Chapter 1: I am Blake
My eyes fluttered open to a world unknown to me. Bizarre creatures with four eyes and two mouths that exhaled smoke loomed before me.
The scene felt surreal, as if I had wandered into the depths of my dreams or perhaps my own imagination.
I often spotted these creatures when walking to school, sketching them haphazardly on rough sheets of paper.
"Blake, wake up," a voice called out, but I remained lost in the enigmatic sight before me, unable to rouse myself.
It was the sensation of cold water on my skin that finally jolted me awake. The dream had dissolved, revealing my irksome younger sister standing over me with a pan in hand, her expression a mix of annoyance and impatience.
"I've tried waking you ten times, yet you refused to stir," she scolded.
I sat up, rubbing my temples to ease the familiar headache that always accompanied my awakening. The details of my dreams slipped away, leaving only fragments—a recurring image of those strange creatures etched in my memory.
The truth is, every time I try to figure out what these creatures might be and why they keep appearing in my dreams, it turns out to be when she would wake me up.
I glared at her, my younger sister Hannah, with her hair styled like bunnies and her blue eyes gazing at me—not with wonder, but more like a pervert.
Yep, you could say I am a perverted, dumb, pathetic being in this world.
I was born into the Simpson home as an orphan when I was five years old before Mrs. Simpson gave birth to Hannah.
After Hannah was brought into this world, it almost felt like I was a parasite living in their space.
Another terrible thing was that I was weak in school and struggled in class; the only thing I was good at was my art, but that wouldn't impress anyone, so I shoved it under my pillow so no one would see.
My twelve-year-old sister tilted her head and scoffed, "It's eight AM, you'll be late for school. Wake up, Blake."
"I am awake," I frowned at her.
Why does she have to disturb my sleep all the time?
I rubbed my eyes, got up from bed, and that was when my eyes landed on the clock on my bedside table.
I blinked, rubbed my eyes again, and jumped out of bed. I was late. I suppose I didn't fully hear Hannah when she said the time was 8:00 AM and my classes start at eight.
"Why did you not wake me up earlier?" I grumbled as I stomped away from her, heading to the bathroom to wash up. When I returned, Hannah was still standing there.
"You should be grateful I even woke you up. Did you not set an alarm?" she questioned.
I would have set an alarm, but it would disrupt my dreams.
"No," I said and headed towards my wardrobe with my towel wrapped around my waist.
The water from my wet hair rolled down my chest. Oh hell, Hannah still stood there watching me.
She must probably be repulsed by my body; after all, my muscles were bare minimum, or you could say I had nothing compared to the popular guys in school.
"I should go, but bear in mind that this will be the last time I wake you up," she declared as she stormed out of the room.
Of course, I would be happiest if she decided not to wake me up. Maybe I would set my alarm today. It almost felt like Hannah was the only one who cared, although her outbursts could be irritating.
Despite my rushed departure to school, I did not take my sketchbook. I had missed the bus, so I ran all the way. Luckily, it wasn't far from home.
"What would you call a baby bat?" I heard Molly and two of her friends laughing and drinking juice from straws as I passed by the school stairway. I tried not to look at her or eavesdrop on their conversation, but I couldn't help myself.
Molly was the first girl I had ever looked at; her innocence and warm smile were everything anyone could ever dream of. She was petite, barely tall, but her blonde hair and fair skin seemed like they were made from heaven.
Molly didn't see me, and even when I walked past, she didn't lift her head to notice me. So, I pretended not to look at her.
I stood after I past her watching from the start of the stairs, wondering how anyone could stand out and look so angelic.
"Hey, Blake, you're late."
At the mention of my name, I saw Molly look up, and our eyes met. Quickly, I looked away to see who had called me.