ARIA
That night, I didn't think I would be able to get myself to sleep after what happened.
It was only afternoon, yet I didn't have any appetite. Mom continuously pounded at the door to insist I should at least eat the soup. She wouldn't go away until I did, but only to vomit it later on.
I knew I only said it as an excuse, but the moment my face landed on the mattress and my head was immediately hit by a severe headache. I tried to sleep it off but it only got worse. I knew crying would only make it hurt more, but I couldn't stop myself—everything was just painful.
I grabbed my bag from the floor and started rummaging through it, looking for the medication that the doctors prescribed me. I got the one that was for the headaches and took five pills. I knew that amount was dangerous but that was how bad the pain was.
After a few seconds, I felt woozy and my environment was spinning. I made for the bed, feeling like my legs were walking through a lake of molasses and my brain was pounding in a dull ache. I collapsed on the bed, feeling my eyelids getting heavy as seconds passed.
I thought that may have been an overdose, but it wasn't—fortunately.
What was unfortunate though, was the nightmares that soon followed. I keep getting pulled in, grabbed into some dark ground that turns into liquid that swallows me whole. I was screaming in that dream the whole time, fighting for control; there were several hands all over me, sharp nails digging into my skin and drawing blood as they tried to pull me over to them.
Them were dark entities clad in black shadows. They were talking in voices of different genders and different ages. They were all compelling me into the darkness, calling me the cause of evil and chaos; they called me a murderer, even.
They injured me everywhere in the process, half might be caused by my attempts of fighting out of it.
They had dead peoples' corpses as faces. Some were in the process of advanced decay, some already in their skeletons, and there were some that didn't have faces at all—and they were the most frightening.
The no faces have some devilish ability that made me suffer in the torment of reviewing every sin, every problem that I've caused.
Over and over again, I saw exactly how my friends got their injuries. Over and over again, I saw how the impact of the meteor disintegrated my sister's body into nothing. I saw their pain, their suffering, their hidden sorrow as they attempted to pretend like their injuries were nothing life-changing. It was hell. Pure hell.
It was around midnight when I woke up, startled and panicked. Immediately drawing my body to the side of the bed, where I instantly heaved every content in my stomach onto the carpet and floor.
The vomiting was awful. I didn't even have time to run towards the bathroom to do it. Hell, I didn't even notice the destruction of my room because I was too preoccupied by it. The heaving continued until I was a crying mess, and the splitting headache that came after it didn't help at all.
When it ceased, that's when I saw it. The cracks in my bedroom. Every furniture was smashed, the walls were destroyed by scratch marks no animal on earth could have belonged to, the mirrors had exploded into pieces, the sheets and the bed looked like they were burned.
And the sight of thousands of red butterflies perched on everything in the room—I couldn't decide whether to get scared and scream, or just run out the room in panic.
I didn't do either. I was just too overwhelmed to even react to what I was just seeing and also what I'd gone into. Every breath I let out trembled, I couldn't muster my voice. I feel so weird. My body...it didn't seem normal. I noticed my senses had improved to a superhuman degree because I kept hearing voices and sounds that would only have come from the town a mile away—which was normally impossible to be able to hear that far.
My nose twitched suddenly when I could somehow sniff smells I would never have noticed. My sight was the one that freaked me out the most; it's so strange how clear my vision is, and how I could zoom in and out—witnessing things like it was under a magnifying glass, even a microscope (if I tried hard enough).
My head snapped in the direction of the sliding glass door of my bedroom's balcony, and my body flinched when it burst open, letting the cool air into the room. The butterflies scattered, one by one disintegrating in the wind, leaving no trace behind.
As the night breeze blew the curtains, I noticed a full moon peeking at me through the night sky. Its moonlight drawled into my room, offering a curious feeling of strange comfort. A light in the darkness.
I was strangely drawn to the sight, not once noticing how my legs moved on their own. All I knew next was that I was placing my hands on the cold railing and just gazing at the sky, feeling a sense of longing blooming in my chest. The headaches appear to slowly disappear on their own.
As I watched the stars twinkling against the deep blue and black shades of the sky, I began to feel a tingling sensation on my back.
My shoulders moved inch by inch forward as a growing weight pulled against every muscle behind me.
I blinked, several times, trying to make myself snap out of the suspicious entrancement. I stared at my hands, attempting to recreate the feeling from before. An unnatural surge of power came rushing inside me, I let out a small fascinated laugh as I watched my hands—my entire body, clad in crimson aura.
My reflection from the steel railings taught me what happened to the rest of me. My dark mane was floating and sweeping as if I was underwater; my eyes glowed red; and my back...I had unknowingly grown a pair of wings. So, that's why my back muscles ached earlier.
However, it looked–plain?....possibly unnatural, even for wings. I steadied myself, cracking the bones of my neck for preparation, and began to concentrate on an image in my head. I let myself go over a series of recollections of images and possibly movies and animations of what a pair of wings would look like...feel like...how they would move.
I started breathing hard, and beads of sweat slid down my temples and skin. My muscles groaned as I attempted to spread them. Everything, from my neck to shoulders, to my lower back and even my spine–they all let out a sharp bark of protest at the movement and the weight.
I never thought using wings would be such hard work. They always make them look easy in the movies.
I spent the next half hour trying to control them. Spreading and folding, withdrawing them back underneath my skin and drawing them out again–as quickly as I could, without missing a detail from the image in my mind.
By the time I was done, rather, flopped down to the floor completely exhausted, every part of my body hurt. I clicked my tongue in frustration, "Damn it."
I pushed myself upright again. Squaring my shoulders, I flared open my wings and grabbed the railing. I pushed myself up, crossing one leg over and the other until I was sitting on it. Next, I attempted to stand, wobbling the first few tries until I was successful.
Once I'm upright, I breathe in steady breaths and jump, wings outstretched. I flapped my wings, once or twice. My muscles began screaming. I may have managed to fly at least a few meters from the terrace—
Then my body gave in–"Shit!" I went dropping out of the sky, face-planting the ground. "Oww!"
So much for my first flying attempt. Thank god no one was around to witness my embarrassing fall. That would've been a pathetic and hilarious story to share at thanksgiving dinners.
But, not everyone's perfect. Mistakes are the keys to achieving perfection. So let's start taking baby steps.
I pushed myself off the ground, checking my surroundings twice for any uninvited visitors or peepers. When there was none, I crouched my knees and leaped as high as possible.
I landed on the tiles of my balcony with ease–thank goodness for that. I make my way inside, muttering curses under my breath as I begin spending the night trying to fix every mess in the room. Who knows, maybe I could even manage to persuade my mom into thinking that some of the damage was done by some unsuspecting animal who somehow managed to make its way into my room and thus, explaining the degree of chaos.