He actually forced me into going to school. He almost threw me out the house. Apparently he needs to concentrate and I’m ‘temptation’.
So I walked to school, and sat in the back of the class. I realized that some people who usually smell like lighters was gone – but not all of them. There was some left. People was staring at me, from when I entered to the class beginning. It wasn’t good, it felt bad. It made the hair on the back of my head, stand up. I kept taking notes, and tried ignoring the lighters. Normally they have no interest in me. Is it because they know what is going on in Amalion? They heard I was her friend. I didn’t realize what position that sits me in. If they aren’t with her… if they hate her…
I took a deep breath. That one time… I could barely defend myself against that lighter. If more than one if after me… I’ll die. I wanted to go home. Somehow I forgot which place that is. I can hide out at home with Ray, and then say I was in school.
When the bell rang and we had to change class… I took all my books up in my arms, without putting them in my backpack before walking as fast as I could towards the next classroom. I wasn’t the first one in, but at least I got a seat in the back-right corner. The class begun and I tried ignoring the eyes on me again.
Some even turned around, I looked down in the desk and remembered back to my own country. Wasn’t it like this all the time?
“They are coming today” The principal announced. We walked to our classrooms and the teacher quickly went through the protocol to avoid getting hurt or injured. As they walked in, in their dark clothing with their knives I looked down in the desk, and kept writing what it said on the board. My head was tired, and my neck wanted to look up. Just one look, to check them out. But I didn’t. One of them walked past me and I could smell blood, and a cold feeling of being hunted ran down my spine. Last time they visited, they killed 4 Students. Even one teacher. I heard they raped her first, but that could just have been a rumor. Even though, Lighters are cruel and unfair creatures.
The teacher sounded nervous, her voice was crumbling, and when she walked it sounded like she was about to fall every time.
“Turn to p-page 210” She announced, and as if we were all one student, we did it in sync.
One of them moved past me again, and I tried ignoring the giant blade he had on a belt.
The class went on, like some sick twisted class. At one point, a boy name Rain broke. He started to cry, and of what I could see… he couldn’t stop. I turned my head back to my own desk and looked straight down and ignored the cry for help. The lighters approached him, and one of them used a whip. We could hear it loud and clear in the air, and it felt harsh. “If you don’t stop crying, you’ll get hit again” A deep voice announced clear and irritated. The warning was clear, but he couldn’t stop. A girl made a small sound, out of sympathy I guess… and then you heard another whip(shuuuuush ) . This time it was a girl scream, and no warning came to her. She just stopped at once. The guy couldn’t at all, so you could hear the whip, again, and again, and again. It felt like the air in the room made my throat hurt – like it was too cold. If it was because of how your temperature rises when you are in danger, or how cold we act towards his pain… I don’t know. It just hurts. At last they dragged him outside of the class room, and through the thin walls, I could see them raising the blade, and then cutting of his head. Out on the hallway… I wanted to cry and look down. Rain… Rain and I have been in this class since the start of it.
With the lighters out, I raised my head and looked at his seat. Blood and skin-leftovers was still there. His papers were blood-soaked and mixed with the water of his tears. His screams were still sounding in the classroom, and the donk of his head falling to the ground on the hallway was killing a part of me. We used to be a proud race.
They walked in, and the guy with the blade had just hanged the blade back on its seat – blood was still dripping from it, he stopped at the teacher, we all looked up, and he smiled out to us, with these sharp creepy teeth and told us “Please, continue your class”.
When they left, we could all break down at home. Even though my dad is like “A man, has to be a man!” he didn’t mind that I cried because of the lighters. The school was giving a week off – we buried the people who had died. Rain ( 3345-3358), Louisa (3347-3358), Kelvin (3343-3358) and a little girl named Rainbow (3351-3358). Somehow the people in our village only needed that week to get over it. That’s when I realized that we doesn’t ‘get over it’, we moan them till the day we die ourselves. We accept their faith, the faith that hit them because of the lighters. Slowly we push it away from our memory, and don’t remember it before the lighters return. My dad didn’t say anything when I came home. His reaction was to hug me, and I thought I saw a tear. I think it was out of joy, since he later told me that they heard the news that one from my class had been killed.
Class was over, and I kept staring down into the desk, and my notes – I had been completely gone, and not taking even one. I waited patiently for the next teacher and class began again. Slowly people started to grow tired of the classes – the break is approaching, and if I don’t get out of here fast enough-
Too late. Class was over, and I was caught in a corner. Four to five guy’s in jackets (as Rachael calls them) was trying to look bigger and gaining up on me. I should just push one – run away.
I tried pushing my way through but they threw me back into the white wall. One of them punched me in the stomach, making all the air leave me, and me falling together. After that, I kept getting hit. There was pain everywhere, I started having trouble seeing, and what ever they said was left in a fog of forgetfulness.
“BREAK IT OFF!” A man’s voice was clear, and the hitting stopped. I could barely breath, I was laying down and was crying.
It took a while for me to even sit up. The man talked to them, and they left. He helped me out on the bathroom, and I got some water. I could barely see, but I could see enough to know Jeremy would find out. My face was all swollen up, and it felt like multiple ribs was broken.
“This isn’t good” The man behind me said “If she hears about this, she’ll do something bad”.
She? Rachael? I bit my already bleeding lip. He isn’t kidding. She’ll go mad. She will probably feel guilt. And Jeremy will too. He was the one who sent me to school.
“Do you have anyone who can pick you up?” He asked.
I turned around and received a cold bag of ice from some lady, who quickly left again. I could slowly see him. It was the principal who had rescued me.
“Yeah-“ I found a number, knowing my voice would crack I gave it to him, so he could ask Ray to pick me up.
He talked for a while, before helping me outside so I didn’t stand alone to get attacked again. Someone gave me my backpack.
“I don’t think you should come back, before she is with you” He said “I’m surprised you did it, in the first place”.
I took a deep breath. “Not… idea”.
He nodded, and when Ray came we almost fell backwards just by seeing me. “What happened to you?!” He started to look at me a bit better. The principal explained, and Ray just sighed.
“Can you hold on, on the bike?” He asked. I nodded and got on his motorcycle. He drove us home, and helped me up the stairs. I didn’t know what to say – or how to say it. George came home after a phone call from Ray and they both helped me cleaning my wounds. When I was taken care of, they both sat on the ground and played. I was just laying there, relaxing. At some point Ray though I looked so depressing so he took a beer and jammed a straw down in it, so I had something to drink.
He held it, and I sucked the beer up. After some time, I fell a sleep. It kept going like that for some time. I woke up during night, and Ray gave me some pizza. During the night it knocked, I still couldn’t move, and Ray opened the door. It was Jeremy – He almost ran in, but Ray pushed him back out and starting yelling about how this was Jeremy’s fault. Jeremy did not put apologies on a plate for him, he just took a look at me, and then sighed. He walked away, and Ray slammed the door. After that he went back to it a few times, he looked through the peephole, locked the door, and then walked back and played some more games. I fell a sleep many times.