Too Young

Why?

Alix felt a dry, itching feeling in her throat. Her lungs burned as she gasped for air.

That's weird, she thought to herself. Her hand went to her chest.

No blood.

"What the hell is going on...?" she whispered to herself, her voice raspy.

She took a deep breath, glancing at her arms and legs. Her cuts were gone. Not even faded scars remained. Even her calloused skin was now perfectly soft. She rubbed her hands up and down her legs, looking at her surroundings. She was in some sort of wood, green grass blinded her from beneath her, the sun blocked by the trees' thick leaves. The sky was a bright blue, white fluffy clouds floating by.

A cold shiver trickled down her spine as she wrapped her arms around her thin legs. She barely recognized herself. Where was she?

The red dyed hair she knew was now her natural blonde. Her fingers were no longer bitten bloody stubs, but soft, naturally long nails.

Who was this girl she was right now? This can't be her. It's too.........clean.

Her eyes scanned her body once more, and as it did, she felt something new on her back. She craned her neck to look at it with the best of her ability, and she saw on her bare back, two black angel wings, tattooed on her back.

"Is this for real...?" she thought out loud.

As she did, she happened to see something underneath a tree. There, folded neatly, was a pair of sweatpants and a white halter top. Her tiny hands picked them up, revealing a pair of socks with a pair of white flats. She slipped on the sweatpants, before tying the halter top around her neck. She then sat on the ground and grabbed the socks, carefully slipping them on her dainty feet. Afterwards, she popped on her cute little white flats and stood up. She took a step forward, trying to walk, but stumbled and fell. She felt like a newborn baby all over again.

"I'll have to get used to this," she softly groaned.

On the other side of this unknown world, a boy, a couple years older than Alix, took in a deep first breath.

His name

was Mason.

Mason abruptly sat up, his breathing shaky and uneven. His hands immediately went to his chest, his stomach, his head, everywhere a bullet had pierced him when he had been caught in the crossfire of the gang violence.

Nothing.

Not even a scar.

In fact, he felt almost like he was newborn. He was practically naked, after all. Plus his calloused hands and feet were now smooth and soft, not a crack on them. He looked at his back, noticing two black feathered angel's wings tattooed onto the entire surface of his light brown back. His lips curled into a smile, and he laughed, realizing that he was, in fact, alive. His lazuli eyes met with the pile of clothes to his right, and he quickly yanked them on, falling over in the process.

He had a sort of smile on his face as his hand rested on his chest. There, he felt a steady heartbeat.

He was alive.

Actually alive.