World Eater

3

ABADDON WAS AWAKE. He blinked, his senses flooding over him. He could see, hear, taste, smell, feel. He flexed his fingers, staring down at his fingernails, which had been chewed to the quick. Obviously not his doing.

Stained concrete floors and rusty lockers made up his new surroundings. School, of course, Abaddon thought, taking note of his scrawny, naked chest.

“You deaf or something, Alzar?” a voice snapped at him, and a sock bounced off his head.

Of course, Alzar was in trouble.

Meaty fingers wrapped around his arm, dragging him backwards. Abaddon wheeled around to face his aggressors, three teenage boys that outweighed his host’s body by at least forty pounds.

“Why's your skin like that?”

Abaddon blinked, understanding the current situation. He tore his arm from the boy’s grip with a defensive slap.

“Don't touch me, child,” Abaddon hissed, his voice even and deep. He spoke like an old man. “We have a picking disorder, but it's none of your business.

The boy retreated his arm, rubbing the red marks Abaddon had left. “‘We?’ What the crap are you talking about, Alzar?!”

Abaddon cursed under his breath. He hadn't meant to slip up his language like that.

“It's none of your business,” he reiterated, bending down to collect his gym clothes.

A stilted silence fell across the room as Abaddon hastily pulled on his clothes.

----

Alzar’s eyes snapped open, and he shook his head, trying to throw off the dreary feeling that hung on his shoulders.

His mind felt fuzzy, like the static that distorted the radio when he was on the outskirts of town. He was sitting in the cafeteria, in his usual, isolated spot, his lunchbox already open and his food set out.

Lethargic, Alzar pulled out his phone, almost dropping it when he realized it was twelve thirty. Nearly two hours had passed, and Alzar had no memory of them.

Alzar leaned back in his chair, sucking in several steadying breaths in an attempt to settle his nerves.

He had done it again.

Sharpie ink on his arm caught his attention. He tugged up his sleeve, already knowing what he would see.

“Dear Alzar,” neat cursive handwriting stated, “You missed gym class. I performed proficiently enough to earn us high marks. Please remember to eat lunch and drink lots of fluids.”  

He sighed, pushing his sleeve back down. He hadn't planned on Abaddon resurfacing again this week.

Bringing his water bottle to his lips, he forced down a couple sips. He skimmed through his phone, dismissing the notifications that had piled up. Abaddon didn't appreciate Alzar’s cell phone as much as he did, so it was his own personal safe haven.

His finger hovered over a text message from his uncle and legal guardian, Sariel. “Hey Al! Are you having a good day at school? I love you!” The corners of Alzar’s mouth rose involuntarily into a smile as he read over the gratuitous amount of heart emojis.

Blushing, he swiped away the notification, averting his eyes to rub his temples. His head still ached, and every time the noise in the cafeteria rose above a drone he felt it in his eyes.

He put down his phone, ducking his head closer to the table and taking a bite of his sandwich. He didn't like people watching him eat. It made his stomach hurt.

Just then, the intercom buzzed to life, a click crackling over the old, cheap school speakers.

“Mr. Alzar Lorne needs to report to the principal's office, Mr. Alzar Lorne needs to report to the principal's office.”