Dusk

The sun is almost gone. It is dusk. It’s my favourite time of day. This time of day is quiet and calm, but it should never be mistaken to be safe. That would be foolish, and I am no fool. Have you ever wondered why the sky turns red when the sun sets? The red is the blood of a dying world. It’s a world being reborn as another; a dark midnight world of shadows. It’s a place for only the brave. It’s a dark world that I should have no problem with, and I don’t. I’m much better suited to this life. There’s no one here to tell me what to do or to disapprove. It isn’t at all like my life at the foster home. I’m not being held back by self-righteous bigots anymore. Still, I owe what I have now to their stubborn lack of care. Lately I’ve been ill. The carers at the foster home insisted that I go to school today because of a history test. It’s about a plague, some war and a King of sorts. The usual dark, drear stuff like that. It was a joke crafted by fate. Or a warning that I should’ve seen and didn’t. Of course, they hadn’t realised either. No one saw my destiny. Or no one cared to even try… Halfway through I feel like I’m about to be sick. The teacher scowls at me. He’s not happy with me staring out the window. Just as he opens his big mouth to address me, my airways close. I gasp, well, try to at least. I fall off my chair. The teacher rushes over to me. I’d been having convulsions, but I stop as he reaches me. I smell something disgusting and rancid, but sickeningly sweet and taunting. It’s putrid and choking me. I shove him out of my way. He topples over and I run for all I’m worth. My final moments were filled with unimaginable pain. I can’t believe how my life turned out. I was your average girl. I didn’t do anything bad enough for those precious final moments to be so painful. It was unfair. I remember that I got to the door. That was it. It’s where it all ended and where it all began. It was the beginning of my end. It’s what I despise the most, but what I’m most thankful for too. My body goes into lockdown. I still can’t breathe. I can’t feel my legs and I collapse. Everything looks like it’s in slow motion. Even my senses are failing me. My senses are departing, fleeing somewhere that I can’t follow. My gasping breaths are ragged and starved. I hear as my heart begins its cruel descent into silence. I feel as it hovers at the edge, set to stop at any moment. The world blurs and orbits out of my reach. It wasn’t meant to be like that. I was sixteen. I was your average A+ student with a somewhat clean record. I was healthy – apart from a slight cold. I was almost never ill. The teachers didn’t hate me and I knew I had a good future. It was unfair. It shouldn’t have happened. I was never the goody-two-shoes but I deserved better than that. Still, as far as refunds go I don’t know if I’d cash this one in. ”Nngh,” I groan. I slowly open my eyes. It takes a moment to realise where I am. I quail, gasping and shaking. A body bag! How is this possible? Clearly I’m not dead. My skin is cold and pale, but I’m naturally pale. I can feel my heart beating. As I gaze at what remains of the light a solitary tear trickles down my face. It has to be from remembering. These are not particularly hard memories for me. They just fuel my anger and hatred; a fuel which I’ll now set alight. I thrash and swipe at the bag. It falls apart with no real effort on my part whatsoever. I jump from the table and run for the door. Then something inside me clicks. I veer right and leap out of the window. I will never forget the sheer exhilaration from that jump. I know that I’ll never forget that, not even in old age. I’ll remember the wind rushing through my hair. I’ll remember the pale glow of the street lights melding together. I’ll never forget realising that I was somewhere around the sixtieth floor. The wind tears at my skin fiercely. Each strike is like a punishment for entering another domain of life. I’m not meant to fly so it pushes me down. Closer and closer; the streets wait. I hear whispers calling for blood. Then, somehow, I land lithely on my feet. I glance around as I stand in the middle of the pavement. The eyes stare at me unabashed. The judgement, shock and condemnation are impossible to ignore. I hurry away, impatient to meld with the crowd once more. I’d do anything to escape those eyes. Now there’s only one choice for me. I have to run and hide like a scared little animal. It’s like I’m someone’s prey. I’m no one’s prey. I hate living like this and I refuse to continue this charade any longer. I’ll change the meaning of prey.