Incarnated

Chapter 1

A.N. Hi guys, so this is a rewrite of what I originally had posted here. Very few of the plot points are the same so please just think of it as a new story. This chapter in particular is devoted to a friend of mine, who encouraged me to keep writing. Enjoy.

If they had still existed within society in the year 3049, Nathan might have been classed as an emo, what with his black hair and black clothing. Other than that, he could also have been compared to a ghost or perhaps a wraith- thanks to his unusually pale skin, which made his ice blue eyes pop like two sapphires in a bed of diamonds- if those things had been accepted as appropriate things to think about, which they weren't.

Nathan didn't concern himself with these small details. In his small, plain life, appearance wasn't something that he normally concerned himself with. If people talked about him behind his back- which they did- and looked at him as though he were some breed of strange creature, never before seen by man- something which was also true- then it was no different from usual. He was used to it by this point in his life.

He was perfectly happy to continue, or at least to try, to live as normal a life as possible, away from all the trials of friendship and love and being in the limelight. There was nothing wrong with getting average grades as far as Nathan was concerned. So what if he wasn't going to be the next Prime Minister? At least he didn't have to worry about assassins, right?

There was just one problem in Nathan's small, mundane- if slightly unhappy- life. It wasn't his parents- although they verged on the side of abusive at some times and neglectful at the rest- or his dreams- which, more often than not, strayed so far from the law that he would be shot by the gun squad if the Government ever developed telepathy (or, you know, if he ever told anyone).

No, Nathan's problem lay with the two boys who seemed to be following him wherever he went. It had long since passed the point where he could label their presence as a coincidence and even when he could have done, their eyes were always fixated on him, dispelling any thought of continuing that notion.

He'd brought them up with his therapist, Mr Hillard; a fat pig of a man with a mop of blonde hair and tiny brown eyes, which were swallowed up in the red folds of fat that made up the vast majority of his face. The man had dismissed it as paranoia, added it to a long list of 'conditions' and disregarded the issue completely.

Nathan disagreed. It wasn't paranoia if they were actually following him... which they were. Not that Mr Hillard cared to listen.

Mr Hillard was a terrible therapist, something that he got away with because he was cheap and... no, that was pretty much it. Nathan's parents got the sessions especially cheap because they were some of the only people who hadn't gone out of their way to be cruel to him in their school years (Note: they hadn't been especially nice to him either).

Going off of the human-pig's qualification (or lack there of), how desperate the man seemed to be to keep Nathan in therapy and Mr Hillard's 'charming personality', Nathan had figured out that he was probably one of the man's only clients, if there even were other clients.

Honestly, he wasn't surprised when paranoia got added to his long list of conditions, instead of concern being raised about the boys, who may or may not have been stalking him. Adults didn't generally care about Nathan. In fact, nobody did.

Nathan didn't have friends, he didn't have siblings and whilst he did have parents, he wouldn't hurry to call them family. He was the loner at school who nobody talked to and everybody avoided like he carried the black death, unless, of course, they wanted something- normally money- and then the attention he received normally wasn't positive. On those days he would wind up with more bruises and scrapes than most people got in a year.