Young Writers Society

Attention! I will start every chapter with a quote and whoevers perspective it is in!

“Forgive me. I continue to underestimate the breadth of your ignorance.”

-Miss Peregrine

Thank you @Feltrix for the quote!

Nayleth - Chapter 6.2

I sat on my bed, surrounded by J, Sully and Griffin. Griffin was looking at me, a wonder-filled look in his eyes while he played with his shirt sleeves. Sully was sketching in his huge book and J was staring at Griffin.

But I just kept gazing into the bed that was an exact replica of the one I had when I was younger. The same speckled quilt and squishy pillow. The same bedside stand with the picture of my father and mother, both of them around the age of twenty-two.

Running my fingers over the quilt, I questioned everything that had happened in the past day.

I mean, there was a damn good chance that I was hallucinating. Why the hell would this be real, this bright world that, behind the curtains, must have a darker side? Why would I be this lucky? And how did I have exact replicas of items from my room?

I took in a deep breath, smelling honey, wheat and pine trees. The more I focused on the smells, the more I realized they belonged to a person. The people in the room to be exact.

“Hey Nat,” Griffin said, dislodging my train of thought. “Can we talk... in private?”

I slowly nodded my head in agreement, wary of what was to happen.

J and Sully just looked at us oddly, both walking out of the room.

“That was thoughtful. Anywho, Nat, are you sure we aren’t going crazy? That you aren’t crazy? And why does it feel like we know one another? Why? That’s not normal.” Griffin told me, urgency in his voice.

All I did was look at him. His eyes were boring into mine, his face showing clear worry. I wasn’t talking. I noticed that scars traced his arms and a few were on his neck. They looked like burn marks.

“It is odd. All if this is so damn odd. And yes, I am probably in the loony bin already but might as well enjoy it. I cannot go back to the world that I know. Neither of us can,” I said while gesturing to the scars along his skin. He immediately covered his scars and I smiled slightly.

I ran my hand through my hair, nervously. Then the pain spiked through my ears again but then it traveled through my back and limbs and everywhere.

But, being me, I hid the pain and kept talking. “Scars are not something to be ashamed of.”

Griffin slowly nodded in response and stopped hiding his scars. They were burn marks. From cigarettes. I could still smell them.

“I don’t know my parents. Only their names. Ace and Blitz Griffin. My foster parents…. well, just look at my arms and my neck and just me.”

“And my father committed suicide. I sometimes think that he is still alive. Every once in awhile, I can hear his voice. Sometimes he says goodnight and others… others he is telling me to do something. That was a long while ago though.”

“Oh. Wait… I remember my foster parents talking about your father. Saying that he was a scum. An alien is this society. That he was good friends with… oh.”

But neither of us had to continue what Griffin was about to say. We knew. We knew that our parents were close family friends and the more I thought about it, the more memories began to resurface.

A memory of me and Griffin sitting on the swing set, both of us only four or three appeared first. The swings were new and held no sense of dread yet. Another one was of the last time we would see one another. His father, Ace, was talking with mine-Jesse. They both looked over at me, then Griffin. My father mumbled something about us both becoming more than what he would ever be. But we were only toddlers still. Things like that were still too complicated for us to understand. But then again, the more I thought about it, the more I realized my little brain did understand it. To an extent.

Griffin sighed heavily then walked away, gently squeezing my shoulder in reassurance. I hardly even uttered the words thank you and he told me that things would get better, things would change. They always do.

I pulled up the sleeve of one of my arms and looked at the scars that traced it. Some were faded and others were more visible. But they were there. They’ve been there for years. It’s why Ripper doesn’t, no, didn’t allow me to have a plastic knife when I ate. Nothing sharp.

“I am going on a walk.” I said abruptly. Sully scoffed.

“You don’t even know your way around the building, let alone enough to go on a walk!”

“I’ll find my way back.”

“But-” Sully began and Griffin clasped a hand around his mouth, interrupting him and urging me to go. I looked at Griffin and laughed the most genuine laugh I had in years. He smiled like a wolf in response.

Without another word, I walked out the door, wondering why I was even going out in the first place.

---

My shoes hit the ground, pounding against the waxed floor. I ran my hands against the stone walls, the rough edges feeling like tiny daggers. I pulled my hand away, hating the feeling that I used to love.

The halls weren’t filled with lockers. They were filled with pictures and statues with burn marks. They were filled with platforms that rose high into the air while the roof was glass. They were filled with the energy of the day. And then doors lined the hall. Doors of the teachers.

At the end of the hall was another door but before I could go to see whose door it was, someone stepped out from behind it.

I immediately ducked behind a statue, the granite smooth at some places. My breathing got quieter, my pulse slowing down. I was squished behind it, my cheeks pressed against the cool stone.

Mark walked by me and I stopped breathing completely. His wings were draped behind him like a cape, his colored eye glowing brightly in dark halls.

He kept walking and his talons clicked against the floor. But then he stopped.

“Nayleth, come here.” His slight accent rang through my ears. He stood in front of the statue now, smiling a smile that was worthy of my father.

I wiggled my way out from behind the statue, now noticing Griffin at the end of the hall. He froze when he saw Mark and began to run back toward the room.

“Claric, come here as well. I need to talk to the both of you.” Mark told us, Griffin now running toward us.

I looked at Griffin, an eyebrow raised. He gave a weak smile and shrug in return. Out from the corner of my eye, I saw Mark smile ever so slightly.

He walked a bit ahead of us, me and Griffin both following him and wondering where we were going, as well as what he wanted to tell us.

---

We were outside now, in the middle of the forest the lined the school grounds. The trees were odd here. The leaves were fat and the tops of them were a deep purple. Underneath was a bright blue that seemed to glow under the mask of the darkness. Small mushrooms and flowers also shared this trait, all different colors.

I had taken my shoes off by now. Its this odd thing of mine, where I will randomly take off my shoes and set them somewhere. I’ve always preferred barefeet from having them confined in evil cloth and runner contraptions.

Griffin walked beside me, his breath coming out in frost. He had taken off his coat a while back, sweat dribbling down his temple.

On the other hand, I had stolen Griffins sweatshirt again. I was beyond freezing and Griffin seemed beyond hell’s temperature.

A clearing was in front of us now, grass covering it.

Mark held up a hand, surprising me.

“I didn’t trip!” I mumbled to myself. I am a naturally clumsy person, and not being clumsy for once was nice.

Griffin chuckled when hearing my exclamation and Mark laughed as well.

Mark turned around toward us, his grin that of the Cheshire Cat.

“So, it's 11:24pm, way after curfew. You are in the middle of a clearing with the headmaster of the school that trains metas. Yet, neither of you are questioning me like most would. Why?” Mark blurted out.

“Because, your hands were not clammy. You were calm, collected. You walked with a measure of reassurance. But what gave away the most was your pulse. It was slow, deliberate. If it was fast, jumpy almost, then that would have given away that you were planning something sinister, to say the least. And you were in your form. From what I have gathered from the short time of being here, none of the students have seen you like that. Yet, you are trusting us. Complete strangers.” I replied as quickly as the golden snitch from Harry Potter.

His smile widened before he answered. “That is more than a normal meta would notice. Griffin?”

Griffin shuffled on his feet, answering with a ducked head. “Um, uh, sorry I didn’t tell you this earlier Nat but… um, I can’t hear his pulse. But his heartbeat, now that I can hear. But I can see strings in his heart and yours. In everyone's. They have colors and others have snapped, like a violin. The colors of yours were a sky blue, the color of trust. Don’t ask how I know, I just do.”

“Indeed. But strangers, sometimes strangers are just people you’ve met before Nayleth. Even if you don’t know that.

“Now, I need the both of you to focus. Deep breaths and let the pain that has spiked through you all day go. Let it eat away at you until you can’t take it anymore.” Mark said.

Me and Griffin looked at one another but listened.

The moment I did what he asked, I fell to my knees. I clawed at my ribs and my face. My lungs felt like they were on fire, my back as if dull razors were cutting through it. Then, with the last of the pain receding, I stood up. I could feel a slight weight on my back, a few of my finger heavier than others. But my sense of belonging, of peace had returned. I felt happy.

I looked at Mark.

“What just happened?”

His grin grew.

“I was right. Auggie wasn’t. He owes me a Nixxie bar.” was all he said.

Me and Griffin looked at one another in silence. One, because he looked badass and two? Two because Mark was being so confusing.

So, I guess this is where things get interesting.