CH3 - The Outlier

The dull, painful ringing in her ears taunts Nica as she swings her legs out of bed. Stepping up, she stumbles forward as the whispers taunt her.

Murmuring herself in pain, she finds it difficult to shake the darkness from her mind. Sera's voice lingers as she calls out for help. Each night during the escape, Sera seems to peer directly into Nica's soul, waiting to be rescued.

Nica learned long ago that her dreams were different. They were a curse as she experienced subtle changes days, weeks, or months before her family and friends did. She wasn't just a passenger but could alter. To be a voice for the victims and to experience their painful memories.

Through countless waking dreams, she realized that their eyes and skin were dulled. Nica's mother would describe Sera as a flawless beauty with vibrant, naturally burgundy hair and jade eyes.

Where her mother had seen a woman in the spitting image of the Seer, Nica had seen the dull dark hair and gray eyes. Even the blood that dripped from her body as her muscles were torn from the bones was a sticky blank ink seeping into the snow.

Nica's mind was haunted by dreams of people with fairer skin and vibrant eyes being haunted and destroyed. In her dreams, she never witnessed anyone like her; unlike her parents, she was an anomaly.

Her deep caramel skin allowed her to almost fade into the darkness of the nightmares, allowing her mind to linger longer than most of the people of the villages. It was only when the reflection of light would bounce across her hazel eyes were she discovered. Even as a child, she and her sister were different; they were outcasts.

In her father's mind, Nica's mother had been unfaithful and readily paid the price each night. A disgusting reminder that it was only in her nightmares that Nica had any power. She and her sister's complexion sickened the faithful as theirs were the colors of the Gods.

Demonic creatures punished those who did not follow the scriptures. Where her gifts had made her an envy of others, her flesh was a curse. The only thing it granted her was it hid her whippings. Her father would readily raise his hand against her knowing that it could be hidden more easily with Nica and her sister Zoe than with anyone else. It was the only blessing that her father ever enjoyed, the flawless flesh hiding the hidden beatings still heeling in the morning's light.

The dreamers of their memories trapped in an endless purgatory seem always to be muted. They haunted look in their eyes as they struggle to come to peace with the war they are fighting.

The dreamers are only trapped in a moment of their undoing when released from their nightmares. The dreamer fades from the conscious when Nica sees how they die, and a new voice is heard. A new cry of havoc and death is unleashed upon her as she tries to find peace in the curse.

The pain of having to know them, to experience their lives in the final days of their existence, to feel the dread and horror of the world, they are doing their best to escape.

She never sees the face of the perpetrators but only their victims. Women of all ages but mainly girls on the cusp of womanhood when their bodies reach their full promise. Years after, they are permitted to be wed by the most impure of the village.

Nica has to know their faces, souls, hopes, dreams, and aspirations to have their colors filled out. And yet, once they do, once she has fallen in love with who they are, she sees their actual color and witnesses their end before the cycle begins again.

Steadying herself in her room, Nica looks at her younger sister, who curls into a ball in her absence. People often think they are twins even though they were born two years apart. Still, her sister is so tiny and vulnerable that she constantly seeks out Nica as her protector. Together is the only time either of them felt safe. Something was comforting about waking and seeing her sister's vibrant black hair that allowed her to know she was no longer dreaming. That the moments were real and she was safe once more.

In truth, Nica worried about the dreams and the constant cycling of the victims within her mind. If it had only been one repeatedly, it could be a warning or a parable of a lesson learned. There was an unsettling feeling in her soul when she first met Sera in her dreams. For the first time, the dreamer appeared to look like someone she knew. At the same time, she didn't see her reflection in Sera yet as her mother did. A difference was felt in the world around her.

There was a hunger in the eyes of the men around her. Even her stepfather would look at her differently. The way he would toy with his belt as he watched her was just...ugh. There was something different in the looks of the villagers that told her the dreams must be different. The women always looked horrified by the nightmares. It was knowing that they would be defenseless without their Kings.

Walking towards the small alter in her room, she jots down notes of her dreams. Her messages will be delivered to the Seer, but the two shall never meet. They are two sides of the same coin, and their meeting is a forbidden corruption. For one experiences the dreams and lives the last moments of the dreamers, whereas the Seer interprets the world that she sees. A discussion of the emotions and the feelings between the two of them is needed to ever grow beyond what civilization already is.

Sitting at the small table, she picks up a yucca root and slowly breaks it down in a small wash basin filled with stones. As the water becomes frothy from the natural soap, Nica dips a cloth and begins to wash her toned body. She was moving the fabric around the curves of her petite breasts and toned legs. Taking special care to wash away any impurities of her body as a transparent body brings a clear mind.

Nica's mind begins to clear as she takes careful dedication in her morning ritual. Standing and stretching, she picks up a soft sheer nightgown and lets it fall over her body.

Per the scriptures, a Seer must not be touched but indeed seen to maintain her sight. Trembling in the cold, she walks out of her room quickly to get some food for herself and her sister before she helps in her cleansing.

Slipping out of her room as she pushes the cloth aside, she bumps into her father. Her fingers splayed across his chest as she shuddered. His breath soured with fruit wine as he gave his morning greetings.

A revolting stench leaves his lips as they curl into a smile, "Hello, Sera."

"I am not Sera," Nica commands trying to wake him from his dream.

"Don't you dare deny me again!" His hand presses into her hip, pushing her into the wall. Nica tries to escape his grip as his hand trails down the front of his shirt. Struggling desperately, she lashes out, scratching his face as he howls in pain.

"You fucking bitch," her father cries out as he stumbles backward. Looking at her fingernails, she sees the dull color of the dream-like blood dripping from her nails. "The Guardian wants you. You are being cast from this house. I thought the least you could do is offer a little taste."

As her stomach flips, Nica runs from the encounter. Running from the only safety she has ever known. The corruption she witnessed in her father's eyes turns her stomach. She wonders what his dream was and if she is still in her dream. Is she even awake yet?