FORGOTTEN
┗━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━┛

Starless skies
Coils of cigarette smoke
Numbed to the nights bitter cold
A wish to fade away into the blackened fold

  Her fist would've connected from the ill-breaded action, had she not been acquainted with the domesticated lull of that voice.

  As a soft, wisp of breath rolled off the nape of her neck she leaned into the embrace. Crooking her chin up, she glanced over her shoulder to the pair of cypress eyes rooted underneath tossled blue-black curls.

  A silver ring glimmered along his thinned lower lip and curled at attention.

  Auben Grady.

    Most timidly referred to him as "Tough Grady." She found it laughable how similar it was to "tough gravy" though he didn't find this Midwest term nearly as humorous, further serving as a reminder of the differences in their character.

  He identified as a dedicated Pyro, navigating his formative years within the foster care system, while she'd been raised by a single mother. Ultimately when he returned to the system once more, their caregiver received a substantial amount of discreet compensation for an expedited, and somewhat dubious, adoption.

  Arlene, the adoptive maternal figure, was the object of his contempt. The woman actively evaded any interaction with him.

  "I see your leadership skills keep improving. Makes you feel good doesn't it?" He knicked her chin with a knuckle and smirked. The silver chain that dangled from his belt loop made a distinct clink against a pair of acid washed jeans.

  She flinched at the abrupt action, tilting her head back with displeasure. "Just want them to be safe, Auben. And don't do that, I'm not a kid."

  Long before Crazy entered the scene many had seen him as the "Alpha" here. Daringly his status was challenged in a verbal spar at her refusal to be intimidated under his abrasive ego. Yet a reverence grew after, with a persistent effort on his part that evolved from pursuit into a partnership. Until she'd begrudgingly acquiesced to the label, "Grady's Girl".

  He chuckled accustomed to her snark as a red plastic cup was pushed into her hands, one brow pointedly raised, "I sanitized the barbell while you were, engaged."

  She glanced at it, then eyed Auben with a deadpanned stare. "Gee... thanks."

He winked, and the double-pierced bar on his brow glimmered. "Let me know if you want any more. Preferably in other places." He stuck his tongue between his teeth with a leer.

  She rolled her eyes.

  Throughout the years Auben had initiated her into his "piercing practices", a somewhat common ritual as the kids were unable to afford a professional. The technique was imparted during her early rebellious years as a teenager. It entailed using a needle sterilized in alcohol along with a single ice cube.

  She'd never developed an infection and in time, amassed more than the basic studs along her ears. A silver hoop was slung through her right nostril while a tragus piercing eased her migraines. With her hands moist, she gathered the silver bar adorned with a tiny turquoise jewel.

  Auben's eyes fixated with a smug expression as she carefully adjusted it through her left brow. It had been a birthday gift from a year prior as she'd been too hesitant to puncture the skin herself.

  Soft lips followed, venturing along the shell of her ear.
"Let's go," Auben whispered, almost impatient.

  A slow smile crept across his lips as she turned in his hold. Perusing the fitted black attire and stippling of tattoos that layered his forearms. The letters 'OUT' were subtly visible along the curve of his neck in thin calligraphy.

  Out...cast.

  Auben cocked his brow, sucking in his lip before releasing it with his teeth. The lewd gesture was obvious and she was quick to avert her eyes. On any given day he could easily replace her with a more willing participant to cater to his desires, especially those drawn to the dark and mysterious types.

  The epitome of a cliche. Crazy should've felt fortunate to be his, but the sentiment didn't quite align. The man was an enigma and an island unto himself with few details known about him. Partially because he was touchy about his past and partially due to her lack of investment.

A truth she kept to herself.

"Aub, I haven't even cleaned up yet." Her voice hinged on a whine if just to convey her need for a lukewarm shower.

  It was getting too damn cold to endure the bitter chilled spray. A new water heater would've sufficed since plumbing hadn't been up to par in nearly half a decade.

  Fat chance of that ever happening. Thank you, Arlene.

  The communal showers had started to sprout fungi behind the grout. The tiled flooring remained chipped and slicked with mildew. It was a wonder none of them had broken their necks or fallen sick in such a decrepit hovel. The lights consistently flickered as if on the verge of burning out above the cracked mirrors.

  Because privacy was non-existent she opted to bathe later in the night, occasionally blessed with lukewarm water spared from the rusted faucet heads—all of which she preferred.

  "I promise I'll make it up to you." Auben grasped her hands and tugged her towards a double set of tarnished doors, framed above cement steps leading up to the open grounds, above.

Normally she didn't comply with his controlling tendencies. Must be a good enough distraction.

  As they headed up the steps she became distinctly aware of the shuffling feet. Without a doubt, it was curious kiddos. Always the observer, Auben already knew. "Don't follow."

He stated it in a soft, but commanding tone tossed over the shoulder.

The footsteps behind ceased.

Old or new every orphan hastily learned: Auben demanded privacy without exception. Despite how peculiar their relationship appeared, anyone who dared to oppose was met with threats, even those with a hint of interest in Crazy.

  "Quit scaring the kids," Crazy added chidingly as he led them into the brisk October night.

  Auben had a knack for dramatics. "Oh, trust me, babe," His voice held a deviant edge. "I'll be perfectly fine soon."

  Her words disintegrated as his lips abruptly descended.

❘༻༺❘

  Smoke rose off his cigarette like a snake unraveling from its coils. Smog from a metal chimney perched on the rooftop congested the starless, clouded skies.

Taking a deep drag off Auden's cigarette, the charred tip illuminated as the embers scattered to the winds. Rubbing her tongue over the roof of her mouth she winced, the taste of smoke still unpleasant. Having a partner who had adopted the habit she only partook to help quell the nerves.

  Assuming Auben stole the pack from their chain-smoking caretaker, she had yet to inquire on. Likely to raise his guard with a sharp retort she didn't bother. This approach kept their relationship easy, light, and uncomplicated.

  Similarly as an unspoken agreement, they avoided sparring with each other on Friday nights.

  Exhaling the last of fumes, she leaned back into the shelter of his frayed leather jacket, inhaling the scent of ash and musk. It wasn't so much out of physical attraction from his admittedly, striking good looks. It was the comforting presence that kept her grounded.

  Kept her sane in the world they faced.

  Hospitality wasn't one of his strong suits, however. The last of the warmth had long dissipated leaving beads of sweat chilled to her skin. The thin hoodie tied around her waist now seemed pointless.

  Auben's fingers continued to dance along the hem of her dirtied sweats. Right before he yanked on one of the ties. "Do you trust me?"

  The timbre of his voice held a graveled edge from their previous engagement. His hand followed the swallows of tightened skin uncovered from her tank top.

  Goosebumps pebbled her flesh. She took a steady breath. "... Auben, you know trust has never been easy..."

  In place of his answer was a faint snnikkt.

  At this, she glanced down.

  There, resting in the bed of one palm was a silver lighter. Many times she'd seen it in use. "Trust me now?"

  His breath tickled the tiny hairs on her skin as he whispered in one ear. One finger curled around a malnourished hip bone, left from voluntarily portioning her food for others.

  She felt the grove of her front teeth bite into the flesh of her lip as her fingertips prickled. Unable to deny the sensations he evoked beneath her skin.  Yet, if he tried to coerce her further, she would deny him.

  "Just do it," she replied, slightly frazzled.

  Sensing her resolve, fingers swept over the curvature of her hip. He chuckled darkly as her breath hitched. "Mmm... You drive me wild, Crazy."

  She compelled herself to remain unresponsive as his lips glided over the arch of her ear.

The switch of a lighter resounded.

Flick.

   She startled as a flame sparked to life and encircled a frayed drawstring off of her soiled sweats. "How about now?" Auben breathed against the flushed skin.

  She swallowed hard with a hesitant nod.

  This was a test to mentally goad her. Without inflicting a negative response that was renown to follow. Yet with each episode, the curdled fear gradually released its strangulating hold on her nerves. It was the one vulnerability she allowed the Pyro a glimpse of, after it was discovered, following a fire trick he'd once demonstrated out of all things—a sock.

  She'd watched in horror once the tuffs caught fire, creating a ring of blue that flickered up and down his foot. Without scorching the flesh, he'd extinguished it with a single hand, leaving Crazy a shaking, hyperventilating mess.

After, he'd help her accrue an immunity towards the crippling fear. Even as the flames coiled higher and she remained unshaken—just before Auben snuffed it out with the wetted, pad of his thumb.   "Impressive."

  Crazys nose wrinkled as the smell wafted into the air. "Close much? Geez. Now it's going to smell for a while."

  Auben ushered a small laugh and tugged her closer. "But you endured. Now my baby smells like smoke and blue raspberry Kool-aid." He toyed with her elastic waistband, a huskier edge to his laugh. "Kinda hot."

  "You're insane."

  "All the best of us are, baby."

  She quirked a brow with a shake of her head. "Well, it's held the color well the perks of dye and sugar." She snorted rather unladylike as she pulled a stray strand loose from her ponytail. While one hand remained atop his to foil any physical advances.

  He sighed taking the hint and reluctantly withdrew his hand. "Can't argue with that," he murmured almost sulkily.

  She was not about to feed into his state of vexation. "You're a sucker for any long hair."

  That elicited a smirk.

  His ringed hands wrapped the soft ends of her ponytail around his knuckles enough to angle her chin as he jerked her closer. "I also like to tug on it." He emphasized this with the fueled grip. "The intoxication it would give you..."

  She didn't dare pass into the flames of lust emanating from his dark gaze. These ardent sessions they did were enough. Nonetheless the unattainable drove him crazy which he never failed to hide after three years.

  Unwilling to be pressured, she untangled from his grasp and dropped back against the building. The grit of mortar and brick brushed against the chilled skin as she crossed her arms tightly against her chest.

  A stretch of silence followed.
Finally, Auben exhaled, albeit, frustrated. "Hey, Crazy?"

  "What?" She made it no secret that he'd pissed her off, steeling her resolve as she turned to face him, one shoulder braced against the wall.

  He pulled at the silver ring slung on his bottom lip in an attempt to calm himself, eyes settling on the waxen moon rising in the thicket of clouds. "Have you told them yet? The orphans I mean... that, you've been Chosen?"

  Immediately she stiffened as her mind grappled with the abrupt change of direction, "Excuse me?"

  The world she looked through was a single focal point, like that of a microscope. While others chose to see through a clouded lens unknowingly infested with a cesspool of parasites. Like maggots that writhed beneath rot, they fed off those of the weak. Preyed on the naïveté of those who painted morality grey.

  Easily the humans became swayed by the unearthly winsomeness and magnetizing allure.

  This, is what set her apart. Thus, they deemed her as crazy and so, she became it's living embodiment. While the remnants of family that once anchored her as the world darkened before them,—faded from the living, no more than fleeting memories.

  Her infant sister, a mother who vanished in the flames and a father that had long abandoned them to their, untimely demise. The weight of an orphan swiftly enclosed like a chokehold when the harsh reality eclipsed—

Then branded as a Chosen.

Once, such creatures merely existed in the confines of novels, or a dark fantasy scripted and released. Until folklore woven from the tales of generations past, encapsulated reality.

Suddenly, the world she'd known, shifted as fiction and realism blurred.

Now, rebellion burned within the molecular core of her being. With time constantly ticking down to the last second of freedom, she'd made it her mission to train those helpless to the machinations of their new world. What society acclaimed as the Master Race.

  Of the Vaempirs.

  Anger surged to the surface.

  On the exact day of one's eighteenth birthday, a letter was presented to them as a Chosen. The letter marked the beginning of their journey into the world of the wealthy elite, assigned to a specific family to integrate into. The vague overview of what being Chosen entailed unnerved her the most, akin to a grooming tactic that raised questions about the legality.

  It was exceptionally rare for a letter to be delivered to anyone under or over eighteen. In her case exceedingly uncommon. Yet it had been two years since she'd passed the legal age of adulthood, old enough to be evicted from the orphanage itself. The former laws of society would've had her on the streets, being twenty years old.

  So why had her Chosen date been prolonged?

  In all honesty, Crazy had harbored hope to become a Discard. Rejected by society either cast out by the elite or those who had cleverly evaded detection and lived off the grid. Those deemed a Discard were treated as social pariahs condemned to a life of poverty in that environment. While their population was said to be minuscule, Crazy was familiar with hardship and preferred the freedom that came with living a dirt-poor existence.

  Despite this wish, the silk red-ribboned letter arrived five days ago.

How is this legal?! Oh right, by strategically taking over the human race.

  First, they emerged into the public eye to wield control over their country, the catalyst being a war in the European regions six years ago. The details of the conflict remained shrouded in mystery, leaving countless questions unanswered.

  The surprise had reverberated through the world, shaking even the foundations of religions. Initially, they were featured incessantly in the media, captivating the world's attention. Renowned doctors globally scrutinized their anatomies, yielding groundbreaking data that propelled humanity into the future. Reports made global headlines, unveiling cures for once-incurable diseases and the discovery of a fountain of youth hidden within the map of their blood cells. This led to a surge of the wealthy investing millions in such practices, though it came at the steep cost of idealized beauty skyrocketing.

  They wielded unprecedented power in wars with other countries, infiltrating levels of government. As she vaguely recalled from a news network years ago, their progression had been carefully measured to placate most of humankind, avoiding extremes that could spark an uprising. It began with states in America before sweeping across the world.

  A handful of patriots had stood against them, defending the foundation on which their country was built. Unfortunately, their impact was moot. Many resisted the movement, viewing the newfound utopia as a form of world peace. Consequently, the frenzy around their existence eventually settled into an everyday normality.

  This marked humanity's first mistake.

  The second mistake was remaining oblivious to their meticulously shaped world plans, unfolding step by step over time. Thousands lost their jobs as large corporations and small businesses alike were taken over. Amusement parks, vacation spots, and transportation hubs—all the way down to the last beachfront—succumbed to their influence. Anyone who dared to oppose was deemed a threat and taken in by the VBA: Vaempiric Bureau Authorities established less than a year later.

  It left a bitter pit in her gut.

  There was a reason these topics were avoided. "Why," she began, her voice raising an octave as she glared, "why bring this up now?"

  Auben's expression hardened but maintained a lounged position against the wall. Cocking his head he countered her glare, the gold hoop in one ear catching the pale rays of moonlight. "Stop being ridiculous, Crazy. You knew I'd ask. This is reality whether you want to accept it or not."

  She grit her teeth. "You're not being fair. The orphans don't even know of my real age, Auben. If they knew..." Especially if York knew... " I'm not a Discard unlike you. You know this."

  It was as if it were right in front of her all over again...

_______________________________________________________________

𝔇𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔐𝔞𝔡𝔞𝔪,

ℑ𝔫 𝔲𝔱𝔪𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔣𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔶, 𝔴𝔢 𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴𝔩𝔢𝔡𝔤𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔩𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔡 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔣𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔢𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔢𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔥 𝔟𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔥𝔡𝔞𝔶. 𝔚𝔢 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔩𝔶 𝔞𝔭𝔬𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔦𝔷𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔳𝔢𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔞 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔬𝔲𝔰 𝔬𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔫𝔰𝔢, 𝔭𝔩𝔢𝔡𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬 𝔦𝔫𝔳𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔤𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔩𝔶. 𝔗𝔬 𝔞𝔠𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔪𝔬𝔡𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱, 𝔴𝔢 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔩𝔶 𝔤𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔞 𝔣𝔦𝔳𝔢-𝔡𝔞𝔶 𝔢𝔵𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔱𝔬 𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔞𝔣𝔣𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔰, 𝔞𝔰 𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔪𝔞𝔡𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔦𝔪𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔦𝔳𝔞𝔩.ℭ𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔲𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰, 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔶 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔐𝔒𝔑𝔖𝔗ℜ𝔒𝔑𝔈𝔖 𝔱𝔬 𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔬𝔭𝔲𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔟𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔥𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱. 𝔓𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔢 𝔢𝔫𝔰𝔲𝔯𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔡𝔢𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔢 𝔬𝔫 𝔒𝔠𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 29𝔱𝔥 𝔞𝔱 5:00 𝔓.𝔐.

𝔚𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔶,

𝔐.𝔐.

𝔅𝔶 𝔬𝔯𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔙𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔠 𝔅𝔲𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔲 𝔄𝔲𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔢𝔰, 𝔣𝔞𝔦𝔩𝔲𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔶 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔰𝔢 𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔪𝔰 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔲𝔩𝔱 𝔦𝔫 𝔩𝔢𝔤𝔞𝔩 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔰𝔢𝔮𝔲𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔰, 𝔰𝔲𝔟𝔧𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔱𝔬 𝔞 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱-𝔡𝔢𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔢 𝔣𝔢𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔶.

______________________________________________________________

    She'd shredded the letter in a rage.

  Hollowed words devoid of even a trace of sympathy. Not that she expected anything different. Hell itself could freeze over, and she wouldn't believe it. Certain events from the past drastically changed her perspective. Even now, the existence of these beings left her stunned. There had always been pretenders in the obvious places—New Orleans, Transylvania, England, and vast European countries featured in popular documentaries or cinematic films.

  She, herself, used to eagerly consume such tales from entrancing novels. It was easy to be captivated by the supernatural beings that lived within the fictional pages of a book.

  Emphasis on the fictional.

  She'd never wanted to scourge a race more from the earth. Hence the frequent trips to the cellar where she whipped out any pent-up aggressions.

  Wait... the 29th. Yesterday was the 28th...

  Suddenly, her breathing accelerated.

  Auben's hard expression broke into concern as he shot up instantly.

  "Crazy, hey!"

  He flung his hands over her shoulders and squeezed, hard. Forcing her back to a harsh reality that fused her nerves like ice.

  She focused on the hard lines of his face.

  Focus, Crazy.

  Slowly, she could feel the breath cycle in and out of her lungs.

  "What is it?" Auben asked, his tumultuous gaze penetrating hers.

  She felt the anxiety spike and collapsed back against the wall with a solid, thud. She raked a hand through her hair swallowing once, then twice. "The date... What is the date today?"

  Aubens brows furrowed, "I believe the 29th why? Ah."

  The realization immediately struck them both.

  The blood drained from her face as a knot coiled in her gut. Her nails curled into her sides as she slowly lifted her gaze back to his. "Auben," she began with a tremor in her voice, "today is... my departure date."