Flight School: Prey

Glowing Shadow

Laughter was not something that he was accustomed to.

And yet, here it was—looking down at him with hardened eyes as it passed like a breath of foul air swimming in his throat.

"Scavenger."

The laughter singed his heart from within, leaving traces of the fire; burnt and black.

Someone stood in his way as he was, vainly, trying to make his way back to class as quietly as possible. How naïve he thought himself to be—to have the gall to think that a day would pass so serenely as though he was invisible. The truth was that he wasn't, however.

As much as Vaughn wished he could sometimes disappear from the face of the island, he could not, and it angered him so.

The tragedy of life was living, and so it had been since;

Since that day.

"Going somewhere?"

He tried to push past the crowd that had formed to stare.

"Are scavengers deaf?" In the midst of his attempt, a hand reached out to grab his arm—another, his hair.

For what reason did he wear it long?

He must have been so naïve.

So naïve to have thought that he was his friend—

"Leave him Ty, first years don't deserve your attention."

"Which is why, Cam, we teach them," The bald eagle tugged harder on Vaughn's hair and the latter fell to the ground without a sound.

It was strange how the heart made no sound as it broke. Vaughn had always thought that such a thing, so loud on a normal basis—beating, every second every minute—would have the strength to let, at least, a final sigh escape its lips.

But even his heart had to disappoint him.

Let him down, just like the rest of the world did, really.

There was barely time for the vulture to react as he heard the scuffling of feet and passing of shadows. His hair was in his face, and he swept the silver curtain aside—only to meet the eyes of the devil.

He paused to correct himself; for he was sure that there were many devils on the island. For all he knew, everyone was a devil. Perhaps hell was empty after all.

Ty's gaze was far too insulting and humiliating to be attributed a word for. Young Vaughn had yet to understand that this was all, in fact, reality.

Yes, that's the word.

Reality.

There was a disturbing sound, a wet secretion by his ear.

"Matches your hair," The bald eagle laughed, and there was a chorus that followed.

Something had landed on his shoulder. Vaughn looked to his right, daring his eyes to acknowledge the added humiliation.

The thing was white, gel-like, and in the middle a mixture of brown and black.

Cameron—his friend, or so he had thought he was—merely watched on.