A Perfect Fallacy

Chapter 3: Meaningless Hate

LUNA

Five days before the hunt

Scrolling through her direct messages on Instagram, the sixteen-year-old Luna frowned. Everyone in her vicinity seemed to have driven away from her, distancing themselves from the young blonde, and sending her hate messages in her inbox. She silently grew despaired, seeing how she had been removed from her friends' group chat.

She scrolled down the texts, eyes watering as she read the messages:

'Go die in a ditch!'

'Nobody wants you alive, bitch! Fucking die already!'

'You're the reason why this society is polluted'

"I don't need them anyway," Luna feigned consolation, "They are the ones who have a vile mind."

Although she was endeavoring to comfort herself, she still felt the rage boiling inside her. This white fury could set the world ablaze if it dared to, for she was not someone who liked to keep mum about the injustice against her. However, she knew that she was powerless now, thanks to the new mindsets and perspectives of the developing world. And she could not do anything to help her case, because she was not the Abnormal one.

It was her mother.

Luna looked back at the woman sitting beside her, idly watching a news channel on their television. A certain crease wrinkled her forehead as she attentively watched the screen, learning about the world where the Perfects were slowly yet steadily taking over. A scar on her cheek tainted her otherwise-beautiful face; but to Luna, she could never be as beautiful.

That was her mother, Margaret Torres, the name she could never speak, for she was voiceless.

Luna watched in utter disdain as Margaret listened to the news, her lips curving into a frown, but not as deep as Luna had on hers.

She hated her mother. Margaret was perfect as a mother, Luna knew it, but because of her being mute, she was losing all her friends and the so-called reputation she had at her school. Margaret slowed her down.

Her mother was just a liability to her. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Mom!" she shrieked, overcome with frustration.

Margaret shook at her sudden tone, eyebrows raising in question.

"Can you turn the volume down already?" Luna discourteously asked, and her mother pointed at the television, motioning with her hands: "this is important!"

Luna looked at the TV, analyzing the news that the reporter was reading,

"-and the President, Mr Harold Garcia, recently announced to the press about the New Age Government's plans on expanding the Perfect Society's agenda. He elaborated the execution of the future plans for the disabled, now known as the Abnormals, while-"

She switched the television off, and Margaret stared at her, blinking at the sudden act. Aggressively, Luna began, "How fun is it for you to watch the destruction of your kind, mom? You're an Abnormal, and I'm a Perfect, but I'm stuck here with you and I can't escape! And dad doesn't even listen to me! If anything is fun for you to watch, I bet it's my downfall. Isn't that right?"

Margaret frowned, her forehead creasing as a resultant of worry and disappointment. She shook her head, standing up and walking over to her daughter. However, as soon as she approached her, gently caressing her hair, Luna swatted her hand away.

"Don't touch me!"

Troubled, Margaret sulked. She sat before her, and motioned in sign language: "did I do something wrong?"

"Funny you're asking that," Luna humorlessly chuckled, scoffing, "Actually, it's all your fault. If you hadn't been mute, I would have been with my friends right now, actually enjoying my life. But no! I'm stuck with you! And it fucking sucks!"

She abruptly rose, taking her phone and headphones along, and took off to her room. Margaret did not follow, knowing how infuriated Luna was right now. Talking to her at the moment would only prove to be emotionally hazardous.

"And," Luna turned around, spitting her final words before she went to hibernate in her room, "If you actually cared for me, you would leave me alone."

She slammed her door shut, forgetting to see that Margaret's eyes were brimming with tears.