paranoia [slow-ish updates]

5 days

It had already become unbearable to be in the same classroom as Gem and it wasn't even lunch yet. I had no idea how I was going to even start to make things up to her, let alone regain my place as one of her best friends. I knew she could be a downright bitch to some people, but I'd never imagined that person would be me.

Oh, and let me tell you, you should never get on the wrong side of Gem if you can possibly avoid it (mind you, she rarely gives people second chances- make the wrong first impression and it's a miracle she'll even make small talk with you). I was already feeling like crap without her glaring at me and deliberately elbowing me whenever we passed in the hallways (in hindsight, it all seemed a little childish; she could've easily forgiven me and, admittedly, I could have made a little more effort to get back in her good books. But hey, cut me some slack, I was having a hard time then). Plus there was that history project that I still couldn't muster enough concentration to make a start on. True, I could've asked Miles for help, seeing as teachers set the exact same assignments every year, but, knowing him, he would've asked for some sort of payment (and I was, as you now know, broke), so I didn't bother.

But, enough deviating from the subject; things were starting to get weird. Yeah, I know it had been weird from the start, but things were getting freaky weird. Like the kind of things you'd see on Supernatural.

Remember when I mentioned forgetting my phone on the Friday that everything started? My memory had gotten a whole lot worse since then. In the space of three days, I'd lost my phone multiple times, left my purse in the supermarket and nearly forgotten my bag Monday morning. Normally, I would put the blame on Miles for hiding my stuff from me- that's what big brothers do, right?- but after he'd denied it multiple times, I'd begun to think that, however sceptical I might be, he was telling the truth. I mean, even I had to admit that Miles probably didn't hide my bag from me.

I was getting really annoyed by it; sure, my memory was bad, but it had never been this bad before. Even my parents had started to notice it; their sighs had become a little more aggravated every time I slapped a hand to my forehead in frustration.

But Monday was when things started to get freaky.

While I might've remembered my bag, I'd forgotten my lunch money, so, after patting my purse and sighing when I heard no familiar chink of coins, I decided to go to the library. Hell, maybe I could start on this goddamned History project and at least stop worrying about one thing.

I'd just logged onto one of the computers (which was tediously slow, by the way) and my eyelids were drooping as I waited for the home screen to show up (sleepless night number three) when I suddenly experienced a sharp pain in my head.

Taken by surprise, having never felt this before, I gasped quietly, and I saw someone next to me glance over in either curiosity or concern. Not paying attention to them, I tried to ignore this...sensation, but the stinging in my left temple that made my ears ring brought moisture to my eyes. Massaging my forehead, I closed my eyes, blotted out the world for a few minutes. Amoeba-like shapes in neon colours swam before my closed eyelids, and I felt the throbbing intensify...

Next thing I knew, I was looking in the mirror of the bathroom, with a low thrumming sound reverberating around the tiled walls. Or was it in my head? To this day, I still have no idea.

My vision was blurred; I could only see fuzzy grey shapes, and I felt extremely disoriented- I had to clutch at the granite top to prevent injuring myself. Blood pounded in my head and my heart was pumping as fast as the drum beat of a dubstep remix, adding to the thrumming, altogether making it an awful orchestra inside my head. This lasted for about half a minute before I started to calm down, forcing myself to haul in big lungfuls of oxygen (did I mention I was hyperventilating? It was a good thing no one was in there at the time).

I was still experiencing the pain I had felt in the library, but it felt more muted now, merely a dull ache. Suddenly the thought occurred; how did I get here?

Trying to get my focus back (things were still a little blurry around the edges and I was still slumped against the sink edge) I attempted to retrace my steps back to the library. However, when I put myself back in front of the library computer, right when I experienced that stab of pain, I came up blank. Literally. My mind went blank. It was almost like nothing had even happened, that I had just managed to teleport from A to B without any recollection of it (but, of course, with something as impossible as teleportation, there'd be some memory of it, wouldn't there?).

God knows how long I tried and retried to do this, but every time I came up with nothing. It was only when the shrill toll of the bell signified that lunch was over that I reluctantly gave up. I was just about to leave before I noticed something red poking out from under my sleeve. Stepping back to the mirror, I pulled back my blazer and found several small, cylindrical marks all the way up to the middle of both my lower arms. Noticing the same shade of red under my shirt collar, I unbuttoned it and pulled it to the right to reveal some sort of bar code on my neck; a series of closely spaced rectangles and some sort of dialect lining the bottom of it.

Gulping, I tried to rub it off, hoping it was some kind of ink, but there wasn't even any smudging. Re-buttoning my shirt, I stepped out of the bathroom and prayed I wouldn't get a detention from Mr Denver when I arrived late.