My life has always been a sort of tragedy.

  I don't remember much about my parents, or my sister. I don't remember much about the home I grew up in. It's not like I don't try, but when I do, the effort in thinking about a time before now, exhausts me. Many things exhaust me, but I'm told as long as I hold my head high, I should be fine. As much as I want to think those words matter, and that being told I matter means more than what it should be, I can't bring it in myself to care.

  Caring is hard.

  ??I don't understand myself, in that regard. Why these feelings that everyone wants me to have, just won't show. I think it's why I can't remember my childhood. Why when my aunt talks to me about my mother, I can't shed a tear. How these videos I see just don't connect. It's like I'm staring at a person who exists, but I'm not that person. I'm just-Here.

  My Aunt tells me I'm depressed. I just think I'm focused. If I felt, I think I wouldn't be able to see where I'm going in life, so it's easier to just not feel. My Aunt says I should pray. Pray to who, I want to ask? What God would listen? What God would turn their ear to me, and say 'ah, you're okay, you're okay, i'm here'. There's worse problems in the world-There Are people who desperately seek out their God and ask for help. There's monsters in the world. Literal, ugly creatures that sprout from the inside of people and rip out of flesh, as if they've stumbled into a curse. Monsters that tumble out of the earth, and mountains. It's commonplace now-Has been, for the last few years. People turn their heads and scream at the sight of winged beasts, goats with four heads that blow fire. Things that destroy the world around them, and people fall. They fight back.

  ??The monsters always return. Stronger.

  Technology doesn't work.

  It's never worked.

  ????The news talks about a three headed snake that's destroyed downtown and has decided to use a mall as it's new home. My aunt sighs about it, hand to her waist and her other hand, waving around the air, as if it would speed up the way she talks.

  "You're still going to school." She says.

  ??I know I would. It's not like this wasn't normal. Last week, a horse with wings swept in and crashed into the side of a semi-truck. The driver swerved into a ditch, and satyrs flooded in from the woods nearby and stole all the boxes from the back.

  I stir my cereal, trying to catch one of the last bits before it got soggy. I can't stand the texture.

  "Alright."

  ??"Noemi." She's sighing again. She sighs a lot. It's usually a heavy sound, with a soft click of her tongue after. Like talking is a chore. She's not angry, though. She says I need to talk more, instead of sitting in silence as often as I do. She always asks what I'm thinking about.

  It's nothing.

  ????Always nothing. When she asks, it's like all the thoughts just come to a stop, and I can't pinpoint what I was thinking about, so I say nothing. Nothing is easier than something.

  She holds up my backpack, wiggling her fingers in a hurry motion. I dump the milk from the bowl in the sink, fix my pleated skirt and go.

  ????????????My school isn't fancy.

  It used to be the sort of school you would send your talented kids, whose grades were constantly hitting the top marks, where other schools would spend a field trip to show off what they could have, but they don't have. It was the sort of school with big gates, and a track field. A swimming pool. A whole cafeteria that held vendors. I liked it, because my favorite place was the corner, right by the doors. So I could sneak out as soon as I finished lunch.

  ??When the monsters started attacking, a bull with iron horns destroyed a school in the downtown area. They got sent here, so now our school was crammed with kids from that school and their teachers, and the principals that split responsibilities. You can tell which kids belong where.

  My school has uniforms. Grey tops, a black belt, and checkered red and grey pants or skirts. Red shoes or black. Jackets had to match the scheme. They took pride in celebrating our mascot, a grey-crowned rosy finch. It's uncreative, when you consider the school name 'Finches Private Academy'. The other school doesn't wear a uniform.

  I'm a little envious of them.

  It's weird feeling envious.

  ??They don't shy away from each other, they joke with their teachers. They huddle together when groups of us pass and laugh under their breaths. I don't know if I should feel offended that way, but I know I envy their... freedom.

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  The old track field is covered in metal buildings that got wheeled in, where they fill up once the bell rings.

  It's only until their school gets rebuilt, I've heard. But it's been several years, and we're used to it. To each other. I walk past a group of kids who are filming a video on their phones, laughing with each other, and duck into the building. It's colder inside, and my skin prickles with goosebumps as I push through students, eyes glued in front of me.

  "N-oe-mi-!"

  ????"Avery." I incline my head, glancing over to the blond. She's taller than me, just as she's a year older. But we're in the same math class, and locker buddies. No one really uses a locker, but Avery likes to pin love letters in hers with pictures of her partner of the month. Mine is neat, stacked with books for each class.

  I can't stand carrying them to and from home.

  "Sooooo, guess what?"

  She always starts our first conversation of the day like this. Asks me to guess, but before I can open my mouth, she's talking.

  ??" - I had this gut feeling that we should hang out today. And before you say no, I know you don't have shit going on."

  I never do, I want to point out. Instead, I open my locker, stare as if I'm trying to remember what I would have been doing, and grab my history book.

  "What are we doing?"

  Avery lights up, grinning. "The old mall."

  ????I pause, shutting the locker, turning to look at her in surprise. Out of all the things? "Are you sure?"

  "Yeah, I just got a feelin' is all."

  "You always have feelings."

  ??"Ain't ever wrong though!" Avery makes a finger-gunning motion, sucking her teeth as she steps back. As much as I wanted to deny it, Avery was never wrong.

  ??????There are times she points out things that make no sense to me, like when we met. She had moved her seat, angled it closer to me and held out her hand. She claimed she knew we would be good friends, and she would predict the pop quizzes before we had them. She would look outside and say 'it's going to rain' right before it fell. Avery was never wrong, even if the timing was off.

  We weren't good friends at first. The first few weeks were awkward, she was grating. She lit up the room every time she walked in, and dragged attention to herself. So when that attention would follow her, it would follow me too. I despised it at first, because it meant people were trying to talk to me, not because they wanted to. Avery would include me, relentlessly.

  Now it's better.

  ??They know I'm not shy, I'm just quiet. I can talk about books, television shows. Things that go past the awkward pleasantry phases.

  "No, I don't think so." I settled with. "See you in math."

  "Make sure you study, Noe!"

  I make a soft groan noise in response, waving a hand.

  ????I only see Avery in math, and a brief moment in the cafeteria, when she's entering and I'm leaving for the next class. She's right, of course, about the pop quiz we get. I didn't study, though. Between history and English, I found myself trying to remember if I ever did that paper on The Great Gatsby or not, so it slips my mind. Avery reiterates that I'm definitely coming after school to the mall.

  "What about the snake?"

  "Eh, it's fine." Avery smiles when she says it. A wide one, that twitches at the edges, her shoulders rising and falling too fast, as she turns towards the window. I think she's staring out at the track field, but her eyes linger towards the sky with a furrowed brow.

  ??????We meet up by the gates later, Avery with her bag slung over her shoulder. She's swaying as she stands, looking down at her phone, Thumb flicking upwards, nose scrunched up. When I approach, she doesn't look up and just makes a sound of acknowledgement.

  "You told your aunt?"

  "I texted her earlier."

  "She didn't care?"

  I don't know how to explain that my Aunt would rather I leave the house for hours and be around people my age, because she fears I've become too mature and emotionally closed off.

  "She's fine."

  "Legit. Okay, I got us an uber."

  ????The ride to the mall is silent, except for Avery's videos andis the drivers music playing low. I have questions-I should ask. Why are we going to the mall? Why are we doing this? Why do I let her?

  I think Avery is assertive. I think she says I will do something and I'll listen because she's determined. I think. . . alot, but I'm not fighting her back. I'm not saying I can do other things. I just go.

  ????It's a very unpleasant feeling, knowing I'm easily pushed around. Unsure if it's her, or just the way I go about my life. It sits in my chest, with a sort of heaviness that makes me wring my hands into my skirt, swallowing the tightness back. Avery doesn't notice, or even if she did, she makes no comment and instead laughs at one of her videos with the sort of high pitched sound that makes our driver glance back with a raised brow.

  By the time we hit the mall, I felt less uneasy, but still uncomfortable with the prospect of being here at a place where a monster was roaming. I think, and I think-We shouldn't be here. Why can't I say it?

  ??????Why can't the words come out of my mouth? Why do I follow, when Avery grabs my hand and snickers when she ducks under yellow tape, her movements so fluid, I think she has done it over and over?

  I follow, like a sheep.

  ??And Avery the shepherd, the wolf-with her wide grin, and dark eyes. She doesn't ask if I'm okay, when my hands get wet from sweat and my stomach drops, feeling as if it was curling up in my guts, ready to burst. At times, Avery hesitates, stopping in the front of collapsed stairs, or a hallway that's illuminated by holes in the ceilings. She talks though, through it all.

  ????Never once does her voice waver.

  It's not until we cross a store, and Avery points it out, that we stop.

  "I loved that place, man. Sold the best fruit snacks."

  I wanted to cry at that, for some reason. "Fruit snacks?"

  ????"Dude, don't judge me." She won't move from this spot. Between cracked floors, and the half-opened metal bars from the store. She's moved through this entire mall with such purpose, my hands shaking while hers steady, that I'm starting to think she brought me here to steal fruit snacks.

  "Avery." I start. She shushes me, turning her head.

  "Stay here, Noe! Imma sneak in."

  "Avery."

  "Listen, you need to watch out for like... y'know. Other people."

  ??????Other people, like cops? Other scavengers? But most others won't be here, most won't sneak into a place where a beast roams? Where was it? Is it why I'm... anxious?

  In the midst of my internal struggle, Avery has already slipped under the bars, her phone's flashlight highlighting her path. My mind is racing, but I can't move. Like I'm trapped, trapped in my head, in my body.

  I've always felt trapped.

  ????The realization comes with nausea.