《Mutation》


 The Wheels of Fate

    "Amy!"


    My boss''s deep, gruff voice interrupted my routine process of scanning and bagging groceries.


    "This is your last day" he stated plainly "you''re fired." His voice never once changed it''s tone.


    "W-What" I forced out with a stutter, he was...firing me? He couldn''t just do that, I didn''t do anything wrong. I did not deserve...this.


    "You can collect your check for the week after your shift" he continued. The barely perceptible upwards curve of his mouth told me that he took joy in my distress.


    I despised him, and I''m sure he hated me as well because not a single shred of kindness could be found in his tone. The fact that he said this all if stating the weather told me he did not care, and no matter how much I cried or begged he still would not. He did not care that this was my last option. He did not care that no other establishment would accept a fifteen year old high school dropout, especially in a city like this.


    In response, I gave a slight hollow nod of my head and continued my routine process of scanning and bagging of groceries. Attempting to cease a creeping feeling of odd emptiness from polluting my psyche


    But it was only till I was sitting inside my boss''s office, holding a measly check for thirty five dollars that the gravity of the situation truly set in. I was being fired. Cut off from my last and only means survival. Completely out of options.


    The cheapest residencies in this god forsaken city are run down and gang infested. So utterly loathsome that even the "local government" refuses to acknowledge their existence. Cheap enough for even my low salary to afford.


    But not anymore.


    "Couldn''t you reconsider?" I stated, my voice sounded as if it were coming through a twisted up straw


    "Sorry," he began from behind his desk. "but we found someone who would work for even less than you." he spoke patronizingly as if he were mocking me for the crime of being less than him.


    For a few seconds I sat there in contemplation, was I willing to doom my replacement to the same circumstances as mine? Mere seconds of thought was all it took to come to a conclusion. My innate will to survive winning out over any tiny grains of compassion that I still had left.


    "Then I''ll work for even less." My feigned confidence was given away by the trembling of my shoulders and the grinding of my teeth.


    His lips curved upwards into a wicked, almost sinister smirk. "I barely managed to keep you hidden during the last ''government'' checks," he said coldly, disdain dripping from each and every word. "This new employee is legal, and far less likely to ''go off the rails'' than an adolescent orphan like you."


    I had no chance to begin with. This "new employee" accepted less pay, was legal to employ, and far less likely to become a criminal than me. It was lost  cause to begin with.


    "P-Please" I said, my voice taking on an edge of pleading. "This is my last option, you can''t jus-


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    "I can and I will," His voice was condescendingly nonchalant. "This is my work place and I can do what I want. Now get out of my office."


    I stood up, and hurriedly left the room. Quickly wiping the beginning of tears from the corner of my eyes. It would not do to break down, at least not here. Not now.


    I had no one at my workplace to say goodbye to. Not just because only the truly desperate dared to work nightshift, but because I never bothered to communicate with anyone here. Knowing that almost anyone there was hopeless enough to risk working at a time when the gangs are most active is a serious hamper to any sort of ''friendly'' relationships.


    So I left. Quickly, and seamlessly.


    As I walked down the street towards my run down apartment, I pondered on what it would be like if my life was better than it was now. If I actually finished high school and my parents never died. If I was psychic. The thought of such things brought a self-deprecating  smile to my face. If I was a psychic my life wouldn''t be so...painful.


    "Hey!" A harsh voice broke me out of my contemplation


    Looking around, I realized that I wandered into a dimly lit area. The shadowy zone between two street lamps.


    A big mistake.


    "Hey!" The voice repeated, this time louder. "Turn around and hand over your money bitch!"


    I turned around and faced the speaker. He was dressed in a dirtied plain t-shirt with roughly tattered jeans. His face thin and sickly, eyes unfocused and wild. He was either on drugs or insane. Neither of which who likes to be denied.


    But it was the blue-handled switch blade clutched in his twitching right hand that told me my life was truly at risk.


    "O-Ok" I said, a chill ran down my neck to the base of my back.


    I let out a shuddering breath as I reached into my jacket''s inner pocket to retrieve my check, knowing full well he wouldn''t be able cash it. But it was the only ''money'' I could give him. A single month''s rent didn''t matter. I don''t want to die.


    He flinched at my sudden movement, then suddenly lunged forward,  swinging his knife wildly. He moved like a threatened animal.


    I jumped back quickly, but not fast enough to escape. The knife gashed my right eye causing me to momentarily shout in panicked alarm. But I had no time for pain I had to run.


    I turned and ran, bursting into an uncoordinated sprint. But he was faster.


    A heavy impact slammed into me from behind, causing me to fall face first into the ground. I tried to pick myself up with my hands, but he was already onto me. I felt something sharp dig into my neck, but I didn''t have time to process it. My thoughts grew sluggish and my body grew heavier.  I began wonder if I was going to die. I didn''t...want to...die. Not...here. Not...now. Not...without...doing... Anything with ...my life.........


    I awoke suspended in a vast expanse of darkness

 Advent of Change

    It was the echoing sound of metal clashing against metal as I attempted to move my limbs that fully woke me up from an almost drunken state of disorientation.


    I blinked lethargically as my vision slowly grew into focus. The sight that stretched out before me was darkness; darkness of the kind that I have never seen before. Even in my dark room on the darkest of nights, there was some modicum of light coming from somewhere. But here, it seemed to be completely empty. Void of even the smallest source of illumination. It scared me. It filled my very being with a sense of forthcoming dread. I needed to move, to escape, to get away from this all-consuming blackness.


    But my struggle for movement was to no avail. My arms were completely locked into place. Movement rewarded me with nothing more than the echoing sound of clashing metal. Metal.... the realization brought me out of a fear induced panic attack. There was something else here. I turned my head and scoured my arm for the source of the clanging metal noise. It was a metal clasp, wrapped around my wrist and connected to a chain that extended upwards. Seemingly connected to nothing, stretching endlessly until it faded into the darkness.


    The fact that I could see something, anything, brought me hope. Even if it was just my body and a chained clasp. Sight means light, and light gives way for a chance of escape. Now all I have to do now is find out where it is coming fro-


    A blinding all encompassing white light interrupted my musings.


    I awoke with a gasp, and sleepily used my hand to block out the yellow rays from the sun that rested in the blue...sky. The hazy feeling associated with the my recent memories told me that the darkness and the chains were but a mere dream. But it felt nothing like one. It felt...real.


    "HEY!" An aged voice called out. "Get off the side walk you lazy bum!"


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    The voice knocked me out of my contemplation. Standing over me was a man who appeared to be in his mid-forty''s. His wrinkled face and sunken eyes spoke of years of work and stress. His strained and gravely voice detailed a life of constant speaking, most likely in an authoritative position. Details that I usually wouldn''t notice stood out exclusively. Odd.


    "Sorry," my voice sounded sluggish and drowsy, as if I was about to drop from exhaustion.


    I stood up, grabbing a nearby street lamp for support. Stumbling on nothing in a disoriented stupor. The man rushed forward with a unimpressed grunt, forcing me to hold on to the lamp tighter to keep my balance as he brushed passed.


    The sight of my surroundings send me into a daze, it brought back memories. Memories that came back in gradual fragments. Running, panting, knives, and death. I.......died here. Was that a dream as well? No, it couldn''t be. It was far to vivid to be a dream. Far to realistic to be fake. How am I even alive? Was I laying there...for the entire night? Did no one even think to help?


    I didn''t matter, I had to get home. To my apartment. But as I stumbled along the sidewalk, brushing past people as I staggered forward. It wasn''t the poorly hidden grimaces of disgust that caught my attention, it was their eyes.


    Their stares were penetrating. I could see the silent judgment lurking behind their eyes as they looked upon my predicament; my appearance must be a mess. I could tell that they were glad that it wasn''t them here, dazed and confused. I didn''t want to be looked upon like I was the scum of the earth. I didn''t want to be the subject of their sharp glares. I didn''t want to be here. I wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else. Somewhere that is not here. Anywhere.


    The surrounding space twisted and warped, and then suddenly, as if responding to my wishes; I was somewhere else.