This…thing that raged inside me was evil, I knew that much. As I slug the blood from my hands, I knew I wanted to kill twice as much as before. The sweet smell of death enticed me. I sat up on my back legs, realizing the monster I had become.
My hands tightened around my blankets before I could even get in enough air to scream, the fear that came after these dreams were more than I could handle. Tears rolled off my cheeks one after another, warming my cold, icy face. The rigid, ugly scar on my stomach pulsed, making me feel as if my intestines were being dragged across the floor. It had been ten years since I had ran away from the institute, but the memories still haunted me. I brushed my hair out of my face, growing warm and hot. I moaned; it seemed that I was getting sick, again. I leaned back into my sea of pillows and cotton when I heard the door click open, and a familiar face slid behind it.
"Another nightmare?" Sean mumbled as he flipped his hair out of his icy, green eyes, and flopping beside me on the bed. Sean was my best friend, no way around it, my only friend. He was the one who found me laying eight miles out from the institute all those years ago. He and Grandpa took me in, and raised me. He was tall, very average set for his age. His skin was a near ghostly white, considering all those years he has sat outside and played his guitar. His glowing white boy-ish smile failed as he tried to reassure me.
"Ash, I don't know what to do. I'm worried for you, but it's not like I can make these memories go away, you know?" I wiped my eyes and cuddled into his shoulder. We've always been close, to the day we met. He was like my big brother even though we were the same age. I jolted forward, unable to handle the pain.
"It hurts…" I wined, barley glancing at my scar. Tears formed in my eyes again, and I felt like throwing up. He laid me back down, mumbling about seeing a doctor.
It was two days before I was well enough to get out of bed. I woke up, still drossy from sleeping in, and looked around my room. The walls were the color of the sky. I liked to look at them when I got sick like this, and imagine flying though the clouds, or even sitting in a tree, humming a melody. I slipped out of my silky pink covers and looked in the mirror. My red eyes were disgusting. I hated everything about the way I looked. I longed to look normal, like the people on TV. I picked up my hands and stared at my long claws, and then proceeded to rub at my back, feeling the slits on my shoulders. There was no doubt in my head that I wasn't normal, and it made me sad to think about. I wasn't too street smart, and I couldn't socialize as well as I wanted. Even though I lived with Grandpa and Sean for a long time, I never talked to anyone else besides Martha, who worked at the local grocery store. There was where times I didn't know how to say what I wanted, or express sometime. It really frustrated me to no point. I got dressed and walked out my room, trying not to knock over the pots and plants on the way out.