinct feeling of wrong, wrong, wrong. ¡°Stay here.¡± Each word is pronounced so sharply, so crisply, not like the easy, smiling, almost-slurring his older brother usually speaks in. ¡°Se¨C¡± ¡°Stay. Here.¡± Thor only stays still for long enough for the door to slam behind Sean before he¡¯s up and moving, stumbling all over the place. He scratches at the dried blood, black rust fluttering off of him like macabre confetti and throws on a shirt and pants from his dresser before he¡¯s thudding down the stairs and to the front door. Two men crowd the doorway. One is in a crisp suit and the other one is in black fatigues. Thor¡¯s stomach drops. ¡°Sean¨C¡± He expects Sean to yell at him, to tell him to go back to his room. Instead, his body is hunched over slightly, and when he turns back to Thor his eyes are dim. ¡°Say your goodbyes.¡± Says the guy in the suit. ¡°Goodbyes?¡± His voice is small. The picture of mom and dad stare down at the scene, and Thor remembers a similar scene from years ago, when he was still a toddler and Sean was just a kid. Sean in the doorway, crumpled over, two policemen, and an ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± from their mouths. ¡°What do you mean goodbye?¡± He steps forwards. ¡°Sean, what¡¯s happ¨C¡± ¡°Your brother needs to be taken into quarantine, he¡¯s been reported to be infected¨C¡± ¡°Infected? No, I¨C¡± ¡°Thor, don¡¯t make this harder than it needs to be.¡± Sean¡¯s voice is broken but some light is back in his eyes, one that says don¡¯t you dare. ¡°I need to go,¡± he continues, ¡°it¡¯s not safe for you.¡± (Protect, protect, pain, pain, I love you, I love you, IloveyouIloveyou¨C) The man in the fatigues snaps out a pair of handcuffs. But not normal handcuffs, Huge, silver things that took up half of Sean¡¯s forearms. And Sean just crosses his arms behind him. And lets himself be cuffed. Everything hurts. His tongue and skin feel numb with overstimulation and he wants to cry and yell and¨C He¡¯s moving before he realizes, screaming, begging them to not take his big brother away. The guy in the suit is stronger than he looks, and his arm is like an iron band against Thor¡¯s body. Sean is led away, stumbling to one of two armored, tinted-window cars on their street. The car starts and revs off, and that¡¯s the only time Thor is released. He stumbles forwards, shouting and trying to run desperately after the car. He stops when the cold air really starts to circulate through his weakened lungs, causing him to double over and cough painfully. The muffled click of fancy leather shoes on the sidewalk make him turn back to the guy in the suit as he makes his way to his car. ¡°Hey!¡± It¡¯s a raw sound, barely human. The man looks up at him (bored, annoyed, annoyed, pity), and his eyes are just a boring, shitty brown. RAge, raGe, RagE. I hAtE yOU. Y O u toOk My BroTHer A w A y. He blanks out. And then there¡¯s a dead man laying next to his car, a hand clutched to his chest and his mouth and eyes open in terrible, terrible fear. Thor pukes. Fever: Before Thor¡¯s mouth is open in that horrid scream and Sean is trying to cut himself open with a pair of scissors on Thor¡¯s desk. It should be easy. His veins are swollen, impossibly so, just like the veins around Thor¡¯s face. Sean could get a paper cut and he might wind up bleeding out. But his hands are shaking and his brother is screaming and his eyes are burning and he¡¯s afraid. Fuck it. He squeezes his eyes shut and plunges the dull blade into his arm. His nerves shriek in alarm but he¡¯s already ripping the blade out and staggering to Thor. He doesn¡¯t know why he¡¯s doing this. He just knows he has to. His body is moving with only half of his conscious thought. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. It takes a moment after leaning heavily on the bed that he realizes the color of his blood is wrong. It¡¯s red, but it¡¯s¡­ off. Darker. Glimmering, almost. He feels like he¡¯s in a trance when he takes his arm and lets that glimmering blood drip into his brother¡¯s mouth. Thor chokes but he keeps going, massaging Thor¡¯s throat to help him swallow. After a minute, Thor¡¯s hands slowly come up and grip his arm tightly, pulling the wound closer to his mouth. The veins of strain go down, and a little bit of color returns. Sean is dizzy. He doesn¡¯t know how long he¡¯s been doing this. But soon his knees buckle and he falls, tearing his arm away from Thor. Blood loss is a bitch. ¡°Sean.¡± ¡°Thor?!¡± He pushes up too quickly, and winds up falling flat on his face again. He hears the blankets swish with movement, and then Sean is looking up with one eye at impossible blue eyes glowing from within. There¡¯s a delirious, twisted, feverish smile on Thor¡¯s face. ¡°Look for the man with golden eyes.¡± He says. And then his eyes go dark. Shinigami I: Puddle It was a long time ago. The so-called Catalyst that ended the world It belonged to. ¡°The beginning of the end,¡± the God had called it. When everything started dying in earnest. Those words were the only words that were for sure spoken by the Golden-Eyed God who looked down at Its world, mouth twisted in dissatisfaction. Other entities, other things like It, all scrabbled over the rest of His words, quoting and misquoting and reinterpreting them. Because surely, surely, this God must have appeared to them with his prophecy of doom for some reason. Surely he had a purpose, surely he pitied them. The Gods were supposed to love them, or at least rely on them, or at least were entertained by them¨C Every generation that passed, the reasoning got more and more desperate. It would not care even if It had the energy to. It had been born into a world that was long since passed the beginning of the end. No, It and the scattered few lives left on this plane of existence were borne to the end of the end. It does not remember Its birth or any other kind of genesis. It simply was and It had been for Its eternity. It was nothing. An absence of light in the shape of Its people. A human-shaped shadow. All the others were just like It. They were all Its. But when this particular It approached others, in their huddles of dying misery, they all scuttled away. It did not know why until this moment in time. It was searching for sustenance. The concept of food was not something It or any of Its generation had the luxury of even knowing of, let alone experiencing. Instead, It and the others traversed over the land, looking for a little bit of world that was perhaps a little less gray then the rest, with less ash and more life. Then drained it. Every draining was unsatisfactory. Nothing eased the hunger pains, nothing gave the feeling of euphoria like taking that first bite of your favorite dish. But they were able to limp on still, surviving. It was during one of these feedings when It looked into something shiny. At first It thought that It must be looking through a hole in the planet, seeing the sky from the other side of the earth, able to see the pitch black and the very few pin pricks of white. Entranced, It got closer and then suddenly the white pin spots disappeared, replaced by two, much larger circles of something new. It reeled back, cowering. It had never seen that before. It looked up at the sky and saw the white dots were as fixed in the sky as ever. Slowly, cautiously, It approached the strange thing on the ashen ground. Once again, it looked down on it and once again, the white dots disappeared, replaced by the two different circles. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. It studied this not-sky. Slowly, It began to move, seeing if the image would change if It changed as well. It moved to the left. The new dots moved left. Same when It moved right. Slowly, It brought Its fingers up to Its face, or what would be a face if any light reflected off of It. As It moved towards the weak spots in Its face, where It saw things, the dots in the image warped, a finger shaped shadow covering the spot in the not-sky. These circles that looked like nothing It had ever seen were¡­ Its eyes. It didn¡¯t know how It knew that word, but there it was, and It was sure of Its accuracy. It dropped Its hand, looking at the not-sky with a new emotion it had never felt before - amazement. It had never seen the eyes of others before. They were all shadows, like It. Nothing there. The absence of light given a physical form. Was this why the others fled It? Because they had no idea what It was? And what was this thing that filled the circles, It wondered. It was not one of the endless shades of gray and ash. It was not the darkness of the rest of It. It was not the white spots in the sky that It would sometimes look at, weak and crumpled on the ground, finding some kind of primitive comfort while also being so very afraid of the expanse of sky and the space between It and the white. No. It was like that but¡­ not. What was the name? And the word came to It. Red. Its eyes were not gray or black or white, but red. It reached out for the not-sky, dipped in shadowy fingers, watching as Its red eyes rippled and warped. It drew It¡¯s fingers back, watched as it stuck to them, trailing down in viscous rivulets - another new word - and curled Its fingers. This thing. This sky that was not a sky. This thing that gave It the color of Its eyes. Mine. It wanted to hoard this. This thing that showed It a little bit of life. Because this realm It lived in was not life. It was one of infinite worlds where reality collapsed in on itself, unable to hold the strain of it all. It was a horrible Limbo, and death was a blessing. It laid down next to the not-sky, watching the real sky, curling Its body around the small pool of wonder, and stayed there. It looked at the white dots - stars - and slowly faded away. It had experienced the peak of it all. It had been dissatisfied with Its life as it was. Well, dissatisfied was not the right word. Everyone was dissatisfied, but this discontent smoldered in Its core, climbing and clogging Its insides. Dried It out until It felt like the ash floating in the toxic and thick air. It was¡­ angry. It had wanted out but could not die until there was no energy left for It to drain. It used to rage and scream and cry but It was a waste of energy in the end. But now, knowing that there was something beyond the endless gray and dust and fear, It was¡­ not happy, not content, but¡­ more at ease? Justified. It wished, oh how it wished, it could experience more like that discovery of red. But now that It knew that something like red existed, It knew that It had been right to want something more that It never knew was real. And It knew that was as good as Its life would ever get, no matter how much It might want to explode in a sunburst of color and pleasure and new, even if It did not know that was what It wanted. Shinigami II: Blood Time went on, and It faded away, watching the stars, glancing down at Its treasure to see Its red eyes again. As time went on, with no energy to consume, the world around It warped. It faded between consciousness and dream, unsure of which was which. Finally, after either seconds or eternities, reality seemed to stabilize. It saw a stretch of ground in pristine white, just like the stars. In the middle of it all was a being that was both like It and not. If It was a fading shadow, this thing was a fading light. Black that managed shine splayed out behind the being in long strands, skin pale but still ruddy with color compared to the white ground and stars. And around this being was a halo of red, sinking into the white. The thing looked at It, blinking slowly. Red bubbled on chapped lips as they moved. "Save... me." But It was more transfixed on the beautiful red leaking out of the being. It crawled across the plain - the white was cold, that was new. It was rather horrible, but the fact that this was a sensation made it priceless. It reached out careless fingers and brushed them against white-turned-crimson. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°W-whaaaaaAaaAt isssSSSsss th-h-iiiIsss?¡± Its voice was garbled, having not used it. "B-blood," was the response, a pained gasp. ¡°Iiiiiiiii... wAAAnt blo-o-ooooood.¡± It wanted that beautiful red, wanted to bathe in it. It looked at the thing, with it''s open wounds and gasping mouth. It laced Its fingers with the being''s, compelled by something it did not understand. ¡°WillLll yOu giii-ive m-Me B L O O D?¡± The blood was dripping out of the being''s mouth now in a steady stream, body trembling with shivers. "Please." It wanted. It craved. It lusted. It needed. It lowered Its mouth to the other being''s, right to the source of blood, tasting a starburst of color, and drank. Shinigami III: Shadow The thing in front of her, that strange solid shadow, dissolves, but Aria doesn¡¯t care because suddenly there is something else inside of her, in her veins, in her heart, in her head. She screams, back arched, fists pressed to her temples. ¡°GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!¡± The sun rises over the snowy plain she had been abandoned in, tainting the whole world scarlet. Her eyes roll back, falling unconscious. But she is still somehow awake within her mind. Awake with the shadow. They inhabit the same place, and they fight. Aria because this is her body and her mind and there is something so fundamentally wrong right now, and the shadow because it wants this body wants this life wants the vibrant r e d of life. ¡°GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!¡± The shadow wraps around her, suffocates her. ¡°You¡¯re mine! You will help me.¡± If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°No!¡± She had things to do, revenge to mete, blood to spill. At the thought, the shadow goes into another frenzy. ¡°Blood? Blood? I want blood!¡± She¡¯s drowning in the shadows. ¡°I¡¯ll give you blood. But you have to save me.¡± Her lips are moving against her will, her jaw like a puppet''s. It calms down. Aria continues, desperate and confused both. ¡°There is a whole world of people filled with blood. 8 billion people. You can have all the blood you want. But leave me alone.¡± They separate. They look at each other, blue eyes meeting blank red circles. They are silent until they are not. They swear an oath to each other. They want the same thing, but want it in different ways. They come to an agreement not knowing they will forever be at odds with each other. Thus is the birth of the Shadow of Aria Oskra. Thus is the death of Aria Oskra, the girl. Thus the story begins again, my dear Infinity. Let the game of Love and Death commence once more.