Indigo Whispers: The Collective

At first all she could see was light.

Straining, shuddering, the hunched figure on the ground peeled open her eyes to a blinding light. However, a few minutes of blinking revealed that said light was not truly that strong; only a window in the nearby wall. Her vision was only recovering from having just awoken.

Awoken? How long had she been asleep?

As she pondered this her senses seemed to kick into action. First, the floor. A noticeable soreness in her body seemed to be from lying on a concrete surface. It was pure white, which only magnified the feeling of bright light. Then, the smell. Or if not a smell, a definite tickling in her nostrils. Was it.. dust? Yes, there seemed to be a dust lingering in the air, covering every surface. This confused her - why was everything so filthy? Surely she hadn't fallen asleep in an abandoned room? However, she didn't have to dwell on it long. As she fully grounded herself she saw that the window she had been facing was not in fact a window. It was a hole. A jagged, gaping hole in the wall. It had to be at least five feet around, and was allowing soft sunlight to stream in from outdoors.

Panic immediately choked her like she'd just swallowed a rock. Surely - surely it hadn't happened again? Not again. Anything but this. Desperately, she dug her clawed fingers into the floor and shakily rose to her feet, wanting a better look. Her long, snow white hair immediately fell in her face, tangled with debris, but she was too distracted to care. Nothing she saw quenched her fear. The damage, it was everywhere - cracks in every wall, chunks of concrete littering the area, battered and broken equipment scattered at the corners. The girl's vision swam once more as she tried to examine the possibilities. Was this truly an abandoned room? Had she just stumbled across some remnants of last time's damage? No... they'd reassured her that had already been solved.
Then, as she stared in horror at the floor, the memories all came flooding in.

Amia was an indigo child. That is to say, she was one of the many in the world with a genetic anomaly that granted her a supernatural ability. Such abilities came in many forms - well known traits like telekinesis, all the way to destruction of matter to the ability to see every star in the sky like a map. Possibilities seemed endless. Oh, how she often wished hers was something more innocent.

This child in particular had been gifted with an ability revolving around animals. With the correct focus and knowledge her body was capable of morphing. Facial features, hands and tail would all shift to that of her animal of choice. Not only that, she would gain the metabolism and other physical advantages of whatever came into play. It seemed interesting enough, perhaps even cute or fun to some. But as every indigo child has their disadvantages, so must she.

Relevant right now was that Amia was highly prone to mood swings. This was fairly common among those with personality disorders, particularly cluster b. One minute she would be over the moon about this lovely new book, the next, suicidal because of a misinterpreted glance. Naturally this was treatable through therapy. Yet her case was made so much worse through this ability. With every shift, with every new animal, her mental state would grow more unstable, more confusing, and her mood and behaviors would travel in circles. And with carnivorous animals she would tend towards one emotion: anger

She didn't mean to. She truly didn't. It was just so, so easy to find reasons for anger in those forms. That boy tapping his foot. That teacher's tone of voice. The way that friend seemed to ignore her words. Such things were like a bug - they burrowed under her skin and screamed at her until she just couldn't do it. These sorts of mood swings happened in all forms, generally. But with a carnivorous form it was always bound to lead to an outburst. Fists pounding. Voice screeching. Claws reaching and aching for something to just tear into.

Oh, she remembered. This was one of the training rooms at the ICS headquarters, or Indigo Children Society, an organization dedicated to rescuing and caring for people like her. A place she'd lived for many years now. The man training her that day had been helping her work on increasing the speed of shifts. Animal to animal, then back to a neutral form - it would be a useful skill to have. He'd meant well. Or had he? In truth, she couldn't tell. The way he'd looked at her when she slipped up had just seemed so condescending in her eyes. In what felt like mere seconds the rage overflowed. Strength of a lion, razor sharp teeth, eyes that only saw reasons to destroy, destroy, destroy.

All at once the tears came. Spilling over her nose, hot and bitter, no matter how she wiped them away. The action only served to make her feel pathetic. Why? Why couldn't she simply control herself for once? Why was it that no matter what she tried, she would never, ever ever be good enough? She deserved to be abandoned like this. In fact, she deserved to die! Something was coming out of her mouth - most likely an automatic stim word - but she didn't quite care what it was. She also didn't care that her knees appeared to have hit the floor again. A distant part of her feared another outburst from all the layered emotions, but the adrenaline of before seemed to have worn off. She was now in her most comfortable form; the ears and tail of a black housecat.

The self pity didn't last long. Suddenly, Amia had become aware of something new: footsteps echoing from what she now noticed was an open door. It wasn't clear how long the sound had been present, but she now recognized it must be quite close. Mingled within it was something like panicked voices. Seconds passed before her misery turned to icy cold fear. Tail bristling, hands trembling, she hopped to her feet and eyed the entrance. Who was it? Perhaps someone come to punish her? The trainer from before? There appeared to be multiple; perhaps a group to detain her? An irrational fear, perhaps - the workers here all knew the risks of so many children with abilities under one roof, and only ever sought to assist in their growth. Then again, Amia had never exactly been known for her rational thoughts.

She was so prepared to make a break for it that the face which appeared almost shocked her back to the floor. Soft square face, thin blonde locks, and a signature floppy brown sweater. This was Jacquelyn Wilson, better known as Jackie, and one of the few people Amia fully trusted. They were panting hard, their hair tousled as if from a long period of exercise. Jackie was quite jumpy and avoidant of risks - the fact that they were here so suddenly said much about the seriousness of the situation. Tears filled their soft eyes when they saw her, and they started to gasp out words.

"Amy! A - Amy! I'm here, we're here - I - I'm sorry - You're okay! You're - okay, right?"

Rigid fear caught hold of them as they took notice of the surrounding damage. The next sentence was softer, more hesitant.

"Amy... what - what happened?"

Relief washed over Amia like a waterfall. Then came anxiety, then self hatred, and finally a sense of pure, stinging emptiness. She attempted to croak out an explanation for her friend, but the words refused to come. Only the shaky, tired declaration of -

"I was angry."