Cataclysm

3.4

(Sorry it's another 3rd person chapter)

Even though the streets were crowded around this time of day, there was no sign of Leo. Braken was terrified. What could have happened to him? He couldn't have gone far.

He shivered and pulled his hood up to cover his neck. He hoped Leo had enough sense in him to make a fire somewhere to keep from freezing. Some of the temperatures the last few days had been brutal.

Braken didn't know where to start. Leo could be anywhere by now. He tried to look down alleys without seeming suspicious, but there wasn't anyone in there except for a couple violent looking kids every once in a while. He was getting nowhere.

Just then, someone tripped and ran into him from behind, stepping on the hem of his skirt and sending them both down. "Oh, sorry, miss," the man said as they regained their balance.

Braken turned a little to attempt to tell him that he wasn't actually a girl, but as he started to sign, they locked eyes and he suddenly couldn't breathe.

The soldier frowned, searching for some recognition. It took him a moment, but then his eyes widened and he took a breath. "You -"

Braken spun on his heel and took off, flying down the street. The soldier called after him, but the blood roaring in his ears drowned out all other noise. One thought repeated over and over again. I can't go back there. I can't go back there. I can't go back there.

He ran until he couldn't breathe. Eventually, he collapsed against the convenience store wall and tried to catch his breath, but his chest felt like it was on fire, and his knees shook too badly to hold him up without support.

He needed to find a place to lay low for a while, so he stumbled into the store and to the back, where the bathrooms were located. He slipped into the men's room and rested against the wall again.

There were three others in the bathroom, all of them a little older than he was - around Leo's age. One of them looked over at him and scowled. "Hey, the girls room is over there. Get out of here."

Braken wasn't in the mood for this. He shook his head, knowing that that could mean a million things, but he was too tired to care. He started to shuffle over to one of the stalls so he could sit down in peace, but all three of them blocked his way. Move, Braken said with his hand, giving them a tired gesture.

"I don't think she can hear us," one of the older boys muttered.

I can hear you. He touched his chest, then his ear, and pointed at them.

"You can hear us, but you can't talk?" the one in the lead said, slightly amused. Braken nodded, and he continued. "Alright, dumb-ie." He chuckled at his joke, but Braken didn't get it. "Aren't you a girl? The girl's bathroom is over there."

His tone of voice told Braken than he wasn't trying to help. He was just being mean. I'm a boy, like you. He gestured to himself and the other boys.

"If you're a boy, why are you wearing that?" The third guy kicked at his skirt in disgust.

Braken sighed through his nose. This was seriously about his skirt? I like it, he signed, but none of them understood him.

"Skirts are for girls."

"You're a freak."

They all slowly moved forward, and Braken stumbled back, his gut fluttering nervously, like he'd swallowed a bunch of bugs. He didn't know what was going on. Why were they making such a big deal out of it? Sorry, he signed, pulling his shoulders in protectivly.

They backed him up against the wall, taunting him, threatening him, and mostly just scaring him. Why wouldn't they leave him alone? He tried to push past them, but they all grabbed him and slammed him against the wall. One of them brought his voice very low, and then said something Braken had never heard before. Somehow, he didn't have to know what the word meant to suddenly feel sick to his stomach. He felt all the hate in the world seep into his heart, making him feel small and worthless, like maybe he was what they said he was. And then that feeling was replaced with white hot anger, burning in his chest like an inferno. They had no idea who he was.

Immediately, fighter instinct kicked in and he threw a punch that slammed across the side of the first boy's face. All three of them were caught completely off guard as the smaller boy hit him with enough force to knock him over. They all got angry, and went to grab him, but Braken ducked under them, tripping one and kicking the other square in the face. He wasn't good for much in the real world, but if there was one thing he could do, it was fight.

Two of them managed to tackle him and pin him flat on his stomach. One of the two yanked his hoodie, and no matter how much he flailed, the older boy managed to pull it over his head. He could feel the other one pulling at his skirt, finally tugging it off of his skinny waist, and Braken could hear the threads snapping.

Stop it! You're gonna rip it!

He twisted around, getting enough grip on the ground to throw off the two holding him down. He was more than angry now. He was blinded by pure rage. He didn't know what he was doing as he lunged for the older boy tearing his skirt, but he let it happen. He kicked him in the stomach, grabbed his wrist, pulled him up to his feet, and before any of them knew what was going on, he squeezed.

The bathroom went completely silent.

Braken, a tiny boy who wore a pink skirt, stood there, breathing hard, and glared daggers at the floor, his shoulders tight and his fists clenched in fury. Slowly, the anger drained from his body and he realized what he had done. He loosened his fists and felt the black dust trickle through his fingers, joining the rest of it on the floor - the rest of what used to be a human being.

Oh no.

He quickly spun around, his eyes wide in terror, to see the other two boys matching his expression of horror. He'd just killed one of them. He was a freak, just like they said he was.

"That's Braken," one of them whispered, his voice shaking. "From the games."

Before either of them could say anything else, Braken whirled around, snatching up his hoodie and skirt, and ran from the bathroom, into the store, and out the doors into the open street, toward Refuge. He could barely see anything. Tears burned in his eyes, his throat and chest hurt, and the adrenaline rush was making him dizzy. He'd killed another person, even out side of the games, but that wasn't what scared him.

He'd enjoyed it.

He'd missed the rush killing people gave him. He'd found himself back in the games, excitement fluttering in his chest, finally having a challenge. His life had been nothing but pain, death, and loneliness, and he liked fighting. When he'd fought that guy back in the bathroom - he'd fallen into some sort of a relapse and had welcomed the instinct. What kind of monster killed someone on instinct?

He choked out a sob and pressed forward, running until he couldn't run any longer, as if he could run away from what had just happened. How could he have done this? Why had he liked it? Why did his soul crave murder?

He wanted to scream. He almost did, but caught himself just in time. What he really wanted was his best friend back. Leo would know how to help him. He always did. Even if ... Braken shuddered and brushed his fingers over the bruises on his face. Even if he was mean sometimes.

One thing was certain. He couldn't tell Joel, no matter what.