Time seemed to have stopped, long finger frozen on the twelve and short finger frozen on the six. Their mind may have been asleep, but they felt that time had definitely paused. Gelid breezes seemed to nip and bite at their skin, entire naked body wracked in shivers. Barren desert wind whipped up great storm clouds of dust, sending it billowing in all directions. Their toes tried to curl into sand, but only parched stone scraped against their nails. Gloomy clouds packed densely together covered the sky, piles and piles of lava rocks melting from the blistering heat.

Trembling, they crouched down, wrapping their slender arms around breasts and chest. Teeth biting down on their lip until blood dripped down their chin, they remained in a coiled position. Soon, above their head a murder of crows cawed, raining down threats they couldn't comprehend. The crows balanced themselves on a single scraggly tree, its twisted wizened branches creaking under the weight. Even with their eyes closed tightly shut, they felt the burning glare of pairs of ruby red eyes.

Dust clouds suddenly lessened in strength, weakened enough that a dirt fog covered the cracked stone ground. They finally opened their eyes, glancing up at the crows flapping their great black wings and cawing madly. Slowly standing up, movements painstakingly cautious, they inched backwards. Arms instinctively moved towards their head for protection.

The crows, roused at the sense of false panic coming from the dreamer, took flight and swooped overhead. Claws dug into soft flesh, wings beating against their head as they cowered under the onslaught. Unable to properly defend themselves, they held their tongue and hunched over, wincing under the pecking beaks, vicious talons, and wings beating against their head like drumsticks.

It hurt, pain lasting for what seemed to be ages. Unable to bear the agony they darted forward, stumbling along the ground in a vain attempt to escape the crows. The birds screamed in their ear and laughed at their futile struggling. Swarming around them, beaks ripped into them, and they lost their balance, falling into a lake of fresh scarlet.

At first, they splashed into the moisture, red washing over their back. The crows vanished once they landed, leaving behind another horrible round of torture. Sitting up, they lifted their soaked hands, gaping at the wet, hot blood. Slick in a fine coat, they leaped to their feet, scrambling in a circle to see a massive lake of blood. It stretched far beyond boundaries of seeing past the endless sea of red. Steam rose up in curls, and the waves felt hot against their legs. Terror finally reached their fevered bright gaze, and they rubbed vigorously at their arms and legs to rid themselves of madness.

Hands rubbing on their arms, the mess spread the harder they worked. It coated them, soaked into their fine long hair, dripped into their eyes. Feeling sick, the dreamer sank into the blood, covering their face with gore doused palms.

"Help me."

They lifted their head up at the sound, gaze glassed over with doom. Looking around, they saw a pile of vines and thorns, jutting out of the ground like dead grass on a mini stone island in the ankle deep blood. Stepping forward, they managed to gather a small black shape tangled in the heap. Eyes widening, they splashed towards the island, collapsing several times into blood only to ascend back onto their blistered feet.

When they finally limped onto the stone, they sunk to the ground in relief, able to escape scarlet waves lapping hungrily for their body.

"Help me."

They scrambled forward with all intentions to help when the thorns shifted and curled around the skeleton arms and legs of a child. The child's face was shadowed out with the rest of their body, the darkness and shadows of the mass keeping them from seeing nothing but black. However, they heard loud and clear the desperate cry.

"Help me, please, somebody! Help me."

They tried to tug at the branches of the thorns despite the blood that poured from their hands. It seemed the more they aided, the thorns only dug into the child's body tighter, cutting so deep it gave a strangled scream, choked off by a fountain of blood gushing past it's mouth, cutting off strangled cries.

"Help me! Help me! Brother, where are you? Save me!"

The dreamer leaned onto the thorn branches, reaching towards the body whose head rested limply against their chest. They managed to curl their fingers around the child's deathly cold hand when something bonged in the hellish world. Time had begun once more.

The child slowly turned their head to the dreamer and whispered.

"Wake up, Gabriel."

--------------

The dreamer's eyes blinked open, the vast blood sea and child stuck inside the thorns gone. Blurry images met their gaze, and they rubbed their eyes to better focus them without the crusted remnants of eye goo.

Light streamed through purple cloth curtains hung neatly beside their arched window and illuminated the ceramic tiled floor. The design woven rug of various colors ranging from red to brown was still spread out beside their warm bed. Trinkets properly lined the shelves as they should, all in their rightful places. Nothing had been touched, not even the potted flowers or spider plants that took up service in their room.

Hair similar to honey combs dipped into dark golden syrup hung off her shoulders, dry and clean of sweat and blood. A yellow eyed gaze scanned the meager yet homey sized room for anything wrong or out of place. Nothing, absolutely nothing. It was perfect, just how it should be.

Holding her single blanket close to their naked body, high enough to cover her breasts, she stared outside into the world already beginning to bustle with the townspeople.

"Just a dream." She murmured blankly, letting the white silk fall from her chest into a pool of cloth on the floor. Legs gliding off the square bed, she placed her feet on the cool tiles. The biting chill caused the fresh memory to burn through her head, images flashing across her eyes. She bent over, covering her face in her hands.

Blood kissed her feet, screams echoed in her head, and thorns pricked her arms. The boy's question was whispered next her ear, sending shivers down her spine. "Who's Gabriel?" she murmured back, nails digging into her scalp. "I don't know him."

As quickly as the scene played out a second time, it ended and left her staring out the window. Warmth the sun offered became her comfort. Standing, the girl walked near the window, closing her eyes she let the light heat her frigid bare skin. Emotions bled out of her, disappearing deep into the black void filling her head. A relieved sigh slipped past her lips.

"A dream," she repeated numbly, striding towards the morning shadows loitering around her first world styled room. Spidery leaves of the potted plants brushed her arms as she walked inside her bathroom.

Already naked and free of clothes, she passed the circular mirror hung up over marbled sink. The shower was without a glass door, small cream tile barrier keeping the water from spilling out. She gracefully stepped inside the rectangular shower and turned the taps. Freezing water gushed onto her back, chilling her body in seconds. Tilting up her head, she let the noisy spray dampen her hair and glide down her legs. When she finally began to scrub the night grime from her arms, the water still hadn't heated up a bit.

Taking cold showers was First World fashion and rarely done, but she simply held not enough emotion to alter her lifestyle to make it more enjoyable. It shouldn't be easily changed for the fact she didn't like what had been given. Gluttons took more than what they deserved, and Origins didn't deserve very much. She continued to wash her body, the cake of cinnamon scented soap in her hands crumpling further under her harsh grip.

Following the rest of what morning hours remained, she tidied up for school. Clean and dressed in her uniform, a cream jacket and dark green skirt, complete with lighter green tie; she studied for the Environmental Effects From Nuclear Weapons test encroaching closer as the minutes passed. While her pencil scribbled down facts, quiet murmurs recited statements from previous notes. She remembered it all, her pencil scratching down words until muscles in her hand began to cramp.

Around that time footsteps creaked outside her door and grew distant as the wooden floorboards quieted when relieved of the weight. Closing her eyes, she shut the book with a snap, and rose from her chair.

Her mother had decided to awake from her slumber and most likely awaited her expected arrival. Mornings went about routinely, mother would awaken twenty minutes after daylight and stop outside her door to announce her presence. Then five minutes later, she was supposed to join her mother down in the kitchen for breakfast right on schedule. If everything was exact, the day went smoothly without any trouble.

Cheap material bound textbooks were stuffed inside a simple leather case before she moved for her bed. Underneath the frame behind mini mountains of books and boxes of old musty perfumes laid a ragged, fabric backpack. She pulled it out, checking the contents buried inside, and counted to make sure everything was still there. They were, down to the last knife.

Bag hefted over her shoulder, she walked over her bay window and thrust open the panes. An early breeze brushed against her cheeks, its greeting kind and friendly. Below, townsfolk hustled meters from her home up and down the street. Tenders begin setting up their booths, wooden carts full of foods or usable items. Shadows paced back and forth in the dark windows of the homes across the street. Currently quiet, she knew once outside pandemonium would break the sunrise calmness.

For several seconds she watched her neighbors go about their business, and when the street seemed bare she took her bag. Carefully, she dropped the bag into the hedges lined up against her stone home. No one seemed to notice the sudden rustle in the bushes. Feet continued to move along and heads remained down.

Satisfied, she headed downstairs with her school bag in hand. Halfway down the steps, nauseating smells assaulted her delicate nose. It took all her strength to hold violent urges not to vomit onto the immaculate tile mopped three times a day. Mother's hard efforts in keeping her home spotless would quickly waste.

Grimaces marked her face the closer she approached the kitchenette strangely built essential for two people. Sizzling of grease on the frying pan told her today's breakfast even before she walked along the black and white checkered floor. She didn't acknowledge her mother as she opened the bread pantry, stealing a few thin slices. Nuts decorated the baked crust like confetti sprinkles on a birthday cake.

"Good morning ma fille Cateline." Her mother spoke first as she nudged the white edges of an egg with her spatula. My daughter Cateline.

Cateline spread a dollop of strawberry jam on her bread slices with a butter knife. "Morning Mother, did you sleep well?"

"Fine, thank you."

Taking a ceramic plate, blue flowers designed on the edges, she strode over to a breakfast nook table. Biting into one of the slices, she kept her gaze steady on their garden outside. Vegetable plants drooped from the weight of what they held. Fat apple red tomatoes needed plucking and long cucumbers covered the soil. Their green leaves glistened from the morning dew.

"I hope you are not just eating plain bread and jam again." Her mother pushed cooked over easy eggs onto a spare plate.

Cateline finished off her first slice with ease. The jam sweetened the dull wheat flavor her bread consisted of. "It's French custom, our custom."

"Nobody follows the custom anymore." Her mother said and took out a small mug inside the cupboards and filled the mug to the brim with piping hot coffee freshly brewed from a tiny pan relaxing on the stove. "Here, have some coffee. I just made it, still nice and fresh. Just how you enjoy it." Striding over, she set the mug on the table, refusing the option of an objection.

Steam rose up and the wisps curled, reminding her of the dreadful nightmare. Blood and red flashed across her vision, and she paused in biting her second slice of bread. "Thank you," Cateline finally murmured, gingerly taking the offering. The first sips scalded her tongue and boiled inside her mouth, but she dutifully swallowed with a placid look on her face. Hot, much too hot. The coffee needed to be chilled for several hours.

"Have some eggs as well, I made them just for you." Her mother set the plate and a fork on the table. Concern knitted her eyebrows together, making the woman seem aged. "I was worried you haven't been eating much. Look, you are all skin and bones." She gently pinched Cateline's arm as if to prove her point.

The bread seem to stale when she picked it up again, jam like sugar glued to the dry piece. "I promise I'm fine mother." She reassured, setting aside the bread.

Her mother didn't seem convinced as she nudged the plate heaped with eggs closer. "Then please eat, the old customs are a thing of the past now and you know I don't like holding tradition."

Cateline stared at the eggs looming closer. She imagined a baby chick in the wobbling yolk. Grease crisped up the white edges and coated the plate's surface with a fine layer. Her entire being wanted to reject what was placed in front of her. "If you so wish," she relented under the pressure suffocating the air.

A smile lit her face, traces of the previous frustration vanishing. Humming contentedly, she moved behind Cateline hesitantly poking an egg with her fork. "They are organic, why are you so worried?" she asked, oblivious to her daughter's grimacing in absolute distaste while she began braiding the girl's honey colored locks.

"Mère, je ne pense pas que je peux manger ceci." Mother, I don't think I can eat this.

The smile alighting her mother's face drooped into a questioning frown, wrinkles in her cheekbones and under her eyes deepened. She seemed old beyond her years, the peppered white strands that she tried to hide prominent against the chocolate brown of her hair. "Then do not eat it," she finally relented without a fight.

Cateline felt her mother's hands tighten their grip on her hair, and she feared chunks would be missing from her skull. "I have to be getting to school, you eat them." Rising from her chair and brushing the fingers tangled in her locks, she offered a cheerful smile.

Her mother's eyes softened as she gazed down at her young daughter. "That's right," she placed a delicate kiss on Cateline's forehead, holding her face in her warm hands.

"I might be late home." She ran over to the back kitchen door, giving a small wave over her shoulder as she stepped onto the garden stones outside. "I'll grab some tomatoes for lunch as well."

"Be sure to come home in time for supper!" Her mother's voice was muffled as she closed the door.

Walking across the small patch of grass sparkling with morning dew, Cateline glanced over her shoulder as she made sure her mother watched her bend down and pluck several large tomatoes off the plant stems. Plump and round, they covered her entire hand when she held them.

Spreading her lips, stretching her wide grin further, she showed her mother watching intently from the bay window. Able to have a full view, her mother presented a tender smile in return, though it didn't quench the noticeable tension in her gaze.

Despite the fact her mother knew deep in her heart, she continued to smile and even allowed herself to burst out laughing. Waving her farewells, Cateline tucked the two tomatoes deep inside her school bag. Rosemary bushes blocked her path to the front of house, so she settled on heading straight through the flowerbeds. She navigated herself around the thriving lilly, gourdon, and iris flowers her mother carefully planted and nurtured from young seeds. Waxy petals brushed her legs, happily greeting her presence as she wandered through, her shoes sinking into the pulpy soil.

Pausing at the hedgerows lining the front of her stone home, she casually stoop her hand into the prickly branches to snatch her ragged backpack. Her hands brushed off clumps of fertilized soil clinging to the fabric while she left her home and walked into the streets.

As to be expected, throngs of city folk crowded the main road. Salesmen rose their voices as women carrying shopping bags in their arms ambled past their booths. Juveniles chased each other up and down the street, darting between the moving feet as they raced to find their companions. Bicycles or small carts rang high pitched bells to alarm the populace, gliding by once everyone moved onto the sidewalks.

Cateline breathed deeply in rich smells of freshly baked bread, admired ripe vegetables piled together in crates, and occasionally stopping in her tracks to converse with her neighbors. The suburbs were always closely packed as the working class and poor tried their best to compete against the higher class standards that ruled the main streets.

The first hours after sunrise were busiest, children headed off to school and parents began opening shop or going about errands for the day. She preferred the quiet when noonday settled in, carrying the scorching heat with it. When evening rolled about, everyone stayed inside their homes and closed up stores. It was dangerous to wander the streets after 5 o'clock. People were silly creatures, she had to admit.

Muscles in her cheek bones were aching from smiling by the time she left her home's cobblestone street. Traffic settled down when she entered the main streets. Pleasant atmosphere changed as she strolled down the sidewalk. Besides a couple vehicles only the rich had access to, few men and women occupied the streets. Instead there was a heavy stream of squads, faces masked behind tinted glass, dormant robotic creatures limp beside them. Spots lined the streets, standing guard in case a problem arose.

Cateline slung her backpack behind her while she held her school bag. Happiness that radiated off her vanished the moment she couldn't hear suburb roads. Her eyes became sharper, glinting as she kept her head down, watchful behind the thick curtain of hair. An unpleasant frown formed on her lips, hatred threatening to burst from the seams of her self restraint. Shopkeepers ignored her as she walked past, closing their eyes as they brushed dust from steps or cleaned spotless windows. Holographic signs with neon letters flashed what the technology wanted her to see, her appeals and interests.

Defectives were a vile race, and must be annihilated. Ignore the poor, never venture into the abandoned underground, keep away from the tunnels. Delve your senses and mind, strive to contribute to the recovering society. Create a wholesome environment for your future generations, even if that meant betraying the defectives that plagued the world. All for the good of the planet, keep the peace.

Reading the blinking statements on a billboard, she tightened her fingers on the strap of her backpack. She felt hot and then cold, switching back and forth as many thoughts screamed in her head. The black hole swallowed them whole before she registered what they were saying, leaving her empty again, grip slackened. Diverting her golden eyes, she plastered on the fake smile, making sure she moved with angelic grace. Buildings towered towards the birdless sky, taller than mazes of tunnels tracked under her feet.

Ahead, down the sidewalk close to walking stops, huddled a group of her closest classmates. They were currently laughing at a joke, pretending to be blind as several feet ahead a troop dragged a haggard boy their age, staggering, out from his hiding place in a dark alley. Water soaked his pants spotted in waste and mud from the sewers. His glasses fell off his smudged face, crushed as the troop's boot stomped right on them. Holding out his hands, the boy flinched, cringing away from the robotic beast-dog baring its metallic teeth close to his face.

Cateline watched, her arms wrapping around her stomach, fingers feeling for the dagger hidden in layers and folds of her clothing. Near her, a squad patrol she passed headed in the direction of the boy. The lead was speaking quietly into a device, flicking his fingers to another beside them. Another Defective was dug out from the underground, she realized. She turned her head the other way before she saw purple liquid swirling in the massive syringe. A sleep agent to drug the Defective so they could be taken away without a fight.

Walking faster, she closed the distance of her classmates. "Hello everyone," she shouted, lifting her hand to wave at them when they looked at her. Like the billboard said, their planet needed to be cleansed, no matter how much she hated humans.