Asylum

Dream Walker

Kya Carter

I don't want to go into too much detail about what I did in the car. All you need to know is that within the next 24 hours, I should be expecting another marking of a drop of blood to burn itself into my skin. My back feels stiff, waiting for the pain to ensue. Perhaps another red drop won't imprint itself on me, after all. I mean, I didn't kill anybody, so maybe I'll be exempt from the process.

But while the burning is nearly unfathomable, I do feel as if I deserve it. I already did the thing I swore I wouldn't do ever again: use my power. Now, having used the darker side of my power – the side that murdered both my parents at the same time – I feel as if I've betrayed myself. I did what I did to help my friends, but...

I feel like there was a lot I could've done before resorting to tapping into my negative energy. What I did was based on impulse, and I'm not an impulsive person. It's as if my body wanted to expel the evil side of itself, even though my brain didn't. It's as if the darkness is itching to eat me up, inside and out.

Ren and I have taken our seats in the plane – me next to the window and him in a middle seat. And despite me being mentally distraught, I was certain of one thing: I would not be taking the middle seat. I basically had to wrestle him for the spot I got now. I originally wanted the aisle, but in the middle of the quarrel between Ren and I, someone took it. In the end Ren chalked it down to, "You're prickly and I don't like talking to you, so take this seat so I don't have to keep talking to you." When I didn't respond, he looked uneasy.

The plane takeoff was anything but smooth. It seemed like the pilot's goal was to make the plane endure as much turbulence as possible. I didn't mind it too much – a rocky beginning is expected. However, I'd have to be deaf not to hear the colorful slur of curses Ren uttered with every rock of the airplane. He housed a death grip on the armrests and his olive complexion drained white. A thin sheen of sweat formed by his hairline and he clenched his glowing eyes shut. But after that, the ride was smooth.

Ren ordered about two shots of some sort of alcohol. I took a soda.

"I feel sad," he admits, looking down at me.

I switch by gaze from the breathtaking window view and to Ren's face. "I'm sure when we get to your old house, being there with friends, or whatever we are to you, will make you feel better. Kind of like rewriting memories."

Disgusted, he wrinkles his face. "I wasn't talking about that, but thanks for the friendly reminder."

"As if being on a plane headed for Tokyo wasn't already a reminder..." I grumble under my breath. "What were you talking about, then?"

"Whatever you did in the car's been affecting me, so I'd appreciate it if you stopped being more depressing than usual." Ren's words are things he'd typically say, but I sense underlying worry in his tone. Perhaps he's only worrying for himself. That seems like a Ren thing to do.

But, what does he want me to do? Turn off my emotions? Kill my humanity? My body's energy is messed up now and my heart is gutting itself because of what I did. There's not much I can do about it. The only thing possible would be to erase all my memories, and despite how nice that would be, it's impossible.

"Wow," Ren sounds, ordering another drink. "Not even a nasty comment from you?"

"Are you complaining? It seems all you ever want me to do is shut up, anyways."

"That's not true," Ren denies, downing his clear cup in a matter of seconds. "Damn I hate flying... But really, what's bothering you?"

Halfheartedly, I shrug. I don't really want to talk about my past or what I can do with my power. "The same thing that seems to bother most of us; the past."