Storms of the Sky

this is normal - II

TW: d..th, bl..d, ab.se, phys.cal ab.se, mental health, swearing 

--Briar--

Listen, I as much as the next person love these types of things. Oh good, we get more undeniable mental illness that goes ignored until the person goes absolutely batshit and half-kills the love of their life by accident because of miscommunication? Yeah, lay it on me.

Even my favorite songs are about heartbreak. I seem to be good at it. For instance, I surround myself in heartbreak and expect to be loved? Doesn't make sense, right? Yeah, I think that too.

But let's get this out of the way. I'm not a bad person. I don't think anyway. I mean I might be, but I've had more people I trust tell me I'm good. But that was long ago. Like long long ago.

I think it was my mom who told me that last. Oh god it was long ago. But I'm trying to hold onto that. Because I want to live up to what she thought I could. Though I'm pretty sure she would hate who I am now.

Back on track, this entire situation is making me go batshit. Firstly, let me say where I am.

Hiding in an alley.

This is normal. Don't worry. It's part of my job, which is why my mom would hate me currently.

I work for the Government, which is what I say when creeps come up to me in the Solar Market. But really, I work for the Queen's secret, I don't know what would you call it, scientist? Biologist? Mythmen? Who the fuck cares? Anyway, I work for them.

More or less I'm like an intern except if I leave, I get killed so. Fun, right?

I snap back to the cool bricks of the wall. Footsteps near me. I grasp my scratchy burlap bag tighter. It's heavy over my shoulders, which is excellent for my part.

The footsteps recede. My eyes skirt the road. Hardly anyone is out at this time of morning. I think it's four A.M. Just some merchants and drunk people from the East District. Strangely enough they're all the way up in the North of Maylea, by the Palace.

I wonder if someone will get them. Ha! I hope they raid the castle. That would be funny.

I push off my feet and sprint towards the palace.

Tall dark stone, moss-covered pillars and add the flame-lanterns. This place haunts my days and dreams.

I push open the door as fast as I can without it creaking.

Tip: when sneaking around try to imagine all your weight in your feet and none on the floor.

I step over a crack as I close the door. This one is in the back of the palace, hidden from everyone and everything. Only a single lantern covers the entrance. The door is hefty. Luckily, I kept it unlocked before I went out last night. Otherwise, I'd be screwed.

The lock is fingerprint required. I don't have that privilege.

I run as quietly as I can down the hall and stairway until I reach the lab.

That's right! We get the basement. I stop before I open the door.

Breath in. Breath out. I'm a good person.

I step inside. Hadron doesn't look up at me. He's sitting on the other side of the maze of tables. His starch white gloves are soaked in blood.

I bite my cheek to keep my tears in. I never can get used to it.

I put the burlap sack on the table.

"I'm back," I say, pushing my voice down. Hardon hums at me. He looks back lazily. I look away as my eyes catch his glove. I try not to look at the specimen.

"You brought me nothing but animals again, if I guess?" He grumbles. His voice is rough as corn husks at harvest. I twist my lips.

Hardon is technically my boss. You know this is starting to sound like organized crime.

He's sort of tall. About six feet but not quite. He has cool brown skin and close-cropped hair and round gray eyes. His dark circles always make him look like he has blackeyes. His teeth are stained from excessive coffee.

He's the closest thing I have to a friend.

"I couldn't find any good specimens," I whisper. Hadron's chair squeaks. I rip my head up, eyes wide. My eyes catch the specimen before Hadron's furious face. I squeeze my hand.

Hadron stares at me as he rips open the bag and throws out dead squirrels and mice. He twists his lips.

"I hope you know, Briar, that if you didn't sometimes prove you're worth the air you breathe, I would have dissected you long ago," Hadron says, looking down at the limp body of a squirrel in his hand. He scowls. "Now with the Brown-Eyed gone I have no apprentice and Roux is going to have my neck. And guess what? I got a perfect escape."

Hadron looks up at me, throwing the squirrel on the ground. I wince as I hear a crack.

"Hey look at me," He mutters. "You know you're the escape, right? Full-grown we hardly ever get. Be glad I picked you up and saw that potential instead of killing you right there and then, got it?"

I look to the side. At the bag.

"AGH!" My hand follows Hadrons. My face stings. He kicks my shin before turning around again. I swallow a whine as my hand comes back bloody.

Not my blood though, not yet anyways. It's from that specimen. I brought her back yesterday. And I hate myself for it.

A girl no more than thirteen.