The Town

Prologue: A Better Life is Coming

I gazed out into the black abyss, rivulets of dark matter moving through my fingers as I sifted through the fog. Taking one, cautious step forward, I gasped as the sensation of being held down left my legs. Not waiting even a second, I burst forward and ran... and ran... and ran. The dark mist rolled around my legs as I seemingly went nowhere, but I didn't stop. I have to get away.

"WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING, BOY?" the familiar deep voice bellowed. I froze. The hair on the back of my neck stood, and beads of sweat formed on my temple. Suddenly, waves of pain raced up my back. I gasped for breath as my body sporadically convulsed, and eventually, I felt myself drift away.

"ri... Ari... ARI!" a brittle voice yelled, jolting me out of my nightmare. I lifted my head from its bent position on the window, and glanced at my mother in the driver's seat. Her tawny hair was falling out of its high bun from quickly looking between the road and me, and her wire glasses were askew. She breathed a sigh of relief when I shifted my overly tall body to properly sit up in the passenger's seat.

Our car was small—just an old, 2008 Toyota Scion tC—that definitely did not have the leg room for me. I would have sat in the back if not for the neatly stacked, cardboard boxes filling the area. I glanced out the clear window; the view of a never-ending forest graced my tired eyes.

"I was worried. You were shaking again," my mom whispered, as if speaking any louder would shatter me. "Did... did you dream of... him again?"

I looked back at her. She was focused on the road, but I could see tears breaching her equally, if not more, tired eyes.

She worries too much. She should focus on herself, not me, I thought. I huffed, and crossed my arms.

"Kinda," my gruff voice echoed throughout the car. Some have described it as 'husky' or 'smoky,' but to me, nothing this deep could sound attractive. "It doesn't matter. Sorry for worrying you. How are you?"

"Tired, but good," Mom answered. "I'll be even better when we finally get to this new town."

I made a short, agreeing noise. We sat in silence for a few minutes. We were out of range for radio, and our phones died a couple hours back, the chargers lost in the boxes.

"I'll always worry for you," she suddenly said. "After everything we've been through, everything you've been through. You're my son, and I let those... those horrib—" Her voice cut off as she heaved and held in a cry.

"You didn't let them happen. You didn't know. You weren't supposed to know."

"Well, I do know now. All of it, right?"

"Yes, all of it."

I gazed down to my boney hands, rotating the various, simple rings absentmindedly. I could feel her loving, yet scared, gaze flick to me every so often. I could tell what she was looking at: my dark, chocolate brown hair that matched his, even if it was styled longer and tousled; my narrow eyes, a deep blue that matched his, even though they seemed permanently drooped with purple-tinted bags underneath; even my slim nose couldn't escape the awful genes that made it match his.

I put in a lot of effort, and pain, to look different than him, doing modifications he would never do in a million years. Three eyebrow rings, one nose ring, even a labret. Not to mention the numerous earrings piercing both my helix and lobes, along with one in my right tragus. And yet, I can never escape my natural look.

Mom reached over and rubbed the top of my head. My nerves instantly calmed, my muscles relaxed, and my head rolled against the headrest. She hummed and retracted her hand.

"We should be close, but try to get a little more sleep."

"Okay."

I closed my eyes, letting my mom's soft voice lull me to sleep.

"Don't worry, our lives will be better soon."