'again' is endless {lux oneshot}

[D6f Carmen Cantelou [aza]]

lux pelotte
district four

don't you ever feel lonely,
love will make it alright

I'd wake up to the lapping shores tiptoeing through the open crack in my window.  It soothes me, inviting me back to sleep but I resist the urge and force myself out of the warmth of my bed.  Today I would watch it begin again.

I knew that today would be just like another other weekend day.  Get up, get changed, go straight to training, come home, do any homework, eat, go to bed.  The routine to me was so familiar.  Sometimes I wouldn't want to do it, but today I felt a hunger for improvement that was tightening its hands around my neck so I couldn't give in.  

Temptation is my weakness.

My sister had already head out – right before breakfast like she always did.  I would stay and help myself to a slice of toast and a glass of water.  As I take a bite, the heat from the bread is cosy and welcoming, relaxing me as I chew.  The water to wash it down is so crystal clear,  and tastes crisp in my mouth.  It's revitalising me and refreshing me, getting me ready for another stressful day.  

–

As I arrive at the centre, the familiar few are there. My sister, Mellida and my father, Axylia, my best friend who trains with me on most occasions, and then there is Maxx.  He's described as an 'enigma'.  Everyone has always kept their distance from him, and I don't know why.  Perhaps he's just quiet and keeps himself to himself?  Maybe he just doesn't get along with people.

I'd certainly understand if the latter was the case. 

A smile instantly spreads across my face.  I'm unsure why, but I embrace it and let it happen.  I tilt my head towards the other folk in the room and head over to the area I specialise in – knives.

The blade of a knife intrigues me.  I bet some people would think that's weird.  Whenever I pick one up, I feel the once warm air turn chilly, and a surge of what feels like electric run through my body.  The handle of my own maintains a uniform look like the rest of them.  Metallic black with a firm grip which my hand fits comfortably around.  Suddenly, a screeching voice grabs my attention.

'Lux!'

'What is it?'

'Teach me how to throw one sometime!?'

'Next week.'

It was my sister.  She'd never been very good at this stuff – she's too girly.  She would be the daughter to play with dolls, whilst I'd be outside enjoying nature. I find it fascinating how two people in the same family, with the same blood can be so different.  

But hell, I'm glad we're different.

Turning my head, I look back to my beloved knives. A relatively new one I had acquired, given to me for my birthday by my father shouts my name, eager for me to pick it up and throw.  I quickly wrap my fingers around him, grasping him tightly in my hand.  I frown, looking around for a target. 

Of course, it hadn't been set up yet.

I won't not throw this knife now, he's in my hand ready to fly through the air.  I scan around and see nothing, so I just aim for the shabby wall.  It's nothing special, if it was, I wouldn't be throwing at it.  

I channel my energy and desire to get this right and launch the knife from between my fingers – it's set for the crack in the wall, I'm sure.

It hits the crack, but falls out.  This wasn't what I wanted.

'Try again.'

I hear my father shout from a distance.  I  roll my eyes at him.  We both know that I won't give up until I get it perfect.  I sigh and walk sloppily over to retrieve the knife and have another go.

–

The days never get any shorter, and after several long, slightly boring and definitely frustrating, hours of training, I return home.  I'm thankful today, I don't have any homework to do.  Most times this isn't the case.  Last week I recall having four sheets to do in one evening.  How can they expect that of me?  Either way, it'll only get worse when I'm older.

I move on from the homework section of my planned day and head into our box-sized kitchen. The scent of a calming pie surrounds me as I enter.  We hadn't had something like this for a while now, it was clear that Mother had spent all day doing it.  I could tell by the equal peaks of the mashed potato on the top.

I grab my portion and begin eating.  The meat is so tender, and falls apart as I close my mouth and begin to chew.  The succulent juices of the vegetables swirls around on my tongue.  It's pleasant, I'm sure I've tasted similar at a friend's house, though I can't pinpoint the specific taste.

–

After I'd finished the pie, I went to my room and just stared.  It's the most relaxing thing, to me.  The window in my room has such a peaceful view of the sea (if you are lucky enough to see through the fence). Sometimes I find myself just looking; it captures me. My worries and emotions drift away from me and my deep thoughts take over.  

Before I know it, the rest of the world has fallen asleep, and I sit on my mattress twirled up inside a maze of blankets and sheets which secure me from the cool breeze I can feel from down the hall.

She'd forgotten to close her window. Again.

The last thought I can remember before falling asleep was that of being able to fly.  

I wish my imagination wasn't so unrealistic.