Attack
Unknown
I've done it. I've found a group of people who may just be able to stop the enemy. But will they be strong enough as just a trio?
Wynnona
When I wake up it's too the blaring sun. I squint and sit up in bed, rubbing my hands down my tired face. It seems to be getting close to the regular time school starts for the privileged people. Those of us in the slums don't go to school, we can't afford the steep prices of education. I once attended, I can remember the clean smell, the pristine halls and classes. The stuck-up teachers who were annoyed to no end by the slightest disruption. I remember the awesome pranks Brett, Keya, and I used to pull on our teachers. Nothing mean or malicious, just kids being kids.
However, grade 12 rolled around, close to the end of the last month, and I got expelled because of a guy named Gunther Drake. He's an annoying rich kid I once dated. He was asking to get punched in the face after what he did. I hear my phone vibrate from beside me. Glancing over I see a text from Keya.
Can you come give me a ride to school? Her message reads. I check the time and sigh.
Be there in ten. I text back. Standing I grab my jeans and jacket, heading into the tiny bathroom. I look in the mirror, sighing at the sight of my cursed thick hair. I study the mess of blood red hair. It's literally sticking up in every direction.
Sticking my head in the sink I run some water through it brushing it into place. Changing I toss my pjs into my room and head to the kitchen. Slipping on my boots I grab my keys. The notebook from last night catches my eye. Something is pulling me to stay, or at least always keep it on me.
Shaking my head, I feed Stardust and leave. Getting on my bike I zip over to Keya's place. I smile at her when I pull up. She's wearing a pair of overalls with a blue and pink Ombre sweater. She stands up from her seat on the stairs and wonders over.
"That was fast." She tells me, grabbing hold of the helmet I hand her.
"Anything for you baby girl." I tell her as she climbs on behind me. Her arms snake around my waist, clutching onto me tightly. "Ready?" I ask, my voice raised slightly so she can hear me through the helmet.
She nods and I zip off towards the school. We arrive in ten minutes, mostly due to me speeding. And the fact that we're on a motorbike.
Keya gets off and takes the helmet off. I stand up, helping her fix her messy hair.
"Look who it is." A fancy British accent calls tauntingly from beside the two of us. "So, now you're moving in on Brett's girl?" He asks. God, I want to punch his teeth in.
"Just back off, Gunther." Keya warns him, her delicate features set in a glare.
"But I'm curious." Gunther taunts further. "Why are you here?" I turn to fully face the idiot's face.
"You have five seconds to leave." I tell him. If he takes another step forward, he'll be just in arms reach. As predictable as he always is, he steps forward.
"Or what, Gladiator." He taunts further. I try to hide my smirk as I grab his collar, sweeping his feet. He falls to the ground with me. Climbing on top of him I pin both his arms with my knees and hold my fist by my head, ready to strike him.
"Holy crap!" One of his friends' shouts, shocked. Keya smirks down at the stunned Gunther.
"We've been here before, haven't we?" He says with a smirk.
"Yes, but you were far too drunk and passed out before you could finish the job." I say in a sickly-sweet voice. "And you were drunk just so you could get it up." I monotone at the end. His cocky smirk falls, and he starts to struggle against me.
"Get off or I'll scream." He threatens. My head moves from the collar of his shirt to his throat.
"I'd like to see you try." I growl, tightening my hold slightly.
"Allen! Stop!" I hear Brett shout from behind me. I ignore him and feel someone's arms wrap around my waist. Brett lifts me off Gunther and places me on my feet behind him. Gunther scrambles to his feet, coughing.
"You're a fucking psychopath." Gunther squeaks at me, hand massaging his throat.
"Correction, high functioning sociopath." I growl at him. I don't care all that much what people decide of me without knowing me personally. Their opinions hold no weight or value to me. I'd love to see many of the annoying, stuck up rich kids that go here try and survive a week in the slums and gladiator ring. They wouldn't last that long. Gunther shivers at my words and runs away, tears filling his eyes, likely from the pain in his throat as a slight bruise started to form. I smile slightly to myself.
Okay okay, I hear you all yelling at me telling me that was wrong or crazy or whatever, but you'd do it too in my shoes. That asshole deserves so much more than what I did to him.
"What the hell?" Brett questions me. I roll my eyes and sigh, shoving my hands in my pockets.
"He deserves it and you know it." I tell him in a sharp tone.
"Both if you stop before you start fighting!" Keya shouts at us. We both turn to look at her mean brown eyes. I watch a shiver run up Brett's spine. He bows his head and mutters out a quiet apology. I look at Keya and watch her eyes soften.
"I'm sorry. But you guys know how much he ticks me off." I sigh tiredly after a couple minutes. Brett crosses his arms and Keya hugs me. My body tenses up. "Why?" I grumble out, wanting to escape all human contact. Brett smiles and wraps his thick arms around me too. I hiss at both of them.
"Okay. Bye Wyatt!" Keya calls, pulling away. Brett follows her off into the school. I wave and get back on my bike, heading back home.
On the way back home, I stop at the dollar story and grab a cheap notebook. It was small, small enough to fit in my pocket. I get home and grab a pencil from my room. Grabbing the book from the kitchen, I head back to my room and take a seat on the windowsill. Opening the small notebook, I start to write everything I know about the weird book.
After an hour of studying the book, I stare at the ominous black stones. I then try to remember what colours the stones used to be. I write them down in a list, from top to bottom. Black, purple, blue, green, yellow, orange, red. The yellow one lit up, so what does that mean?
Grabbing my phone, I look up the meaning of the colour yellow. Tapping the first site to pop up I scroll through the meaning, jotting down the important information.
Yellow: symbolizes optimism. Conveys youthful, fresh energy. Associated with success and confidence.
This is what I write in my sloppy writing. My head starts to pound after another two hours of studying the book. I set everything down, looking outside. It's dark out, the sky is painted with colour as the sun sets. Standing I stretch and head to my bathroom, grabbing a bottle of painkillers.
I don't know much about my birth parents, but I do know my mother took pain killers while pregnant with me. I have an almost inhuman tolerance to drugs and alcohol.
I hear something fall and a squeak of fright. Rushing back into my room I place my hands on either side of the doorframe. Looking into the room I see Stardust, his tail between his legs, cowering by my bed, slowly inching to hide under it.
"Come here buddy." I coo at him in a soothing voice. Crouching down with my arms extended, he rushes into my hold. He's vibrating with fear when I lift him up. "What's wrong?" I ask him. He squeaks again and I don't hear the heavy footsteps approaching from behind me.
"Behind you!" A soft, melodic voice shouts in terror inside my head. I drop Stardust without thinking, spinning around the look behind me.
A hooded figure stands behind me, a large pipe in his hand. He lunges forward and whips me across the face before I can register what's happening. The metal of their cold pipe contacting the right side of my face.
The full force of the hit knocks me to the floor. I roll back over and see a huge, black person standing above me. Fear sets in my stomach. He's gonna kill me. Is the only thing I can think.
He takes a step forward and I start to crawl backwards, away from him. My two-coloured eyes wide and stuck on him the whole time.
"Star run!" I shout when I find my voice. I watch the little fox run out of my room, taking the strange book with him. While the guy is distracted, I swing my leg up, the full force of my kick landing between his legs. He shouts and falls over in pain.
Scrambling to my feet I ran to the living room. In my scramble I grab my phone and send a S.O.S message to Brett.
Before I can grab what I'm looking for and put my phone away, the guy's hand grabs my ankle. I fall to the ground and try to fight back to stand up. Before I can the guy grabs my hands and pins them above my head. I can feel the tears stinging my eyes.
"Such a pretty face." The man says in a low, gravely voice. He dips his head down and runs his nose along my neck. A whimper leaves my throat as I struggle against him.
"Get off me." I shout at him.
"Screaming won't do you any good." He tells me, his rough hand slipping under my cropped tank top. In his moment of distraction, I wriggle one of my hands from his hold. He notices too late as I punch him across the face.
There is now just enough space between us for me to get my feet on his stomach. Using all the strength I can find; I push him off me. Crawling over to the dinning table I pull the hidden gun there out. Turning, he growls and charges at me. In a split second I turn, shooting directly at his chest.
He stumbles back and falls onto his back. Taking his last breath, he lies there, bleeding all over my floor dead. I then realize how heavily I'm breathing. Tears fall down my cheeks as I pull my knees into my chest, crying into them. The gun is still in my trembling hand.
A couple minutes later the front door bursts open. My arm snaps up and I point the gun at the new intruder. Brett scans the room and spots me, holding his hands up. Slowly, I lower the gun realizing who it is. Stepping around the dead man on my floor, he rushes over to me.
"Hey Wynnona." He whispers to me softly, taking the gun away from me. "What happened?" He asks softly again. Tears fall down my cheeks faster as I shake in fear. Brett sees this and grabs my shoulders, pulling me to his chest hugging my trembling form tight. The way a father would cling to his child. Or a protective older brother would hold his hurt younger sibling close after they were hurt.
I weep into his broad chest as he holds me, one hand rubbing my back and the other running through my hair. I see Keya rush into the house and turn the lights on. She lets out a small gasp and rushes over to Brett and I. Falling to her knees beside me she wraps her arms around my waist, resting her cheek on my shoulder.
After a couple minutes like that I finally calm down. Brett and Keya help me out of the house over to the paramedics waiting on the street. They clean up the many cuts on my arms and look at my bruised and bloodied knuckles. In the time it took them Keya brought Stardust over to me. The small fox curled up in my lap and hasn't left since.
A police officer starts making his way over to me, his partner close behind. My body tenses up as I watch them come towards me. The nurse beside me places a hand on my shoulder lightly. I jump at the contact, turning to look at him with frightful eyes.
"It's going to be alright." He reassures me. "You're safe now." His warm smile calms me, and I relax a little. The corners of my lips twitch slightly, as if wanting to smile. This sweet man had this calming energy about him that reassured me of my safety right now.
"Wynnona Allen?" The older officer asks. I nod my head as I look into his cold brown eyes. "We have a few questions for you." He tells me.
"Can you wait until I'm finished stitching her cheek closed, Officer Kyle." The nurse almost sneers at the older man.
"Fine." The old man sighs in annoyance. The nurse goes on to stitch my cheek wound shut.
"It will likely scar." He tells me while placing a bandage over it gently. All I can do is shrug, my mind still reeling. The two officers come back. As the nurse walks away from me, I catch the small, hidden, smile he gives the younger detective.
The older detective asks me a million questions at light speed. I can barely keep up and answer them as best I can. He's talking with his partner when Brett and Keya come over to me. Brett studies my face and arms as Keya grabs my hand and sits beside me, resting her head lightly on my shoulder. Brett had grabbed a throw blanket from inside, wrapping it around my shoulders to protect my bare arms from the chill of the night. He also takes a seat on the other side of me, wrapping his sturdy arm around my waist.
The detectives walk back over to me.
"I'll be leaving Officer Sean Briggs with you, miss." The older officer tells me. "It's just to keep you safe in case someone else comes to hurt you." I nod and the officer leaves, his younger partner staring at me.
He's tall and has pale skin, his eyes are an ice blue, and his hair is long, black. He's strikingly handsome and well built.
"We'll stay with you." Brett offers but I shake my head.
"Go home, both of you." I tell them in my always, ever so fake strong voice. Acting like I'm fine when I'm really not. Without much arguing they both hug me and leave together. I turn to look at the officer.
"Your house is open to you. We've done all we needed too." He tells me. I study him and turn, walking to my house. I keep the curled-up fox in my arms as he clings to the notebook protectively, keeping it safe.
"Pretty notebook." Sean comments, looking over my shoulder. I look over at him and see something in his eyes, something very well hidden.
"You can have the couch." I tell him, turning back around and walking into my home. "I won't be sleeping much so I'll stay in the room where you can see me." I continue, letting Stardust down. I go to grab him a blanket from my room and a pillow. While I'm there I grab an old hoodie, I stole from Brett and my small notebook that's still sitting in my room.
Coming back, I set both notebooks on the island in my kitchen. Walking over to Sean I watch him stare out the window into the cold, black night. His handsome face is shadowed and brings out his sharp features.
"He's very pretty." The same melodic voice from earlier says. I jump and look behind me. Sean notices turning to look at me.
"Are you alright?" He asks, eyebrow raised.
"Yeah." I drag out the word, not sure myself.
"It's probably best to trust him." The voice says. "He'll be one of the few."
A shiver runs up my spine at the words as I stare into Sean Briggs clear blue eyes. Eyes far too perfect to be human. As I stare, I notice a slight colour shift from one eye to the other. The two microscopic shades different.