A Waste of Air and Space

Morrigan dashes through the empty halls, her final destination the library out in the courtyard. She was aware that Cato would be irritated at her late arrival, but in all her time working as a volunteer at the library, she was never on time… unless it was a weekend. Her benefit was that she didn’t live near anybody in school, so walking into them wouldn’t be a problem on Saturdays and Sundays.

Except on rare occasions.

Although being late wouldn’t be a bother to Cato, she did promise him last night when she bumped into him on ‘accident’ outside the library, that she would try and make it earlier. When she told him, he continued his passive silvery stare as if he didn’t care, but Morrigan knew he trusted her.

The few students piled up in the corridor weren’t bothered as she ebbed and flowed through them.

As she reached the second staircase close to the exit wing before the library, a small smile comes up on her lips. At school, she would keep her emotions at bay to prevent herself from gaining too much attention. But with nobody around her, she reigned free.

‘I’m going to be there very soon! I can’t wait…!’

But she trips on a stray shoelace, and lands straight on the unforgiving hard floor. Her satchel flies right from her hands and vomits out its contents.

There wasn’t anything interesting in there— just schoolbooks, a pencil case, a hand mirror shaped as a cute ghost, concealer to hide her scratches and bruises, tissues, a water bottle, a calculator and of course… the unusual auburn tome that caught Miss Harvey’s fearful glance. Embarrassed, Morrigan hurriedly picks up her items.

But she’s not fast enough.

‘Well, if it isn’t Little Miss Bookworm?’ a voice interjects.

Morrigan freezes.

She could recognise that voice, even if she was in space, and had a heavy helmet on. She could hear it in an underground bunker, through the rush of a busy shopping mall— anywhere silent or abnormally loud, she could always hear Beatrix Dazda’s voice above anything.

A sly smirk emerged from the corners of Beatrix’s pretty mouth. She was the same age as Morrigan, the same year— but the two were different. Beatrix boasted an ‘incredible gift of young physical perfection’, according to the unreal beauty standards that many worshipped around her.

According to those standards, Beatrix was a handsome goddess, with a face ‘none could forget’. When one has beauty, they feel that they have the entire world on one pinkie.

That is how Beatrix felt.

And that is how others allowed her to think.

‘If she were right,’ Morrigan thought impatiently, ‘her face ought to be posted in every prison, as it would encourage prisoners to stop reoffending for her sake.

Her face ought to be in every hospital, so people could stop getting ill and recover faster.

Her face ought to be posted everywhere across the world, in every house, building- ANYWHERE, to convince people to be kind to each other for her sake.'

Why is that?

It’s because… she’s pretty.

Morrigan knew she boasted no pleasant attributes that Beatrix had. She didn’t have the golden river of luminous ringlets flowing freely from her head, the blue moons that glittered from her gorgeous eyes, her lips were not a delicate rose pink….

She looked boring. That’s all. She knew she was boring. Nothing interesting, nothing vibrant. Nothing striking.

If she was as wealthy and as useless as Beatrix, she possibly could’ve been her friend. But no. Reality gave her a deal in making her the complete opposite to Beatrix.

But there was no time to contemplate. Morrigan had to snap awake now, away from her innermost feelings.

She was now in front of the threat.

‘Hey, Morrigan’s alive?’ added Stacey Lee, as she approached the scene.

Though Beatrix was a huge threat, Stacey was a belligerent titan, despite her status not being as significant at Beatrix’s. She was almost 6 feet tall. Her long black hair was always tied up in a ponytail, and her blue eyes were always glaring at someone or something. She and Morrigan were nearly friends once.

‘…. She looks skinner than usual. Did you not eat enough books?’

‘It’s because she hasn’t made it to the library,’ continued Jeanette Bush, sliding sneakily from behind Stacey.

Jeanette wasn’t a huge threat on her own. She never slapped or punched Morrigan. However, her ability at being able to attract crowds to her side was fearsome enough— she could grab anybody for Beatrix’s use and make them do anything. Her thick purple hair was shaped into braids, adorned with golden flower clips. Although she had been friends with Beatrix forever, and knew everything about her, Jeanette preferred Stacey’s company.

‘You haven’t been there in a while. On a hunger strike, aren’t we?’ her soft brown eyes glittered.

‘Hahah!!!’ expelled Beatrix. ‘Do you like books, Morrigan?’

Morrigan nods back. She knew if she said something, she’d be in for a world of pain.

‘Why, that’s no surprise!’

Her beautiful blue moons spot the ghastly auburn book on the floor. An intimidating purple aura glowed around it.

‘Oh, no!! Cato’s book!! I can’t let them get it!’

Morrigan tries to reach out for it, but Stacey grabs her hair, and drags Morrigan towards her. The piercing pain of her hair being tugged almost makes her cry out in pain, but Stacey covers her mouth with a fierce but well-manicured hand.

‘This little thing must be yours!’ Beatrix giggles, as she approaches the book.

‘Who else would it belong to?’ added a foul smile from Stacey, looking back at Jeanette for approval. But Jeanette wasn’t smiling. Beatrix’s expression was now as dissonantly blank as a sheet of paper.

Stacey’s idiotic smile slowly fades as a slap is spread across her fair face, with such intensity, she is almost flung back with Morrigan. The imprint of a red hand sticks out from her creamy cheek.

Beatrix gives her an intense glare, her blue moons shining with rage. ‘Know your place, dumbass. Or you’re DEAD.’ she snorts, giving a sinister, demonic glare to Stacey.

Stacey nods quickly, shaking from head to toe. ‘I’m sorry, Beatrix, don’t be mad!!’

Though it didn’t look like it, Morrigan knew Beatrix was getting to her final stage of fury, the stage in which she knew that any method of getting away from her and the others unhurt was impossible.

Beatrix snatches the book from the floor, astounded by how strange and… ethereal it looked. She flicks through it impatiently, not bothering to read it properly, but giving it a sneer.

She looks down at Morrigan. ‘It’s damn weird, like you.’

The words sharply stab Morrigan’s heart, as intensely as they always do. She couldn’t understand why the others couldn’t see her as human, just because she liked things… slightly abnormal.

Beatrix soon gets bored of flicking through the book, and hands it over to Morrigan.

‘Huh? She’s giving it back…? Perhaps this is a good sign…..’ Morrigan thought. Usually, Beatrix would’ve given her a massive slap, a heavy stomp on her foot, or a LONG lecture about her being a ‘welch’ or something.

Morrigan reaches out for the book, but Beatrix pulls it away at the last second, cackling like a witch.

‘Stupid bitch. Hey, Jeanette!! Catch!’

She tosses the book over to Jeanette, who just catches the heavy tome.

‘What the heck is this? What are you reading?!’ she flicks through the pages, unable to understand a word that’s in it. The book had no words, only symbols that resembled some form of hieroglyphics.

‘Morrigan, come get it! I don’t want it!’

She throws it at Morrigan, but Stacey catches it.

‘Hey, Jen, why’d you throw it to me? Come and get it, Bookworm!’

Morrigan turns towards her to grab it, but it whacks her on the face, stunning her senseless and causing her to fall to the ground. A roar of laughter explodes from the girls’ mouths, as they pick up the book, and keep tossing it amongst each other, like a game of netball.

‘What a weirdo- what kind of kicks do you get out of reading this dumb crap?’ Beatrix snorts. She begins to pull the pages, tearing them. ‘Whoops!! Looks like my slippery fingers have caused a tear!’ she giggles.

Morrigan HAD to return it to Cato. She had it long enough and had forgot another at home, breaking her vow to him that she would keep his books no longer than a week. Flooded with despair, she gets up as her breathing thickens. The sound of her heartbeat overwhelms her ears.

‘DON’T TEAR THE PAGES!’ she shrieks.

The entire hallway is silenced. Passive, but alarmed glances glare back at Morrigan. Her heartbeat gets louder and louder.

‘Please!! Those books don’t belong to me—!’

Beatrix heaves the heavy book at Morrigan’s face, before she can finish her sentence. The book, heavy as it was, crunches up her nose, and mows her right down to the ground.

‘EUAAGH!’ Morrigan screams, as a downpour of warm blood trickles on the stone-cold floor. A crowd has now gathered behind her, watching the events unfold.

Beatrix growls like a bear as she picks up the book. ‘You dumb fucking WHELP!!! You spoke?!’

‘These aren’t my books—!’

Another thwack. This time, the book strikes against her shoulder, dazing it. The cruelty Beatrix was exhibiting seemed to disturb Jeanette and Stacey, as they watch with stunned horror. A crowd gathers together, to witness the match between Beatrix and Morrigan.

‘It looks like she spoke back,’ a spectator quietly says.

As Morrigan lies on the ground quivering and helpless, wiping the blood from her nose, Beatrix stands before her, and raises the hefty tome high enough to deliver a devastating blow to her head.

‘You’re nothing but a waste of air and space.’ she growls.

‘Drop it! Drop it! DROP IT!’ somebody in the crowd howls. Soon, a symphony of cries begging Beatrix to drop it on Morrigan’s head initiates. Jeanette and Stacey remain deadly quiet.

Morrigan decides it’s time to give up, her strength incredibly sapped by the arrival of Beatrix’s menacing grin.

‘Do it,’ she thinks to herself. ‘You’ll be doing me a favour….’

A wonderful gleam on Beatrix’s beautiful blue moons declares that she’s ready to drop it.

‘Do it. Do it—!’

‘My book, Miss Dazda?’ a familiar, shadowy voice calls out.

Beatrix grips the book. Her sapphire moons widening. Everybody’s eyes follow hers, to stare listlessly up at the speaker. Morrigan, gathering the last of her strength within her, knows who it is….

Cato.

💀

Morrigan dashes through the empty halls, her final destination the library out in the courtyard. She was aware that Cato would be irritated at her late arrival, but in all her time working as a volunteer at the library, she was never on time… unless it was a weekend. Her benefit was that she didn’t live near anybody in school, so walking into them wouldn’t be a problem on Saturdays and Sundays.

Except on rare occasions.

Although being late wouldn’t be a bother to Cato, she did promise him last night when she bumped into him on ‘accident’ outside the library, that she would try and make it earlier. When she told him, he continued his passive silvery stare as if he didn’t care, but Morrigan knew he trusted her.

The few students piled up in the corridor weren’t bothered as she ebbed and flowed through them.

As she reached the second staircase close to the exit wing before the library, a small smile comes up on her lips. At school, she would keep her emotions at bay to prevent herself from gaining too much attention. But with nobody around her, she reigned free.

‘I’m going to be there very soon! I can’t wait…!’

But she trips on a stray shoelace, and lands straight on the unforgiving hard floor. Her satchel flies right from her hands and vomits out its contents.

There wasn’t anything interesting in there— just schoolbooks, a pencil case, a hand mirror shaped as a cute ghost, concealer to hide her scratches and bruises, tissues, a water bottle, a calculator and of course… the unusual auburn tome that caught Miss Harvey’s fearful glance. Embarrassed, Morrigan hurriedly picks up her items.

But she’s not fast enough.

‘Well, if it isn’t Little Miss Bookworm?’ a voice interjects.

Morrigan freezes.

She could recognise that voice, even if she was in space, and had a heavy helmet on. She could hear it in an underground bunker, through the rush of a busy shopping mall— anywhere silent or abnormally loud, she could always hear Beatrix Dazda’s voice above anything.

A sly smirk emerged from the corners of Beatrix’s pretty mouth. She was the same age as Morrigan, the same year— but the two were different. Beatrix boasted an ‘incredible gift of young physical perfection’, according to the unreal beauty standards that many worshipped around her.

According to those standards, Beatrix was a handsome goddess, with a face ‘none could forget’. When one has beauty, they feel that they have the entire world on one pinkie.

That is how Beatrix felt.

And that is how others allowed her to think.

‘If she were right,’ Morrigan thought impatiently, ‘her face ought to be posted in every prison, as it would encourage prisoners to stop reoffending for her sake.

Her face ought to be in every hospital, so people could stop getting ill and recover faster.

Her face ought to be posted everywhere across the world, in every house, building- ANYWHERE, to convince people to be kind to each other for her sake.'

Why is that?

It’s because… she’s pretty.

Morrigan knew she boasted no pleasant attributes that Beatrix had. She didn’t have the golden river of luminous ringlets flowing freely from her head, the blue moons that glittered from her gorgeous eyes, her lips were not a delicate rose pink….

She looked boring. That’s all. She knew she was boring. Nothing interesting, nothing vibrant. Nothing striking.

If she was as wealthy and as useless as Beatrix, she possibly could’ve been her friend. But no. Reality gave her a deal in making her the complete opposite to Beatrix.

But there was no time to contemplate. Morrigan had to snap awake now, away from her innermost feelings.

She was now in front of the threat.

‘Hey, Morrigan’s alive?’ added Stacey Lee, as she approached the scene.

Though Beatrix was a huge threat, Stacey was a belligerent titan, despite her status not being as significant at Beatrix’s. She was almost 6 feet tall. Her long black hair was always tied up in a ponytail, and her blue eyes were always glaring at someone or something. She and Morrigan were nearly friends once.

‘…. She looks skinner than usual. Did you not eat enough books?’

‘It’s because she hasn’t made it to the library,’ continued Jeanette Bush, sliding sneakily from behind Stacey.

Jeanette wasn’t a huge threat on her own. She never slapped or punched Morrigan. However, her ability at being able to attract crowds to her side was fearsome enough— she could grab anybody for Beatrix’s use and make them do anything. Her thick purple hair was shaped into braids, adorned with golden flower clips. Although she had been friends with Beatrix forever, and knew everything about her, Jeanette preferred Stacey’s company.

‘You haven’t been there in a while. On a hunger strike, aren’t we?’ her soft brown eyes glittered.

‘Hahah!!!’ expelled Beatrix. ‘Do you like books, Morrigan?’

Morrigan nods back. She knew if she said something, she’d be in for a world of pain.

‘Why, that’s no surprise!’

Her beautiful blue moons spot the ghastly auburn book on the floor. An intimidating purple aura glowed around it.

‘Oh, no!! Cato’s book!! I can’t let them get it!’

Morrigan tries to reach out for it, but Stacey grabs her hair, and drags Morrigan towards her. The piercing pain of her hair being tugged almost makes her cry out in pain, but Stacey covers her mouth with a fierce but well-manicured hand.

‘This little thing must be yours!’ Beatrix giggles, as she approaches the book.

‘Who else would it belong to?’ added a foul smile from Stacey, looking back at Jeanette for approval. But Jeanette wasn’t smiling. Beatrix’s expression was now as dissonantly blank as a sheet of paper.

Stacey’s idiotic smile slowly fades as a slap is spread across her fair face, with such intensity, she is almost flung back with Morrigan. The imprint of a red hand sticks out from her creamy cheek.

Beatrix gives her an intense glare, her blue moons shining with rage. ‘Know your place, dumbass. Or you’re DEAD.’ she snorts, giving a sinister, demonic glare to Stacey.

Stacey nods quickly, shaking from head to toe. ‘I’m sorry, Beatrix, don’t be mad!!’

Though it didn’t look like it, Morrigan knew Beatrix was getting to her final stage of fury, the stage in which she knew that any method of getting away from her and the others unhurt was impossible.

Beatrix snatches the book from the floor, astounded by how strange and… ethereal it looked. She flicks through it impatiently, not bothering to read it properly, but giving it a sneer.

She looks down at Morrigan. ‘It’s damn weird, like you.’

The words sharply stab Morrigan’s heart, as intensely as they always do. She couldn’t understand why the others couldn’t see her as human, just because she liked things… slightly abnormal.

Beatrix soon gets bored of flicking through the book, and hands it over to Morrigan.

‘Huh? She’s giving it back…? Perhaps this is a good sign…..’ Morrigan thought. Usually, Beatrix would’ve given her a massive slap, a heavy stomp on her foot, or a LONG lecture about her being a ‘welch’ or something.

Morrigan reaches out for the book, but Beatrix pulls it away at the last second, cackling like a witch.

‘Stupid bitch. Hey, Jeanette!! Catch!’

She tosses the book over to Jeanette, who just catches the heavy tome.

‘What the heck is this? What are you reading?!’ she flicks through the pages, unable to understand a word that’s in it. The book had no words, only symbols that resembled some form of hieroglyphics.

‘Morrigan, come get it! I don’t want it!’

She throws it at Morrigan, but Stacey catches it.

‘Hey, Jen, why’d you throw it to me? Come and get it, Bookworm!’

Morrigan turns towards her to grab it, but it whacks her on the face, stunning her senseless and causing her to fall to the ground. A roar of laughter explodes from the girls’ mouths, as they pick up the book, and keep tossing it amongst each other, like a game of netball.

‘What a weirdo- what kind of kicks do you get out of reading this dumb crap?’ Beatrix snorts. She begins to pull the pages, tearing them. ‘Whoops!! Looks like my slippery fingers have caused a tear!’ she giggles.

Morrigan HAD to return it to Cato. She had it long enough and had forgot another at home, breaking her vow to him that she would keep his books no longer than a week. Flooded with despair, she gets up as her breathing thickens. The sound of her heartbeat overwhelms her ears.

‘DON’T TEAR THE PAGES!’ she shrieks.

The entire hallway is silenced. Passive, but alarmed glances glare back at Morrigan. Her heartbeat gets louder and louder.

‘Please!! Those books don’t belong to me—!’

Beatrix heaves the heavy book at Morrigan’s face, before she can finish her sentence. The book, heavy as it was, crunches up her nose, and mows her right down to the ground.

‘EUAAGH!’ Morrigan screams, as a downpour of warm blood trickles on the stone-cold floor. A crowd has now gathered behind her, watching the events unfold.

Beatrix growls like a bear as she picks up the book. ‘You dumb fucking WHELP!!! You spoke?!’

‘These aren’t my books—!’

Another thwack. This time, the book strikes against her shoulder, dazing it. The cruelty Beatrix was exhibiting seemed to disturb Jeanette and Stacey, as they watch with stunned horror. A crowd gathers together, to witness the match between Beatrix and Morrigan.

‘It looks like she spoke back,’ a spectator quietly says.

As Morrigan lies on the ground quivering and helpless, wiping the blood from her nose, Beatrix stands before her, and raises the hefty tome high enough to deliver a devastating blow to her head.

‘You’re nothing but a waste of air and space.’ she growls.

‘Drop it! Drop it! DROP IT!’ somebody in the crowd howls. Soon, a symphony of cries begging Beatrix to drop it on Morrigan’s head initiates. Jeanette and Stacey remain deadly quiet.

Morrigan decides it’s time to give up, her strength incredibly sapped by the arrival of Beatrix’s menacing grin.

‘Do it,’ she thinks to herself. ‘You’ll be doing me a favour….’

A wonderful gleam on Beatrix’s beautiful blue moons declares that she’s ready to drop it.

‘Do it. Do it—!’

‘My book, Miss Dazda?’ a familiar, shadowy voice calls out.

Beatrix grips the book. Her sapphire moons widening. Everybody’s eyes follow hers, to stare listlessly up at the speaker. Morrigan, gathering the last of her strength within her, knows who it is….

Cato.