I Cannot Live Without Books

The silent stream of water trickles down the window. I pull my legs close to my chest as I watch the cars fly by. Down below, I see the faint outline of crowds of people headed to work.

I stand up and stretch. With a flick of my hand a SILC comes zooming up to me. SILC of course stands for “Super Intelligent Levitating Computer”. I clear my throat and say, “Blinds, please.” A quick shutter behind me says that the SILC has closed my blinds without leaving my sight. As I leave the room I glance back at the thing. It hangs patiently in the air, like a dog that’s been told to stay. I snap my fingers and the SILC whips to my side.

The living room is just outside my bedroom, and as I exit I give the space a quick glance. The navy blue couch stands in the center, facing our television. The TV is tiny, only taking up one wall. Most of my friends have a two-wall spread at least. A small bookshelf sits directly behind the couch, holding pictures of my family.

I roll my eyes as I look at the kitchen. It’s not a bad kitchen; it’s just bad that I can see it. I don’t know why my mom went with an open floor plan. A mirror is shoved in a corner to my right, looking lonely and sad. I walk up to it, hoping to give it something to live for.

I’m tall, with long, straight black hair. I’ve dyed it ever since I was young. My natural hair color is a disgusting sky blue. My skin is smooth, and a nice royal blue. My friends from Green are envious of my skin. Meanwhile I despise my classmates from Red for their gorgeous skin tones. My eyes are a bright, light blue.

I look out of the window to the left of the pathetic mirror. Here on the 15^th floor, the view is fantastic, although sometimes traffic blocks the view of the walks below.

I read once in history class that walks used to be called streets, and that cars drove on them. The idea seems strange and rather funny. Cars have been flying for as long as anyone around here can remember.

Red dust swirls through the air and I cough. I’m covered in a thick layer of dirt, like an extra layer of skin I could peel off. But I can’t peel it off, I will never peel off this layer of thick, disgusting, filth. The grass makes me sneeze and fills my lungs with unwanted pollen. The lights are bright and blinding, burning into the back of my eye bulbs. The lights are engraved into my brain, pounding my skull. The cold surrounds me, engulfs, swallows me, strangles me. It grabs with its icy hands and squeezes my heart. 

I love baseball games, don’t you?

A crack like a whip shoots through the room. The bullet of sound bounces from wall to wall, piercing eardrums in its wake. Screams and cries fill the air as the sound comes again. This time it’s more aggressive, and much, much louder. I throw my hands over my head to shield myself and a third crack resonates from somewhere very, very close to me. The noise resembles what it would sound like to jab a dagger into a persons’ throat. Bloodcurdling screams surround me, mixed with the echoing of the mysterious noise.
Then I see it. Tall, black, and wispy like a cloud of smoke. It races toward me, bringing an unearthly chill. A filthy smell surges up my nostrils, practically knocking me out. The demon is worse up close. Its face is a thin, cracked skeleton with bits of moldy flesh hanging here and there. The monster’s eye sockets are hollow, and filled with a black ink-like liquid that smells like blood. Its breath sends a shiver up my spine as the creature opens its long, narrow, horrifying mouth. The whip-like noise comes faster than lightning. I was expecting it, but I was nowhere near ready for it’s deafening pierce.
A soft hum fills my ears, like a million bees are swarming around my head. My throat closes so quickly it could be and Olympic sprinter, and I gasp for air. I feel my eyes roll into the back of my head, agonizingly painful. My hands and feet go numb and everything is black. There is no sight, no sound, and no touch.
I’m as good as dead. In fact, I think I am dead. I must be dead, yet I can’t be. Can dead people still have thoughts? They can’t, right? So I must be ali–

I woke with a heart-stopping start. Without opening my eyes I could tell that my left eye was swollen shut. Weakly, I forced my right eye open. Pain shot through my skull, sharp. It quickly subsided into a dull, throbbing kind of ache. I raised my hand and a moan escaped from my mouth. My hand was bloody, bruised, and aching all over. My throat had closed up so much that I had to take deep, rattling gasps of air. With my one good eye I saw that my clothes were dirty and stained with blood. I let out a cry as I saw a deep gash on my leg.
I looked around at my surroundings. The room I was small, with white walls and white floors. Oddly enough, there was no door. Suddenly, I saw another person, lying on the floor to my right. They were bruised, bloodied, and barely breathing.
Mustering up all the strength I had, I began to crawl toward the lifeless body on the other side of the room. I used my arms to pull my body across the cold hard floor. My legs dragged limply behind me, leaving a disgusting trail of blood.
Finally I reached the body and discovered it was a girl. She looked a little younger than me, maybe sixteen or seventeen. She was actually very pretty, I thought wildly. Her long blonde hair was stained with blood. I cradled her head in my hands and discovered she had a cut on her crown. Her hands were soft, but cut all over.
What had happened to us? Who had done such a cruel thing? I tried to remember something, anything… but I couldn’t even remember my own name. Almost as if like magic, I glanced at my wrist. There, written in thick, black marker, was my name. “Alex”. I snatched the wrist of the unconscious girl and saw the word “Victoria”.
I looked down at my body and noticed I had a jacket tied around my waist. I fumbled to untie it, my fingers swollen and sore. Once I had, I yanked the sleeves as far apart as I could. The jacket began to rip until it was two different pieces of fabric. I quickly tied the thin black cloth around my leg, making it as tight as possible. Then I turned to the other half of the jacket, my hands shaking. Gently, I lifted Victoria’s head and tied the jacket over her wound.
As I lay her head back down, she began to stir. Her eyes stretched open and I gasped. They were beautiful. A bright, Pacific Ocean color of blue. Victoria began to speak, but she had to stop to gasp for air. “It’s okay,” I whispered. “You don’t have to talk.” She said, “You’re beautiful.” I felt tears forming. I didn’t even know this girl and she was going to die in my arms.
“What’s your name?” She asked her voice faint. “Alex.” I sniffed. And as I watched the light fade from her beautiful blue eyes, I whispered, “I’m pretty sure it’s short for Alexandra.”