A tale of Isolation

The birds fluttered against a pristine blue sky, swooping elegantly to a nearby tree, dancing to the wind.  As I walked towards the bench, passing through clusters of students; treading gently on the soft green grass, I couldn’t help but feel so alone.
Even as I sat down on the dark oak bench, I could feel the gaze. Mutterings of “that’s her” and exclamations and “intruder” were among the sounds I tried to block out. Instead, I tried to focus on the birds, which were by now chirping romantically to one another. Even the birds have someone, I sighed pitifully, I truly am alone.
“Sorry?” I looked up, stunned. I have a habit of speaking my thoughts out loud. “Oh - nothing.” I said, as the scruffy dark-haired boy sat beside me.
I took out a sandwich from my bag, as he stared at me inquisitively.
“Anita” I said, reaching out my arm right arm, holding my lunch in the left, “but my friends call me Antique.”
He shook my hand politely, introducing himself as Thomas, or the more commonly know Toadster.
Toadster, known for his ability to leap like his namesake, is equipped with webbed feet and has an amphibian tongue; its easy to spot the similarities.
He said nothing as I continued to munch on my sandwich, and just stared idly.
He was unaware of just how relieved I felt by his presence, which somehow defied the feelings of hostility I felt from the other students. Some had spent years, life-times even, concealing themselves from people like me, people with no abilities. This academy provided a sense of identity to these misfits, where all are united by there differences, and then there’s me of course, play Anita. Anita the girl who only gained access to the academy for being the niece of the headmaster. And he only gave me a place out of guilt, I scorned, guilt that my parents were killed because of him. I sighed and took another bite.
I realized the Toadster was still staring at me, “you’re more messed up than I am” he said, smiling.
I chuckled, wondering if I had just made a friend.

----

I waited patiently outside the headmaster’s office. Once admitted I found him sitting behind a desk, with a boy roughly my age sitting across him.
“Ah Anita, come in come in.” Gesturing me to sit down. I’d like you to meet Cyclops, he’ll be here to make sure you settle in.”
I looked towards the stern-face, sunglass-clad boy, and smiled feebly. He seemed to be no more than a year older than me. This will be fun, I thought sarcastically.
It turns out Cyclops and I share the same timetable, but our similarities ended there. He hung around a strict circle of mutant friends, was passionate about equal rights for mutants, and was loyal to those few he trusted; and I was just me.

A week or two later I got used to the side-ways glances, little mutterings and so on, sailing through lessons and lunches alone. As we were dismissed from Mathematics, I made my way towards the bench. Some-one shouted “Get out of our school, peasant!” soaking me with what seemed to be a bucketful of water that seeped out of his palm. I gasped. Sounds of shock and laughter erupted around me. Cyclops rushed towards me, shook my arm and asked me if I were alright.
“Im fine, Im fine” I lied, turning away. The crowd of students gathered in.
“Wait –“ He called after me, but I walked and kept on walking away.
I felt so low, just when things started to calm down, fate through me a lemon.
I shook water off my hair and wiped the tears from my face. I looked around for a bench or rock to sit on, but the tears were blurring my vision.
I was too busy in my thoughts to hear the rustling behind me, too far away to hear the siren sound, and far too distracted to stop myself from falling, as I was struck down and gagged.
I remember trying to speak, but nothing came out. I had lost all energy, and it was dark, so dark. Breathing was difficult and all I could hear was muffled hisses. I must be dead, I thought to myself. This is it, its all over.

---

A week or two later I got used to the side-ways glances, little mutterings and so on, sailing through lessons and lunches alone. As we were dismissed from Mathematics, I made my way towards the bench. Some-one shouted “Get out of our school, peasant!” soaking me with what seemed to be a bucketful of water that seeped out of his palm. I gasped. Sounds of shock and laughter erupted around me. Cyclops rushed towards me, shook my arm and asked me if I were alright.
“Im fine, Im fine” I lied, turning away. The crowd of students gathered in.
“Wait –“ He called after me, but I walked and kept on walking away.
I felt so low, just when things started to calm down, fate through me a lemon.
I shook water off my hair and wiped the tears from my face. I looked around for a bench or rock to sit on, but the tears were blurring my vision.
I was too busy in my thoughts to hear the rustling behind me, too far away to hear the siren sound, and far too distracted to stop myself from falling, as I was struck down and gagged.
I remember trying to speak, but nothing came out. I had lost all energy, and it was dark, so dark. Breathing was difficult and all I could hear was muffled hisses. I must be dead, I thought to myself. This is it, its all over.
I tried to move my arms, but they stubbornly lay frozen. My head began to throb. I’ve got to get out of hear. After what seemed like minutes I began to sense outlines, two or three people at best. It seemed I wasn’t alone, neither was I deceased. The car jolted, and a door slammed open. One by one we were marched out of the van like slaves. My legs were aching, but I was constantly nudged forward. No rest for the wicked, I told myself, as I trudged ever more through a maze. We made our way down the third set of stairs when somebody stumbled, knocking others over. I felt something hard and metallic poke at my ribcage, accompanied by a breathy voice, threatening me to do as he commands, or else.
I dared not contemplate defiance, and continued to walk, turn and walk again. It felt like eternity but at last we entered a room, I was shoved and tied to a chair. My mask was released, blinding me with yellow light. Greeting me was a burly sweaty face, accompanied by the familiar breathy voice which teased “my my, what have we got here.”, stroking my face as I flinched his fingers away. He chortled, as if amused, with an evil glimmer in his eyes, until a man dressed in black entered the room.
My guard stood up and backed away, silenced by the presence of his superior.
The man dressed in black had a face that looked welcoming and handsome, but his eyes betrayed him.  He entered the room and dragged a chair, to sit facing me. Once he sat down, he commanded the guard to remove the tape around my mouth, in a calm smooth voice.
Once free my mouth began to cough. The man asked the guard to bring me some water, he did, and I drank, hesitantly.
“Now Anita” he knew my name. I looked up and met his gaze.
“You might be wondering what you’re doing here, its quite unfortunate, but useful none the less. You might think that we’re the bad guys, but we’re the ones trying to stop the violence, the violence that the academy keeps sparking, and the violence your uncle encourages.”
“My uncle wouldn’t want to harm anyone!” I said defiantly.
“Ha-ha, there is much you don’t know about your uncle” he said. “So many things he conceals from you, yet you swear blind loyalty.”
I looked at him disbelievingly.
“Many people have died at his hands, including your parents.” My bones stood rigid at his words.
“And now, we have you here. And I’m afraid we can’t let you go until we find out everything you know. Take her to the chamber”

---

My hood was placed back on, and like a sheep I was shepherded through a maze of corridors.
Thump – the guard had fallen. I stood still in shock. Somebody grabbed my arm and pulled me through a passage. Once a fair distance away my hood was removed, my knight in shining armour turned out to be a bouncy blonde haired girl, whose big grin dropped in dismay.
“Oh – Its you.” She sighed, removing the tape around my mouth. “Well, you’re free now – bye!” and just like that she left me all alone and made her way down the passage.
“Wait!” I beckoned. She rushed back immediately, “are you trying to get us both killed?!” she asked angrily.
“Sorry” I said, embarrassed, “but my arms”.
“Oh” she sighed, as loosening the shackles around my wrists.
“Where are you going?” I asked. She looked at me with hesitation, then answered “to find out what’s really going on here, bring back vital information, on who they are and what they want.”
“Im coming too” I said, whispering quietly.
She paused, as if to ask why.
“I just.. need to, its something I need to do” Click the shackles fell on the floor.
She started walking, turned around and said “come on then, follow me”.
I have never snuck into anywhere before, I thought to myself. I’ve never really had the need to. I remember once though, I came back from a wild party, drunk as can be. I had told my parents I was at a sleepover. Instead of yelling at me, when I arrived drunk at the front of the door, my mother carried me to my bedroom, and waited for me to fall asleep.
We had reached the first metal door; it seemed like something out of a sci-fi film, or a bank robbery. The door was as tall as the room, and as wide as a van. She began working on the door, and I just watched her. “Shouldn’t we tell the others where we are?” trying to break the silence.
“I’ve tried that, it was tricky because all conventional methods were blocked, but I managed to send a signal out, its not the most efficient way, but it should allow them to pin-point our location”.
I was amazed, feeling slightly re-assured by it. At least they’ll be able to find my body, I thought.
“Be quiet” she commanded, and click – the door opened.
She slid in, after hesitating I followed, the door closing just as I entered.
We were in a similar room, everything looked the same. The same bleak walls, musty smell, and giant metallic door. She began working on it, I had no idea how it was done, but in a few minutes later the door let out a click – and swung gently open.
I walked in, and found myself in a familiar geography room. Rows of girls wearing bright red jumpers sat obediently, behind which was a small brown door. I found a vacant seat and sat down quickly.
Two seats behind and one across is where she sat, giving me a smirk. I turned to find a male teacher walking towards me, I held my breath as he handed me a worksheet and moved to the next student.
Question One: If blessing is to love, then being is to..?”
I turned back around and found the girl scribbling on the worksheet. I stared back at the worksheet and blankly read my way through.
a)          Call
b)          Forgive
c)          Dance
d)          Live
It was between forgive and live, but what do I know, I never was good at these riddles.
I looked over, and she stood up, making her way unnoticed to the brown door. I grabbed my paper and pencil, went to her seat and copied her answers, ignoring the protests by the teacher. What’s this got to do with Geography anyway? I thought to myself.
Click – the door opened for me, I ran through the door before the teacher reached me, slamming it shut.

---

Halloween, could it be? This was the night of the party, the night I returned home drunk, and this was my street. The night was dark, but the sounds of rummaging exhoed down the street.
I made my way towards the trashcan, following the noise, and found the girl rummaging through trashcans, searching for clues.
“What’s going on here?” I asked, frustration getting better than me.
“What do you mean?” replacing a lid.
“Who are you – Why are we here – What’s all this mean?”
“Very philosophical.” She said, amused. She jumped off the platform, and walked towards me, arm outstretched. “Hannah, but my mutant name is glyphic. They say I have a way with riddles, but the name riddler is under copyright.” she said with a smirk.
That would explain the worksheet, I thought “ but what about the door?”, I asked whilst shaking her hand.
“Like everything else, it wanted an answer. A key to opening the door. And for your second question, I have no idea where we are. Some sort of residential road.”
“This is my street, I .. I used to live here, in that house there” I said pointing to the distance.
“Well, we know where we are now. And more importantly, where we need to go.”
I grabbed her arm before she could move away. “This must be some sort of memory simulation based doorway, it seems that your memories have connected with the gateway, and are showing us the answers. And if I’m right, the next doorway should be somewhere inside your house.”
We made our way down the street, the darkness engulfed our view, with only the dimly lit lampposts illuminating our path, sharing just enough light to let us read the door numbers.
41 – This was my house. My home, and inside would be my parents. As we made our way to the front door I couldn’t help but skip a heartbeat. So many questions whirled through my mind.
Glyphic rang the doorbell. I turned to her in disbelief. The door clicked and swung open, she shrugged and walked in.
After entering my first reaction was to gasp. The room was blindingly dark, heavy smoke filled my lungs, and shadowy figures muttered in the distance. It took me a while to realise, but then I did, we were in my un-used cellar, only there were people inside.
Hiding in the shadows Glyphic and I peered onwards. I tried in vain to make out faces through the thin smoky air. It seemed impossible. To my left a door opened and then FLASH, light flooded the cellar, illuminating everything, and blinding everyone.
In came my mother, carrying the good silver tray, with three cups of tea and some biscuits. The likeness was unreal, but it was real, and then it wasn’t. I could clearly see the faces now, my uncle in his wheelchair,  beside him was wolverine, a rebellious fighter loyal to my uncle, and my father.
“Thanks for the tea darling” said my father, in his normal deep voice. “Here brother take some, its London’s finest.”
My uncle took a cup, and placed it delicately on top of his blanket that covered his lame legs. “Now this is serious” he said slowly, “are you sure you want to be doing this? If you back out now, I will understand.”
“Now now” said my father, his voice rising, “how many times have you looked after me in times of need? No brother, this is the least I can do.”
With the signal, Wolverine handed my father what looked like a package. Just then the doorbell rang. It was me, but the old me, arriving home disgracefully drunk.
As the men sat in silence, my mother made her way up the stairs. My father commanding everyone to stay silent. The light was switched off just as I saw it, a big silver door glimmering behind a table. I nudged glyphic, whispered to her its location, and we both crept around the room. As we made our way behind the table, I stole a glance at the package, the label read hamartia. Click – the doorway opened. Without much time left I slid through the narrow opening, awaiting the next surprise.
True to its nature, the next room successfully surprised me. It was empty.
“What the -?” I remarked in astonishment.
“its the last room” said Glyphics, with a hint of wonder.
Just as she spoke appeared a small sheet of paper, between us and the doorway. It lay balanced two feet off the ground, by some unseen force. As I made my way towards it Glyphic warned me not to touch it. Instead she took out a miniscule digital camera from her sleeve, and took several shots.
“Quick follow me” she said running towards the final door.
She worked her way around it, but her expression was one of confusion. Loud noises grew from the other side of the door, leading to the worried look on her face.
Suddenly the door swung open, knocking us backwards; there stood Cyclops, staring at us in shock. Just as recognition grew on his face an explosion threw two men on him, toppling him over.
Before we could stand up, three women wearing X-men uniform grabbed our arms and whisked us away from the scene, assuring us he would be safe.

---

Once back at the academy, everything started to calm down. Glyphic was asked to personally debrief with the headmaster, and I was left in the hall waiting for the assembly. I sat on a chair, cloaked in a blanket, sipping hot chocolate that was just a little bit too hot. Commotion was around me, talk was lively, but I sat alone lost in my thoughts.
Ten minutes past until my uncle took the stage. He outlined today’s events in vague detail, stating that the school had been breached from the south quarter, and this was a planned operation. The culprits were thought to be a radical anti-mutant wing, kidnapping students in an effort to spark war. We were taken to an un-used military bunker in the outskirts of the city, but a signal sent by one of the captured had led the X-men team to their location. He said special thanks to the academy, for standing united and disciplined, allowing the rescue operation to be successful. He then, much to my surprise, chose to thank “Glyphic and Anita, for their services in aiding the rescue of our students.” It was not much, but it felt good to feel like my actions contributed. He then spoke about the threat anti-mutant wings pose, safety measures we need to take, and his decision to increase security around the perimeters of the school. This was to ensure that an attack of this sort is unable to occur again, he finished to applause.
He walked off stage, and I turned away, walking out of the hall. I decided to go to the medical room, to visit the injured, but was stopped twice by people wishing to apologise or acknowledge my contribution. I smiled at them weakly and ushered onwards to the nurse’s desk. She led me to a small room, and walked out.
I sat beside the bed, dumbfounded by his injuries. Cyclops’s left leg had a deep scar etched through it, making its way from his thigh around his knee and to his calf. Just the sight of it made me wince in pain. With his sunglasses on I couldn’t distinguish whether he was awake or sleeping.
I tenderly touched his wound, noticing his eyes wince behind the frames. I apologised and asked if he were ok, if I could get him anything. He told me, through many short pauses, that the nurse reckons his wound will take months to heal, and even then his leg might not be able to walk again.
A pang of guilt struck my soul, as I placed my hand on his, and told him I would bring him water.
As I walked out the nurse entered. I filled a cup with cold water and brought it back to his bedside. I heard the nurse tell him in astonishment, that his recovery had vastly improved, and that it was now a matter of days until his wound healed. And that was the first time I noticed it.