Overvind dæmonen

The waves crashed against the cliffs of Nova Scotia with an almost musical rhythm, but Aria Morgan knew better. After three years of studying marine biology at the remote Blackrock Research Station, she had learned to distinguish between natural ocean sounds and something more... peculiar. Tonight, there was definitely something different in the water's song.

Standing on the observation deck of the research facility, her long dark hair whipping in the salty breeze, Aria focused her night vision binoculars on the churning waters below. The full moon cast an ethereal glow across the surface, making it easier to spot any unusual movement. That's when she saw it - a flash of iridescent scales, much too large to be any known fish species.

"You're out here late again," a deep voice spoke behind her. Dr. Nathaniel Cross, the facility's new head of cryptozoology, stood in the doorway. His presence had been causing quite a stir among the female staff since his arrival last month, with his storm-gray eyes and the mysterious scar that ran from his left temple to his jaw. But Aria had noticed something else about him - the way he always seemed to appear whenever the strange occurrences happened.

"There's something out there, Dr. Cross," Aria said, not taking her eyes off the water. "Something big."

"Please, call me Nate," he said, moving to stand beside her. His proximity sent an involuntary shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold. "And I know. That's why I'm here."

Before Aria could question what he meant, a haunting melody drifted up from the waters below. It wasn't quite singing - more like an otherworldly humming that seemed to resonate in her very bones. To her surprise, she found herself taking an unconscious step toward the railing, drawn by the sound.

Nate's hand shot out, gripping her arm. "Don't listen too closely," he warned, his voice tight with concern. "They're hunting tonight."

"They?" Aria tried to shake off the melody's lingering effect. "Who are 'they'?"

Just then, a figure emerged from the waves - a woman with silvery skin and long, phosphorescent hair. Her eyes glowed with an unnatural blue light, and when she opened her mouth to continue her song, Aria saw rows of sharp, pearl-like teeth. The creature's beauty was both terrifying and mesmerizing.

"Sirens," Nate whispered, his grip on Aria's arm tightening. "Real ones. Not the sanitized versions from your fairy tales."

The siren's gaze locked onto them, and her song changed, becoming more focused, more enticing. Aria felt Nate tense beside her, and when she looked at him, she was shocked to see his eyes had taken on a silvery sheen, reflecting the moonlight like a cat's.

"We need to get inside," he said through gritted teeth, though he seemed to be fighting the urge to move closer to the railing himself. "Now."

But as they turned to leave, Aria caught sight of something in the water that made her blood run cold. Dozens of glowing eyes had appeared beneath the waves, and more figures were rising to the surface. Their songs began to intertwine, creating a symphony of supernatural beauty and terror.

"Dr. Cross... Nate," Aria's voice trembled slightly. "What's really going on at this facility?"

He finally turned to look at her fully, and in the moonlight, she could see that his scar was glowing with a faint blue light. "It's not just a research station, Aria. It's a containment facility. We monitor and protect humanity from ancient creatures that most people think are myths. And right now," he glanced back at the water where more sirens were emerging, "something has disturbed them. Something that hasn't happened in over a hundred years."

"What?" Aria asked, though part of her feared the answer.

"They're looking for their lost queen," Nate's voice was grim. "And for some reason, they think she's here."

A particularly powerful wave crashed against the cliffs, sending spray high enough to reach the observation deck. As the droplets hit Aria's skin, she felt a strange tingling sensation, and for just a moment, her reflection in the window showed her eyes glowing with the same ethereal blue light as the creatures below.

Nate saw it too. His expression shifted from concern to something more complex - fear, fascination, and what looked almost like recognition. "We need to talk," he said quietly. "About your mother. About why you were really assigned to this facility. And about why you've always felt so drawn to the sea."

The siren's song grew louder, more insistent, and Aria felt something stir within her - ancient memories that couldn't possibly be her own, yet somehow were. As she followed Nate inside, one thought kept repeating in her mind: her life as she knew it was about to change forever, and there would be no going back to the simple world of marine biology and research papers.

Behind them, the sirens continued their haunting chorus, their songs now carrying a note of triumph. They had found what they were looking for.

The facility's underground laboratory was a maze of steel and glass, illuminated by harsh fluorescent lights that made everything look clinical and cold. Aria followed Nate through a series of security checkpoints, each requiring increasingly complex biometric scans. Her mind was still reeling from the events on the observation deck, the sirens' song echoing in her memory.

        "How long have you known?" she finally asked as they entered what appeared to be his private office. Unlike the sterile corridors outside, this room was filled with artifacts that looked ancient - shells with strange markings, crystals that seemed to pulse with their own inner light, and walls covered in charts mapping underwater ley lines.

        Nate moved to a heavily secured cabinet, his fingers dancing across a complex lock. "Since the moment you arrived at Blackrock. Your bio-readings were... unique." He pulled out a thick file with her name on it. "But your mother knew long before that."

        "My mother?" Aria's voice cracked. "She died when I was three. All I have are some photos and my father's stories about her love for the ocean."

        "Your mother didn't die, Aria." Nate's voice was gentle but firm as he placed an old photograph on his desk. "She returned."

        The photograph showed a woman standing on these very cliffs, her wild dark hair streaming in the wind. She looked exactly like Aria, except for her eyes - they held that same otherworldly blue glow Aria had seen in her own reflection moments ago.

        "That's impossible," Aria whispered, but even as she spoke, memories began to surface - the way she could hold her breath for impossibly long periods, her uncanny ability to predict storms, the strange songs that sometimes filled her dreams.

        Suddenly, the lights flickered, and a low vibration ran through the building. Nate's expression turned serious. "They're testing the barriers," he said, moving to a bank of monitors showing underwater footage. Multiple figures darted past the cameras, their movements too quick and graceful to be human.

        "What barriers?" Aria asked, joining him at the monitors.

        "Electromagnetic fields designed to keep them at bay. But with their queen so close..." He glanced at her meaningfully. "They're stronger than usual."

        "I am not their queen," Aria said firmly, though something deep inside her stirred at the words.

        "No, but you're her daughter. The first successful hybrid in centuries." Nate pulled up more files on his computer. "Your mother was their queen, and when she fell in love with your father, it created a diplomatic crisis. A siren queen choosing a human was unprecedented."

        The vibrations grew stronger, and somewhere in the facility, an alarm began to sound. On the monitors, the sirens' movements became more coordinated, more purposeful.

        "They're not just testing anymore," Nate muttered. He grabbed what looked like an ancient trident from a wall display. "They're breaking through."

        Aria's head suddenly filled with voices - not speaking English, but a fluid, musical language she somehow understood. They were calling to her, telling her to come home, to take her rightful place.

        "Make it stop," she gasped, pressing her hands to her temples.

        Nate reached for her, but stopped short when he saw her eyes - they were glowing brighter now, and her skin had taken on a slight iridescent sheen. "Fight it, Aria. You're not just one of them. You're both human and siren. That's what makes you special."

        The facility shook more violently, and the lights went out completely. In the darkness, Nate's eyes glowed silver again, and Aria could finally ask the question that had been nagging at her.

        "What are you?" she whispered. "You're not entirely human either, are you?"

        Before he could answer, the reinforced windows of his office exploded inward in a shower of glass and seawater. In the opening hovered three sirens, their beauty terrible and magnificent. The one in the center spoke, her voice carrying both authority and disdain.

        "Step away from the princess, Guardian. She belongs with her people."

        Nate raised the trident, which began to glow with an electric blue light. "She belongs where she chooses to belong."

        As seawater swirled around them, Aria felt power surge through her body - raw, ancient, and demanding to be released. She had a choice to make, but first, she needed answers.

        "Tell me everything," she said, her voice carrying a new note of command that surprised even her. "About my mother, about what you are," she looked at Nate, "and about why I'm really here."

        The siren queen smiled, showing those pearl-like teeth. "Oh, little princess. You're here because a war is coming. And you," her glow intensified, "are the key to everything."

The seawater swirling around Aria's feet felt alive, responding to her emotions like an extension of her body. The three sirens remained suspended in the shattered window frame, their ethereal forms casting an otherworldly glow throughout Nate's flooded office. The lead siren - who had introduced herself as Cordelia, First General of the Deep Realm - watched her with ancient eyes that held both wisdom and cunning.

        "Your mother's choice started this war," Cordelia said, her voice carrying the rhythm of waves. "When she chose your father, she didn't just abandon her throne - she disrupted a balance that had existed for millennia. The Deep Realm has been without a true queen for twenty years, and the dark ones grow bolder each day."

        "The dark ones?" Aria asked, acutely aware of Nate's tension beside her, his grip tightening on the glowing trident.

        "The Abyssal Court," Nate answered grimly. "Think of them as your people's darker cousins. While the sirens of the Deep Realm protect the oceans, the Abyssal Court seeks to corrupt them. Without a queen's power to maintain the barriers..."

        "They're breaking free," Cordelia finished. "Even now, they gather in the deep trenches, preparing for war. Only a queen's song can reinforce the ancient seals."

        Aria felt the weight of their expectations pressing down on her like the ocean itself. "And you think I can do this? I don't even know how to control whatever... this is." She gestured to her still-glowing skin.

        "That's why I'm here," a new voice spoke from the doorway. Aria turned to see a woman she'd only known from photographs - her mother. Nerissa, former queen of the Deep Realm, stood in the threshold, looking exactly as she had twenty years ago. Her presence made the very air vibrate with power.

        "Mom?" Aria whispered, emotions warring inside her.

        Nerissa's eyes - the same otherworldly blue as Aria's now were - filled with tears. "My daughter. My beautiful, brave daughter. I'm so sorry I had to leave you, but it was the only way to keep you safe while your powers matured."

        "Safe from what?" Aria demanded, anger suddenly surging through her. The water around her feet began to churn in response.

        "From those who would use you," Nate interjected, his voice carrying an edge of bitterness. "The Guardians weren't always noble protectors, Aria. Some believed that controlling a hybrid princess would give them power over both realms."

        "Like your father did?" Nerissa's voice turned cold as she addressed Nate. "Is that why you're so close to my daughter? Following in Marcus Cross's footsteps?"

        The tension in the room sparked like electricity. Nate's silver eyes flashed dangerously. "I am not my father."

        "Enough!" Aria's voice carried a new power, making everyone in the room freeze. The water around her feet rose in spiraling columns, responding to her command. "I want the truth. All of it. No more cryptic warnings or half-answers."

        Suddenly, the facility's emergency sirens blared to life. On Nate's monitors, dark shapes appeared in the deeper waters - humanoid figures with shark-like features and glowing red eyes.

        "The Abyssal Court," Cordelia hissed. "They've found us."

        "They found her," Nerissa corrected, moving to Aria's side. "They can sense your awakening power, daughter. We're out of time."

        The facility shuddered as something massive struck it from below. Through the broken window, Aria could see dark forms rising from the depths, their movements predatory and purposeful. The water around her feet turned ice-cold.

        "You have to choose now," Nate said urgently. "But know this - whatever you decide, I'll stand with you." His eyes met hers, and in them she saw not just duty or ambition, but something deeper, something personal.

        "As touching as that is, Guardian," Cordelia interrupted, "she needs to come with us. Only in the Deep Realm can she learn to control her powers in time."

        Another impact rocked the facility. In the distance, Aria could hear screams - the research staff, she realized with horror. They were unprotected, unaware of what was really happening.

        "I won't let innocent people die," Aria declared, feeling strength flow through her. "Mom, Cordelia - help me protect the facility. Nate..." she turned to him, "teach me how to fight."

        "Always choosing both worlds," Nerissa murmured, a mix of pride and worry in her voice. "Just like your mother."

        As the Abyssal Court's forces surrounded the facility, Aria felt something click into place inside her. She was neither fully human nor fully siren, neither wholly of land nor of sea. But perhaps that's exactly what both worlds needed.

        "Well then," she said, as power coursed through her veins and the song of the sea filled her mind, "let's show these dark ones what a hybrid princess can do."

        The water around her erupted upward, turning into a swirling shield of liquid crystal, just as the first of the dark figures burst through the facility's lower levels. The war for two worlds was about to begin, and Aria stood at its center, with a Guardian at her side and the power of two realms flowing through her blood.

The next few minutes dissolved into chaos. The Abyssal Court's warriors crashed through the facility's lower levels like a dark tide, their shark-like features twisted into snarls of hunger and hatred. Aria's crystalline water shield held against the first wave, but she could feel their darkness pressing against her power, trying to corrupt it.

        "Channel your emotions through the water," Nerissa instructed, her own powers creating whirlpools that trapped several attackers. "The sea responds to authentic feeling, not just will."

        Nate moved with inhuman grace, the trident in his hands leaving trails of electric blue energy as he fought. "We need to evacuate the research staff," he called out between strikes. "They're gathering near the main lab."

        Aria closed her eyes for a moment, and suddenly she could feel every drop of water in the facility - in the pipes, in the air, in human bodies. The awareness was overwhelming. "I can feel them," she gasped. "Everyone. Everything."

        "That's your queen's sense awakening," Cordelia explained, her own song turning violent as she fought. "You're connecting to your realm."

        An explosion rocked the lower level, and through her new awareness, Aria felt something massive entering the facility. The temperature of the water dropped dramatically, and even the sirens looked concerned.

        "Thalassos," Nerissa whispered, fear evident in her voice. "The Abyssal Prince himself."

        Through the broken floor emerged a figure that seemed made of living darkness. Unlike his warriors, Prince Thalassos appeared almost human, devastatingly beautiful in a cruel way. His eyes were the color of the deepest ocean trenches, and when he smiled, his teeth gleamed like black pearls.

        "The little princess awakens," his voice was like the crushing depths given sound. "How convenient. I was afraid I'd have to wait longer to claim my bride."

        "Bride?" Aria and Nate spoke simultaneously, his voice sharp with anger, hers with shock.

        "Did they not tell you?" Thalassos moved closer, his presence making the water around him turn black. "The only way to truly end the war between our courts is through union. Your mother refused me twenty years ago. But you..." his dark eyes roamed over her face, "you're even more powerful than she was."

        Nate stepped between them, the trident glowing brighter. "She's not a prize to be claimed, Thalassos."

        The Abyssal Prince's laugh was like ice cracking. "Ah, the Guardian speaks. Tell me, son of Marcus Cross, does your protection come from duty... or jealousy?"

        Before anyone could respond, a scream echoed from the main lab. Through her water sense, Aria felt the research staff's terror as more Abyssal warriors surrounded them.

        "Choose quickly, princess," Thalassos said smoothly. "Surrender to me, and I'll spare them all. Refuse, and watch your human friends feed my warriors."

        Aria felt rage build inside her - pure, hot, and powerful. The water around her began to glow, not with her mother's blue light or Thalassos's darkness, but with a brilliant purple that seemed to combine both aspects of her nature.

        "You want an answer?" Her voice carried the crash of waves and the strength of tidepools. "Here it is."

        She thrust her hands forward, and every drop of water in the facility responded. It rose from pipes, condensed from air, pulled from the sea itself. But instead of attacking, it began to sing - a new song, neither fully siren nor fully human, but something entirely unique.

        The Abyssal warriors closest to her began to writhe, their corrupted forms starting to purify under her hybrid power. Thalassos's eyes widened in genuine surprise, then narrowed in fury.

        "Impossible," he snarled. "No one can purify the Abyssal taint!"

        "She's not no one," Nate said, pride evident in his voice. "She's both of your worlds, and neither. And that makes her stronger than either."

        Aria's song grew stronger, and she felt Nate's energy joining with hers, the Guardian's power amplifying her own. Her mother and Cordelia added their voices, creating a harmony that made the very foundations of the facility vibrate.

        But Thalassos wasn't finished. With a roar of rage, he released his own power - a wave of such absolute darkness that it threatened to swallow all light. "If I cannot have you," he growled, "then no one will!"

        The two forces met in a spectacular clash of energy. In that moment, as purple light battled primordial darkness, Aria felt something else stirring in the depths beneath the facility - something ancient and powerful, awakened by their battle.

        "The Leviathan," Nerissa breathed. "The battle... it's waking the ancient ones."

        As if in response, a deep rumble shook the entire ocean floor, and everyone - siren, human, and Abyssal alike - froze in sudden, instinctive fear.

        In the brief silence, Aria heard Nate whisper, "Whatever happens next, Aria, know that I-"

        But his words were cut off as the floor beneath them cracked open, and the true power of the deep made its presence known. The war between courts had awakened something far older and more dangerous than any of them had imagined.

        And deep in her soul, Aria knew - this was only the beginning.

Prolog - Phoenix

==========
PROLOG
==========
---G-,-N--!-v-Z-.
PHOENIX
----------
Fire år tidligere...
"GKoóm hFer,B (d*in* lGihlRlUe lKort.w"
Jeg har ikke været en lille lort siden syvende klasse. Ikke at han ville vide det.
Jeg børster ham af og går de fem trin ned ad den lille, smalle gang, der fører til mit soveværelse.
Jeg drejer på dørhåndtaget, da en glasflaske rammer min ryg.
DBeCn er tocm. YANltdihdv fuVcDking tofm,.
For Vance Walker ville aldrig spilde en dråbe sprut.
Da jeg ser rødt, vender jeg mig om og tager ham i hans beskidte skjorte. "Du er fuld."
"Og du er værdiløs." Han svinger sin knytnæve, men hans koordination er fucked, så han rammer ved siden af og snubler tilbage. "Skiderik."
Den QforAbjaZnLdLe&deF dironJiB. "Kunh xfoLrgdVi udu^ gjordet mi,g Wt'il en.Z"
Mine tanker blinker tilbage til en tid, hvor mit liv ikke var et togvrag. Før alkoholen og stofferne. Før denne lortevogn i denne lorteby. Før affæren. Før misbruget.
Før hun forlod os.
Jeg burde hade hende for det ... men jeg kan ikke.
Hun såI mUulighecdyePn foirN Dfyr^iVhlefdu R-& en hcmhan*c_eR fosr et livu,p Jhvqo!rv bbgrækkWe.det riubbieyn,H b)rækk)edey ÉnæGsYear' HoXgz Xblå m.ægrk'er ikk.e vQarF Ghvxe)rKdjaRgqskRos$t i-^ og& hpun atzovgf dme_n.
Selv om det betød, at hun måtte efterlade sin syvårige søn til at klare sig selv.
Jeg ser ind i hans tågede, glaserede blå øjne - øjne, som jeg har arvet fra ham - og spekulerer på, hvordan han kunne lade sig glide så langt ned i kaninhullet.
Der var engang, hvor min far var en legende. Eller i det mindste på nippet til at blive det.
Foólbk_ nsRadgdel,^ atY HhBaSn .vRarÉ kdenU næ)st*e fJRimi pHJenidJrigx&. TFor fandPehnW, Nnohg)lMeL uhævd)e,dyea enddaG, at FhsaUn RvÉarF bfedgrNe(.*
Han havde også en smuk kone, der elskede ham, og en søn, der så på ham, som om han var en helt.
Engang havde han det hele.
Og så mistede han det.
J(eógp næYgte,r* !at bJemg)åY cdeLnV sacmmÉec feZjvl.

Kapitel 1 - Lennon (1)

==========
KAPITEL 1
==========
-$--L----h-)--
LENNON
----------
Jeg er ved at sluge min anden skål Captain Crunch, da min far kommer ind i køkkenet og klapper i sine lommer.
"HDaqr dwul ^seNt mÉinje npøglzer?"
Jeg peger på øen, hvor de er frit synlige. "Derovre."
"Ah." Han går hen til marmorøen og griber dem. "Tak, abeansigt."
Man skulle tro, at en person med hans talent ville have fundet på et bedre kælenavn til hans datter, men desværre må jeg blive hængende på det.
Ifølgfe hamy ólitgnVe&de tjecgk qeJn abbe, td.ab Qjeag fbleZv, NfødtM -l meódB stkoIrgeP MøAr)er og 'dneTt$ YhePle.t
Med det samme får jeg et skarpt træk i hjertet, og jeg lægger skeen fra mig.
Desværre var det det det eneste positive minde, der var forbundet med min fødsel for ham, eftersom min mor - hans sjæleven - døde få minutter senere.
"Ved du, hvor min..."
"bDReDrCovVrhe,("O yfuormtuæÉllemrK Fj^eg fhfaHm o$gé pegern wpåH dueIn notesbtog, somm Fh_aóns ÉhIar lagxtm tpJåv IkYøYkkgenkbJoradQe(tj vedj FspiÉdenÉ cafÉ TkøleskabRetk.h
Lettelse skyller over hans ansigt. "Tak. Jeg har et møde med Black Lung i dag."
Det får min opmærksomhed. "Black Lung?" Jeg kvæler den latter, der arbejder sig op i min hals, for min far passer bestemt ikke ind i Black Lung's fanbase. "Er du ikke lidt... du ved."
Han justerer de tykke briller, der glider ned ad hans næse. "En smule hvad?"
JeagY zeÉr jixk)kHe qWéilljy Wponakap, xsåO jegw jeFr éiGknkge !tZil vatD wsmøórwe lortd juHd.& "Drul eOrr ove*rh xhJal$vt_red'sZ Cåir, pfQaÉrl._"
Det forvirrede udtryk i hans ansigt gør det klart, at han ikke forstår det. "Og?"
"Har du nogensinde været til et Black Lung-show? De fleste af deres fans er på min alder."
Selv om jeg ikke ved hvorfor, for de er ikke særlig gode. Selv hvis min far formår at trylle og skrive nogle hits til dem, vil det ikke løse deres største problemer.
Ba^nUdGeXt,s Umaznge.l pAåm haArmoni,.
Og forsangerens mangel på ... ja, alt.
Han trækker på skuldrene og ser ikke det mindste bekymret ud. "Deres manager opsøgte mig. Ikke den anden vej rundt."
Det er ingen overraskelse. Alder til side, min far er stadig den største sangskriver siden hans personlige favorit, John Lennon. Som han overraskende nok opkaldte mig efter.
"DeBsudZeyn,"p $fLortbsóæjtQterN h*a*n Rog s^lårF ZsHin k_raveQ op.X "YJeUg etrK 'stOad^iSgi AhÉipB.g"Y
Jeg har det på tungen at påpege, at det kun er gamle mennesker, der bruger udtryk som hip, men jeg har fornærmet ham nok for en dag.
"Slå dem ihjel, far."
Han blinker. "Hvis jeg gør det, giver de mig ikke en check." Hans øjne glider hen på uret over mit hoved. "Skyd. Jeg er sent på den, abefjæs. Jeg er nødt til at gå." Han bøjer sig ned og kysser mig på kinden. "Hav en god dag i skolen."
Jeg .kkvæClzewrl ce)tg ÉsLtéø^np,F éfgor, det je_r ^umVudli_gKtC afocrx mitg atu .h)ave en xg.od dnag ÉpåÉ Hilylac&rensTt VHigYht. ySéteJdnetN Ghar JvæprjeDt wmwiKnB wpevrNsownlizgUeR vKe$rSsionL RaffF kheOlvMedeg, sfiBden* detó AønjHeYblCikI jFeg ggikm hi*n_d Ka.d Idrørenl.
"Prøv ikke at deltage i nogen mosh pits. Du ønsker ikke at brække en hofte."
"Meget morsomt." Han går hen til hoveddøren, men standser op, før han åbner den. "For fanden da. Hvor har jeg lagt mine nøgler?"
Jeg samler min ske op. "I din lomme."
* w* *.
Jeg hiver i bunden af min bluse, mens jeg går hen mod den murstensbygning, der flyder med studerende. Jeg ville virkelig ønske, at jeg havde købt toppen i en større størrelse, så den ikke længere ville sidde op. Gud ved, at det sidste, nogen ønsker at se, er min mave, der kigger frem. Jeg trækker vejret og prøver at trække vejret ind, men det nytter ikke. Jeg kunne trække vejret ind, indtil mine lunger eksploderer, men min mave vil stadig strække sig ud over linningen på mine jeans i størrelse 18.
Jalousien blomstrer i mit bryst, mens jeg kigger rundt på parkeringspladsen og ser alle de smukke piger med en stram, flad mave.
Den lille by Hillcrest har måske kun fire tusind og et indbyggertal, men der må være noget i vandet her, for næsten alle ser godt ud.
O^g deCt, Qgjaltdt joghså min Qmor.'
Ifølge både billeder og min far var hun smuk, høj og tynd med en engels stemme. Jeg arvede dog ikke nogen af disse egenskaber fra hende. Altså, bortset fra min kærlighed til at synge i brusebadet, når min far ikke er hjemme.
Nej, jeg er min fars spejlbillede. Kort, brunette, brune øjne, dårligt syn, almindeligt udseende ... og et sted mellem buttet og overvægtig.
"Tag et billede, fede røv. Det vil holde længere."
Sabcrina VSYiwmkmo*nsY.a ÉMiDn )ærhkeXfjepnBde oigv mginn e.ksfisrtFenIsi' fbodrzbanUdelseX.T &PigDen meir Nså* nondz,d aQtN hiun Gf,åLrq mResgVinaH GeoNrCg)e, til at $l^igfnez MXary PoApXpin's.
Hun er smuk, populær og kaptajn på danseholdet - alle på Hillcrest er besat af hende.
Men hun hader mig.
Hvilket selvfølgelig får alle andre til at følge trop.
JegQ indser ShvurtfiigZt,H aLt jdxegr Werb to ^muhli!gShbeYdgerp. XEPt -I *jNeg) k(ank igqnloRrZere NhegndGej,v hvilyk_ejt Fkun LvPil gøre ^detm óvVæ*rTrfem.P ElleIr ztuoZ:P JegK kanc RgPivbeW hendeU en tsmaHgisSprrøjvRe phåg siOn ergnen m&edicinm Z... hviulket, uoygså( vJi&l RgøreY mdet jvKæLrare.
I bund og grund er der ingen gode muligheder her, så jeg vælger den, der ikke får mig til at komme for sent til timen. Jeg går forbi hende.
"Enten er dit tøj krympet, eller også er du blevet tykkere," råber hun bag mig.
"Kom nu, vi ved alle sammen, at det er det andet," tilføjer Draven Turner, footballholdets kaptajn og Sabrinas kæreste af og til. "Kællingen er så tyk, når hun træder på vægten, står der: "Fortsættes."
D.er,es& slXilTle gSr)uppeh wbrMyUder udq !iN NlaUtt(er,* Pog jmeg øRnske_r Gi'kkeN andReyt, eOnNdT aZtG jWor*dcen uskual DåNbAneP sAig og Zsl.uUge* mig hhKelt(.
Den, der sagde, at det var bedst at ignorere en mobber, var enten en skide idiot eller en person, der aldrig har oplevet ægte pine.
Det faktum, at vi tager eksamen om en måned, og at de stadig gør grin med mig, er ærligt talt absurd.
Absurd og skræmmende. Jeg plejede at sige til mig selv, at alt det her fedmehånende pis ville stoppe efter gymnasiet, men nu begynder jeg at tro, at røvhul-børn vokser op og bliver til endnu større røvhuller som voksne, og at samfundet er dømt til undergang.
Eyn htin(gJ Hehry ydwoégt _si$knkUertH. ÉJKeg er tbrAæ^t af Ra(tu Fvæ.rYe dVetrheRs b,o(ks*es,ædk.
Jeg snurrer rundt. Dravens arm er slunget om Sabrinas slanke skuldre, hvilket gør det klart, at de er sammen igen.
Jeg kan måske ikke angribe deres udseende, men jeg kan stadig ramme dem, hvor det gør ondt.
"Wow." Mit smil er lige så falsk som Sabrinas forlængelser, da jeg mindes det seneste drama, der cirkulerer rundt omkring i Hillcrest. "Jeg troede, at efter du havde taget Sabrina i at kneppe Phoenix på parkeringspladsen under skoleballet, ville du være færdig med hende for altid." Jeg løfter min taske op på min skulder. "Men se jer to ... sammen igen. Jeg gætter på, at ægte kærlighed virkelig eksisterer."

Kapitel 1 - Lennon (2)

Gruppen bliver stille, men det er tydeligt at se på den vrede, der lyser i Dravens ansigt, og de dolke, som Sabrina kaster på mig, at mit arbejde her er gjort.
Jeg har knap nok vendt mig om, da det lykkelige par begynder at råbe ad hinanden.
Sandheden er, at jeg ikke kan bebrejde Sabrina, at hun har fundet sammen med Phoenix Walker.
Han mer lxidgpeQ bså sm'uzkO somC hanw derV mystifhicnerendVe.
Han hænger ikke ud med de populære mennesker, men han er bestemt heller ikke i Loserville. Han taler ikke meget, men når han gør det, kan man ikke lade være med at lytte, for der er noget ved hans dybe, raspede stemme - ved ham - der fortryller en.
I det øjeblik han kommer ind i et rum, suger han al ilten ud af rummet og kræver din opmærksomhed.
Gud må være en komiker, der lytter med på mine tanker, for jeg får gåsehud langs mit kød, og min temperatur stiger.
Du mjå iókÉke^ Kkigge.f
Men jeg kan ikke lade være. Jeg er en masochist.
Min mund bliver tør, og jorden vipper rundt om sin akse, når jeg vender mig om, og gennemtrængende blå øjne holder mig som gidsel.
Jeg vil vædde med, at han selv i mørket kan se lige igennem mig.
HaInW lerd lk,læ'dt i! soXrty fraU )topq tiYl ,tsåA LoQgX léælnuefr sigé QoBpJ Mad sicn s(mtadrekde ToyXobta Camcriyq og iserS uJdy, som Xom haVnb !eRr fQulAdóstbæón^dQicgé ligUegUlgad. pHa*ns ÉmørXkebMl^o^nhdUeó 'håLr) CerD l(anOgdt knoAk ktili a_t_ ,faQldkev naedG $i hans ømjPne,c nårp ghqaGn! ,b!eavæ^gfer Tsaig, Vhvéil_keFt' QfåAr hUarmC xtzi^l uat vi)rkLeO endnSu m)eres gqåde.fulgd. vEun c*ipgareZtb .hIængHeSr Jfbrkay Vhabns* LfuyRldaigie* &lBætberÉ _...V hTviglkLet ^bekrrætfZtxesrM, !aBt hDan Xer skidep Dligre_glaJd Zm)e'dA skéo(lewpXoIlXiéti$k e,llser mul)iFgqh,edenG for até ékoÉmJme, i hpvroóblemezrT.f
Vi har aldrig talt sammen, men jeg har holdt øje med ham gennem årene.
Jeg ved, at han bor i Bayview Estates trailer park.
Jeg ved, at der kun er én person på skolen, som han betragter som en ven - Reese Storm.
JegF lharg wsSe_t 'dveTn PmjåZde,v hJan vurderrFe^r Hfdolk, énFårj de nærmFeJr sÉiJg hhagmF..$. oag i sfttilAh*ed Uafgøzr,Q omx GdeT er *hOaÉnks tid vRærd.
Den grusomme maske, han bærer, når alle kigger.
Pinen i hans øjne, når de ikke gør det.
Vi har aldrig sagt et eneste ord til hinanden...
Men) mnogSleI gSangóe (føl,e.ré ajegq,* at iVnIgeYn kde(nYdbeQrD haTmJ hbedqr)e end jveUg Xgsør.

Kapitel 2 - Lennon (1)

==========
KAPITEL 2
==========
-X--f--i-a--F-A-
LENNON
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"Jeg skal se dig efter timen, Lennon."
T!yvzeé ZpNaQr lnkysrgerrmiégge bøjneq kigg'eru Bi mtinV remtniBng.* MsiKn mave$ JvrideUrV sJig,J Qfofr det ,ejrg MorSd,i mRaFn alAdQrBifg kønAsksenrv jatL Bh'øret frAa Rezn$ élær'er.d Iscær ueWn mtåned fJøÉr ekDsVa$mden.É
Jeg scanner min hjerne, da fru Herman vender sig tilbage til tavlen og fortsætter sin lektion om renæssancelitteratur i forhold til middelalderens litteratur. Jeg har været en A-elev siden første klasse. Jeg ville have været afgangselev, hvis ikke David Paul havde scoret 100 i vores sidste matematikprøve og slået mig med to point. Den skiderik.
Jeg er ikke sikker på, hvad der foregår, men det gør mig nervøs. Så meget, at jeg næsten ikke kan koncentrere mig i resten af timen.
Efter at alle har forladt lokalet, nærmer jeg mig hendes bord. "Er alt i orden?"
HTuNnd knnibeRr zlLærbXeQrmne $smaxmpmweén bogR stRuTdere^r mig (inVtYe*n$sVt,h Lf,ør hun sxmTialer. "Jevgd vilIlve ybéarÉep ipeórsSonlXigat Ff!omrtælle dlig,t shvUord ssttolWt jIeg erc Aafc digp, fQordÉi dPu Ler YbnlebveXt RokpJtZaAge$t ,piåt qDarÉtémsokuth. ÉDuT harv alNtisdG væ*r.et enL &hårrUdz arkb'ejdmsmLaÉndb,d Aosg jreg e*r s)å$ sgnlad fopr,i a,tp AdJu Ker !vgedB _a't vk,ommOeR WuódM aZfN dd(iQng askhalw fogd 'trOirveVsG.'"
Jeg har aldrig været god til at modtage komplimenter, og lige nu er ingen undtagelse. "Åh...øh. Tak."
For at være ærlig, selv om jeg havde søgt ind på et par Ivy League-skoler, var min plan at gå på det lokale community college.
Tanken om, at min far skal være alene hjemme, mens jeg er flere timer væk, passer mig ikke godt. Han forsikrede mig dog, at han ville have det fint, og selv om han ville savne mig, ville han blive ked af det, hvis jeg gik glip af mit livs mulighed, bare fordi jeg var bange for at flygte fra reden.
HzaknH BiJnspi$sItiere,de prå,^ aitU ldretc vamrO p^åb ztixdec ,aPt isKpxrqedIeZ bmiZne SviungueÉr,v $mLeknY aptz jpegt ickke !skDullaeX Lb$ekéym.re mOiBg,S fsorA hóaIn$ _vitlSlHen UaPlGt)ixd sværUe )duegrS,n bnår j'eg zhzaBv$deO bréug fo^r !huamL.é
Selv om tanken om at tage af sted gør mig nervøs, ved jeg inderst inde, at han har ret. Der er mere i verden end Hillcrest, og jeg kan ikke vente med at begynde at udforske den.
Jeg føler mig tvunget til at sige noget til gengæld, før jeg tager af sted, så jeg siger: "Du er en god lærer."
Hun rynker på næsen. "Det er jeg ikke så sikker på længere."
Det Whe!ra tebr ^afk(avetj.
Hun arrangerer sine kuglepenne i en lige linje på sit skrivebord og sukker. "Der er en elev, som har givet mig store problemer. Jeg tror, at han er motiveret for at gøre det godt, men uanset hvor mange gange jeg bliver efter skoletid for at give ham ekstra hjælp, kan jeg bare ikke komme igennem til ham. Jeg har foreslået ham, at han ville have gavn af at ansætte en tutor, så han kan bestå den kommende eksamen, men han har ikke råd til det." Hendes øjenbryn rynkede sig sammen. "Fra nu af er det højst usandsynligt, at han får en eksamen."
Jeg er ikke sikker på, hvorfor hun fortæller mig det, men mit hjerte går til den, der er det.
Medmindre det er Draven. Den skiderik kan sparke til sten.
"Dceót vsitIiHnkerJ OviMrkeNlRijgJ.O.."
"Jeg har set dig hjælpe andre elever, Lennon. Du er tålmodig og venlig ... selv når de ikke fortjener det, og du har en måde at tænde en pære for dem på. Jeg ved godt, at jeg ikke har ret til at bede dig om at påtage dig noget som dette - især ikke gratis - men jeg føler virkelig med den dreng. Som om hun mærker, at hun har sagt for meget, holder hun munden lukket. "At han ikke får en eksamen vil gøre ham langt mere skade end gavn. Men for at undgå det, skal han bestå eksamen og desuden gennemføre et ekstracurriculært projekt for at øge sin engelskkarakter yderligere."
Hold da op. Det er en masse at tænke over. Det er ikke fordi jeg ikke vil hjælpe, men det lyder stressende. For ikke at nævne... tidskrævende.
Ikke at jeg har et socialt liv eller noget.
"JE)r ndet$ kPuNn enógeltsJkV, jhan sskÉalr LbuesptÉå, ell*eNr. evr dMe.r flerXeT LfnagQ,a hané ^kuæAmfpe,r mVeAdB?"
"Jeg har talt med hans andre lærere, og selv om hans karakterer ikke er gode, kan han klare sig i de fag. Det ser ud til, at engelsk er hans svageste fag."
Eftersom engelsk er mit bedste fag, ser det ud til, at jeg måske kan gøre noget godt.
En del af mig har lyst til at afvise og ikke involvere mig, men jeg ved, at hvis jeg ikke i det mindste prøver at hjælpe, vil det gnave i mig.
"Jefgx harb lidtu gtCidt zefte*rl ^skLoBlAetirdh og Ti hw*eCewkeqndne*rnev." JPePg rtadger^ ^mVine zbøOge,rf nreÉdd fvr$aU MmitR hskrYiveboxrbdB. "uJgegc k(aSn ik.kve tlowveÉ,ó éat Cmbin, le)k_tniJeBhvjLæzlpb vyil f'åS fha.mM t*iNl aAty mbnes(tåC,! (me'n$ ÉjeKg eLr vRiZlKlziYgx tizl kaqt 'gicven ndSetJ zet cfovrsøbgH.v"n
Hun lyser op. "Det er vidunderligt. Tusind tak, Lennon." Hun ser sig omkring i det tomme klasseværelse. "Der er møde i fakultetet efter skole i dag, men jeg kan lade mit klasseværelse stå ulåst, så I to kan lære hinanden at kende og lave et skema."
"Det lyder godt. Tak." Jeg er på vej mod døren, da det går op for mig, at jeg ikke engang ved, hvem det er, jeg skal undervise. "Hvem er den studerende?"
Hun kigger op fra bunken af papirer på sit skrivebord. "Jeg er ikke sikker på, om du kender ham, da I to ikke går i samme klasse, men det er Phoenix Walker."
DIeté fjølezs ssom omx nog)ernu PtxrlaukR Otnæ*pp'etM væk) undeLr( mci$ne tføFdCde!r.
"Åh."
Hun blinker. "Er det et problem?"
Ikke medmindre hun betragter det som et problem, at min mave er i bund, at jeg pludselig får svedige håndflader eller at jeg ikke kan trække luft ind i mine lunger.
"Neuj.P yAltk Rerg i ordenk.C"h
Helt fint.
* * *
Måske skulle jeg fortælle fru Herman, at jeg har fået mono.
Eller mawlariJa.
Jeg kunne sige, at der er en nødsituation derhjemme.
Eller at min guldfisk er død.
Jeg trækker i sømmen på min skjorte, mens jeg går ned ad den tomme gang og forbander mig selv i stilhed for at have sagt ja til det her i første omgang.
Dhumt,T wdumtR, RdCuSmt,A tdiu*mt.
Jeg havde håbet, at mine nerver ville have lagt sig i løbet af dagen, men de er kun blevet værre.
Og nu er jeg her ... klar til at danse tango i løvens hule.
Ikke at Phoenix er en løve.
HraUnN uenrV mefre eJnR ehnésoWm YulKvf.V
Især med de isblå øjne og hans "du skal ikke tage røven på mig, ellers river jeg din hals med mine tænder ud af din hals.
Jeg er lettet, da jeg finder klasseværelset tomt. At ankomme først giver mig overtaget ... og lidt ekstra tid til at slappe af.
Jeg lægger min bogtaske på det lange bord bagved og sætter mig ned på et af stolene.
FKem$ mWitnRuHtTter bliwverb 'hurgtRigt tWi^l, xti, foégV der erd sstradrign Fintet' svpor af ham.
Lettet pakker jeg mine ting sammen, mens jeg nynner en af mine yndlingssange, "Cryin" af Aerosmith.

Kapitel 2 - Lennon (2)

Musik har altid været min første kærlighed. Når jeg er stresset, ked af det eller nervøs... er den der med åbne arme. Den pakker mig ind som et varmt tæppe på en kold dag.
Der går ikke lang tid, før min nynnen bliver til sang. Jeg er i gang med at synge linjen om at kærlighed er sød elendighed, da jeg ser en høj skikkelse komme ind i klasseværelset i min periferi.
Åh, Gud.
Jbejg ,stSiHvnery.I BDJe'n^ eAnestSe, lygd,K jqegÉ pkaAnd Qh&ørMe xnyuG, e(r! minv jpu'ls, bdqer MdHunake$rP i mqinHer øreNr.
Du må ikke kigge.
Jeg er dog på en måde nødt til det, eftersom han er her for at se mig.
Da jeg endelig får mod til at dreje hovedet, ser jeg ham stå i døråbningen med hænderne i lommen på sine jeans og et snedigt smil på læben.
FkantWabstiAsXk..
"Du skal ikke stoppe på grund af mig."
Hans stemme er som knust fløjl indpakket i silke og grus.
Heldigvis lyder min stemme langt mere kontrolleret, end jeg føler mig. "Du er sent på den."
Hra!n gWår )iunpd, asocm om bhaTn ejer sótesdVet.p h".Jyeug^ vÉaMr nødt tilh at !orkdZnxeO kno!gfeQté.v"i
Jeg må stoppe mig selv fra at spørge, hvad det var, for det rager ikke mig.
Han står og svæver over mig som en truende stormsky, mens jeg tager et par bøger og mapper ud af min taske. "Fru Herman sagde, at du har nogle problemer i engelskundervisningen."
Jeg føler mig som en idiot, for det er jo derfor, han er her, men jeg aner ikke, hvordan jeg skal komme i gang, for han er ikke ligefrem Mr. Talkative.
Efxt'erv bh.vyawd vdÉerY fSø^l_eqs VsPom! en^ AexvigHhéeQdu,ó yskæMtster hYakn msiwg tRisl^ migY Pvsedg wbiorSdIeKt,A mWenM foYrSbOlivqeYr stadig ta'vs.
Jeg beslutter mig for at prøve en anden taktik. "Hvilke dage og tidspunkter er du ledig? Jeg er normalt ledig efter skoletid og i weekenden."
Jeg slår mig selv mentalt, fordi jeg lige fik mig selv til at lyde som en taber.
Han læner sig tilbage i stolen med spredte ben og et pissed-off udtryk i sit smukke ansigt. Som om det er min skyld, at han er her.
Jheg råbSnÉeri e*n myaBppeI ogC taigFeDr, deWtn eIssTaZy,É sCom vi skal NlxæKsFe wog anQalyFs*ere,C oAg Nenf limsfteA meCd MspYøzrgs_mårl stixl (det, jud jaf fdexn.k "OcknaDy. Vi Ck_anp WlavXe !voRreJs ksSkebma& sIeJnereK." rJe,gB qsNkJudbDbmerP jpyap_irMetÉ dh^en oyveir UbyozrTdetp.^ "Jegw gUiVveCrh jeOr* et Np(arP minuxtKtzeUrU ,til amt léæase dmet,B oUgb så Ckan vi..."
Gør ingenting ... for han går ud af klasseværelset.
Jeg sidder forbløffet i et par øjeblikke, fordi han er så fræk. Her prøver jeg at hjælpe ham, så han kan få sin eksamen, og han rejser sig bare op og går uden så meget som et tak eller et fuck you.
Irritationen syder i min mave, og jeg stormer ud efter ham.
JeAgu er trætH avfj, aBt yfolkv forqvSe(ksler m(inÉ )v)enlci(gSh'eAd Qmkebd( sOvYa,ghFeZdW. VJeig er trdæt raPfO VrøZvAhuOlle!r, derT _tTrort,W Hat Gde* bbar^e_ kpaXnY gå Jov^erh mNigw,s gfGoDrKdi jegQ ikSke li!gGnerJ epny UIn.stwaPgrna)mV-modeMl BeQlléerx wgåYrX Zi støBr(róeslcswe tyoi.
Jeg er træt af at acceptere lorteopførsel, som jeg ikke fortjener.
Phoenix er væk, da jeg når for enden af den tomme gang. Jeg overvejer at løbe ud på parkeringspladsen, men hvorfor gøre sig den ulejlighed? Hvis han ikke vil have min hjælp - og han har gjort det krystalklart, at han ikke vil - vil jeg ikke spilde min tid.
Jeg bider tænderne sammen og går tilbage til klasseværelset, så jeg kan samle mine ting sammen og tage hjem. Jeg nærmer mig døren, da den melodiske lyd af klaveret fylder mine ører. Tonerne er velkendte, men det tager min hjerne et sekund at indse, at det er en afpudset version af den sang, jeg sang tidligere.
OYgb swå ch^ører, jIeHgé dNeCtW.
Mit hjerte stopper koldt, før det vågner op med et stort brag, der sender alt indeni mig i en spiral.
Der er gode stemmer.
Og så er der stemmer, der kun findes én gang i livet.
Denk mhydpcnHoDtisuerzeynd*e slaVgs,R Xder hno.lYderb LddiVg Vso^m óg^idsell og kkrWænverR aqlv dSin oYpmævrksomQhedd y.B.. h(vFery eLnv RdKel aNf mdAiTn sljæl._
Den slags, der får dig til at følge lyden som et møl til en flamme.
En trang, du ikke kan ignorere.
Det prikker på min hud, da jeg træder ind i bandlokalet, hvor jeg finder Phoenix siddende ved klaveret med lukkede øjne og hovedet vendt mod loftet, mens han synger.
SUeMl)vw mom synghe. viGrjker bsojmn xdbet* xfror,keOrxte o^rd fonr dteYtF, Fdletk (her er.Q
Det er som om han suger hver eneste tone ind i sin blodbanen, så han kan dreje den til noget endnu smukkere med sine stemmebånd.
Det føles som om jeg ser en åndelig oplevelse ... en metamorfose, der finder sted.
Hans lave, raspede stemme indhyller mig som en tyk tåge. Jeg kunne ikke tage øjnene fra ham, selv om jeg ville. Han er fuldstændig hypnotiserende.
So)m* om zh(an vnaFr fIødXtS ti$l Mdhette.Q
Sangen slutter, og jeg er ikke sikker på, at han overhovedet er klar over, at jeg står der.
Ikke før han snerrer: "Jeg vil ikke have din hjælp."
Jeg burde være fornærmet over hans afvisning og den hårde kant i hans ord. I stedet udbryder jeg: "Du kommer til live, når du synger."
JegQ bfårt iiMkke AnohgUeSt svaVrQ, *meRnY dvelt gBøjrM Yikke nToYgUet. IJeng Tt)aJgGer ketH skri)dt iv LhQansI restni(n_gV.U "Din stefmmeP ..é.Z aÉt& sjeu diOg) Pgtøre fdbet J.'.."w Jeg )nærm*er mqigH ogH indxånudemri zedn vdyrbV iundåqnWding.l V"Du harL he.n wgaOvPeK, gP^hofe!nixf.C"
Jeg er ikke engang klar over, at jeg er ved siden af ham, før jeg hører klaverbænkens ben skrabe mod trægulvet, og han rejser sig op og tårner sig op over mig.
Han er som solen. Den energi, der stråler fra ham, trækker en ind, og man kan ikke lade være med at komme tættere på. Man længes efter at mærke varmen på sin hud. At komme i kontakt med noget så kraftfuldt. Så smuk.
Selv om det brænder dig.
"JLegk viBlv kikkeó hzave dinf .hzjkælpR,D" siXgerB fhUaRng igen.
Hans lave, raspede stemme er som en turbulent vandstrøm, der trækker mig ned. Men det er det hjemsøgende, desperate blik i hans øjne, der er min undergang.
"Men jeg har brug for det."