It was done.

He stepped out of the door, closing it soundlessly behind him. Quietly, the man walked out into the snow.

The few people that were out and passed him without even glancing at him. If they'd even just bothered to look for a second, they'd just see a regular man in a black jacket, hood over his head to shield him from the snow, mask concealing half his face to protect him from the harsh icy air. Nothing interesting, nothing worth staring at. He was just part of the background, the stereotypical man rushing home in the snow.

Blend in. That was what he had been taught to do ever since he was six. Don't let yourself be noticed. Being noticed means attention. Attention means danger.

Snowflakes spiralled in the cold air, dancing in perfect synchronisation. A velvety white diamond of snow floated down gracefully and kissed him on his eyelashes.

He continued walking, with each step, feet sinking into the thick layer of snow. Icy tendrils of cold entangled themselves around his body. He pulled his jacket around himself more tightly.

The man turned right at the end of the block and walked a while more until he reached a bus stop. The bus stop was completely empty, not a person in sight. He didn't intend on taking the bus; it would mean a record of him would be left behind, telling everyone that a particular man had boarded a bus at a specific time, at a certain place...

But he was tired. He walked over to the bus stop, sat down on the bench. He removed the mask from his face, just for a while, to free his face from the discomfort of the thing clapping uncomfortably over it. He would just rest a bit, and then he would be on his way.

A girl walked to the bus stop. At seeing him, her eyes widened and she drew a hiss of surprise.

The man looked up, recognition flickering across his face.

He hadn't seen her in years. The last time they'd met, it had ended with her screaming at him, landing a stinging slap across his face, and running away and vanishing into the autumn night. 

He'd known that she'd moved house, but that she'd picked this area to live in was strange to him. She'd always loved lively, sunny places, frequently heading to the park or wildlife reserve. That'd she'd come to such a miserable, dull and dreary place surprised him. He got up from his seat, still not believing his eyes.

"You." The words escaped her lips, a harsh bullet of anger and accusation.

"Yes..." He exhaled softly, breath in the air, a whisper of white vapour. "Me."

Her stormy grey eyes glared into his. "Why are you here?" she asked.

"I had something I needed to do. That's all."

"And what exactly do you mean by that?"

He lowered his gaze. "Business."

She breathed deeply, and he could see her trembling. He looked up again, to see her eyes burning with ferocity and rage.

"Who was it?" she demanded. "Who was it this time?"

He didn't answer. There was no point in answering anyway.

She stepped forward, swiftly grabbing hold of his collar and yanking him forward. She wasn't like normal girls, he knew. He supposed it was characteristic of her to be rather violent when she was infuriated. 

"Out with it!" she snarled, and he could practically see the rage that burned within her eyes.

He stepped back, breaking out of her vise-like grip with complete ease, barely using any strength. Her hand fell back to her side, but she kept glaring.

"Nobody important," he replied, his voice soft, gentle and calm, the way it had always been. 

She clenched her fists at his words. "Nobody important? Nobody important? How could you say that? Every life has value. He might have had a wife. Children. A family, all depending on him to bring home food to put on the table. Did you ever consider that for a single second of your life?"

The truth was, he had. But it was easier not to think about it. Why make things more difficult? Anyway, after all these years, he was used to it. He did it without hesitation. It was a thing he did as normally, as casually as tying his shoelaces. It didn't even make him guilty or upset anymore. It was all part of life. His life.

He didn't want to speak to her anymore. He didn't want to feel emotion again. He'd trained himself not to feel emotion after all these years. Falling in love had been the one mistake he'd made. Emotion complicated things. Emotion was pointless.

Emotion is dangerous.

He turned to leave. Her hand shot forward and grabbed his arm. "You are not just going to leave like that! Wait!" He could hear her struggling not to cry.

He didn't turn to face her. He didn't yank his arm from her grasp. He just stood there, unmoving, eyes shut. Waiting.

"Wait..." she whispered, again, suddenly not at all like the raging tempest she had been just a few seconds ago, suddenly softer, warmer, pleading. A jolt of pain shot through his heart. This was how she'd been around him in the good old days.

When they'd been in love.

"You can't continue like this." She looked into his eyes pleadingly, rage gone, replaced completely with only sadness and pleading. "It's destroying you."

"It's my job," he replied.

"Then change it," she said. "It's ruining you. It's taking away your humanity. It's heartless. Cold-blooded. Selfish. It's not right."

They'd had this conversation before. The last time he'd been with her. Yes, the very same time where she'd stormed off after leaving the right side of his face red and stinging.

That night, it'd been too beautiful a night for such a thing to happen. It'd been years, and yet he could still remember every little detail. He was observant. He had to be, or he'd be dead by now. The bespeckled sky, a dark, endless canopy, stretching over their heads. The stars, diamonds of gold, scintillating gently in the oblivion of the night. A soft, gentle night breeze, caressing his face, playing with her auburn hair. And the moon. Silver, large, clear and perfectly whole and complete. More complete than he would ever be.

He felt himself stiffen from the memories. God, how he'd missed her. How he'd longed to be with her. How he'd longed to just hold her in his arms and hug her. Years of suppressed emotion surged up inside him, struggling to break free from the bonds that he'd restrained them with.

No, he couldn't afford to feel emotion. He struggled to fight it back down.

"You can change," she whispered, clinging onto his sleeve. "I tried to change you all those years we were together. I still will try, if only you let me."

"I don't like seeing you like this. I've seen that shred of you, the real you, the good you, when we were together. I'll find it again. I'm not afraid. I promise I'll help you find it again. I will fix you." Her eyes sparkled with tears.

"You don't have to be a killer. What you really are is not what you've been. You can come back. Come back, Drew."

Immediately, he tensed. "Don't call me Drew," he replied, and just like that, he quashed all his emotions. His heart returned to steel. No one had called him Drew for years. It reminded him of his childhood. Constant abuse, beatings, intensive training to become a killer. The childhood that had thrown him into fear, turned him stone-cold, stripped him of his emotion and his humanity, turning him into a heartless killing machine.

"I'm not Drew," he stated, his voice steely and controlled. "Not anymore. Never again. I am Crimson Rain. Call me that, or nothing at all."

"Drew, please," she begged him. He sent her an icy glare, reverted to his original unfeeling, unmoved and stone-cold state. 

The way he'd been his whole life.

And then there were sirens.

Police sirens.

His head snapped up, eyes focussed and alert. He turned swiftly to face her. His features were contorted with fury.

"You called them here!" he growled, wrenching his arm free from her grasp.

She shook her head in dismay. "No! I didn't! I swear!" She tried to grab his arm again.

He snarled at her, stepping away from her. He'd been such an idiot. He'd let himself get delayed, get distracted, let his guard down. 

Carelessness means death.

He'd let himself feel emotion again. He couldn't believe himself. Emotion was dangerous. He couldn't allow himself to ever feel it again.

He turned to look at her. She was the reason for all this. He knew what he had to do, and that sent pain streaking through his heart.

More emotion. Because of her. She really was a danger to him. He needed her gone.

His hand travelled to his side, fingers closed around the black, sleek object. He whipped it out, fingers skimming across the smooth, cold surface. He smelt metal and gunpowder. This gun had been the weapon he had used to kill the target just now. And now, he would use it again.

He pointed it at her, finger curling around the trigger, an action he was so familiar with now. His chest heaved up and down. He hesitated. He couldn't do it. He'd killed hundreds already, famous figures, billionaires, all kinds of people, and he couldn't bring himself to kill one girl. He hated himself.

Her eyes were wide. "Drew!" she pleaded.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He was running out of time. The police were close. Emotions were running rampant inside of him. They screamed at him not to pull the trigger, to let her live.

He made his decision. He took the emotions, and crushed them all. When he opened his eyes, they were cold and unfeeling.

He pulled the trigger.

She went rigid, hands travelling to her chest, where crimson was spreading outwards rapidly. There wasn't any anger in her eyes. Just overwhelming sorrow. 

I couldn't save you.

She'd tried. Her lips twisted in a sad, broken smile. She slumped forward, falling against him, grabbing onto him for support as her legs buckled beneath her. She gazed into his eyes one last time, before her hands went limp and she went crumpling to the ground.

A jolt of pain stabbed through him, but he crushed it. He looked at the lifeless girl on the ground, and reminded himself that she was nothing to him. 

He was meant to be alone. After all, a contract killer's life was a lonely one.

The police were approaching. He began to run, without looking back. He vanished, a shadow returning to the night.

"Keith? Do you wanna go and play make-believe?" Ryan beams. I smile at him. "Sure! What do you want to pretend to be?"

Ryan thinks for a while. "I don't know. How about pirates?" I grin. "Great idea!"

We horse around and play, having fun. Ryan cackles with joy and delight.

Ryan's mother pokes her head into the room. "Ry-ry, who are you talking to?" she frowns. 

"Mommy, it's just Keithy," Ryan points at me, beaming. "We're playing pirates."

His mom looks over in my direction, and her face twists with confusion. Then slowly, a smile spreads over her face. "Oh... You mean Keithy, eh? Okay, have fun, Ryan! Uh... and Keithy!"

She leaves and leaves us to our playing.

*

"I want a dog!" screams Ryan. "A dog!" Tears are streaming down his face. He's refusing to talk to his parents until they get him a dog. 

I hug him. "Shh, Ryan. Your parents can be pretty mean sometimes, right?"

"Yeah!" Ryan sniffs indignantly. "I WANT A DOG!"

"Me too," I sulk. "How about we just sit here and scream that we want a dog together. Maybe it'll make you feel better and your parents will listen."

And we do. The neighbours come and complain some time later, but well, we both feel slightly better, at least.

*

"Ryan! What are you doing with cereal all over your head?!" his mom scolds. Ryan sulks, pointing at me. "It's all Keith's fault! He didn't want to eat his cereal and dumped it all over my head!" 

His mom frowns. "Not funny, Ryan. Stop playing with your food!" 

Ryan crosses his arms and pouts at me. I grin at him, laughter twisting my features.

*

Ryan's six now. "Hey, Ryan," I smile. "Wanna play make-believe?" 

Ryan glances at me, shakes his head. "Nah, I'm gonna play with my friends."

My smile slowly dies, but I quickly plaster a weak one on my face. "Oh! Oh... Sure...! Have fun!"

Ryan leaves the house and greets his friends who are standing outside, waiting for him with large grins on their faces. Ryan smiles elatedly at them, and I feel a twinge of pain stabbing through my heart. Ryan hasn't smiled at me like that for a while. Sighing, I walk back to his room, waiting for him to come back.

*

"Ryan? Are you feeling okay? What's the matter?" I ask eight-year-old Ryan. 

Ryan rolls his eyes at me. "It's nothing," he dismisses it, but there's clearly something wrong.

"Hey, you can tell me. I'm your best friend," I remind him, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

Ryan shoots me a glare, one that chills me to the bone. I withdraw my hand and stumble back, eyes wide in shock. This is the first time I feel such resentment towards me from him. Did I do something wrong?

"You're not my best friend, Keith," he says, before whipping out a phone and talking to another of his friends. My heart throbs, and I feel tears welling up in my eyes.  I stumble out of the room. I look at my hands.They're glowing, becoming slightly translucent. I hiss in pain. 

I'm fading.

*

Ryan's nine. I've been struggling to rebuild our relationship, but he's very distant now. He mostly just ignores me, cares only about his other friends. Everyday, I can tell that I'm becoming more and more translucent. I'm a pale translucent silver now, plagued by constant headaches and stabbing pains through my heart.

"R-Ryan...?" I manage weakly. "Do you... Do you want to play make-believe?"

Ryan just glares at me. "Leave me alone, Keith. I have homework to do, then I'm going out to play with my friends."

Another jolt of excruciating pain slashes through me. I clutch at my head, crumpling to my knees, black spots dancing before my eyes, my vision blurry and head dizzy. I grab onto the edge of Ryan's bed for support, panting, tears stinging at my eyes. My hands, my body. Barely visible now. Almost completely see-through.

I let out a sob. Ryan ignores me.

*

And now he's ten. 

"Ryan...!" I stumble over to him. "L-let's p-p-play!"

He continues his work like I am not there. 

"Ryan!" I try calling him again. It's like he doesn't hear me. I wave my hand in front of his face. He doesn't respond.

I place it on his shoulder, but my hand goes right through him. I swallow, trying again and again. I've become intangible. 

"Ryan!" I cry out again. "Ryan!" Once again he doesn't respond. "Please..." I'm begging, sinking to my knees. My hands. They're becoming transparent. And now, I can't even see them anymore. My body shakes with pain. "Ryan... Help... Don't let me fade..." I choke out a cry.

Ryan doesn't react. He continues doing his homework. 

Tears cascade down my cheeks. I cry, cry, tears inundating my heart, hopelessness and agony coursing throughout my being. My senses aren't working anymore. I can't feel my body. Everything is numb, dark, and silent. All I am aware of now is the excruciating pain and sorrow that rips through my heart.

"R-ryan..." I whisper, using my last ounce of strength to reach up towards him, to outstretch an arm, waiting for him to smile, reach down and help me up, like I always did for him.

Nothing. I no longer exist to him, not even in his memories.

Ryan, my Ryan, has grown up.

A broken, melancholic smile contorts my features.

And then I fade away completely.

Goodbye.

Sorry doesn't cut it. Sorry doesn't change the fact that you've ruined my little sister's life and led her to have eating disorders and become overly self-conscious just so she'd be "pretty enough" for you. Perhaps saying "I'm sorry" makes you feel better, lessens your guilt, but honestly, it does not, in any way whatsoever, show that you feel remorse for what you did to her.

Saying that you're sorry is empty. Don't carelessly throw it about. It doesn't show that you mean it, that you genuinely feel apologetic and care about my sister.

You hurt her. After all she's done for you, how much she loved you, you just pretended to care for her, before you cheated on her and broke her heart. Listen, you jerk. Don't tell her you're sorry. It means nothing. 

Maybe it's worked for you before. Maybe every time, after you told a girl that you're sorry for hurting them, they believed you, and everything became alright, no matter how bad the situation. Guess what? It's different this time. I don't give a damn how many times you say you're sorry. Empty words that mean absolutely nothing.

Tomorrow, I'm going to find you at school, and slap you. Don't worry, after that, I'll say I'm sorry. Then I'll slap you again. And again. But at least I'd have said sorry, right?

"Um... So you see... This... This Science Fair Project..." I stutter, dumping my project on the table. "I... I call it Earth."

My classmates stare at my project. "Uh... Okay...? So, tell us about it," my teacher, a green-skinned being with seven eyes and worms for hair, prompts me for my presentation.

"Well, it's basically a planet..." I begin, but my best friend, who has eight hands, interrupts. "You do know that planets aren't spherical in shape, don't you? They're cones!"

My face turns rainbow with embarrassment. I could really be so stupid sometimes. "Uh... hehe... But anyway, it basically is a planet with inhabitants called humans..."

I finish. I have nothing else to say. My classmates look on at me expectantly. "And...?" my teachers asks.

"Uhm..." I rack all eight of my brains. "Well, these humans are basically creatures who have two hands, two legs-" 

"What? That's absurd! Only two hands? How can they ever get anything done? Two legs? What? Oh my goodness, this is just plain ridiculous!" my classmate with the three heads scoffs. My face colours immediately again.

"Um... Yeah. They have two eyes, two ears, a nose, a mouth, and their hair is made of keratin," I continue.

The most beautiful student in the room, who has eight mouths and six eyes, wrinkles her nose in disgust. "Ewwwww! They must be hideous!"

"Uh... Heh. Well, yeah, they kinda are. So basically, humans start off as cavemen, then they evolve and evolve. They're rather inefficient, and can't do a lot of things. Like for an instance, they can't teleport, can't fly, can't perform telekinesis or telepathy-"

My classmates stare at me in absolute horror. "What? That must be terrible!" they exclaim. 

This is really embarrassing. I hate being the stupidest kid in class.

"So basically, humans can only live for around 100 years, and they have different stages in life. Baby, where they cannot walk or talk and just lie down eating sleeping and pooping. Toddler, where they finally can walk and they utter incoherent garble. Child, where they eat too much candy and throw tantrums and play games and talk a lot. Teenager, where most get all emotional and rebellious and stuff like that. Adult, where-" 

"Ugh! That's just so boring and horrible!" complains one of my classmates, and the rest nod in agreement. "Talk about something else!"

"W-well..." I think harder. "Humans fight a lot and even kill each other! They have this thing called war, where they kill lots and lots of people and use these weapons called guns that fire bullets and that kind of thing!"

"Lame. You mean they don't have the power to kill someone just by thinking of it?" a classmate asks.

"Uh... yeah. They name these kind of abilities superpowers," I explain.

The classmate scoff at this. My face burns with shame.

"So, these humans, they have no idea they're a Science Fair Project. Most of them think they're really smart. I used illusions, to make it seem that outside of Earth, there is a thing called space and the universe. Also, I can create these things called natural disasters, too." I shake the globe wildly and I hear little human screams. "That was an earthquake." I want to show them more, but they cut me off. "That is just insipid," the most popular student states. "Please just tell us other stuff."

"Um... Humans ruin a lot of things? They burn trees, ruin each others' lives by being mean and bullying each other, kill animals until species are extinct, pollute the water and air, litter everywhere..." I stumble over my words.

My teacher raises her hand. "Hey, kiddo, I'll have to stop you here. Your project is just too boring! It also is really unrealistic. I mean, such a world is just too horrible! It's really ridiculous and uninteresting. I'll have to give you an F," she says, shaking all three of his heads. 

My face falls. I spent 5.86 billion years working on this project! Sighing, I set the entire globe on fire with my powers, then toss it in the bin. To the humans, they must be thinking it is the end of the world. At least, it is for them. For me, it's the end of my grades.

Sighing, I return to my seat, waiting for the remaining students to present on their Science Fair Projects.

A rivulet of blood ran down the side of her face. She panted as she ran, tearing across the rotting wood flooring, with him right beside her. 

They'd been running for a short while, but it felt like hours. Their pursuers were fast as lightning, and it was clear that they were intent on killing them. 

Their pursuers were human beings, but there was something unnerving about them. Maybe it was their animalistic nature, or that they were dressed in scraps of wild skins, crudely thrown together. Or maybe it was the psychotic look in their eyes, or that they were covered in lots, and lots of blood.

Why did these crazy people even want to harm them? It didn't make sense. Cassie was so damn scared. There'd be no negotiating with these people. There was just this crazed, wild look about them, so stone age, so caveman. 

Hell, how had this gone so wrong? It had just been a regular hiking trip, and they'd gotten lost. They'd found a random house in the woods and had decided to go in and ask for directions. They'd heard sounds coming from the top floor of the house, and knew that it wasn't empty, that there were people. They'd both felt relief, at least until they'd seen the occupants.

Cassie raced down the stairs. her legs screaming from exertion. But she couldn't stop to rest, not even for one second. One second would be enough for their pursuers to catch up with them, enough for her to lose her life. 

Where was the exit? She couldn't even see the doorway from which they'd entered. She was completely disoriented, not to mention that it was dark. 

Beside her, Chris was panting, but he kept running, sweat running down his face. There was a scrape on the side of his face, an angry crimson. 

"This way!" Chris shot towards the left. Cassie followed him, ignoring her burning limbs. This house was so large and ancient, she wondered if it'd go on and on forever.

They kept running, running. Cassie wasn't even aware of the burning sensation in her legs anymore; it was reduced to a distant throb. Everything was a blur now.

Then there was a light ahead. A doorway! Cassie could've wept with joy. They raced for the exit, and broke out of the house and into the light.

She couldn't hear their pursuers anymore. "We lost them..." she exclaimed. Chris nodded, breathing deeply. Cassie sobbed with relief. They both collapsed onto the floor from exhaustion.

And through the autumn leaves, something hard poked at Cassie's back. She struggled to sit up, and turned around. 

A bone.

Cassie picked it up.

A human bone.

Cassie dropped it, her hands flying to her mouth.

Cassie and Chris stared at it. It was caked with blood, fractured quite severely. There was still some charred flesh on it, the rest evidently torn away by someone's teeth. Cassie looked at the bite-marks.

Human teeth.

They both got to their feet, chests heaving up and down. "Good grief..." Chris whispered. Cassie sobbed again, but this time it was a sob of horror. 

"Cannibals." They'd wandered straight into the den of cannibals.

She heard footsteps behind her. They were soft. Sneaky. And very, very close.

And Chris fell, burgundy pooling around his lifeless body. Excruciating agony tore through Cassie, and she looked down to see a spear tip exiting her midsection. Her eyes widened.

Then she crumpled to the ground.

when she twirls in the middle of the dance floor, it is the colour of her dress

when she whispers in your ear, it is the colour of her lips

when you feel her throbbing passion, it is the colour of her pulse

when you see her with another, it is the colour of your eyes

when you scream at her, it is the colour of the piercing sound

when you look into her eyes for the last time, it is the fading colour of your heart falling

it is not the colour you see when she leaves...

It’s Monday at the Copenhagen Research Center for Advanced Human Augmentation and things are about to get strange. I have seen this because APEX has seen it. If any life form apart from humans finds this message, be warned and pay attention. The following account starts last week when I woke up in a cubical room no bigger than a hotel bedroom or at least I felt I did.

Time, we’re running out of time. There’s a throbbing feeling in my head. Time-fluid, never ending, harsh and mysterious. My eyes open to a hazy world, welcoming me with a sharp headache. As I lift my head from the wet floor, I regain control of the place and there appears to be some lettering at the wall ahead. There’s the crescendo of voices bouncing off near me but no people.

My hands are restrained and once I become aware of this, I jump high to no effect. Then some clarity falls to my sight and things become clearer.

“HEAT DEATH. PERCENTAGE OF POSSIBILITY 87. ETA 5..” was etched on the walls in a strange squiggly format much akin to that of a child’s scribbling in black ink. The etch ended at the number 5.

The world is clearer now. The trees outside are growing. The birds chirping, diplomats having peace talks and a whole lot of turbulent entropy passing out in the universe. I see this because APEX sees this. And APEX is being viewed by those strained voices standing outside in milk white lab coats and perturbed face expressions. Something’s wrong and my brain can feel it.

I was a university grad student by the name of Mitchell Caruthers who allowed scientists to use my brain as a testing ground for a new mind accelerated drug called ‘Ubercran’. But the developers underestimated the drug’s true effects. My eyes became a window to unforeseen events and expected outcomes, owing to a faster brain. I could complete a person’s sentence even before they finished talking, outtake an entire MENSA team of a hundred participants, learn multiple languages in a single night and even correct analytical errors in computer calculations even before they occurred.

But things got quite a lot out of hand. I began seeing the future. My mind could process it but my emotions couldn’t accept it. The team prescribed a dosage of painkillers to counter the effects but it somehow brought me closer to the brink of death.

The only way to keep a healthy threshold was by creating a secondary memory in my brain that could withstand such data. Thus a self sentient alter ego APEX was born. APEX has been feeding me things that would horrify most and despite my best intentions to suppress what it tried to say, sometimes it would take over send messages. The team seems terrified of one such message on my wall ahead.

“How are you feeling?”, Elizabeth Anne shot up near the glass exterior. She’s perhaps the only one in the team who knows that there’s still a human being inside this flesh.

“Light headed and disappointed”, I reply. “I suppose everyone knows what’s going on?”

“The heat death part is just one thing to be afraid of. Universally, it’ll take a long time. But you should take a look behind you.”

She pressed a button and removed my restraints. I quickly peered behind me and gulped in anxiety, “WORLD WAR III. WEST CONTRA EAST” was written in blood on the wall behind me that I was sitting on. Naturally, I looked at my arm and I saw stitches. APEX got out and now he was sending a foreseeable expectation.

“Does anyone know about this?”, I ask Elizabeth.

“No one yet has been informed but ever since you pulled that Ebola outbreak prediction, there’s been a swarming group of reporters outside ever since.”

It was a dumb question to ask her. Outside a team of reporters had already begun circulating the news. I could sense this because APEX could sense this.

Roger Stannard was the team lead who was even more concerned. “We need to amp up the Ubercran. The writings are all cryptic. APEX has to brought back and we need to know exactly what’s going to happen in the coming days”, he argued.

He pressed the same button Elizabeth pressed and I was restrained again in a docile state. Two tubes injected the drug straight to my cranium and then it happened. I crossed threshold. At exactly 9:56 A.M. GMT, APEX took over. I could see it all. The counter next to cubicle I was in showed a 100 percent sufficiency index. For nearly twenty minutes, I wasn’t just the smartest man in the world, but in the whole universe.

There were visions that shocked whatever was left of my conscience. Fifty nine nations going to war. A new terror front contra taking over the world in three months. Global pandemonium over toxic chemical releases, floods, mega tsunamis, entire island nations being wiped out in seconds. And the universe, a bleak portion of dark expanse too would collapse not in billions of years but right now. I saw this because APEX saw this.

I feared for my sanity but more for the team analysts who were reading my thoughts outside and were even more frightened.

When the millionth second mark crossed, APEX had full control over. Time became an immaterial thing. Disasters occurred in seconds, national armies proclaimed war and civil unrest took over the world and all that covered the world was darkness.

The facility must have crashed because of such reasons because by the time the visions came to an end and I regained my normal sights, everything was gone. My cubicle was in shambles, fire and noise gripped the entire facility and everyone was dead. APEX could sense that there were no other survivors left on the planet.

Mitchell was dead. APEX was the one who survived. I inspected the scene and found Elizabeth’s corpse with a gun in her hand. Surely suicide. As the mental visor demolished before me where her body lay, it revealed a final writing on the wall-

“WE SAW IT COMING. WE COULD HAVE PREVENTED THIS.”

Breath in.

Breath out.

Turn over.

I'm waking up now, I can see instructions running behind my eyelids like movie credits. I never thought like this. 

Breath in.

Breath out.

Sit up.

What is going on? I can hear the drip of the leaky faucet of my old bathroom, the constant ticking of the clock on my night stand.  

Breath in.

Breath out.

Shake head.

I try to shake out the overwhelming cacophony of early mornings. It's 7:12 AM, the temperature is at 70 degrees and information is bombarding me. 

Breath in.

Breath out.

Stand up.

I'm getting dressed now, seeing every fiber of the cotton shirt before I even reach for it. The denim pants are jarring for I can practically taste the metal as I pull them on. Focus in on one object. I will myself to just do, not feel, not think. It doesn't work.

Breath in.

Breath ou-

The shriek of a baby makes me gasp, it's three floors above me, the baby needs to be changed. A girl is getting mugged in the lobby down the block, the gun is a glock, the man has a bad heart. It sloshes instead of a steady beat. He needs a double bypass. The doorman is asleep, his breath a cocktail of cheap vodka and cigarettes. My head is pulsing, matching the rapidly climbing  rhythm of my heart. The muscles in my fingers- the lumbrical muscles- are vibrating at an alarming speed. My vision is getting blurry, my finger tips look blue. I remember.

Breath in.

Breath out.

Breath in. 

Breath out.

I read once when I was in college that a human being only uses 10% of their -our- brains. A girl, 22, with blue eyes, brown hair, a body mass index of 20.5, had asked what would happen if humans were to use 100%. The professor, a man, 45, brown eyes, gray streaked hair, weight of 175 had answered he did not know.  Remember.

Breath in.

Breath out.

Blink.

I was at work. I had arrived to the solemn printing company, the machines were howling making my brain rattle. I cut it off, they were no longer howling but were a dull buzz. 

Breath in.

Breath out.

Look around.

I saw strings. So many. Oh so many. It was a wonder I was not tangled in them. My boss, a woman, 52, gray eyes, grey hair, height 6'2 was covered in them, practically a puppet. Her heartbeat was at 70 beats a minute, her blood pressure at 95 over 75. The new intern, a girl of 17, green eyes, black hair, a mass in her neck had only 2. Her heart was barely a patter in her fluid filled lungs.

Breath in.

Breath out.

Focus.

I saw the movie credits running through my mind. I was sitting. New information running through it, my nose was filled with the stench of ink as new books were born. I stopped the credits, the scene with the professor was playing on replay in a small corner.  I brought it forward.

Breath in.

Breath out.

Go.

I was in the room again, watching the lecture. The dialogue played through, I moved to the front of the room, somehow making no motion. I ran my hand along one of the ancient computers. I traveled. Out, out, out. The small college blurred into cities, states, countries, planets. Earth spun, the endless tirades of wars becoming the greatest times of peace, the temperature rising and falling, humans' cries growing from a drone then back down to a theatrical silence. I knew, I knew, I knew. This was 100%

Breath in.

Breath out.

When I wake up, I'm lying in a crimson pool of cells, platelets and plasma.

The once-white sheets I'm rested on are stained with burgundy. My blood. 

Lots and lots of it.

I try to get up, but I can't get my body to move. Every single bit of me, with the exception of my face, seems to have been turned to stone. There's an overpowering feeling of numbness in my body, and it frightens me.

What's going on?

I feel lethargic and sluggish. My breathing is weak and strained. My eyes struggle to keep themselves open, my eyelids seeming to weigh tons.

I'm vaguely aware of something warm and sticky trickling down my temples. I catch its scent: Metallic. More blood.

I struggle to move, but to no avail. A fruitless attempt. From the sterile smell in the air, and an IV in my arm, I can tell I'm in the hospital. What happened?

My brain feels different. Despite my other body parts' refusal to function, it seems to work perfectly fine. More than fine. It feels strange, like a supercomputer. Everything in my brain is crystal clear and easy to process. It's beautiful, and I feel intelligent. Very intelligent.

Huh. Intelligent? The girl who flunked every single one of her examinations, intelligent? I think bitterly.

But still, my mind feels powerful. And it's too tempting. So I try.

17778 times 19873.

Almost instantly, the answer flashes clear in my mind.

353302194.

Wait, what?

Here I am, a stupid thirteen-year-old who can't even do her twelve times table, multiplying 17778 times 19873 in a second? What the heck?

Something's off. Very off.

My mind is clear. I try to recall what happened earlier.

And it rushes back.

I asked a witch for a wish.

Dark, raven-black hair, that cascaded down to her shoulders. Her face shrouded in shadows, the only thing visible being her eyes. Large, deep violet, almost seeming to glow. A beautiful violet, but a malevolent one.

She was wearing a cloak. One that covered her lower body completely, its hood covering part of her face.

She was a witch.

I saw her on the streets, and she intrigued me. I followed her into a dark alley, like an idiot.

And she offered me a wish.

She warned me that there'd be a price. But of course, I'd still get my wish, and if I wished carefully, it'd be worth it.

I'd been failing exams all my life. I'd just came back from school with a test score in Math of 12/100, and I was simply dreading going home.

It didn't seem legitimate to me, because, well, I didn't believe in witches, and no one can grant wishes.

But something about her gaze told me that she was telling the truth.

The price? Pshhh. It didn't matter. As long as I got my wish, well, whatever.

So, I wished to be the smartest human being on Earth.

She nodded.

And then her lips curled upward, ever so slightly, into the most evil, horrific smile I'd ever seen.

That was when I knew I shouldn't have wished.

But it was too late.

I only remember that excruciating agony had ripped right through me, as though a billion knives were stabbing through me from the inside, and blood started flying everywhere. I'd screamed and screamed, while her body seemed to turn to dust, and she vanished.

Then I'd blacked out, and darkness was all that there was.

My eyes are wide, and I'm frozen with the memories.

I wished for this.

And the price? Now I'm paralysed from the neck-down.

***

Ever since I was seven, I've dreamed about being a professional runner, the kind that takes part in competitions and goes to the Olympics to win medals and stuff.

And I might even have been good enough. I ran like the wind, the fastest in my school, people telling me that I had superhuman speed, and that maybe my dream could one day be real.

I trained like mad for it. I represented my school in track competitions, and brought back medals and trophies. I loved running. It was my dream, and my life.

And that's when realisation hits me. 

I'll never be able to run again.

Anguish, horror and shock consumes me. It's an extremely unpleasant feeling, so many horrible feelings overwhelming you at once. I feel warm liquid trickling down my cheeks. Hydrogen and oxygen combined, my brain supplies. Plus a tad of sodium.

SHUT UP! I wish I could yell, but my voice doesn't work. I don't freaking care!

So this is the price of black magic. It's definitely not worth it.

What's the point of being the most intelligent human being on Earth, if it means that everything you care for is taken away from you?

What's the point?

You get to be the most intelligent human being in the world, but at the loss of what means the most to you. So this is balance.

Cruel world. Cruel, cruel world.

So nothing's worth it in the end.

When I opened my eyes, I saw a green, wavy sky. There were no clouds, and no living thing around. I was laying in cold mud and I had no idea what was happening. I got up on my feet and began to walk, and i immediately felt the pressure and it felt flattening. After what felt like hours, I finally found what looked like tents and then I noticed that it was a town! Finally I found another living person, and I asked him, "where am I and why does everything in the world feel upside-down?!". He looked at me with a frown and called me a clown, as he walked away. I asked the next person I found the exact same question, "where am I and why does everything feel upside-down?!". What she told left me in deep depression. I was in the year 2566. However, just yesterday I lived in the year 2066. The girl I spoke to sounded very uneducated and very surprised that spoke as well as I did. I asked her, "do you have internet? Do you have books?" She looked at me puzzled and said, "No int-re-net, no voooks.". At THAT moment I realized something, something that would change my life forever. I am the smartest person on the earth! I will not be called anything other than a genius! NEVER! These thoughts made me smile like a mad man, making the woman ask, " a-are y-you o-ok?". "Ohh yes!" I said, "what is your name?". "Ssarrrah" she said,  "what is you?". "My name is Aristotle Shakespeare and boy do I have much to share with you!!". I asked Sarah to take me to her leader or leaders. She took me to the largest tent, and inside were four elders. "Hello stranger" one said, "who are you?". They sounded like they were educated and strong readers. "My name is Aristotle Shakespeare and I've come to change your the world as you know it.". The elders Began to whisper to each other, two of them looked like they wanted to tear off my limbs, bit by bit. "You may stay here for tonight, but we don't want any of your supposed delights!". I felt shocked, bewildered, mocked. I walked away with Sarah to her little tent. "Do you need anything?" She asked, "no, thank you though, it's been a long day and I'm spent.". That night I had a dream. I was a scientist, a really good one it seemed. I freely went into a time machine That I built. I awoke still in Sarah's tent. I knew what I had to do next... The elders had to go. It would need to be intricate, with suspicions towards me and Sarah on the low. It will have to be at night. I waited outside the town with the deepest frown. I creeped down to the large tent and took a nearby torch. I threw it onto the tent and watched as it got torched. Finally the elders Began to scream and following their screams came the screams of everyone in the town. "DO NOT CRY! DO NOT WORRY! THEIR DEATHS WILL NOT BE THE END OF YOU! I WILL LEAD YOU!! I WILL BE YOUR BEACON OF HOPE! I AM ARISTOTLE SHAKESPEARE!!!!!!