GO

12

12

       I stretch out in class, finally finished my grade twelve English exam. I’m done school now, and I can leave in ten minutes. I feel something, a feeling, rise in my chest. This is stronger than the others. My mind suddenly grows glaringly painful. I felt this way the day Vienna left. I feel my wings bristle, and they begin to tug at the back of my hoodie. I’ve hid them since she was gone. I never felt the joy that flying gave me again, so I said screw it. I feel my hoodie tearing, and my face heats up. The boy behind me, a mutual acquaintance, taps my shoulder hesitantly. He hisses, “Your shirt is…’ I hear a muffled groan as my wings break free. I accidentally break and knock over all the people and desks around me in the tightly packed room. The rest of the people stare at me. I feel a dark, ensnaring pain in my left wrist and stare at it. My wrist is bleeding, probably from when I stood up some time ago. I feel my vision cloud and try to recall the huge, black metallic wings. Then, my brain stops functioning and I flash in and out of focus. I hear shouts and screams of shock. The teacher, or someone, is charging up to me. They grab my collar and drag me out of the room and into the hall.

   They roar like a lion, ‘What was that, Zvezda?’

    I stumble, ‘I...I...I…I’ He stares at me, then shakes his head in disgust. He pins me against the wall, breath rotten.

    He sneers, “Fail.”

   I croak in reply and he leaves me there. I melt to the floor in the hallway. Tears run down my face, head agonizing, wings wrapped around my knees, knees to my chest. I feel my world crash down around me. Tears stain my face, and I get up. I feel the spikes, and I hear screams of alarm, and I remember no one has seen my wings yet. I feel my wings fall to the floor like weights. I drag them down the hall, the metal screaming against the tiles. I have felt this way for months. Melancholy and down, my mood can’t quite rise above neutral. I leave the school, checking out with a scribble. I feel my world’s ashes under my feet and falling onto my wings. I flap the water off, tilting my wings so the rain just falls off. I see nothing but red as I storm to the house. I grip the doorknob and throw it open. I slam it behind me, catching a wing in the door. I scream as the agony fills my wing. I kick the door open and pull my wings close to me and slam the door harder. I hear someone shout in surprise and resume my battle charge. I see something in my peripheral vision, but ignore it. It’s probably a plant. Mez has been obsessed over them lately. I drift onto the couch in the derelict common room. I feel the tears fall faster, wings hanging down over the arm of the couch. I lay on my stomach, wings sprawled across the rest of the room. I cry into the couch, heart void of emotion. I hear someone gasp, “Bärchen?” I sniffle in reply. Who else around here has metal freaking wings? I look up and feel that sharp snap in my chest again. I bolt up and hold my wrist. In the heat of the moment, I forgot my wrist was bleeding. I see the blood is gone, but the scars are there. How did it heal so fast? Suddenly, more injuries appear and I try to hold the bleeding. That haunting voice, the one that haunts my sleep and my waking hours cries, “Bärchen? Bär? Is that you?” I shake my head. The blood loss is making me hallucinate. I flare my wings for balance. I remember the events like a bullet wound and I gasp in pain. I hear someone storm in the door. My name is snarled out into open air by a delirious Mez. I go to her, my wrist behind my back. The blood is warm against my feathers as I stare at Mez.

     She snarls, papers in hand and my face, “YOU COULD HAVE KILLED SOMEONE! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?” I stare in dismay and denial. I flare the wings again, blood dripping off and splattering the white foyer. I flap them to warm them up, and turn my back. Something cool enters my blood and I crash to the floor.

    I wake up in my room, wings lighted then usual. I flap them, and realize my flight feathers have been butchered. Then, I try to open them up all the way. I hear clanging and close my eyes. I jump down, half-ass gliding to the floor. I punch the window, sending an alarm over the campus. I flare my wings, that pang stronger in my chest now. I jump out the window,and remember Chan. I clench my jaw and flap my wings best I can. They’'ll pay for this. I crash into the ground, chest scraped up from the sticks of the surrounding forest. I stare at the building that has housed me for years. I flare my wings and fold them in again so they sit nicely. I trudge away, following the distinct tug. This is not something to be ignored, so capture is no option. I storm by spruce and birch trees, waiting for night to fall.