Normal – that's how life had felt for all of these years; every morning I would be excited about the future of the upcoming days, the potential adventure that awaited for me for so long. I had been, I think, fifteen at the time. New laws had come across that you were only allowed to be a trainer at sixteen rather than ten – something to do with recent kidnappings of many children I suppose, or it had something to do with the dangerous organisations that seemed to drift about. The most likely explanation may have been that it seemed a stupid idea for children to be amongst powerful, sometimes fearful, creatures – I never really knew. However, it didn't bother me; I was pleased that I got to stay at home with my Mother for six more years – I would have missed her cooking.
How had it happened that day? I don't seem to remember as easily as I used to, everything was so much more different now. I think I had woken up, feeling the rays from the sun which were entering through my window, beaming down onto my face. I had always thought that it was a sign of good luck to come; that whenever I felt the warmth of the sun, it was that I would have a great day. Oh how I was wrong.
I entered the dining room, looking around in search of my mother. Usually, she was preparing my breakfast in the morning, myself being amazed at how she always had it ready for as soon as I woke up – a 'Mother's Instinct' I suppose. However, in the dining room, she was not to be seen. I raised my eyebrows, wondering where she could have been.
"Mum?" I called out, worry in my voice as negative thoughts began to ravage my mind. She was always somewhere to be seen... always
. Today, however, she was no where to be found and this was worrying. I didn't want to edge over to the counter that separated the dining room from the kitchen, too afraid of what I might find – every negative outcome was playing in my mind, one of them being the dead, cold body of my mother. I froze on the spot, cold sweat running down my forehead.
"Akito?" came back a familiar female voice, suddenly a head popping up from behind the counter. Her facial expression was confused for some reason, as she stared at me for a few moments intently. I, in reply, sighed in relief – wiping my forehead with my arm in an attempt to remove the sweat.
"You had me worried there for a moment, Mum," I stated, sitting down on one of the chairs situated on the rectangular dining room table – stationed in the middle of the room. My mother was around her mid-thirties, her dark brown hair flowing just past her shoulders. Her face was dimpled with many freckles, as well as holding her still questionable stare with her deep blue eyes. She wore a pink shirt that displayed her shoulders and a pair of light blue jeans that covered a majority of her fluffy purple socks. She stood there, staring at me for a few moments, before I finally asked,
"Are you... okay?" at my sudden question she seemed to click back into reality, a smile appearing on her face. She began to busy herself back to whatever she was doing behind the counter, this time making various metallic noises with the pots situated within that area.
"Of course I am," she replied, "I'm just shocked that you're up this early." This excuse had caused me to look up at the clock on the wall, in which the time was displayed as 11:30 in the morning. I frowned, this was hardly early. Was she truly all right as she had stated beforehand?
"You might have to wait a little while, I haven't prepared breakfast yet," she informed me in her soothingly sweet voice. However, this had shocked me greatly; never in my life had she ever been late with breakfast before, and this had begun to rack my nerves. I had to calm myself down though, for I must be over-exaggerating... Mustn't I?
"Don't worry about it. You're only human, right?" I asked jokingly, trying to rid my unease. I laughed uncomfortably as I looked out of the nearest window, surveying the nature that was surrounding our house. I could see out of the corner of my eye my mother, slowly rising, as if in response to my last question. However, she didn't face my direction, she kept to the other way in which she would begin using the cooker. I could see, from the angle I watched her from, that her facial expression was blank – she was in deep thought about something. Surely she was not dwelling on my recent question?
Suddenly, everything in sight jolted, flickered even. I could see the house change from it's original bright colour to that of a darker tone; the table looked worn out, covered in nicks and scratches, as were the chairs and everything else within the building. Then I looked at what was originally my mother – I could see her wearing a long white dress, the back of her hair all blue, but it looked as though it were a part of her head...
"Mum!" I urgently called out, the thought hitting me that I may be different too. The figure turned around in a swift movement, clearly worried about my sudden tone. That's when I saw what the figure looked like. A red fin-like shape protruded from its chest, the ruby red eyes piercing into mine, the blue arms and the white dress which seemed to be the skin itself. It looked so much like a Gardevoir... surely this isn't my mother?!
It suddenly noticed that I could see all of this, this sudden realisation making it raise its arm towards my direction. My head began to ache as I felt an invisible force bury itself into my skull, penetrating my brain and racking my body in agony. I screamed out in pain, feeling myself fall onto the floor, my conscience slipping. Before I fell into a deep sleep, I heard a faint voice, just like my mothers, slip itself into my head.
"I'm sorry," it echoed.