Chapter Five

Methys' POV:

Pain. There is such an intense, acute pain in my temple that I curl up into a ball and whimper. The pain is blasting through my body, to my limbs and skull. As much as I try to, I can't make it subside, and in fact, I'm making it worse.

I wish I had some morphine or painkillers, because I'm feeling like my head may split into two - not literally, of course - at any time.

"She's awake. Get me the gun." a menacing voice growls. I shudder, and try, with a herculean effort, to open my eyes. They flutter, then close again. I repeat this a few times because my body can't seem to be responding the way it should be. It's weak and tired, unresponsive and rigid.

Oh no. Am I becoming like Dad? I really hope not. I can't imagine being that... I don't know what is. I don't want to be like Dad. I can't even think about it. Thoughts sped through my mind at such a furious pace that my head throbs. A frisson of alarm ran through my mind. However, I try to calm myself down. It's probably just fatigue, I tell myself, don't worry; it's nothing to worry about.

Then I hear the audible click.

My eyes shoot open, and I sit upright immediately. Bolts of fear and anxiety shoots down my back at the speed of light. A male and a female holds me down as a scowling blonde aims a gun at me, with a look of disgust shot at me. Pain blossoms at the base of my skull, radiating in large waves throughout me. I forgot about that.

Please make it stop.

Then I realise it. My pocket is empty.

Where is my gun? My eyes flicker to my pocket once again. It is gone. Where is it? I need it now, desperately. It's the last and only thing that Erin gave me, the only thing that can keep me safe. The only thing that I can remember her with, and that I'll know that she's still there, with me.

I'm not intending to use it, I just need it to keep others away from me.

"Who are you?" a male's soothing voice reaches me, calming my nerves instantly. I recognise him as the one who had knocked me out. With a newspaper bundle.

And I repeat, a newspaper bundle. There should be some advertisement advertising newspaper bundles as a weapon. It's a good one, I have to admit. It hurts very much and it can be underestimated so your enemy will be caught by surprise. The newspaper boys will definitely earn big bucks. They will have a bright future ahead of them. That is if there is no black rain.

They - newspapers - still exist because the "ancients" - people who are obsessed with knowing the latest news, reading newspapers and the like - simply cannot exist without their daily newspapers so they requested the government not to remove the newspapers. Surprisingly, they agreed.

I guess it has paid off. When this all ends I'm going to write an essay about the amazing-ness of newspaper bundles.

However, what appalls me is that it actually hurts to get smacked by a newspaper bundle. Not the small ache, but a full-blown, massive pain attack. And, if I could think of all this, that means I'm alive and well, making jokes again - though it isn't often I do it.

Snapping out of my ridiculous thoughts, I quickly blurt out my mother's name. "Lydia." I almost want to take back my words, but I hold back.

He frowns at the golden-haired girl beside him, who leans down beside me, smirking humourlesly. I cringe. They've seen through my lies, and I'm going to have to pay for it. Her eyes glint with danger, and I suddenly wish I could dig a hole and vanish into it forever more.

"Don't play games with us, puny girl. We don't have time for that." She sneers, and I whimper softly. How can she insult me like that? I feel so much like punching her and skinning her alive. But I don't have the heart to do that.

"W... what? What do you want? I have no money, no food, and you've taken my gun." I try my best to suppress the tears that are threatening to spill over my lashes. I can't even speak if I want to keep my hot tears from running down my cheeks. I can't cry, not if I want to act brave, not if I want to survive. Dad taught me that, but being the soft girl I am, I simply cannot control my emotions as well as others do.

The girl that has been aiming her gun at me rolls her eyes, smiling gently at me, like a mother does to her daughter. Not that I've been interacting with my mother often, but I read many books which have such scenes, where the mother cares for her child, rolling her eyes and smiling lovingly at a lame joke.

I wish I had that type of experience.

Somehow I feel that that girl's smile isn't genuine. "We all know who Lydia is. You're not her. We don't want to hurt you, and in fact, we don't even know what we're supposed to do. Well, actually I do. That is kill you. But Arin here," she releases one hand to jab her thumb at the boy who hit me, the one with the spiky brown hair and electric blue eyes, "thinks you look human. So we're here to prove that we're not the only freaky teens who somehow are immune to this-"she lets go of me completely to gesture around her, "-weird situation."

The boy's name is Arin? That sounds too close to the girl, my best friend, I shot. My blood runs cold. Do they know about that? Wait, they are immune to this too? There are a million questions I am dying to ask, but I cannot trust them. I'm confused, tired, feeling absolutely terrible and guilty.

I don't want to be here. I want to be at home, cuddling with my stuffed toys, huddled underneath the covers, and leading a normal life with Dad. In fact, I want Mom back. I don't mind the loud fights, as long as I have Mom. I just want my own life back. Why must this black rain even start? Why couldn't it just leave my family - and everyone - alone?

The tears that threaten to spill starts to trickle down my face. I can't hold them back anymore. Tear after tear splashes down my face uncontrollably.

The girl holding me down sighs deeply. She must pity me. "Look, if this'll make you feel better, I'm Emeline, the person who obviously hates you is Roseline, the boy who's shaking is Terris. And you know Arin already." Roseline glares at Emeline, while Terris continues to tremble, and Arin's eyes never leave me, making me feel uncomfortable. The only one who looks safe is Emeline, with her chocolate hair and blue-gray eyes, and warm smile.

"Can you please don't say that?" I whisper.

"What?" they all ask, and I draw my knees to my chest on impulse, resisting the urge to break out in tears again.

"Arin." I whisper softly, a tear escaping my eye. I swipe at it immediately.

"Why?" the chorus again, and I slap my hands over my ears, as another wave of tears sweep over my face.

Arin. Erin. There's no difference. You might as well have killed this boy in front of you. You're evil, and rotten to the core. Erin will never forgive you.

"Just... Just don't!" I look up, and see in Arin's shockingly blue eyes, that he is hurt.

I cannot care less, although there is a pang in my chest. I am terrified of these strangers. They're going to hurt me, for no reason at all. Yes, I may have pointed a gun at them, but surely they must understand that it's for my own safety.

At least he does not have green eyes like Erin, or heather grey ones like mine.

Mom used to say that people with the same eye colour can read your thoughts. I used to think it was true, and now, it still haunts me. That's why I do not dare to look at her in the eye; she will know all my secrets that way whenever we meet up.

"Okay, okay!" Emeline hushes me. "But really, what's your name?" She asks softly, reassuringly.

I glance around. They don't look like they'll hurt me, at least not now, since Emeline is actually using effort to learn my name. Maybe, just maybe if I tell them my name, they may give me back my gun, and I can escape. I don't have anything that I can give them, anyway.

"M... Methys." I choke on my tears, barely audible.

"What?" the blonde - Roseline -narrows her eyes. "Stop playing the pity card, it doesn't work." Emeline nudges her, but Roseline ignores her, and glares at me. The boy with the brown hair and blue eyes continues to stare at me, and I can't bring myself to look at him.

"Methys," I say, louder this time, with more confidence. Who does she think she is, I did not even do anything to make her hate me! It's not like I killed her family or anything...

Wait. Where are these people's family? This new question sets off another alarm bell in my head, and together with the black rain pouring outside, I groan and rub my temples. Emeline looks concerned, Terris almost touches my arm, and he almost says something, but Roseline ignores me completely.

"Unusual," she mutters under her breath. She turns to that boy, the one with that name. "What now?"

"Tests." He says calmly, slowly, like he's trying to suppress his anger.

"No!" I leap up into a standing position, my feet swaying, but Roseline raises the gun until it is level to my ribs. I whimper, and sit down. Emeline rushes to my side, and asks if I'm okay.

"You can't defy Arin, Methys." she spits my name like it's garbage. I cringe at the use of his name, and a grin breaks out on her face. She's enjoying torturing me. I hate her. I hate her!

Emeline grabs her arm. "Arin - I mean, um," she looks over at me, smiling apologetically, "A, knows how to handle her, Rose. Just leave her alone."

"Getting protective of your new friend?" Roseline rolls her eyes, and Emeline frowns, looking close to tears. Her eyes scream, how dare you, Roseline! And I think to myself that we could be great friends one day.

'Guys, stop it!" Terris shouts, but he's still trembling. "What if she runs away?" He panics, staring at me with a burning intensity.

He - A - rolls his eyes. "Seriously, she can't go anywhere. We have all her possessions, who would be so stupid as to do that?"

Maybe there will be someone. Just that you don't know. I remember Erin was just like that.

When I hadn't...

I shake my head, removing that thought from my mind. But it stays there, replaying over and over.

Roseline turns her attention to me, but she's talking to Terris. "Arin's absolutely right, there's no way this puny little thing can go anywhere."

I want to run out of this house and scream. She's reminded me of her too much in just five minutes. Every single time she mentions that name, I see the blood, I smell the metal, I feel the gun in my hands. I feel the heavy weight of dread, of regret. I killed her, and she'll never return. I'll never have my best friend again.

"Okay, okay! I'll take the tests." Before Roseline can make any snarky comments, I walk towards her on wobbly legs, and hold out my hand. "But I want my gun back." I demand.

Her eyebrows lift. "No." is her firm reply. And I'm sure she isn't one to mince her words.

She is having such a great time torturing me, and seeing me suffer in silence. Just her comments terrify me. Only Erin could deal with her. I wish Erin was... was... But she's gone. I can't do this anymore. I clench my fists, and punch her face with as much strength I can muster, putting in all the anger - and hatred - I had for her.

I hear a crack and cry out at the blast of pain; I know I have busted my knuckles. I should not have tucked my thumb into my fist. I wince and shake my hand just as she pounces on me, twisting my hand behind my back. I scream, my yells echoing throughout the house, up the stairwell. It echoes like an eerie song played on repeat, my wails sounding again and again and again throughout the whole house.

Bad mistake.

At first, a deadly silence falls, such that I could literally hear a pin drop. Then, out in the distance, I hear footsteps, getting louder and louder, as each thump got louder and louder, and closer to us. To say that I'm scared is just an understatement; what I'm feeling now cannot be described in black and white. Roseline lets go of my arm, and he cocks his head towards the sound, reminding me of a wolf at midnight as he stiffens. I cower back in fright, holding in my breath, afraid to even move a muscle.

Terris taps his shoulder with a shaky hand. "Who?" he whispers in fear. He shakes his head, and gestures for everyone to move back calmly and silently. Emeline complies without question - never failing to listen - and he looks at me for a while, pausing for a second, before dragging me backwards.

The feeling of his warm hand on my skin makes it tingle, sending fireworks shooting up my arm, and shivers up and down my back, causing goosebumps to appear. All of my pain seems to have subsided all of a sudden. His touch is comforting and familiar, like the cool autumn breeze, the warm sun in spring, the sand between my toes in summer, and the evergreens dotting the roads in winter; making my nerves calm down. I turn to look at that arm.

I think I may know him from somewhere, somewhere deep in my memory, a cloudy mist covering parts of the memory I can't grasp and is the cloud that has yet to disappear. I try to hold on to it, to find out who this person really is, but I can't. The memory drifts away and out of my hands, and my fingers cannot hold onto it.

Then suddenly everyone goes still.

I look up, my eyes widening in shock and fear. No.

Figures emerge, and we all shriek in alarm.