Blue Sunday II: My Half Picture

I step out onto the burning asphalt. Apart of me is going to die. I can feel it.

“Brother, are you going to get water?” August steps behind me, daring to touch the light of the outside world. She knows how dangerous it can be, but I hope she never has to see it. Sometimes, I risk her poor mind by coming back to our hiding place with a severe cut or gash. Recently I realized that the hunters were more than trash-talking killers. They meant a lot.

I push my sister backwards and begin to walk farther into the world, feeling my hand brush against the splintered wood of a fence. Its paint is worn, and I can almost hear the wood fall to the ground with my callused fingertips. I grin, almost with relief, knowing that no one is within one hundred meters of me. My sister steps back, knowing and feeling that I might never return. I hope that if I am caught, she will be alive when I escape from the hunters.  

I feel the wind on the back of my neck. Its humid in this afternoon, the sun falling from the sky. I don’t know what my next move is. So I begin to walk slowly, trying my best to be stealthy, trying my best to feel and hear everything around me. It’s harder than I thought. But one mistake and I’m done for. I’d be caught, like a wild animal.

A beast.

Something I’ve never liked about living here. You’re not apart of society or beast. You’re your own breed of thing. You sit on a mountain, waiting for a hero. That hero that will take your hand and carry you. But all you can find are either beasts or humans, judging you.

I begin to briskly walk, seeing that the wind isn’t touchable. I can’t feel it anymore. So I begin to run, feeling the even dull rocks shove deep into my toes. I grimace from the pain, trying to take every scent and feeling into my system.

I love it here. It’s dangerous and scary. But it’s worth more than that.  

I hear water. Perfect. The sun shines down on my face, it’s almost like a frost. The lake is steaming with a chill. This day is perfect. This scene is perfect. Nothing could be any better.

V…pft!

A direct pain shatters the back of my neck. I can feel it pulsing through my veins. A liquid of frozen pain slides deep into the back of my thighs. They give up on me, and throw me overboard into the cold water. I don’t know when I’ll be able to move. But whoever shot me, I hope leaves me to let my lungs breathe in the lake.

I feel a pair of hands, both large and cold. I grimace. I let my mind go to rest. I want to forget that this happened. I want to forget that if I just stay here, I’ll lose everything. Anyone can just lay there and forget. Anyone can. But, the only problem, I’m an exception.

I can’t.

I let my mind take over. Rage reigns through my eyes and body. My senses multiply, my goals become worth something. My hands act as if they were as sharp as knives. I force my body to rip through the object above me. It begins to scream, and the more it does, the slower I become.

I stop.

“Please, have mercy on me!” I get up, seeing the man laying on the ground, his shirt ripped apart and his body caked with blood. I realize what I did, and I fall to the ground with exhaustion. But before I can fall back into the icy water, he catches me with the last of his strength and picks me back on my feet.

“When I take you back home, I’d like you to teach me something. For I am not a demon, nor am I a ghost. I am your caretaker. And I hope you will show me something worth while.”

The words were in my mind forever. My story was worth more than a thousand words. It was worth at least two hundred. That was all I cared about. Hopefully in time, it would be worth more than that. Maybe just like a picture.

Half of one.