Blinding Light (BLS Book 1)

Mila

Before I can react to what just happened, I’m sucked into another vision. I’m back at the house—my house. But this time, Mother lies on the bed.

“Mom?” I ask and step closer but a screaming child gets there before me.

“No mama…I won’t leave you!” I stand, shocked by the sight, by the screaming child—identified as me.

“My beautiful angel…I love—” she takes a sharp inhale and exhales deeply. Her chest doesn’t rise again. I can feel my knees weaken as I fall to the ground.

Why? I cry out desperately inside my mind. Why must I see this again?

…Again?

“So you remember…” The voice answers as quickly as I asked. I feel tears slip down my cheeks.

Remember what?

“The right...memory.”

I look at the scene. The little me couldn’t be older than five. Yet I remember as clear as day the day Mother died was when I was fifteen.

“Mila! You have to run!” Someone shouts. A boy grabs my—her tiny shoulders and shakes her violently. I rush over to push him away, but I can’t do anything. My hand passes through the body. Again.

And again.

Memory…

Blocked.

I shake my head; the ringing words evaporate.

“Run!”

The word…

Did it come from this ‘memory’?

I see my little silhouette dash out of the house. The boy stands, his eyes green with a speck of gold in them. But then it glows, the gold light emits from him, it’s so bright that I cover my eyes before I hear it.

Drip.

The sound reverberates like an echo, but it’s worse than that. It’s like a soundwave meant to circle you until your eardrums explode from the pressure. I cover my ears before I realize what just happened. Something drips down from his hand, red.

Blood.

His whole hand is covered with blood. I can almost see my reflection from the slick red on his hand, his glowing eyes reflecting light from it. He looks terrifying and menacing which I didn’t know was possible for a thirteen-year-old to look that way.

Wait.

How did I just assume that?

But somehow, I knew that it was a fact. The boy standing in front of me was indeed just thirteen. He’s tall for his age, almost as tall as me at seventeen.

It’s then where I hear the screaming. It’s so loud and horrifying that I cover my ears. But it’s no use. His bloody hands reach out before him, and more screams erupt from outside.

Stop. Please stop. I beg inside my head. But it’s no use. I’m still stuck here.

The door opens with a bang. I can only watch in horror as a woman drag the girl, me, back in.

“No! Let me go!” She shrieks, almost inhuman. A loud snap sounds as I watch she breaks the woman’s hand. I watch in surprise and pure terror.

The woman screams, dropping the girl. She runs to the boy’s side, whose eyes are still glowing. The people point things at the boy. He narrows his eyes.

“Evren…Evren…” I hear the girl whisper.

“Shh, Mila.” He shushes her in such a gentle way I didn’t know was possible by his terrifying figure.

“Shh, Mila.”

Stay still…

Remain quiet…

“Give us the girl, and you don’t have to witness this fight,” a man says, walking up to him with confidence.

The boy—Evren, grits his teeth as more blood drip down from his hand. “Never. Go to hell.”

He snarls before his eyes glow brighter then everyone screams in the room. Something touches me, then bursts into pain.

I scream as I feel my fingers bend backward. They looked perfectly intact so I didn’t understand where the pain was coming from. But the sense of touch is overwhelmed by the amount of pain that’s causing my mind to cease and panic. I could feel my fragile bones snap in half, breaking into pieces. I could feel the way my skin is barely hanging onto the bone of the broken finger. I could feel the blood trail down my hand to my wrist just as that bone snaps in two as well, a hallucination that seems too real until I look down at my hand, as eerily perfect and unmoving.

I can only scream until my lungs burn—until my throat dries from the desperate cry of help.

The pain, the pain, make it stop…!! Please.

What is happening?

“The truth…”

It’s then I realize that everyone else is screaming in the room too. Their pistols in their hands start to redirect themselves, until they’re pointing it at each other, at themselves.

The boy must’ve done something. My thoughts are interrupted when another wave of pain hits me so hard that it knocks me off my feet. When I hit the ground, my shoulder pops out of its socket. I could feel the tension of the muscles as it rips in half. My nerves scream at my brain.

Then, suddenly, it’s all gone. The pain, it’s all gone. Someone holds a pistol-shaped item at the boy Evren. His eyes stop glowing, and a ring of fire surrounds him.

If this is a so-called memory, how am I being affected like this?

“Surrender now,” the man holding the pistol says in a calm voice.

“Never.”

Then, his eyes glow too, just like Evren’s. I don’t even react as the fire lick Evren’s clothes. I’m so stunned that I couldn’t do anything. I just stand there, invisible, in silence, helpless. I watch his eyes roll to the back of his head and he slumps down.

“Evren! No!” The girl screeches.

Her trembling hands touch him, and his skin knits itself back together immediately.

New, healthy.

Her eyes emit such a light green glow that you would overlook unless you were paying close attention. The only reason I could see it was because it was the dead of night.

“Nnnghh…Mila…Run…” he moans, conscious again.

“No…NO!” She screeches as the man with the pistol item grabs her arm violently. On instinct, I try to fight for her, but my hand passes through the man. Only then do I remember that it’s only a vision, a memory.

I yell in frustration, “Let her go!”

“You can’t change the past.”

I ignore the voice and try to grab my younger self away from the man. But it’s no use, my hands pass through the man every time. He doesn’t react, he can’t see me, he can’t feel me. I am not here.

The fire puts itself out, leaving burnt marks on the floor where it used to be. Another man emerges, his eyes glowing a faint blue in the darkness. I can’t make out his face before he turns away, leaving the house. I follow them out, my body passes through the door as if I’m a ghost.

“Why don’t we burn this?”

“No,” someone commands, the same voice I heard in the walls earlier. “Take her brother too. He has an ability. A powerful one too. Without the ability dampener we learned from the sister, we would’ve never gotten this far.”

“Yes sir,” a woman salutes.

“Let go! Where did you take her?” The woman drags Evren out of the house. He yells but his body won’t react, it’s burnt, hurt.

BLEEDING

A trail of blood follows how she drags him out. His eyes still glow a faint goldish-green. The smell of blood and his cautious green eyes reminds me of something. But I can’t seem to remember.

Curse you, memories!

I’m surprised that he’s still conscious. He got burnt bad even before the girl who somehow, miraculously, healed him.

“I swear, I will find her, and when I—” he suddenly faints.

I gasp and cover my mouth. I see the man with the pistol thing pointing it at him again. It lights up, bright light shining on the man. The woman carries his limp body to I don’t even know what that is. It is round, circular-shaped, and in the ugliest color I have ever seen. It’s the color of the paintbrush’s water.

Was that what my mother had to look at while she painted?

He disappears behind it, and I can only gape at the remaining people under the moonlight.

“Good job, son,” the taller man pats the man with the pistol on the shoulder. “You have saved the human race.”

“But at what cost, father?” He asks, his voice ever so familiar. I unconsciously edge closer to him.

“At the cost of nothing. None dead. That’s an accomplishment. Forty years of experiment finally has a conclusion. Come on, let’s go.” The taller man, his father, leaves.

Forty years? The taller man doesn’t look a day over thirty.

The younger man takes one last look at the house before departing—giving me one good look at his face.

The memory comes flooding back—the man in the strange room—typing into the flat typewriter. The ‘ricin poison’ I found in my mother’s teacup. The man who burnt the boy, dragged away the girl—me, stole them from their lives.

And now, I’m staring at my mother’s murderer’s face as clear as day.

Nolan.

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Thanks, with lots of smiles

☆•Yiona•☆