The mornings were always cold in the city. Not cold enough to make things impossible—no, that would be anticlimactic, but it was freezing, and that meant something even worse had come back to haunt me, something so inhumane that I have completely forgotten about ever since I returned to this beautiful, green planet– alarm clocks.
"Noooo..." I groan into the soft, warm, clean blankets that are soon lifted from me by my previously dead mother, who glances at me, then up to my twin sister, Monse, currently occupying the top bed.
(please don't notice me, please don't notice me, please don't notice me–)
"Lucia, ¿por qué no te has despertado todavía? Vas a llegar tarde," patting my head as she glances for my phone, "¿Por qué no pusiste una alarma?"
Crap.... It's been what, like a few decades, since I spoke Spanish? That being said, I would've practiced if I knew I would return here! I would rather kill myself all over again than return here.
"...se me olvidó," blankly looking away at the black seams that seemed to be attacked by the small feline inches away from my face.
I flinch at her sudden movement as she inches towards me, pressing her warm, soft palm onto my forehead, (don't fall for it, it isn't real, don't fall for it, it isn't real, don't fall for it, it isn't real, don't fall for it–) to check my temperature.
Whispering below her breath, my mother began mouthing her motherly concerns, "¿qué voy a hacer contigo? ¿Estás enferma? ¿Te sientes bien?"
Am I fine? It has been a while since someone other than the System has bothered to ask, but what does she know about something as trivial as domestic affairs between Gods and Humans? Quickly, I have to get away; this woman is persistent!
Clearing my throat, I spoke my first words since returning to my adolescent body, ending my oath of silence, "...nada, estoy bien...," a complete lie, but what else could I have said when put on the spot? I haven't seen that woman in decades!
Nevermind that, why the fuck would anyone want to be up at six am? And why did I have to return to this weak-ass body? There was nothing like a fresh start, yeah, sure, but I refuse to accept the fact that I did all this to survive just to return. My entire legacy was destroyed at the whims of the Gods, all these years diminished into seconds. All because they refused to liberate the human race, but they made one crucial mistake by never destroying my soul. How ridiculous is that? A small mistake will cost them their lives.
I hold in my breath as I walk past my mother; each step feels rushed and misplaced, like I'm not supposed to be here.
It's been a week since I arrived, and my mana has yet to return to me. Rather, an empty hollow feeling has swallowed me whole. Is this a consequence of rescission? My body feels heavier, bigger, and much more exhausted to be inside. Avoiding her soft gaze, I swallow my desire for more as I practically hurdle myself out of the room; she can't know that my silence is the only way she will survive. Pleading with the gods doesn't work, as they do not 'feel' for humanity in any normal sense of the word. As a matter of fact, I should destroy that disgusting altar containing the image of Christ.
My footsteps echo across the cheap wooden floor as I push open the old white door, a haven for an old bastard like me.
"Shit...." groaning, I switch on the lights just to be blinded once again.
"Tsk...Buckaroo, c'mere," guiding the fluffy fur ball off the sink, but of course, only resulting in argumentative meows. His warm, fluffy coat showed no signs of stress, not like that would matter soon anyway; if anything, it would be a blessing if it could stay that way.
"Gotta get ready for school, gotta get ready for school, ew, ew ew," turning on the faucet, I grasp towards my toothbrush only to notice the lack of it in the dingy cup. Huh!? Never in my five hundred years–
The strong, bitter taste of this god-forsaken language dances on my tongue as I spoke out loud in what felt like centuries but in actuality, seconds, "What time is it again anyway?"
A raspy, robotic voice is heard soon enough, like clockwork, "Lucia... we welcome you back to Earth, it is currently six-thirty-seven am Pacific Standard–"
My hand pauses, I shift my vision towards the source of my frustration, a glowing, rotating blue globe, "shut up, System! I don't want to hear it..." cutting him off, I squeeze the living daylights out of this irritating romanticised disco ball full of bullshit and giggles, only to receive a loud squeak out of it in return for my irritation!
An audible sigh could be heard from the System as he grumbles disapprovingly towards my actions, after all, he is an asexual, single cellular organism assigned to me by Lord Eros. A slave to the corporate world, a tired being who seems more exhausted at the fact that he is alive again after the war. The feeling is mutual.