Second Breath: 1
A locker slammed in the distance.
I nearly jumped out of my skin.
You might say, Taylor, why are you so jumpy?
It'd been weeks. Weeks since I'd even had a nasty word tossed offhand at me. I'd been left alone, left in peace.
And yet… It just made me suspicious. Nervous. What next? What next? There has to be something next. They won't let it end like this. There's no way it could end like this.
I guess this takes some explaining.
My name is Taylor Hebert, and I have been bullied for a year and a half. You might say that's normal. That it happens to everyone.
Not like this.
I haven't eaten lunch in public in months. Not because I wasn't hungry, or because I hated people, but because… People would take it. They'd throw it. They'd trash it, spit on it, mock me.
Seriously, you know it's bad when even the gangs pity you, right? That's just rock fucking bottom. There's no possible way it could sink any lower, but then it does.
Every day, the pranks. Everyday, my homework vanishes. Every fucking day, I lose a little bit more of my sanity.
I don't feel like a person anymore. Just a target. Just a slab of meat being punched and kicked and stabbed, over and over again.
This isn't normal. This wasn't normal. Nothing was normal anymore.
What was the worst, more than any of this… was that it wasn't just anyone. Oh, sure, two of them weren't special. They were just bullies. They were doing just what bullies do.
But Emma.
Emma is a monster.
Emma was my friend.
Emma isn't my friend anymore.
She was my sister in all but blood.
Now when I look at her, all I can see is my blood on her hands.
I'd shared everything with her. My fears, my hopes, my tears. She'd seen me when I'd been inconsolable after Mom's death, and been my rock. She'd been there when Dad drifted away, throwing himself into the Union and leaving me alone in a dusty, empty house.
Emma had been my best and only real friend.
And one day, it had all changed. No warning, no words. Just… silence.
Silence. Complete silence from her. It was like an electric shock, straight to my veins.
And then, the next day?
She wasn't quiet anymore.
I missed when she was quiet, after that.
Everything I have ever shared with her. Everything she knew about me. Everything I was, became just. Just.
Ammunition. Ammunition to hurt me. Every little thing I valued was something she would use to hurt me.
My mother's flute - my possession. My keepsake of her. Something that she had gifted to me, even with how important it was to her, destroyed. My mother's own words. Her fears. How she died.
Everything was something to hurt me.
I couldn't defend myself. How could I? I couldn't laugh it off. I couldn't hide. I had to sit here. In school. Where no one helped, no one cared, and no one
gave a shit about me.
This place was hell, and I was the only one trapped here. It was a prison, exclusively built for me.
But now - now. Now they'd left me alone. After months and months of unceasing torture, I was free. And I was still scared. I was waiting for them to strike. To make me let my guard down. But it was so nice to be… Free. To be alive. To not suffer.
I blinked. It was four. I was late to leave, but… They couldn't catch me if I left late. I hurried out of the library, trying to get home as fast as possible, get out, get away from it.
And as I passed by the hall, I felt something tap me on the shoulder.
I turned.
And that's when they shoved me into my locker, and the door locked in front of me.
And as the smell rose up, the blood seeped into my clothes, the bugs crawling onto my skin, I realized - "Oh. Oh."
Winslow wasn't hell.
This, this was hell.
A light shined in my eyes, and I squinted, staring at a phone screen. It buzzed, and a message opened.
Heeeeeey, Taylor! How ru? It cant b that nice bin in a locker
(((
Dw u can get out in a few1! Will remember
)))
Lol have fun ;3
Ur bestie <3333333333
I screamed, anger and fear in my voice, wrenching through my heart and into my lungs.
And all I could hear in response?
Was fucking laughter.
Time passed. I don't know how long. I felt disassociated.
Was I Taylor Hebert?
Was that really who I was?
Is… Is this me?
Taylor screamed. Taylor cried. Taylor pounded the walls until her palms bled, her arms were scratched, and vomit ran down her shirt like rain in a forest.
In another time, in another place, this would be important. This would be the motivation, the 'character' behind the character, if you will allow me that. This would be something to look back at, to say in the future 'Ah! That's why it all happened, isn't it?' The quintessential mark on someone's life that couldn't possibly be erased.
But, I couldn't be talking to you if this was the truth, could I? Yes, it's all very sad, and as I once remarked to a friend, it was a rather tragic tale, worthy of a story in and of its own. But come now, don't be gauche.
Reboots are so trite.
In another world, Taylor Hebert dies in that locker. And she awakens to green fire and shadows.
This is not Taylor Hebert's story.
This is someone else's.
In a not so distant room -
The sun, a golden disc, gleamed in the afternoon sky. It cast the room in a golden glow, leaving my brow warm. It felt like a beam, an intense focus, right on my forehead. I blinked, turning away from the shining light of something as disgusting as the outdoors. And the vague sense that there was something important to be doing.
Naturally, I ignored it. I'd had a lot of those recently, but they just kept leading me to weird, inexplicably dangerous events.
Like the one time where there had been a bunch of people in green clothing, shouting about something, while a bunch of giant dogs ran away. They'd been dropping poker chips all over the place! And last week when it sent me to an elementary school, and I saw this girl being harassed by a bunch of shady looking guys, asking her questions about numbers or something. Or those fifteen other times, where I just ended up running into Panacea. She looked really sad, and like she wanted something or someone to talk to. But the game store was like, five minutes away, and I'm pretty sure some cool Aleph games had just come out.
I'm a busy guy, I can't possibly help anyone when there all these video games that need playing!
Shouts sounded in the hallway, but I couldn't hear them. They were too distant, and I was busy with important matters. Very important matters. Matters that I couldn't be pulled away from.
"Oh Greg-senpai, I do love you!" the brown haired figurine in my hand said.
"I know Taylor-chan, it's only your fear that makes you not talk to me," I replied, bringing her close me. Her long locks, surrounding her face, hid her true beauty. A beauty only I saw.
"Oh yes, Greg-senpai. W-would you…. W-would you… K-kyaa! I can't say it!" she stammered out, breathlessly. Her face was blushing, turning red from being so close to her love.
"Taylor-chan, you know you can talk to me about anything," I assured her, my deep, masculine voice comforting her. My strong presence, a balm to her wounds.
I leaned into kiss my anime figurine, when it exploded into weird black gas and green fire. It swallowed me whole. I didn't drop my figurine though - she was too precious!
=====================================================================
Pitch black.
I couldn't see a thing.
But I still cradled Taylor to my chest, protecting her, as I would any of my loves.
"Hello?" I asked.
A spotlight turned on. A single circle of golden light. It shone down upon a man, dressed like a Chad. He was an Adonis-like figure, and I felt like the virgin before him, the Chad.
"Ah, you. It's been rather difficult getting you here, you know. Someone was… rather insistant on your appearance elsewhere," he said, voice as smooth as Kirito himself. It was rich, deep, and masterful.
"W-what did I do?" I asked, shirking back.
He smiled, mouth a thin line. His eyes glinted, like he was wearing glasses and had done a cool pose. His suit was purest black, and his tie a solid bronze, reflecting dimly.
"Well, it's less what you did, per-se, and more what you 'didn't do'," he said, softly. Pitch black smoke billowed from his clothes, surrounding him. The light started to dim. "They did try, though."
The smoke began to take form, a great serpentine mass, swimming through the sole point of light. It solidified, a great black eye staring down at me, among car-sized scales. A wing unfurled - no. That thing was too big to be called a wing. Too big, too thick, too heavy, and too rough. It was more like a large hunk of iron.
I blinked owlishly, like Taylor would, staring at the giant haze in the shape of a dragon. "But I haven't done anything?"
It peered down at me, sole eye blinking slowly. "Yes, that's sort of the problem. You could have gotten light and soulfire, but instead, you've got me. Rejoice, Greg Veder, for your wish can finally be granted."
How could he possibly know what my least favorite character from my favorite anime would say?!
"Be seeing you around, kiddo," he said, and winked.
And that's when the darkness ate me. It flowed forward, pouring down my mouth, my eyes, my brain. And when I looked down, horror in my eye sockets - I could see.
It had entered my Taylor figurine!
I couldn't help it, I screamed a manly scream.
I woke up. I was in an alleyway. My wallet was missing. My zipper? Undone. My shoelaces? Tied together.
Also I was glowing.
My Taylor figurine was resting on my chest.
A/N:
@Cat SAID NOT TO @ HIM SO INSTEAD HE'S HERE WRITING
editor's note: i hate myself and logic the most but greg is okay
