FicWad

"This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

Not with a BANG, but a whimper."

~T.S. Eliot



Shit happens. People die. For what?...Freedom?...Maybe. If you're fighting in a war on the opposite side of the world. What about everyday people? They die too. The only ones ever mentioned in the media are the important ones. The ones who die some horrific death or another. What of us nobodies? The ones who off themselves. The ones who die of some disease or another. The ones who die on the streets of hunger or some fatal wound they got from a struggle to survive.

Life. That's what it is. A struggle to survive. She has no other meaning. She drones on and on. Even her lover, Death, can't stop her, nor can she stop him. They coincide, intermingle. Without one, the other cannot exist. So, why do we humans exist anyway? We live…what? a mere eighty…ninety years? And that's only if we die natural deaths. We grow up, have a family, get a career. Then we die. People will forget. We try to achieve immortality through art, but scant few of us succeed. Are we just toys? Toys for whatever higher being created us? Do they even offer us a heaven in the end of all things? Or is it just a vast black nothingness waiting to devour us?

Is that where Axium is now? A black nothingness? Or did a higher being accept him into his home? Nobody will ever hear about Axium's death, or his story, outside his family and me. They should though. They should know about such a wonderful person. He saved me. Took me away from my world of loneliness. Gave me a purpose to continue, even though I didn't believe in his God. Even though I felt there was no reason to live. He never gave up on me. Continued to give me life, even as his beloved God took his. But that's life. You make friends. Fall in love…Only to have them taken away. Shit happens. People die. Life moves on…with or without you.

x~(Promise)~x

The screeching of my alarm brought me out of the nightmare I'd been in. I hit a button to try and make it shut up. When that failed, I just swiped it off the bedside table. A crash, then sweet silence. I lay in bed, panting, trying to regain my breath. I always had that nightmare, and hated it more and more each time. I hate sleeping. As I lay there, staring up at the ceiling fan, the sweat on my body cooled, the pounding of my heart slowed. My eyes started to drift shut again, so I pulled myself up. I sat a moment on the edge of my bed, two mattresses that lay on the wooden floor.

It was the last week of August. A few weeks into senior year. Another year of being no one. A zombie. I suppose that's a few steps ahead of the rest of the sheep I went to school with. For the next nine months, I'd wake up, take a shower, get dressed, go to school, do class work, eat lunch alone, come home, do homework, and find something to do in my free time that usually left it's mark. Quite literally. If mother ever came home, it would be brief. She'd sleep, eat then be called off to work or hole herself up in her office. I wouldn't see much of her. Never have for seven years. She seemed to disappear after dad died.

I clenched my eyes shut then stood, ignoring the chill that shot up my legs and back because of the cold wooden floor. I glanced at the time on my phone before heading to the bathroom for a shower. It lasted all of ten minutes. Wash my hair, soap up, rinse, shave, get out. The usual routine. I dried off and wrapped a towel around me. I had tried to avoid looking at myself in the mirror, but I caught my reflection. Pale, dark rings around my eyes – I'd have to cover that up with makeup. My cheekbones were prominent, my hair long and auburn, my eyes green. Bright green like my dads, but unlike my dads, they held no joy, no laughter. They looked…dead.

I clenched my jaw and stormed into my room. I hated my reflection. I didn't like the way it looked at me…mocked me. "You'll never mean anything to anyone." It seemed to say. I dropped the towel, and pulled on underclothing. I dug in my closet and dresser for clothes – I'd have to do laundry this weekend. I pulled on jeans. Not black or even grey. Just normal blue jeans. Not designer or anything like that. The right leg sported a gaping hole in the knee. One might consider it a fashion trend, I could care less. I pulled on a plain black shirt, neither baggy nor fitted. Next came socks and a pair of tattered converse, not high-tops, but normal length.

Then I brushed my hair half-assedly, left it hanging in my face. I put some cover-up around my eyes, made it look as natural as possible. Then came the eyeliner and mascara. I think you could guess how I wear it. I pulled on some fingerless gloves, a jacket thrice my size, grabbed my phone and bag and caught the bus. It was a normal boring morning. The overcrowded bus was noisy, even blasting Marilyn Manson, Slipknot and Kidneythieves over my headphones did nothing to drown them out. The freshman next to me probably never heard the two words 'sit' and 'still', nonetheless in the same sentence.

I was glad when the half hour drive to school was over. I pushed through the masses of students. A couple making out here, the Goths and Emos hanging out by the 'emo wall' over there. The popular kids hung out anywhere and everywhere. They mingled with everyone. I always wondered why people in movies never got along with "opposite cliques" or why the gay kids got beat up. It wasn't like that here. People noticed if you were from a different stereotype, but didn't give a shit. They'd still talk to you or hang out with you. It didn't matter. And the homosexual and bisexual population together probably out numbered the hetero's. We had our share of homophobes, but they didn't mind gay people, as long as they kept to themselves. Yes, it was a curious thing indeed. I suppose humans enjoy drama, on some level.

The hallways weren't as packed as the courtyard was, but I still felt uneasy. I was never one for large crowds of people. Yet, to my relief, the crowds started to thin out, everyone migrating to their classes. That was a sign that it was almost seven. Almost time for the bell to ring. I rushed to my locker, not paying attention to anyone. Nobody noticed me, as usual. I wasn't anything particularly interesting. I grabbed the lock on my half-locker and spun in the code. It snapped open with a little click and I took it off and threw open my locker door. Expecting to hear metal hit metal, I was surprised to hear a thud instead. My head swiveled in the direction and I stared, wide-eyed.

"Ow." The guy I had unintentionally hit, looked over while rubbing his head. Icy grey eyes met my green. Taking in his appearance, I really hoped this was a time where appearances were deceiving. Although the guy was extremely skinny, he seemed to have some slight musculature about him. He was very tall too, perhaps six foot three. I myself was five foot ten, and he towered over me. Hopefully he wouldn't hit me. He had messy brown hair that looked like it hadn't been brushed. It looked good on him though. He was also a bit paler than I was. I was a healthy pale, if that made sense. He was a shade or two too pale. Yet, he pulled it off. He wore a Nirvana shirt and some ripped jeans. No piercings that I could see though. I took all this in while apologizing.

"I am so sorry! I didn't see you there! Usually the locker next to mine is unused. I-"

"It's fine." He said, starting to laugh a bit. His voice was soft. Not girly soft, but soft and deepish…I guess that's what the authors of romance novels mean when the guy has a voice like velvet…Not that I read romance novels! Of course, not used to being spoken to, I had to flinch. Damn reflexes. If the guy noticed, he didn't say anything about it. Instead, he kept talking, even as the first bell rang.

"Actually, I'm new to the school, so this locker is mine now. It took me a while to find it, so I'm worried about being able to find any of my classes. Maybe you could help me?" he turned back to his locker, pulling a few things out of his bag and putting them into his locker. He glanced over when all I did was stare. Great, he probably thinks I'm retarded now. Stop staring! I couldn't help it though. Not many people talked to me. It was as if I was invisible. Not that I minded much, but it would be nice to have some recognition every now and then. He raised a dark eyebrow. I envied his ability to do that. No matter how much I practiced in the mirror, I could never do that.

"Are you going to get your books?" he asked, closing his locker as the minute bell rang.

"Oh…um…yeah. Hold on." I turned back and shoved books for my first four hours in my bag, since I wouldn't get a chance to get to my locker again until lunch. I closed my locker and shouldered my bag.

"What classes do you have first?" I asked, reaching out for his schedule. He handed it to me, saying,

"Math, I think."

"Yeah. Calculus with Mr. Reese. He's a good teacher. You'll like him as long as you do all your work. I have him for study hour after lunch, but last year, he was my Algebra 2 teacher." I said, heading down a hall that led to Mr. Reese's class.

"We have second hour, lunch and seventh hour together. You like art?" I asked. Seventh hour was an advanced art class. The guy laughed and shook his head.

"Not really, but I'm good at drawing I suppose. I prefer my guitar to drawing though. My mom said I should take the class. Some hunch of hers. Woman's intuition…something or another. I kinda stopped paying attention after a bit." He made a flippant gesture with his hand.

"It's not that bad. The teacher tends to talk most of the time though, so sometimes work doesn't get done in class and you end up doing most of the assignments at home. Second hour is Government with Ms. Summers."

"Sounds like a kindergarten teacher. Is she any good?" the guy asked as we stopped in front of Mr. Reese's room.

"She makes class entertaining. She's traveled a lot and tells us stories."

"That sounds cool. The teachers that I've had weren't that great."

"Where did you used to go to school at?" I asked.

"I was home schooled. My parents paid for people to come in and teach me."

"Have you ever been to a public school before?" I inquired. Before he could answer, the last bell rang. I groaned internally. Now I was late.

"This is Mr. Reese's room. I have to go. I'll see you second hour." I quickly said, turning to go.

"Wait. Where's second hour?" the guy asked. I paused a moment and looked at him. The desperate look on his face was amusing.

"Almost directly upstairs. It'll have the teachers name in the window."

"I didn't get your name." He said, as I started walking.

"Mika." I called over my shoulder.

"I'm Axium." He called back as the small crowd of stragglers swallowed me. It wasn't until I was sitting in my seat, that I realized with surprise that I had carried a conversation with a complete stranger without any problems.

First hour seemed to drag by. When it was finally over, I grabbed my stuff and headed upstairs, expecting to see Axium again. But, as the minutes ticked by and students filed in, I saw no sign of the wild brown hair or its owner. With a dejected sigh, I settled down and prepared to take notes.