Desolation Row

i'd rather BE on Desolation Row than here in this dump of a school. Newspaper once again. I only have until 2:45 to write as much as I can, so I'm taking a break with you guys!

Here's another exert from The Hybrid Chronicles!

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Chapter 18: An Answer They Couldn’t Refuse

I paced my room, back and forth, back and forth, from my bathroom door to the wall. My mind was abuzz with crazy thoughts and feelings. To be more detailed, I was thinking: “okay, Captain’s sending me on a mission (Phyre) I need to prepare (Phyre) I hope that (Phyre) I can pull (Phyre) this off (Phyre). Hope Phyre (Love-ness!) stays safe while I’m gone (His face. His lips. Kissing his lips-)”

“God!” I sighed exasperatedly and collapsed on my bed. “Why-eeeee meeeeeeee?”

It will always be you, the voice said patiently. You are special, and those who are special usually face tough problems.

“But - why does it have to be me and him?” I moaned.

What happened to me? I used to be a terror. I was the scourge of the west . . . I think. I was cruel, sadistic, human-hating-

But Phyre isn’t human, the voice reminded me.

It wasn’t hard - I just had to come to terms with a difficult truth. Of course, it was difficult to come to this truth. That’s why it’s a difficult truth. If it wasn’t difficult, then it wouldn’t be a difficult truth.

So yeah, I’m in love with Phyre. There, I said it. Happy now? Do I have to sing it out to the masses? Do I have to make a fucking sign and post it on the highway? Oh God, I hope not.

It’s not that bad.

Oh yeah. Of course not. For all I know, he’s only being nice to me so he can get in my pants. That’s all that Jason wanted. Phyre is WAY better, but there has to be a catch.

Phyre IS better, the voice said kindly. He’s everything you want in a lover-

“OKAY!” I sat up on the bad. “No more. HELLS to the no.” I got up and began to pace again.

You know you love him THAT way, the voice said smugly, You daydream about his lips, his eyes, his body - ALL of his body . . .

I groaned, leaning up against the wall. “Why?” I pounded my fist on the wall. “Why me? Why him?”

“By ‘him’ I assume you mean me?” Phyre asked from behind me. I whirled around angrily to see him leaning against the doorway. His face was neutral, but I could see the anger and hurt floating just beneath the surface.

“How long have you been standing there?” I asked slowly.

“I sure do hope you mean me,” Phyre continued, “Cause if you meant some other guy, I’d probably have to go after him.”

“You shouldn’t be eavesdropping on me, Phyre,” I warned him.

“Why?” he snapped. “Is it the whole ‘eavesdroppers never hear what they want to’ thing? Cause I already learned that.”

“No, I’m saying don’t eavesdrop on me, because you’re invading my space,” I snapped back.

“Stop beating around the bush - THERE’S SOMEONE ELSE, ISN’T THERE?” he roared.

“WHY THE HELL SHOULD IT MATTER TO YOU?” I bellowed. “THERE WAS NOTHING BETWEEN US!”

“WHY CAN’T YOU ACCEPT THE FACT THAT I LOVE YOU!” Phyre shouted, arms falling dejectedly to his sides. “WHY CAN’T YOU LOVE ME BACK?!?!?”

“YOU KNOW WHAT?” I shouted back, “MAYBE I DO LOVE YOU, BUT WHO SAYS I WANT TO?”

This statement made him stop dead in his tracks.

“DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO FEEL HUMAN WHEN THERE’S NOT A TRACE OF IT IN YOUR VEINS?” I went on, “I’M TIRED OF BEING SUCH A BLEEDING HEART! I WISH I COULD JUST RIP THE DAMN THING OUT!!!”

I pushed past him, eyes swimming with tears, and ran down the hallway.

Outside outside outside gotta get outside gotta leave gotta get outside . . .

I pushed past people, shoving one or two of them into the wall. Some protested, but their protested died in their throat when they saw my face. I broke out a door leading to the Hole, spread my wings, and flew out.

The entire time, I’m checking behind me to see if anyone is following me. I’m also hearing this weird noise, like a keening wail. Inhuman, of course. It starts and stops, like it’s catching its breath.

I collapsed on the edge of the Hole and took off running. It was so bright outside; I headed for the only dark place I knew: the woods.

As I headed for the strip of woodland, I wondered what about my demeanor made people freeze in such a way. Then I realized that I was feeling this weird feeling (man, I am having a LOT of these!) on my face, like there’s something . . . dripping. For a second, I thought I scratched my face and I was bleeding. I reached up to my face to touch what was falling, and pulled back. It was blood, but more diluted. Then it hit me. These were tears.

I was crying.

The keening wail . . . was my sobs.

I collapsed to my knees, wrapping my arms around my middle, and fell over.

God, I HATE feeling human. As I cried, I thought about what I said to Phyre, the look on his face when I shouted at him. My heart felt like it was being torn into two. I gasped in my tears. My heart hurt. Worse than any pain I ever felt before. Whatever I had done, I had hurt my heart very badly. I resisted the urge to curse.

“We can help you.”

I looked up at the speaker. Daniel.

“Let us help you, and we can heal your hurt,” Daniel held out his hand.

“You killed one of my people,” I choked out. “You ransacked my home.”

“True, Drasta,” Daniel nodded, his hand still out, “But we can still help you, and you can help us. So what do you think?”

“Can you really help me?” I whispered.

“Only for you, Drasta, have we came here and not slaughtered all in sight, like they have done to us.”

I reached out and took his hand, and let him help me up. “You got yourself a deal,” I said thickly. Daniel pulled out a simple gold band, and he motioned for me to kneel down so he could place it in my hair.

“Then from this day forth,” he said in a booming voice as he placed it on top of my head, “You shall be known as Drasta Isa. May your reign be long and prosperous.”
I stood up, an evil smile on my face. I felt something I’ve never felt before: power. I forgot the Captain’s plans. I forgot the friends I found in Susan and Adam. Hell, I even forgot the fight with Phyre. I balled my hands into fists.

“Your sword, Drasta,” one of the lower wolves bowed, and held out my blade. I grabbed the handle, and it was like seeing it for the first time. The blade seemed to be on fire.

“What is your word, Drasta Isa?” Daniel asked.

“My word,” I began slowly, “Is to plan. Plan our attack . . . On the Hole.”

I threw back my head and howled.
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Yep, that's chapter 18 all right! What do ya think? Good? Bad? Suckish? TELL ME!

(one moment of silence later . . .)

Go see Scott Meyer's HOW TO PREPARE FOR THE APOCALYPSE. it's hilarious! The man's got SKIILLLLLLZZZ!

. . . I MADE SALSA! i'm gonna eat it for dinner, cause i made it for Newspaper, and it's chunky, and they're all being whiny babies because they ABSOLUTELY CAN'T STAND CHUNKY!!!!

*sigh* I got 45 minutes. I'm going to work more on Chapter 19. I'll come back later with news on work . . .

~Jink, another writer at work (if she GETS to work . . . )