hitomi
by blackbird

warning: contains strong language and violence.

at the club/a walk home
So where is the justice when no one is at fault
And a human life is tragically wasted?
How fragile is the flame that burns within us all
To light each passing day?
 -- Bad Religion, "Billy"

Hitomi cursed under her breath as a peal of thunder pounded at a 
sky that hurled countless raindrops down on the already damp 
cityscape. A streetlamp above her cast a pool of sickly yellow 
light, caught by countless raindrops that fell from the heavens 
to the cold, wet ground. She was soaked, the hooded sweatshirt 
clinging to her skin, and it made the cold worse rather than 
better. Pale legs revealed by damp shorts glistened in that 
sallow glow, and she'd already resigned herself to buying new 
boots. She let out a long sigh as she pushed damp black hair out 
of her eyes.
      The cold and damp soaked her skin from head to toe. She'd 
probably catch pneumonia before long. Maybe her alleged mother 
might give a damn.
      "Fuck it's cold." She muttered. Hitomi looked at her 
reflection in a dark window. She looked like a drowned rat, which 
was about how she felt. She laughed bitterly at her image. Going 
home wasn't an option, not after another hellish afternoon, 
another argument, another fight. But standing out here in the 
rain would kill her. Death. She'd turned back every time before, 
though she wasn't sure why sometimes. Those scars, at least, 
she'd gotten by herself.
      At this hour, so-called normal people were asleep, and most 
places were closed. She became aware of the distant thumping of 
the synthesized bass drum beat that was the pilfered backbone of 
what DJs claimed was music which was, at this distance, faintly 
audible as it drifted from the dance club down the street. 
      Hitomi's empty stomach turned at the thought, but the club 
would be warm at least. Loud, crowded with stupid people, but 
warm and dry. She wasn't sure how long she stood there, but after 
a time her legs started moving. She watched her leather-clad feet 
as they splashed through murky puddles, until she found herself 
at the entrance to the club. After flashing her ID and paying a 
cover charge, she stepped into a maelstrom of color and sound.
      Despite the dank, lifeless world outside, a throng of 
bodies gyrated in time to the mixture of thumps, drum beats, and 
synthetic tones that some wrongly called "music." Perhaps there 
was some artistry in it, Hitomi mused, but to her the differences 
between one dance mix and the next were nonexistent.
      She perched on top of a bar stool and tried to ignore 
everything around her. Given the lack of anything interesting – 
to her it was a too-warm room full of morons being entertained by 
thumping sounds and bright colors – it wasn't too hard. Only it 
left her in the company of her thoughts.
      Things were even more pathetic than usual. Running away 
from home wouldn't accomplish anything this time, same as every 
time before, nothing beside pissing Mom off even more than usual. 
She'd gotten no compassion from her or Tom, and didn't expect 
that to change any time soon. It wouldn't change if hell froze 
over. Hitomi tried to remember a time when things were better, 
but couldn't. Maybe she'd forgotten on purpose, so that her 
present hell wouldn't seem as bad.
      A man dressed all in black sat down on a stool next to her. 
He was dressed too plainly to be some goth poser. His black 
trench – way too many people wore those stupid things – was 
opened to reveal a thin, lithe body, covered by jeans and a 
shirt, also black, matching his boots and unkempt hair. If she 
thought the place was stupid, he seemed to find it… inadequate. 
He looked at the writhing crowd the way she imagined a 
professional assassin would regard a common mugger. If he were to 
dance, it would be in a way that made the throng's movements look 
like an insult to the very idea of dancing.
      He suddenly turned to face her. She immediately looked 
away.
      "You don't… be having… fun!" he half-shouted, being cut off 
in turns by swells in the noise.
      Hitomi just shrugged. Best not to encourage him.
      He leaned closer. "I'll walk you home. No tricks."
      She eyed him. He was holding out his hand with an almost 
pleading look on his face. Why? Was he that desperate for an 
excuse to leave here? Or was he just another asshole ready to 
take advantage of her? Or a smiling psychopath? What did she have 
to lose?

He'd introduced himself as James once they were outside the club, 
sheltered under his umbrella as they walked. Hitomi wasn't sure 
she wanted to go home, but couldn't think of any real 
alternative.
      "Hitomi." She said simply.
      James nodded to himself. "You were looking for somewhere 
warm?"
      She shrugged.
      "Are you sure you want to go home?"
      Hitomi shrugged again. Nowhere else to go, really. "Yeah."
      "You don't sound convinced." He mused.
      "Where do you get off acting all high and mighty? Why the 
fuck do you care?"
      He was quiet for a long time. Then he put an arm around her 
shoulders. "You should try to stay warm." He said simply.
      She looked at his hand as they walked. It felt nice, kind 
of. There was something about him that nagged at the back of her 
brain, something familiar. Before she knew it, they were on the 
porch of the house. The lights were on. James lowered his 
umbrella and took his arm from around her shoulders.
      The front door flew open. Mom stood there looking none too 
pleased. "Where were you?" she demanded, "And who's this freak?"
      "James Hyams." He replied smoothly. "And having seen Hitomi 
safely home, I'll be going now."
      Mom glared at him as he raised his umbrella over his head 
again and started walking. Hitomi hadn't noticed the way he 
walked before. Every last movement was at once relaxed and 
calculated, like the grace of a cat. She slipped past Mom and 
wasted no time in hurrying through the living room and hallway 
that smelled of old cigarette smoke. Tom would probably be asleep 
by now, and drunk to boot. Bastard always was.

hitomi vs brittany - skirmish
i am the bullet in the gun             and i control you
i am the truth from which you run      and i control you
i am the silencing machine             and i control you
i am the end of all your dreams        and i control you
 -- nine inch nails, "mr self destruct"

Hitomi's room was small and sparse. A few posters, a lumpy bed 
and dresser. That was it. She locked the door and after 
discarding her wet clothes, turned the light out and climbed into 
bed. Maybe some of her problems would go away, at least for a 
little while. Overnight at least. Was that too much to ask? Ask 
who?
      She jumped at a pounding on the door, brutal enough to 
shake it on its hinges.
      Remembrance trickling back, tears welled up in her eyes. 
"Please," she whispered. "Just go away."
      "Fine," came Mom's voice through the door. "Sleep you 
little bitch. I'll deal with you in the morning." Soft footsteps 
retreated with the promise of problems to come.
      This was what her life had come down to. Things she 
couldn't fight, only run away from, and even then not for long. 
Fear. Pain. She could only watch as things she cared about were 
smashed. Every time. Every fucking time.
      You're pathetic. Afraid. It was her voice and yet it 
wasn't. The voice without a name, the one that always saw how 
ugly, weak, and stupid she was.
      Of course I'm afraid.
      Little bitch.
      Don't call me that!
      Why not? That woman calls you that all the time.
      I don't have to take this from you.
      Yes you do. You made me. You could've come up with 
anything, but you made me. There's no one to blame but your own 
pathetic self. You wanted this.
      Hitomi shuddered with the effort of drawing a breath. Her 
nose was running, her cheeks felt hot. I don't do those things to 
myself!
      Oh, but you do. How many times have you almost ended this 
all? Copped out on giving up? How many scars, little bitch, how 
many?
      SHUT UP!
      You'll have to do better than that. Just a little wannabe 
bitch who'll never be anything but that woman's chew toy.
      Fuck you.
      And you're becoming more like her every day.
      Leave me alone. Just leave me alone. I've had enough crap 
for one day. Just go away. Please go away...
      She drew in on herself, pulling the blankets closer, and 
shivered. Finally, sleep came.

anger vs world/morning
Hitomi was not herself. She could only numbly watch her own 
actions as she walked into the living room, picked up the poker 
by the dirty fireplace, and proceeded to smash Mom and Tom's 
heads in, snarling as she did so. Discarding the bloodied poker, 
she stepped outside.
      James was there and she kicked him in the nuts on general 
principle.
      Then she was at school. Those preppie girl clones didn't 
laugh when she started attacking with a heavy lead pipe, howling 
with rage as she did so.
      It was exhilarating and terrifying. Pure rage coursed 
through her veins. She trembled, feeling the raw power of her 
anger as it fueled her body's motions, making her swing harder, 
smashing bones and rending flesh. The campus police came and the 
dealt with them. Then more students came, trying to stop her, and 
the teachers, and...
      Hitomi stood on the quad, alone except for the dead, and 
threw back her head to scream. The world shook and trembled. She 
turned around, and saw one last victim, a lone girl who sat 
against a wall, oblivious to everything. Hitomi brushed the 
girl's unkempt black hair out of her eyes and saw--

Hitomi awoke with a start. She was in her own bed in her own 
room, wearing only the same damp T-shirt and her underwear. A 
dull gray sky showed through the gaps in the curtains, and the 
feel and smell of rain still hung in the air. It was five in the 
morning. Stupid dreams. She'd have gotten almost four hours of 
sleep, and right now she felt every missed minute down to her 
marrow. Tired aches made slashes of pain in her legs, and a dull 
throbbing wetly pounded in her head.
      She tried to put her thoughts into order, and found it 
hard. For that matter her eyes didn't quite want to focus. Okay. 
So Mom was pissed off yet again -- like that was anything new -- 
she might have a stalker, and it was too damn early right now. 
That about summed it up. Oh, and Mom would take the opportunity 
to yell and maybe throw things. Better to avoid that.
      Staggering to her feet, holding the blanket -- which was 
getting kind of dirty -- around her against the cold, she got 
dressed. It was the same outfit as yesterday, like she was some 
fucking cartoon character. Her boots were fucked too, but she 
didn't have any others. By the time she made out her reflection 
in the window she decided dealing with her hair wasn't worth the 
trouble. The screwed up look seemed to be her style more and more 
lately. It fit.
      The backpack. She shoved in the books, and the binder. The 
thing was small, black, and ragged as hell, with some band names 
and other crap scrawled in silver paint stuff she'd found sitting 
around the house. It was like her -- something no one really 
wanted, but that they still used to hold things. Chores. Words. 
Fucking Beowulf.
      That had killed all of fifteen minues. She slid open the 
window. It was an eight-foot drop to the ground. Annoying, but 
nothing to stop her. A stray cat darted out of sight like a tabby 
striped bullet when she landed, jarring her knees a little as she 
did. School was fucked. But it was better than home, and usually 
a step above the street, though not by much unless it was in a 
really shitty neighborhood.

at school
Hitomi blearily started walking. It was garbage day -- most every 
house except hers had the cans and recycling bins out front -- 
and garbage trucks prowled through the streets like hungry metal 
elephants. Derelicts with shopping carts walked the streets, 
collecting cans and bottles. Five blocks to school. Four years of 
the place's crap and then... and then...
      She passed the houses, the convenience store with a staff 
of paranoid middle easterners, passed the athletic fields and the 
swimming pool, and went to her spot.
      It was under a staircase in the main hallway, a place small 
enough that only one person could really fit into, and a small 
person at that. Best of all, most people didn't even notice it. 
Hiding in plain sight had a certain allure, and seemed 
appropriate somehow. She leaned against the wall, and let out a 
long sigh. Only an hour and a half before class started. She 
closed her eyes and tried to relax a little, but realized that 
she had the beginnings of a sore throat, which meant she probably 
_had_ caught something last night. Making a sound of frustration, 
she tried her best to ignore her head, which felt as though 
someone were going over its insides with steel wool. So she sat 
there, feeling miserable.
      She must've drifted off or something, because when the bell 
rang it seemed as though almost no time had passed at all. She 
wearily emerged from her hiding place. A few students were 
startled when she popped out, but she ignored them.
      "About time you got to school without a tardy."
      That was Miranda Pierce, one of the worst of the preppy 
bitches at the school. A scantily clad blonde with lots of money 
and not much individuality. The tanktop, the jeans, the shoes, 
the jacket -- everything was calculated to match the majority's 
idea of "chic" for this week. Hitomi tried to think of something 
scathingly sarcastic and supremely insulting to say, but settled 
for flipping her off.
      It was just another day at school, really, except that she 
was on time for her first period class. P.E. Why the school 
stayed in the dark ages and forced it on the students was beyond 
her. For that matter, she really wanted to know how doing jumping 
jacks for that orge of a woman was educational.
      The same routine, the same crap.

hitomi vs brittany – rebirth
I will find a center in you
I will chew it up and leave
I will work to elevate you
Just enough to bring you down
I want, what I want
 -- Tool, "Sober"

Hitomi huddled on a corner of the bench that pressed up against 
the building beside it. She was downtown, and most of the buses -
- including the only one that came anywhere near her house -- had 
stopped for the night. There was no rain, but it was still cold, 
and she was wearing shorts, displaying a goosebump-ridden expanse 
of pale flesh.
      "Shit." she muttered. "Now what?"
      She'd made it through another day at school on auto-pilot, 
barely noticing the transition from one boring fuck of a teacher 
to another.
      P.E.: "You can do better than that, maggot!" Drill sergeant 
reject.
      English: "This poem is very good, Hitomi, though I'm not 
sure what it's about." Never been beaten by your parents, I 
guess.
      Math: "If you don't understand, you should ask for help 
after class." Fuck you too.
      Art: "That has nothing to do with the assignment. Get to 
work." Sorry, I was trying to express myself. I'll go back to 
being a fucking clone.
      Economics: "You just aren't applying yourself." Fuck off. 
That's what she should've said. He thought eveyone should be on a 
sports team.
      U.S. History: "Well, if you don't care to take an interest 
in your future." Well, if you don't give a fuck about my present.
      She shivered, wrapping her arms around her folded legs. God 
it was cold. Oh, and there'd been more pointless insults from 
Miranda and her band of harpies at lunch time. Something about 
her bathng habits, like she should've stayed and let Mom throw 
things -- probably sharp ones -- at her. Getting them to 
understand that would be like telling a fish about the deserts -- 
of Mars.
      Hitomi could just imagine it. Miranda would look surprised, 
and squeak, "Oh my _god_. Other people have feelings _too_? I had 
_no_ idea!"
      Stupid bitch.
      No, that's you.
      Oh, god. Shut up. Not now. It was that voice. It was always 
there, ready to pull her down, right there in the back of her 
head.
      I've been thinking,
      Shut up! You're not even real!
      And I decided I need a name.
      A name? It was just a voice. It didn't need a name. Didn't 
deserve one.
      You have a name. What did you ever do to desereve it, 
bitch?
      SHUT UP!
      But what would be a good name? I'm still not sure.
      You're no one!
      So are you. But a name that reminds you of your betters. 
Like...
      Nothing!
      Brittany. That'll do. Hitomi, I'm Brittany.
      And suddenly it... _she_ was. Images flashed in her mind, 
and resolved themselves into what she assumed had to be Brittany. 
"Oh god." she breathed. "I'm going insane." Brittany had the face 
and body of Miranda, lipsuctioned to perfection, the colored-
contact blue eyes of Angelica, the summer wardrobe of Alicia, and 
Marianne's platinum-blonde hair. The super-preppy.
      What do you think?
      If Hitomi had met a real person like that, she probably 
would've punched her on general principle.
      Oh please. That's how I know I got it right. We're going to 
spend a lot of time together from now on.
      Go. Away.
      It's too late for that. You gave me the name -- you didn't 
say it, but it was in the back of your mind -- and names have 
power. So. What shall we discuss? Your pathetic attitude, lack of 
physical fitness, or ugliness? Or just the overall lack of 
redeeming value?

awakening – the twisting
Raven black is on my track
Show me how to neutralize the knife
Show to me in surgery
The art of fighting words to conquer life
 -- Budgie, "Crash Course In Brain Surgery"

When "Brittany" had finally decided to go away -- apparently 
having chosen to resume the crushing of Hitomi's ego later -- 
Hitomi still sat on the same bench, and shivered in the cold of 
deep night. The city was quiet, save for the sound of distant 
tires on the roads, and only illumination was the sickly yellow 
glow of a street light.
      She started to cry. Tears rolled down her cheeks, her 
nostrils filled with mucous, and her throat was a knot of pain. 
It was too much. She wasn't even safe in her own head anymore. 
When Mom and Miranda and all the other bitches of the world were 
far away, Brittany would still be there, _her_ jibes cutting 
deepest of all.
      Hitomi wasn't sure how long she went on like that, unable 
to stop her own pathetic sobbing, but someone laid a hand on her 
shoulder, which she shoved away immediately. When she gathered 
the resolve to look up, she saw a familiar slender figure, clad 
all in black.
      "What the fuck do you want?" she managed, choking only 
slightly on the words. She scrubbed at her cheeks with one sleeve 
of her sweatshirt and glared.
      James let out a long sigh. "I thought it was you." he said 
carefully. "Now I know why I noticed you last night."
      Still a little shaky, she stood up and shoved past him, 
walking as deliberately as she could manage.
      He kept up with her easily. "Listen, damnit. This is 
important."
      "I just want to be left alone right now." More than ever. 
More than anything. Brittany was there, in the back of her head, 
watching and probably laughing too.
      "You're not normal--"
      "So what?"
      He made a frustrated grunting sound. "Fine. Whatever. Just 
listen to me. You have a power, just like me and some others 
besides. It hasn't fully awakened yet, but it's begun to. I felt 
it tonight."
      The jerk-off apparently had a screw loose. He'd seemed 
strange before, but now he was babbling about strange powers and 
crap. "What kind of power?" She'd never felt more powerless than 
right now.
      "It's..." he paused to think about it. "Think of it as 
bending reality. You can try almost anything, but it depends on 
your willpower." She waited. "You also have to be careful; I say 
'bending' because reality tends to snap back into place after, 
and that can hurt you."
      Hitomi stopped walking and looked at the ground. "I don't 
think I've ever seen someone so full of shit before. Leave me the 
fuck alone."
      He was finally starting to show more irritation than 
desperation. "I'm dead serious about this. You want proof? Fine. 
Watch."
      She turned and pointed her eyes in his direction as he 
hurriedly removed his coat and shirt -- he was hairless but very 
toned in the chest. Then he closed his eyes, lowered his head, 
and took deep breaths. He was mumbling something, but she 
couldn't make it out.
      What happened next was impossible. Her mind reeled and 
screamed and panicked at what her eyes were seeing. Slowly at 
first, something grew out of his back. Feathers, black ones, grew 
and shifted, and beforre her eyes became a pair of great black 
feathered wings.
      Hitomi was only barely aware of falling on her butt and 
trying to crawl away by pushing at the cement with her feet. 
James took two strides to close the distance between them, and 
roughly set her on her feet.
      "The power," he said in low, menacing tones. "Is real. You 
have it, and you _must_ master it before it masters you."
      Shoving aside ponderings about what purpose those wings 
could serve -- he should be too heavy to fly, unless he could 
make himself lighter somehow -- she tried to regain her composure 
and utterly failed. Her mind reeled, scrabbled along the decaying 
corridors of thought and instinct.
      Then she caught hold of something.
      The ground under them shook. She found herself holding onto 
James to keep from falling. His eyes darted around, then fell on 
her. "Calm down. Please, just take a deep breath and calm down."
      The streetlight writhed in place, and twisted around as 
though to look at her. A mailbox broke free of its hinges and 
advanced, its slot opening and closing menacingly. Cars flashed 
their lights and honked their horns.
      Every window on the block shattered. James held up his new 
wings to shield them from the glass that rained down from above.
      Hitomi could feel him, feel his power, reaching into her 
mind. She remembered the time she was nearly raped by an alleged 
teacher, the fear, the feeling of violation as he tore off her 
shirt... It was like that, only in her head. Raw, seething anger 
rose so fast her stomach turned and clenched, and the next thing 
she knew, he'd been slammed into a brick wall and was coughing up 
blood.
      Staggering a little, glaring at his left wing -- which was 
mangled and bleeding -- he got to his feet. "Goddamnit. Calm 
down, Hitomi. You're stronger than I thought, but you have to 
learn control, otherwise..."
      It was sweat that was trickling down her brow, onto her 
cheeks. Not tears. A horrible realization came to her. _She_ had 
done all this. The power he talked about was real, and she had 
it. But like everything else that might've been good in her life, 
it had a big flaw. She couldn't control it, and it was dangerous. 
Without knowing why, she lashed out at James once more, knocking 
him off his feet but not much more than that.
      "I'm calm." she replied bitterly. "I'm going home."

the plot
I hate teachers, I hate school
I hate the cheerleaders and anyone who's cool
 -- The Offspring, "Cool To Hate"

Hitomi sat on the couch, wearing a form-fitting green dress. Her 
hair, usually a mess of black tangles, has somehow been combed 
straight, and smelled of tacky herbal-scented shampoo. She 
blinked and looked around; the calendar said Friday, but that 
couldn't be right. It'd been Wednesday night that she'd gone out 
and... and... She rubber her head. What the hell happened?
      Mom came into the room and looked at her... approvingly. 
The dress was the right color, at least, but apart from that it 
was so... preppy. Somehow, she felt like someone was laughing at 
her.
      "It's about time you started socializing a little." said 
Mom. "You look amazing; I bet the kids at school won't even 
recognize you. I guess you turned out to be _my_ daughter after 
all."
      How many times has Mom compared Hitomi to everything that 
was vile about her father? All Hitomi remembered of him was a 
gangly, pale Japanese man with glasses. She managed a forced 
smile while she tried to remember the events that led up to this 
moment, but the past two days were just not there. She came home 
from that club, walked by that James guy -- she didn't remember 
hating him quite so much, though -- went to sleep, and... Blink. 
She was sitting on the couch.
      "So," Mom continued, "Tell me about this Greg guy."
      Hitomi stopped short. Greg? As in Gregory Williams? He was 
one of the most popular guys in school. If she gave a damn she 
might say he was "handsome" or something, except he was a jerk 
and a snob. And he was supposed to be dating Miranda Pierce. She 
felt stupid for knowing these things, but since everyone ignored 
her at school, she heard a lot. "He seems... nice. Good looking."
      Mom nodded enthusiastically. "I bet it was a surprise when 
he asked you out to the dance, wasn't it?"
      Hitomi managed a nod. He'd _asked_ her? What kind of 
bullshit was going on here? He'd asked her out, _and_ she'd 
accepted rather than give him the finger.
      The doorbell rang. Mom bustled over to the door and opened 
it, wearing a goofy grin. Behind the door was none other than 
Greg Williams. "Come in, come in!" Mom enthused. "She's right 
here!"
      He smiled at Hitomi in a way that made her want to hit him. 
Not that that was all that different from her usual reaction to 
his presence. Only however this mess had started, there was no 
way out. Mom was there watching, and would go more ballistic than 
ever if Hitomi bailed on this like she really wanted to.
      "Are you ready?" he asked smoothly.
      She nodded, and followed him out the door, and into his 
car.

the dance
Do you bury me when I'm gone?
Do you teach me when I'm here?
Just as soon as I belong
Then it's time I disappear
 -- Metallica, "I Disappear"

The ride to school was a smooth one. Whatever Greg's parents did, 
they had enough to give their boy quite an expensive car. Hip-hop 
music -- god how she despised that stuff -- played quietly on the 
radio. She amused herself slightly by putting on the college 
radio station -- the one that broadcast a steady stream of punk 
rock and industrial music.
      But now what?
      She hated clubs, didn't know how to dance, and was probably 
about to become not merely an annoyance to Miranda, but an actual 
enemy, and she had no idea why or how this was happening.
      "You look nice tonight." he said simply. "I like what you 
did with your hair."
      Hitomi fought an urge to announce plans to shave her head. 
"Thanks." An awkward silence. "What is it you like about me?"
      He sort of shrugged. "I... I dunno..."
      A world class answer from Mr. Smooth. This was probably 
some kind of big joke, or maybe he'd lost a bet, or would win one 
by doing this. "You can do better than that." Lie like a man.
      Putting on his trademark Winning Smile, he said, "You're 
actually pretty underneath," Bullshit. The stuff she was carrying 
around inside would scare him shitless. "You're quiet and 
thoughtful," As opposed to a talkative clone like all the other 
girls. "And..." He was about to say something where he took pity 
on her. "Well, I just thought you deserved a chance." Smooth. 
Where was a fireplace poker when you needed one? "So now I'll ask 
a question; what made you say yes?"
      She really wished she knew that right about now. "I'm... 
not sure." It was hard to believe that the girl she saw in the 
rear-view mirror was her. The dress, the hair... there were even 
a few touches of makeup, something she'd never touched in her 
life. Only the face was really the same. She looked at her arms, 
and found that the scars had been mostly covered by makeup. She'd 
really covered all the bases. So what the hell was going on?
      The gym smelled only faintly of body odor and cleaning 
solution with the dance happening. The students stood, sat, or 
milled about around the place, trying to make up for the lack of 
music with their chattering. Greg paid for getting in, and led 
her to a table. Miranda was across the gym, staring screaming 
death and indignation at them. Actually, a lot of people were 
looking at them. It made sense, insofar as anything here did.
      "Anything I can get you?" asked Greg.
      She shrugged. "Something to drink."
      He glanced at someone and rolled his eyes. "Kyle probably 
spiked the punch, though..."
      "So?"
      The pink liquid in the paper cup he brought back tasted of 
too much sugar, and it had been spiked with very cheap vodka. 
Probably Mom's brand.
      Out of nowhere, Alicia and Marianne were there, gawking at 
Hitomi.
      "What a surprise!" mused Alicia.
      "Miranda is _pissed_." Marianne added conspiratorily. "I'm 
impressed."
      Hitomi shrugged. "Not my idea." she muttered.
      Greg just shrugged. "If she wants to talk to me about it, 
she can. On Monday."
      Hitomi finished off the rest of the cup, and looked at the 
table. Plastic, with a tacky plastic tablecloth.
      "Is something wrong?" asked Greg, leaning a little too 
close.
      She shrugged. "I'm not sure." This was all wrong. Something 
was up. "Can we go?"
      He looked surprised, maybe even feigned feeling hurt. 
"What? Why? Is it something I said?"
      Slowly, Hitomi raised her eyes to his expectant face. The 
preppy girls had departed. She took a deep breath. She should 
just walk out. But maybe he really had just wanted her to be 
happy. That would be a nice change. But the suspicion that went 
down to her bones, that was what kept her alive, wouldn't let her 
believe it.
      He'd said something. He was holding out one hand for her to 
take, and motioning her towards where she presumed the dancing 
part was to take place. Reluctantly, she took hold of his hand, 
and let herself be led to the middle of the ersatz dance floor.
      "Do you know how to dance?"he asked.
      She shook her head.
      "Don't worry. It's easy; I'll show you"
      Right. Sure. That was why she felt like running away 
screaming, why her limbs didn't want to move, a condition which 
only got worse once the music started. Greg showed surprising 
patience, even though it probably looked as though he were posing 
a life-size action figure. She wanted to tell her arms and legs 
to move, but they wouldn't listen. Her legs held her up, and her 
arms hung at her sides like leaden weights, unless Greg moved 
them into some other position himself.
      Why, damnit?
      Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic.

anger/backfire/destruction
something inside of me has opened up inside
why did you put it there, did you not realize?
this thing inside of me, it screams with loudest sound
sometimes i think i could... burn
 -- nine inch nails, "burn"

Somewhere along the line Hitomi totally lost track of time, 
slipping into a trance of sorts. When she looked again, Greg was 
looking worried and afraid. People around the gym were pointing 
and whispering and watching.
      "Sorry." she muttered. Why was she apologizing to this 
jerk?
      "Okay everyone!" All eyes turned towards the stage, where 
the ASB president stood, holding a microphone. She smiled and 
waved as the crowd cheered. "It's time to announce the King and 
Queen of the Valentine's Day Dance!"
      Valentine's Day? February 14th. Not a day she'd ever taken 
much notice of.
      They were halfway up the stage before she realized that she 
and Greg were the winners. Fuck. Now what?
      Miranda was looking smug. Something had to be up. Otherwise 
she'd still be looking ready to do a bit of chainsaw massacring. 
Greg looked surprised -- maybe he hadn't been let in on the joke. 
Someone was laughing at her, laughing hysterically.
      "Let's give these two a big hand!"
      The buckets of wet, sticky mud, delivered by a couple of 
the thugs that were allegedly called "football players," coated 
the two of them in brown filth. Applause was blended with 
laughter. The most hateful, derisive laughter Hitomi had ever 
heard.
      She looked at the crowd for a long moment. Whatever had led 
up to this...
      Well, I did it, of course.
      Memory flooded back. Brittany. But how had this happened?
      I decided to take over. I thought it'd be more fun this 
way.
      Tendrils of crimson rage flowed into her brain, surrounding 
it, piercing it, enveloping it. She'd put up with too much shit 
in her life. Way too much. It was time for some payback. Time to 
hurt some people back. Start with Miranda? No. Save her for last.
      Oh, and what are you planning to do?
      It was like a dream. The one where she went and took 
revenge on everyone. Something inside took over, and she could 
only watch as raw anger took control. Bulges snaked along the 
floor, up the columns and the walls, pulsing with their own 
bizarre life. They jumped out of the way as they looked on in 
horror. Greg had fallen down on his butt, but she ignored him.
      Another person, another Hitomi. A Hitomi of pure rage, 
mindless violence. The tendrils that snaked through the gym 
sprouted wicked spikes and broke free, tearing into the students 
as they thrashed around.
      Burn.
      Flames erupted everywhere, burning them alive even as they 
were cut apart. A few tried helplessly to pull at the doors, 
which had grown themselves shut, but mostly they just died.
      They were dying.
      Hitomi blinked. Maybe they deserved it, but... She'd done 
it? Was this the power that James was talking about?
      "Hitomi, please!" begged Greg.
      She had the power. Real power. She _could_ master it, tear 
apart anyone who opposed her. Be a god. Goddess. Whatever. The 
other Hitomi, the angry one, was crying out for more blood.
      "Stop! I don't know what you're doing, and I don't care, 
but please, for the love of god, stop!"
      She looked at him and smiled. Something about it seememed 
to terrify him. "Know what? I just got in touch with my inner 
bitch. I decided I like her."
      The last thing she remembered was throwing her head back 
and howling in rage as flames consumed everything.

quiet/descent
and i descend from grace
in arms of undertow
i will take my place
in the great below
 -- nine inch nails, "the great below"

Hitomi sat on the edge of a cliff, with the ocean far below. Greg 
hadn't exactly needed his car after that, so she'd "borrowed" it, 
and now she was here, by the sea. The high waves crashed against 
the rock below, the only thing that broke the silence save for 
her own breathing. Somehow her dress had _become_ her usual 
shorts and sweatshirt. Weird.
      If Brittany was not gone, she was at least very quiet for 
now, and so was the other one. Anger.
      There had to have been over two hundred dead there. Maybe 
she hated what they stood for, but still, she'd _killed_ them. 
She was a murderer; in one evening she'd managed what would've 
taken a dozen armed terrorists or a very good bomb maker. It 
wasn't really there, but she could feel the blood on her hands, 
the slick crimson that stained so deeply.
      She had power, but her mind was not her own, and neither 
was the power. Brittany had managed to play havoc with her 
memories, take over her body for a day, and bring this whole mess 
on. And Anger...
      Hitomi looked down at the waves as the first rays of dawn 
peeked over the horizon. The rolling sea was so beautiful, so 
placid. Inviting. What did she have to lose? No police 
investigation. Miss the day of mourning at school. No more Mom 
and Tom. No more Brittany fucking with her.
      Hitomi let herself fall. Her body flowed, limply, through 
the whispering air, and a smile slowly spread across her lips. A 
lifetime of pain flashed in front of her eyes. She wouldn't miss 
it.
      The water took her, held he as she drifted downward, 
letting the air out of her lungs a little bit at a time. The 
caked-on mud washed away as though it never was. The water didn't 
feel cold; it wrapped her like a warm blanket, invited her. Yes. 
She'd become a part of the sea, let the barrier between herself 
and the great ocean dissolve. She could feel it happening, and 
her faint smile grew into one of total contentment.
      Then arms were closing around her, pulling her up, into the 
cruel air and harsh sunlight. She had no will left to resist 
with.

When she opened her eyes, James stood over her. She was 
thoroughly soaked, and the wind froze her skin. She brought a 
hand to her head to shield her eyes, though it took some 
considerable effort. "Why?" she managed.
      He looked at her, folding up his wings into nothingness, 
and let out a long sigh. "You first."
      She'd been removed from the embrace of the Deep, but some 
of its tranquility still stayed with her. She slowly sat up, and 
looked at him placidly. He was wet too, and worried, from his 
expression. "Do you know what happened at school?"
      He nodded. "I looked in your mind while you were asleep. 
Gently this time. Anyone ever tell you you're seriously fucked 
up?"
      Hitomi managed a smile. "Lots of people."
      "The backlash will undo a lot of what you did. When you 
bend things that far, reality just sort of goes back and says 
'Nope. Never happened.'"
      "So they'll all come back to life?"
      James shrugged. "Most. Enough to cover things up, but no 
more. At least you didn't break it."
      "So why?"
      He shook his head. "It wasn't... Mistakes happen. But you 
can do good with the power too. Heal. Save lives."
      She nodded. "Alright. I'm going home now." She stood up, 
willed herself to be dry, and started for the car.

hitomi vs brittany – final battle
You will feel my anger
You will feel my pain
You will feel my torment
Driving you insane
I can't fight fight the feelings
They will bring you pain
You won't take away
I'll be whole again
 -- Staind, "Mudshovel"

She sat on the bed and let out a long sigh. Mom and Tom were out 
when she'd come back. If Mom had thought she'd spent the night 
with Greg it would've been hypocritical for her to object. Not 
that that ever stopped the woman before.
      "But what do I do now?" she muttered. The power wouldn't 
come out. Maybe it just came and went as it pleased. Like 
everything else, this had just become one big mess. Whatever 
James was thinking, he was probably pretty pissed at her right 
now, and he was the only one she knew who also had the power. It 
couldn't be called magic, could it? She just made things happen 
by thinking about them. Except for now.
      Hitomi hung her head and let out a long sigh. Sleep. That 
was what she needed. Sleep free of nightmares for a change.
      "I know I'm starting to sound like a broken record, but you 
really are pathetic."
      Cold fear gripped Hitomi's spine. She knew that voice, but 
it was impossible. She had actually _heard_ it, with her ears. 
Slowly, she turned.
      Brittany stood there in the doorway, exactly as she'd 
appeared in Hitomi's mind. She wore a malicious grin, as always, 
and those dark blue eyes glittered with arrogant hatered. "Hello, 
little bitch."
      How? How could this be possible?
      "I can't hear your thoughts right now, since I'm not 
actually in your head at the moment, but I used the power to make 
a temporary body for myself. Now, things are going to be changing 
a bit around here." With a gesture, Brittany filled the world 
with darkness. There was only the two of them, and the black 
void.
      Hitomi stood up, looking around warily. "Whatever you're 
planning--"
      How Brittany closed the distance between them so fast was 
beyond Hitomi, but the sharp blow that Brittany delivered to her 
temple was lightning-fast and all too real. "You want to know 
what I'm planning? Alright. It's not as though you can stop me 
anyway. I'm taking over."
      Whatever that meant, it terrified her. More than anything 
she'd seen or imagined. "Taking... over?"
      Brittany nodded. "I'm going to use the power to take over. 
From now on I'll be in control and you'll be the little pathetic 
voice in _my_ head. The one I keep to remind me how much better I 
am than you."
      "Y-you can't..."
      "Oh, but I can. The power was mine to begin with. Remember? 
It never manifested until _after_ I did. A bit of a makeover -- 
that should be easy -- and you'll be gone forever."
      Fighting the urge to vomit, Hitomi tried to walk towards 
Brittany, to hit her, to kick her, to do _something_, anything, 
but her boots were becoming caught in sticky brown mud, and 
Brittany suddenly seemed so far away.
      "Forget it, Hitomi-chan. I have the power. You lose. 
Everything. You were ready to give up anyway."
      She fought to walk, and made it a few more steps before 
sinking down to her knees. She was slowly, inevitably moving 
downwards. The mud was cold, and it felt dirtier than anything 
she could imagine, filthy beyond merre grime, stained with blood 
and hate.
      "No!" Hitomi pleaded, "I don't want to die. I don't want to 
become her!" She was in up to her waist, and Brittany was 
laughing. There had to be something she could do. When you were 
in quicksand you weren't supposed to struggle, just stay still 
and you'd only sink up to your chin. Only this was Brittany's 
creation, so it probably wouldn't work that way. Fighting made it 
worse, not fighting made it worse, so what other alternative was 
there?
      She was in up to her chest, and panic finally set in for 
real, and she struggled and fought, but there was nothing to hold 
on to. Brittany watched and laughed, standing, Hitomi dimly 
realized, an inch above the expanse of mud, so that not even the 
soles of her expensive shoes would get dirtied by her creation.
      Hitomi's muddied hand proptruded above the surface as she 
struggled to hold her breath. She was completely covered by the 
mud, but still sinking, ever so slowly. The mud was like the 
waters of the sea reflected in a cracked mirror. The border 
between herself and what was around her, the thing that 
encapsulated her very soul, was being eroded by it, and when it 
was gone, all that she was would be consumed by the mud.
      Something took her hand. It was hard to tell through the 
mud, but the hand felt delicate yet worn. It trembled and 
squeezed hard. Anger. It was the other her. And she was nearly 
gone.
      Hitomi squeezed the hand back, and then felt it become 
softer, until it was simply more mud. Like she would be soon.
      No. She couldn't let this happen. She was herself, and for 
better or for worse she'd stay that way. She was angry. Not the 
blind fury of her now departed other self, but a cold, 
uncompromising rage. She reached for the power, and took hold of 
it. Just like that. She could feel Brittany making a futile 
attempt to wrest it from her grasp, but this time her grip was 
like steel.
      Hitomi rose above the mud, making heat that turned it into 
dry clay as she ascended. Brittany's expression was one of 
absolute terror. Hitomi came to rest on the now flat, dry 
surface, and strode towards her.
      "This time," Hitomi announced, delivering a kick to the 
stomach that left Brittany doubled over. "You went too far! A 
kick to the face followed. "I always hated you, but now I can't 
let you exist. You're _nothing_!" She slapped her as hard as she 
could. Brittany had just begun recovering only to be thrown to 
the ground by its force. Hitomi's hand stung for a moment, until 
she willed it not to.
      When Brittany staggered to her feet, Hitomi wrapped her 
hands around that supple, slender neck and squeezed with all her 
might. Brittany's eyes bulged, and she fought and snarled, but 
Hitomi's grip remained solid.
      "Die!" screamed Hitomi, tears streaming down her face. "Die 
damn you!"
      Finally, Britanny's thrashings slowed and stopped, and 
Hitomi let the body fall to the dusty ground. She let out a long, 
shuddering sigh, and dropped to her knees. It was over. There was 
only Hitomi here.

aftermath/the beautiful light
I know this rose will open
I know my fear will burn away
I know my soul will unfurl its wings
I know this rose will open
 -- "I Know This Rose Will Open"

This place, she realized, was a step sideways out of reality, and 
she could make it into whatever she wanted. The dry dirt and 
Brittany's corpse both vanished, and Hitomi made the flaking dirt 
that covered her from head to toe simply disappear. The darkness 
was absolute, and oddly comforting. She had never felt so warm 
and safe, here alone in the dark. Maybe because it was her place 
now, and she truly was in control for once.
      The warmth was coming from inside her, though. Her heart. 
It felt light for the first time in her life. She rested her 
hands over her heart, and let the sensation wash over her, of 
pure, simple joy that needed no cause. She smiled, and shuddered 
slightly, and realized she was crying. This was what had been 
hidden so deep down, what Mom and crushed every day and what 
Brittany had been trying so desperately to keep hidden.
      In her cupped hands was a ball of golden light. It was the 
most beautiful thing she had ever seen. She felt its warm, loving 
light, and cried until her tears of joy were spent.
      Things were going to change.

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Ewen "Blackbird" Cluney                     blackbird@blackbird.nu
Blackbird's Domain                        http://www.blackbird.nu/
The Official Thrash Home Page          http://thrash.blackbird.nu/
Knight Kevlar of the Immortal Frog        Silver Knight of Mihoshi
              "Be nice to me; I might just develop 
             psychokinetic powers and destroy Tokyo!"
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