Altered

Thirty-Seven: Fleeing

“Again,” he growled, shaking his head. Charlotte took a steadying breath, staring at him intensely. She bit her lip as she attacked James again, the room morphing as soon as she focused on his fear. The training room faded as her imagination conjured images of the gardens outside. James now stood on the grassy lawn, the warm sun beaming down upon his skin. His eyes opened, squinting as he gazed around. He knew he was under attack, that his surroundings weren’t real, a term they had agreed on before beginning. It had to be obviously different to their present reality, deep in the bowels of the new school. “It’s not real,” he muttered, running his hand through his hair slick with sweat. His square jaw was tightly clenched as he observed his surroundings, turning about ready for his attack.

Charlotte grinned, the sense of freedom at using her alteration making her feel lighter than she had ever felt, especially now that they both understood fully what they were working with. They had been practicing for almost a week, readying for the arrival of the patrons.

James squinted suspiciously as screaming broke out about him, coming from all sides. He winced beneath the mixture of screams, his breathing shallow. Explosions and gunshots accompanied the screams, as students began to appear, running past him, knocking into him in an effort to escape whatever was hunting them. “This is not real,” he exhaled, frowning as Ethan and Carrie came staggering towards him, carrying an unconscious Annakiya between them.

“Elmhirst has lost it,” they rushed. “He’s killing everybody – you have to run!"

“This is not REAL,” he yelled, slamming into them. The ferocity of his protest, his knowledge that the projection wasn’t real allowed him to fight it off. The scene faded until he once again found himself back in the Kingston training halls. Charlotte grinned looking at him, his expression exhausted.

“You’re getting stronger at fighting them off,” Charlotte smiled, throwing him a bottle of water.

“Well it’s easy when you are sure it’s not real. When one minute you are standing in a training hall after dark and the next its midday and you find yourself on the lawns,” he breathed heavily, taking small swigs from the water bottle. He was in a good humour despite the fact they had been practicing since they had met outside the library at eight pm. He wouldn’t admit to the strain of the training. It took a great mental strength to fight off the projections and to keep hold of the truth, the knowledge that the reality he saw wasn’t real. “It would be different, if it was like the first time when it was in here – it was too hard to tell the difference, because reality and fantasy faded together seamlessly. This is just easier to work with,” he sighed, sitting on the bleachers. Charlotte hovered awkwardly, energy coursing through her body as he sat down, glancing at her with large green eyes. She smiled shyly, taking a seat near him, though leaving enough space between them to seem comfortable. “How are you feeling?” he asked, dropping the water bottle to one side.

“Good – great actually,” she grinned, twisting around to face him. “Jittery”. She held her hand out as if to prove her point, her fingers trembling as adrenaline coursed through her body.

“And what about your control?” he asked, turning towards her, his face suddenly serious and concerned. His eyes clouded for a moment, his jaw clenching.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” she nodded, her cheeks flushing, as she realised she hadn’t told him about the mental strain she had been under.

“Hurt?” he breathed.

“Headaches and stuff – it doesn’t really matter,” she hurried, smiling reassuringly. “It took a lot of strength to keep hold of it”. He watched her carefully, before she glanced away, shyly under his gaze.