Another Bruise, Another Day

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I am a darkling.

Woah, wait a minute Maya, what the hell.

Well what did you want us to call ourselves? The weird-shaped-black-things? We're the cool kids we aren't going to call ourselves something cooler than some nice shit that you might come up with.

Everyday when I woke up I would commit a crime. It wasn't a crime where I lived, it was just a crime in other societies. No matter how I describe my old life to you, it won't make sense. See you're normal. You have good emotions and bad emotions like a normal human, right? I don't. I only have the bad ones, don't ask me why, it's just how I was born. It was how all of us were born. We were bad, but that was good. It was the right way to live, you lived for your pleasure, you hated everyone, even your friends, you didn't trust anyone, you were your own first and you didn't let anyone in because that was normal. My life was something that people assign to their enemies, a life that sounds great on the outside, but is actually trash and everyone hates them. Thing is, I enjoyed that kind of life. Darklings thrive surrounded by chaos, anger, anything that would be considered immoral in any other time.

When someone was hurt, it brought me joy, when people screamed, I laughed, I was evil and proud. I was a thief, a murderer, a chronic liar, a stereotypical bad ass. Now I know half of you will be like, damn girl you fine, and the other half will be absolutely horrified. Well thing is, I'm not the only one, everyone I lived around, my whole world was centered around being as bad and evil as possible. There was a quota to fill, and we loved it. Nothing in our world, or in anyone else's world could stop us, we were a never stopping machine who would bulldoze over anything good in our way.

Before I was banished, I was popular. I was threatening, people avoided me. In a world of hate, I struck terror into people's hearts. I was the shit, man. Other horrible people didn't come down my street because I lived there. The world was my oyster, and I was going to be the fucking queen. There was a small pocket of people whom I had slightly approved, they still knew that I was in charge, but they walked on pins and needles -- one wrong move and they were gone. It was every man for themselves which was our way of performing Mother Nature's job: Not-So-Natural Selection, survival of the fittest.

Although everyday was different, they all started out the same. My final day was no different. I woke up and ate a bag of chips I had stolen from the family down the street, grabbed my knife and ran outside. The streets were still gleaming from the rain last night. There was no one out and I took it as an invitation to wake up everyone who wasn't up yet.

I chose a random house and broke down the door. With an almost maniacal laugh I took the staircase three at a time, reaching the top floor in no time. I was breathing heavily and took a second to glance at the view before letting out a scream. It echoed off of the buildings and soon there were noises of awake-ness. I screamed until my throat was raw and then screamed some more. I then grabbed the flag pole and swung around it. When I let go I was dizzy and exhilarated. There was nothing I couldn't do.

Just to prove that statement I sat on the edge of the building and grabbed the ledge as I vaulted over the side. Landing shakily on the window sill below me, I gripped the frame and bent down to hold the sill with white knuckles. When I kicked my feet off of the sill suddenly I had a rush of fear.

What if I fell? What if I died? What if I broke my legs and could never walk again?

I was shocked. I had never had those thoughts before. In fact, I was so surprised I almost let go of the window sill to hit my head. I was being delusional. I was immortal, I couldn't die. There was nothing anyone could do to me to make me hurt in anyway. I would be fine. I let go of the sill.

As I fell, I pushed off of the building, forcing myself to flip in the air. Time slowed. I saw the ground racing towards me. I felt to wind. I still felt those odd feelings. I crashed into the ground, rolling onto my back. I tasted blood. I jumped up and ran back up the stairs. I sprinted off of the building. I flew. I crashed. I hurt all over. I jumped up. I ran up the stairs.

I was gasping for breath. I was going to beat those feelings out of me. I was going to win. I could do whatever the hell I wanted to.

This time when I vaulted off of the building I closed my eyes. I felt to wind rush past my face and I let it take the feelings with it. They went flying off into the atmosphere where who knows what happens and I fell into the concrete.

I rolled and stood up holding my arm. I was alive. I was breathing hard. I was back to normal.

I took a breath and ignored the pain shooting up from my arm and skipped into a jog. I ran down the street, keeping my eyes and ears out for anything that could possibly happen. There were noises, but they were normal noises: the sounds of people screaming, the clang of blades hitting each other or the buildings, the explosions of bombs, the crackling of fire, everything was normal.

I was in pain and it was normal.

Everything was normal until I heard the marching of feet.

Darklings thrive on anarchy and marching together is rarely classified under 'anarchy' in any sort of definition. The only time darklings March together is when someone will be taken.

Taken away from the streets to who knows where for breaking our lawlessness.

As usual, everyone came out of their hiding holes to see who was being taken away. Maybe someone had tried to organize a raid. Maybe someone had let someone punch them. Maybe someone had had doubts.

I couldn't breathe. Doubts.

The feet came closer and closer, and my heart thundered in my ears.


They were coming for me.

I turned and ran as fast as I could with my bruised body from falling so many times. Down the road, careening into an alleyway, scaling the fence and landing shakily on my feet, taking off again.

I had to lose the sound of marching. Thud, thud, thud. It seemed to be everywhere. Constantly surrounding me.

How did they know? How could they know it was me? How could they sense my brain had stumbled?

I was off my game, dazed from jumping too many times and confused about how they knew to take me I took a corner too sharp and ran straight into the arms of a Marcher.

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