[ Chapter One ]

[Four months earlier, in the year of 2230]

There was something so unbelievably hard about getting up in the mornings, if there were any way I could stay in my bed for eternity I'm sure I would've have found it.

My sheets clung to my sweat covered body, and I raked a free hand through tangled locks of hair as I remembered the particularly strange nightmare I've been having on and off for months now.

I huffed out a breath, "just a bad dream."

I was already uninterested in today's activities. My body was limp and slothful, unwillingly I pushed the covers back, "Please let today be a better day than the last." I whispered.

I heard my fathers voice calling for me, reluctantly I stepped outside of my bed, leaving the warmth behind me. I glanced out my window and saw how miserable it was outside.

It was down pouring; pounding a relentless rhythm against my window. The sky was darkened with clouds of black and gray, covering the city in a blanket of what looked of certain doom.

I washed my face and brushed my teeth before pulling my shoulder length dark hair in a ponytail. My lanky my arms slipped into a dark grey long-sleeved shirt over my head. Also, I had to throw out some crazy awkward moves to get myself into my favorite black jeans before finally settling on a pair of retro converse that I had bought in this old thrift shop.

Our society has been divided into two main groups, the Innate-organics, which were more or less people with a more natural minimalistic  life style and the Artificials.

The Artificials usually held  the political positions, and generally speaking are very rich. Although I've seen Innate-organics transition, and I've also seen people who should be organic relate to being an artificial. Usually if your born into an artificial family you stay that way, people usually don't like to give up power.

The organics make sure things run smoothly, they keep peace. Sometimes you can tell by appearance... Innate-organics usually wear natural, soft colors,  while the artificial wear harsh edgy colors like black and silver with metal accessories, only the finest of fine.

Although you can't always trust clothes, if someone's serious enough about the group they'll get their skin branded with the official seal.

I was one of the few who were born into a mixed family, my father fell hopelessly in love with my mother who was an organic. Everything about their relationship shouldn't have worked but their love was so strong. My dad always explained it like Romeo ad Juliet, he was forbidden to be with her but even his parents couldn't stop him.

I could never truly choose which one I could relate more to, lately I've been trying to address myself as more of an artificial. More so because of my father, not because I necessarily want to.

I think its due to the fact my mothers missing in the equation, when she was here I felt balanced, like I had a part of each of them in myself... now that she's gone its like a part of me is gone.

For good measure I added black spiked headband into my hair, it was a little obnoxious because of the intensity of the spikes and height but that's everything Articials wanted to be, bigger and better. Carefully I created thick black stripes over my eyes, trying to be as symmetric as possible.

A rush of cold air hit against my exposed skin making goosebumps rush to the surface like weeds, turning around I saw why. My window was cracked. It was odd, yet, I didn't make a big deal of it...things like that happened to me all the time. It's just the way it's always been, ever since I was a little girl.

I returned to my shoes and laced them up, walking down stairs. I greeted my father who was sat at the island, reading the newspaper. His fingers dipping a tea bag into his steaming cup.

His eyes, looked red and unusually droopy today, and I was sure he had worked long in the night, neglecting to sleep. Most of the time I tried to avoid his eyes because of the very pained expression they gave when he looked at me.

He used to say I looked just like my mother, 'beautiful and bright' with a wide smile on his face, as if it were a blessing that I took after her, only now it feels like a curse.

She died when I was seven years old, I don't know all the details surrounding the incident only that she was shot in the head. The bullet damaging tissue in her brain. By the grace of god somehow she managed to survive the bullet, but was considered brain dead. One night while in the hospital, she suffered a seizure and died in her sleep.

He doesn't speak about her anymore. He was devastated by her death as was I, only I didn't know her as long, she wasn't my soulmate. There was no way I could possibly understand my fathers depression.

Yes, he was devastated. He always gave me the attention I needed, trying to fill both the dad and mom role. There's an uneasy feeling of guilt that settles in the bottom of my stomach, I can't help but think his demeanor and lack of energy is because of all the things I require.

He looks so exhausted anymore.

My fingers worked vigorously to fasten all the accessories of my old black leather cloak, there were snap buckles from my chest to mid thigh. This cloak was easily one of my favorite things because of its durable and very water resistant material.

I also admired its sleekness, and the uncanny resemblance I had to a secret agent when it was fully fastened. My eyes scanned over the assorted fruit basket on the counter before picking out the plumpest apple I could find.

There it was, the steady rhythm of rain against the window in between the silence of our conversation. As I watched my father studied the newspaper intently I realized he hadn't responded.

"Anything new." I asked, a bite from my apple.

An obnoxious crunching sound could be heard from me as I took a few more bites from the apple, I wiped the juice from my mouth with the back of my hand.

"No, just some more advancements on the XGoid-3000, a few deaths of some scientist, and new fashion trends. Nothing important, how's IOAS going." he asked taking a sip of his coffee.

IOAS.

Instruction of academic success.

I found it to be completely unnecessary.

"oh of course, where learning is the future, and the future is learning." I said dramatically with my hands, "IOAS has been great, I'm in advanced honors because my grades are doing so well. I also have another art gallery soon." I said trying to spike more conversation.

He looked up from his newspaper. I've always been a talented artist. I get it from my mom apart from working for the government she was a professional artist on the side.

People would line up around the block just to see her work. I have all of her work that she didn't sell in my room. She used to teach me techniques and how to paint and draw from a young age. It was how we spent most of our time together. When I paint and draw I feel like I'm closer to her. It's how I express myself when I can't explain or talk.

"Really, that's great sweetie. I've been waiting a while, it's been weeks since the last gallery." he said smiling.

His smile seemed broken and disconnected. Almost like he wasn't completely together. For months after my mom's death he wouldn't really speak or talk to me. My memories of my mother and I are faint. Memories of my mother and father are blurry. All I remember is a lot of smiles, love and laughter. He doesn't laugh anymore, he definitely doesn't smile like he used to.

I feel horrible and guilty and I'm not even entirely sure why. I suppose it's because I can't make him smile like she did. That I'm not enough for him as a daughter. I miss her terribly, I miss my father too. The way he used to be.

"Hey!" my father said pulling me from my thoughts.

"Yes." I said looking at him.

"I asked you when the gallery was. Are you alright?" he asked with a worried expression across his face.

I nodded my head giving him a small smile, "Oh I'm fine, just tired that's all, it's next Thursday 4-8. Do you think you can make it?" I asked sending him another reassuring smile.

"Of course, I wouldn't miss it for the world," he exclaimed taking another sip of his coffee."Maybe we can even go out for dinner tonight." he added looking at me.

I was shocked that he had even mentioned something like that. We don't even eat at the table together. The last time we ate together outside of the house was...was when my mom was alive. The thought of eating out with my father seemed like a blessing.

"I would really like that dad." I exclaimed wrapping my arms around him, as soon as he released me I took another bite of my apple.

I glanced at the clock and noticed I was running a bit late. Crap! I can't be late, I have two exams this morning. I took the unfinished apple and threw it in my backpack and kissed my father on the cheek, "Bye dad, gotta run love you!" I blurted through the mashed apple in my mouth.

"Love you more, I'll see you tonight sweetie." he said kissing my forehead and returning to the newspaper.

I turned back looking at my father once more not realizing this would be the last time I would see him again.

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