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Myla
I’m deaf and I can’t breathe. My lungs are on fire and feel like they’re collapsing inward. Where moments before I saw fire and sparks and smoke, now all I see is blackness…and some kind of purple and gold clouds…
I’m so cold…cold to the point of burning. I’m gonna die.
Against my will, my eyes close. And then nothing…
Screaming. Horrible, heart-stopping screaming.
My eyes snap open; my ribcage feels like it exploded and somebody put it back together piecemeal. I’m lying down in agony and try to bolt upright, but some kind of metal cuffs have got my wrists and ankles trapped. I arch my back in protest, crying and screaming like…a banshee…
A hand smashes across my mouth, stunning me into silence. I blink several times, seeing stars…but not the void of space, at least.
A harsh, guttural voice begins speaking.
“Be quiet, Human!” the voice spats. “Or I will silence your shrill voice!”
I turn my head toward the words, confused and terrified. An alien who looks something like a filthy rodent is standing over me.
“What are y-y-you?” I stammer, unable to identify the species by sight alone.
The alien grins, displaying a mouth full of disgusting, pointed teeth.
The gurgling stops and the thing gets in my face, fetid breath makes me gag, and I scream and scream and scream…
“Myla! MYLA!” a voice permeates my dream.
Hands are shaking my shoulder and I spring up, crouching low on all fours, a growl rumbling from my throat. I see nothing but red as the blood pumps through my veins.
“Myla?” the voice asks, uncertain.
Myla. Myla…my name. Myla is my name. I am Myla McPhail, from Georgia, USA, on Earth.
I blink rapidly, a single tear spilling down my cheek, and then a face comes into focus…
Tekil.
“Myla?” he says again softly.
I throw my arms around his neck, feel him gently stroke my hair.
“Is something wrong?”
“No. It was just a nightmare.” I let go of his neck and force a smile. “Sorry.”
He nods, letting out a slow, deep breath, his eyebrows pulling close. “Are you sure?”
“I am, thanks.”
As I pick the mossy brown stuff from the side of my face, I glance at Tekil. He looks so put- together, not as filthy as I feel. It probably has something to do with his blue skin not showing as much dirt as my fair complexion. I really need to wash off.
After a terse moment, he nods and says, “If you are hungry, I caught us some food.”
That perks me right up, my uncomfortable filthiness forgotten. I’m starving. “Really?”
“Yes,” he smiles, showing his canines. It’s a little unnerving. “Come on.”
