Outcasts

Chapter Twenty-Nine (Jeah)

I step into my room, closing the door carelessly with my foot.

Holding out my hands in front of me, I quiver. A syringe with a golden needle rests in my hands.

I force myself to sit on my bed, denying the need to take my eyes off the syringe. Then I begin to recall what my parents told me.

"This syringe is supposed to help you control your powers." They told me.

"If you lose control, you could become a scavenger, and we don't want that, do we."

What else did they say?

"This is a very painful injection."

There had to have been something else they said. 

"You must inject this into your wrist, nowhere else."

"We are trusting that you do this, you are old enough and capable enough."

I continue to roam through my memory, for any other advice my parents may have given me, but no, there is none. That's all I was told. No other explanations. 

My legs cross on top of my bed. I sigh shakily, letting my mind wonder on.

"The watches, they cover up the scar." Haile had said, I remember.

A needle, so strong that it leaves a scar. No loophole, no gentle way to inject this liquid. I am getting a scar, period. And this injection is going to hurt like hell.

I stare at the golden needle that will soon pierce deep into my skin. I will feel control with myself and with my powers. My finger stretches far back and rests onto the plunger of the syringe that will push the liquid out, and into my body. I turn my left wrist up to the ceiling, exposed and vulnerable.

I real my hand back, ready to strike at myself. "Okay Jeah." I whisper to myself. Touching the tip of the needle to my skin, I shudder. I know deep in my heart I was never one for needles. "That's where it needs to go." I ready my fingers and lift the syringe.

I lift my arm in the air and bring it down softly. "One." Repeating the gesture causes me to whimper. "Two."

My stomach tightens in a knot, realizing the next number I voice into the world, I will have to stab myself. "Two and a half." I whisper, stalling.

I release a big breath and let my arm flop to my side. I can't do this. The syringe stares at me in the face, waiting with crossed arms. I can't do this!

With a frustrated shout, I take the needle and jam it into a pillow next to me. A finger still rests on the plunger, so it presses down hard. The syringe is killed, suffocated until there is nothing left on the inside. Drained of any life and of any use. 

I release a loud breath into the air, relieved that I didn't have to endure any pain. I knew I couldn't do it. The whole idea just seemed too suspicious. A needle, with contents I'm not sure of. But I can trust my parents...can't I?

"Oh shit!"  I exclaimed quietly. My eyes landed on my wrist, a blank wrist reading like an open book. How am I going to explain this?

I stand up and continue to mentally curse myself for doing something so stupid, so foolish! Pressing my palms to my temples, I rub them in circles. My eyes close and my vision subdues in darkness. No turning back from that. I think to myself.

Looking at the empty syringe I accept the thought, No turning back.

Sitting back on my bed, I rest my head in my hands and sigh.  Lowering my eyes, I think to myself, I guess I should go downstairs and tell them what I did.