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“What’s going on?” A voice seemed to ask into the darkness. There was a soft ringing, something that sounded likely to those of keys on a loop of iron or even steel.
The response to the question was laughter from… where exactly? There was a strange feeling, as if everything was falling again. Like everything that was heavy came down on the body of the boy asking his harmless question. Then it was black again.
“Wake up.” A voice murmured, low in the boy’s ear. The voice was sweet, but not overly like it had been forced to be. There was a groaning noise and something like bones grinding on bone. The boy finally realized that it was he and he hissed out a breath of pain as it settled in.
Why hadn’t he realized it before? How long had he been passed out? Those questions weren’t exactly answered, but the sweet voice spoke again, and it seemed to fill his heart. “Don’t move, let me at least get some bandages.” She said, and he was alone.
Risking a breath, the boy managed to shutter in a gasp. There was pain everywhere, but the pain in his heart seemed to ring in his chest. It felt like an icy cold hand, squeezing tighter and tighter on his heart, and it was starting to affect his breathing. “What’s going on?” He asked, then coughed, groaning again. He still hadn’t dared to open his eyes. The sweet voice called out. “Don’t be afraid, I’m just going to bandage your arm.”
Feeling comforted he nodded lightly, trying to relax his muscles in his shattered arm. At felt nice until a noise caught his attention. An unsheathed weapon. Feeling an even worse, searing pain, he yelled.
“Wake up Demi! Wake up!”
Shooting up in bed, Demitry’s pale face and body was covered in cold sweat. He panted as if he’d just ran two miles non-stop. Like he had just kept running, and running. He swore softly, hearing a soft gasp from beside him and he placed his right hand over his left shoulder, making sure it was still there. Feeling arms around him, he was startled, taking in raspy breaths as he closed his eyes again. “Please tell me I’m awake…” He said, his normally calm voice now shaken, cracked and even scared.
“You’re awake Demi. I’m sure of it. Do you want me to pinch you to make sure?” The girl beside him asked her voice very soft in the night. He shook his head, smiling and laughing nervously, kissing her on the cheek. “No thanks, go back to sleep Sarah.” His voice was starting to get its calmness back, but Demitry’s mind could help but flash here and there to the sounds. That honey sweet voice was making his heart ache, and he missed the voice, and who it belonged to.
The girl pouted lightly, hugging her brother, then patted softly out of his room. He stayed still, his blankets over his legs, his torso completely reviled though it was nothing that he was ashamed of. Some girls tended to be almost astounded by him, though he wasn’t sure as to why. They would say that he had the body of an angel, and he’d almost laugh at that. On his back, starting from his shoulder blades, and ending right above his waist, was a large tattoo of bat-like wings. They weren’t white, like most, they were midnight black, shining in a deep violet here and there. The meaning of it and where he had gotten it though, that was his secret that he hardly knew himself.
Shaking his head, pitch black hair plastered onto his neck as he tried to get rid of that dream, or rather nightmare. He looked out the window, in front of him and just stared out it for a while. The clouds were gray, a very soft red peaking up just over the trees of Dublin, Michigan, then closed his eyes. He jumped when his radio started blasting some song he didn’t know and he practically slammed down on it with his hand. He slipped out of bed, stumbling a bit, but catching himself. He stretched, yawning, then grabbing a clean pair of blue jeans and a white shirt. He’d grab his hooded sweater later, as it wasn’t exactly the best idea to walk around in a white shirt with a large black tattoo on ones back.
Yawning loudly, Demitry found his way to the bathroom, turning on the shower, then stripping down and closing the door, hearing the soft click of the lock. He ran the water on hot, but not enough to burn his skin, and he stood under it for some time. He was wishing to himself that he had seen the girl that was speaking to him in his dream, but of course, that was almost impossible now. Maybe… He thought solemnly to himself, washing his hair as he thought, it could have been Ashley… and that though almost killed him right there. There was so much pain in that one word, so many memories, but her voice didn’t match the honey-sweet tone of the girl in his dreams. Actually, it matched Sarah’s, his sisters, and he blinked a few times. It seemed likely that it would be Sarah, after all, she had taken care of him, well, like he was more than just a brother to her, which flipped their parents out a lot.
After some time, out of thoughts and possibly his energy for the day, Demitry turned off the water, yawning again, then drying himself off. Pulling on his boxers, then his jeans he looked at himself in the mirror. His chest was scarred in a few places, and having forgotten where those scars came from, he had just explained it as fights, which wasn’t almost the best idea. He was lanky, tall, around six feet six inches. He was an average weight, maybe a little under, for a boy his age and size. He stared at himself as he combed his dark black, and often mistaken for dyed, hair. His eyes were what many people were caught off guard by. His contrast of a pale body and dark hair, and usually dark clothing never hid the brilliant topaz color of his eyes. He wasn’t one of the people who stared at himself often, but lately, he had heard people saying that he wore contacts, which was untrue, but he let them believe that. He slipped his shirt over his head, shaking his hair and splotching the mirror with water droplets from his hair. He liked when his hair looked messy, which was all around most of the time.
Hearing a knock on the door, he opened the painted knob, seeing Sarah, who looked like she was ready to pee herself. He chuckled, then squeezed past her as she went into the bathroom, and he went to his room throwing on a white zip-up with black blood prints all over it. It was warm, and enough to cover his tattoo. He shrugged he shoulder bag on, stopping by the bathroom for a second. “Sar, I’m waiting downstairs, bus is going to be here soon.” He was only messing with her and he rushed downstairs as if he were in a hurry. Truth was, there was about ten minutes, but he liked to mess around.
Their parents were waiting at the table, and Demitry, kissed his mom on the cheek, grabbing the toast that was set out for him then laughed lightly at nothing, biting into it. He dug out his iPod from his bag and plugged the buds in his ears. Sarah came down the stairs and he watched as she rushed herself, hugging her mom, then her dad. His topaz eyes watched her curiously as she stopped at the door, then turned to him. “Demi!” She yelled, and he laughed lightly, then felt a sharp pain in his back. He tried to ignore it, but no one seemed to notice the sudden pain. He was all right with that, in a certain way, but he hated this pain. It felt like the skin was tearing itself between his shoulder blades, but when he looked behind him, it was clean. He shuttered, suddenly feeling Sarah’s body against him as she hugged him.
“Did you see that Sar?” He asked her softly, letting her let go of him.
“See what Demi?” She looked around, looking for something.
“Nothing… I guess…” He let her go, turning his iPod on, thought, pain and confusion clear in his eyes.
 iPsychopath · Fri Sep 26, 2008 @ 02:09am · 0 Comments |
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