The Inner Self: The Prophecy

by Raqurra Ishmar

  Two hours later and we’re pulling up to a gorgeous three story mini mansion. The huge iron gate that surrounds the perimeter is open, giving us access to this massive property. Cars already line the front of the house, and Cymone finds a spot in an area where we won’t get boxed in.

  “Wow,” she breathes. “I didn’t know that there were homes like this out here. Look at this place, Ren! It’s huge!” I can’t help but agree with her. The house is about the length of half of a football field. Giant white pillars hold up the roof over the porch, and ground lights cast illumination onto the face of the house. The light blue building looks almost grey in the night and the trimmed bushes surrounding the house cast weird shadows on it. I have a flashback to my dream, the way the shadows danced along the walls. “Let’s go fuck things up, girl!” Cymone yells before getting out of the car. I shake off the eerie feeling that’s clinging to me and get out behind her.

  So many cars and kids are piled onto the lawn; this can’t possibly be just the kids from our high school. It’s like they invited everyone from every high school in town. Music spills from inside and, by the excited feeling in the air, we’re in for a great night. I pull down my short green skirt, trying to get it to go beyond mid-thigh with no such luck. My black tube top is covering only my chest, leaving my stomach and shoulders bare to the world. The high heels that Cymone coerced me into wearing makes me feel like I’m getting ready to work the corner.

  “Don’t you think it’s a little overkill to have not only most of my body naked and bare, but to also wear these stripper heels as well?” I ask for what feels like the millionth time.

  “Girl, shut the fuck up. You look fine as hell, and if I wasn’t your best friend and arguably obsessed with men, I’d have the biggest girl crush on you right now.” I chuckle at that, not even bothering with correcting her on how I look.

  “No matter how you feel, you make sure no one knows. Be confident, Ren.”

  Ever since that weird dream, Sheya and I have been working together a little bit more, and I like it. I tilt my head up and strut into the party like I own the fucking place.

  “That’s what I’m talking about!” Cymone says, performing her own strut. She looks amazing in a baby blue, skin-tight halter dress. Her brown curls are bouncing and shining to perfection and her short height is increased due to her ankle breaking stilettos.

  Heads turn as we glide into the room, we pause in the doorway as if we choreographed this shit. A smile pulls at my lips as I struggle to not laugh out loud at the ridiculousness of our dramatic entrance .

  I take a deep breath before speaking.

  “Hey Sheya?”

  “Yeah, Dipshit?”

  “You want to take over?”

  My question is met with silence. I know they think that I’m just trying to be funny, but I honestly want to see if we can switch back and forth like my dream me did with Shaye.

  “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll have to decline.”

  “What? Why? You always said how much you hated being trapped. I’m giving you the option not to be.”

  “Yeah, well, I want that offer to come without all of the doubt.”

  Shit. They’re right. I do want to switch but I don’t trust Sheya to give me back control when I want it. I guess we’ll have to take baby steps.

  “Ren! I’ve been trying to get your attention for like, three minutes. This is not the time to be spacing out. We have the attention of so many guys right now!” Cymone gushes.

  I look around the room, stupidly in awe of the grandeur of it all. Bodies twist and turn around each other, without much room to spare. The music thumps to a high beat, increasing the adrenalin that’s pumping through my veins. The energy in the room is high and I immediately start to sway to the beat. Cymone grabs my hand and pulls me onto the makeshift dance floor. Sofas were pushed against the wall to create the open space. Bodies writhed together to the music, while others are sprawled across the sofa, doing things that should be saved for the bedroom.

  “Or the girl’s bathroom at school,” Sheya says.

  Yeah, or that.

  Cymone and I dance together, doing moves that would be a little less raunchy if they weren’t done in clothing as short as ours. Some of my teammates find us and we all dance together, swaying our hips and popping our asses to the beat. I almost forget that the main reason I came to the party was to see my boys.

  “Your boys?” Sheya says.

  “You know what I meant.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  I spin Cymone around, both of us laughing joyously at our antics. The music switches over to a slow song, and we depart from the dance floor as all of the couples flood it. “Let’s go get a drink!” Cymone yells, even though the music is mellow enough for her to talk normally. We follow the sea of people who are all heading, to what I assume to be, the kitchen.

  Sure enough, we spill into a fully upgraded kitchen. A group of kids are using the long wooden table for beer pong, and by the hoops and hollering coming from that group, someone is probably having to chug down a drink right about now. Cymone grabs two red cups and quickly fill them up with whatever is in that container. She tries to hand one to me, but I decline.

  “Girl, you better drink! I know you have this weird no alcohol ever thing, but loosen up for once!”

  It’s not that I have an aversion to alcohol. I’d love to partake in the same activities as my peers. It’s just that alcohol lowers inhibitions and I don’t know what would happen. Sheya and I have been ok since the dream, but I don’t know how far I could actually push that.

  “See,” Sheya says smugly. “Not too long ago you offered me control, now you’re not drinking because you’re afraid I’ll take it.”

  “I know. I don’t know what I want.”

  “Figure it out. She’s waiting.”

  I shakily reach out and grab the cup from her hand, looking down into it as the reddish liquid sloshes inside of the cup. The aroma floating from my drink smells like straight alcohol, no chaser.

  “That’s what I’m talking about! Bottoms up, bitch! Here’s to our senior year!” Cymone chugs back her drink like a pro, and I try to do the same thing. A little of it spills out the side of my mouth, and I wince at the ungraceful way I just chugged that. The alcohol pools in my stomach and I can already feel it making its way through my system. “Let's get a refill and then we can find those sexy men of yours!”

  After topping off our drinks, we make our way to the backyard. The vibe back here is a lot more chill and people are doing a lot more lounging than they are dancing. I see some kids from school in the pool, and from the looks of it, they’re using their underwear as bathing suits. Eh, they’re all the same, honestly.

  “Hey, Ren!” someone calls out. Who am I kidding, I know exactly who it was.

  “Cay! Hey!” Cymone bellows out. We weave our way over to where he and the guys are sitting. I stop when I see that there’s a girl I don’t know perched on Zavid’s lap.

  What the fuck? I take a big sip of my drink, hoping that the effects take hold soon. Why do I even care that he has some barely dressed girl sprawled out in his lap like she always vacations there? I barely talk to him anyway.

  “Damn, Ren! You look amazing,” Caylen says. His sapphire eyes peruse my body from head to toe and back up again. It’s almost like he caressed me with his hands, I can feel his gaze on my skin in ways I thought was impossible. Cymone clears her throat and gives him a pointed look. “Awww, c’mon Cymone! You know you look amazing as well!” He reaches over and pulls her into a bear hug. And once again my jealousy rears its ugly head.

  “That’s your best friend? Are you mad ‘cause he’s never hugged you… like ever?” Sheya taunts.

  “Actually, dickwad, that’s exactly why I’m jealous.”

  Before I can look too deep into their clearly platonic affection, I’m grabbed by a pair of hands that are overly familiar with my body already.

  “Renee,” Titus’ deep voice murmurs.
“Did anyone tell you how sinful you look in that barely there outfit.” His big hands wraps around my midsection, and my stomach clenches at the contact. I lean into him and look up into his steel colored eyes.

  “No one has said I looked sinful, but I’m going to take that as a compliment,” I breathe. He leans down lower, even though he doesn’t have far to go, and our noses brush together.

  “Aren’t we supposed to be getting to know each other? Or are we skipping that and getting straight to the good part?” he whispers.

  Fuck it. Let’s skip the getting to know each other part; is what I wanted to say. But I step out of his embrace and give him a tentative smile.

  “So, um, Ren? Can I get some of that love too?” Caylen calls from behind me. I turn around and I’m engulfed in his cinnamon scent. “I told you, I want to be included in the next round,” he whispers in my ear. My mouth dries out as I feel the press of a big palm against the small of my back. Even though I’m not technically pressed between them, having Titus touch me at the same time as Caylen has my libido running at full speed.

  “I’ll be sure to send you the invite,” I whisper back. His sudden intake of breath lets me know that I caught him off guard with my comment. I lean up to plant a kiss on his cheek before turning and finding my own seat amongst the chairs. Cymone sits besides me and not-so-discreetly pinches me on my thigh. I nudge her with my shoulder, hiding my smile by taking another sip of my drink.

  “Am I not going to get a hello?” Zavid asks behind the wall of tits sitting on his lap.

  “Hey,” I toss out, not even looking in his direction. I finish the rest of my drink and I’m a little upset that I’m not really feeling this shit yet.

  “You’re feeling it more than you know,” Sheya says, a little louder than what I’m used to. It’s almost like they’re sitting right next to my psyche instead of in the background. Shit.

  “Ren?” Cymone asks. I look over to her and she flinches for a second before leaning closer. “What the hell, girl? I thought your eyes flashed red for a second.”

  “What? You sure it’s not the liquor?”

  “Shit, it might be. These type of drinks hit harder than most people are prepared for. And you inhaled your second cup already?! You were supposed to chug the first and babysit the second!”

  “Why didn’t you tell me that?!” I screech.

  “Oh wow,” the unwanted girl says. “You’d think that you’ve never had a sip of liquor before.”

  I glance at Miss Tits and Thighs and narrow my eyes. Her cup spills all over the front of her skimpy ass dress and I can’t help but feel proud of what I accomplished. Wait, I did that without Sheya’s help?

  “No, I’m closer to the surface than you clearly can tell.”

  “Well, might as well have some fun.”

  “What? Really?”

  “Hell yeah.”

  Tits and Thighs stand up, screaming about how she has to go to the bathroom and how the hell did her cup spill like that? You’ll never know, poor baby. Zavid glares at me when his path is clear of the hysterical girl, and I glare right back. Suits him right, he shouldn’t have had her on his lap in the first place. I tilt my head a little bit and focus on the music inside of the house. “Turn it up,” I think to Sheya. They don’t respond back to me, but the music is now blaring loud enough for us to hear it outside. I stand up, tittering a little bit on my heels, and I reach out for Caylen and Titus. “Come, dance with me,” I say to them both.

  I don’t even look at anyone else as I drag my boys a few steps away from our little group. Once we’re in the center of most of the little groups, I grab Titus by the front of his shirt and I tug him against my front while I grab Caylen by his hand and tug him against my back. A sensual song starts playing, and I can’t help but feel like that was done courtesy of Sheya. Four strong hands grip my exposed skin, and I feel like I’m on fire.

  “Are you sure about this, Ren?” Caylen whispers against my ear as he grinds into my ass. I lean back against his strong chest, tilting my head back so that I can feel him even more against my face.

  “Am I sure about what?” I ask coyly, even though I know what he means.

  “Sure about us, Renee,” Titus answers instead. I look up into his eyes, and I know that, in this moment, I haven’t been more sure about anything before in my life.

  “I think that’s the alcohol,” Sheya says. Or was it me? I feel us merging closer together, and I don’t know who is who right now.

  “This is it,” we think. “This is what we’re supposed to be.” We reach up and grab Titus by his jaw, dragging him down until his lips are molded against mine. For a moment he simply just pauses, and before he can catch up to what I’m doing, I spin around and face his brother. “The real question,” we say. “Is are you sure about this?” We grab his jaw and smash our lips against his as well. Unlike Titus, Caylen immediately reacts. His hands grips our waist tighter, dragging us against his hard form. We clench his shirt tighter in our hands and our body temperature keeps rising.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “It’s getting too hot. Too loud.”

  “I can feel everything.”

  “I can smell everything.”

  “We have to go.”

  “Now! We have to go now!”

  We jerk our mouth away from Caylen, shoving him and Titus away from us. We stagger away from their sprawled out forms, trying to focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

  “Ren!” Cymone calls out, racing to catch up with us. “Girl! What the hell was that?! One minute I’m watching you dominate those two boys and then you flung them away? How the hell did you do that?”

  We don’t stop walking, instead we look at our friend and she flinches away. “Ren,” she whispers. “Your eyes.”

  We stop at the back sliding doors to look at our reflection and burgundy eyes gaze back at us. It’s not as red as our mother’s was in our dream, but it’s definitely noticeable.

  “We have to leave,” we tell Cymone while walking into the house. Which was the wrong move. The noise is too loud and there are too many people. Too many energies. Too many emotions! With a single thought we shut the music completely off and we rush through the confused masses with a nervous Cymone trailing behind us. We can feel her uneasiness, but her love and loyalty outweighs her other feelings and we’re grateful for that.

  We make it out onto the front lawn and a sharp pain pierces through our head. We cry out and fall to the ground.

  “Ren! What’s going on? Are you sick? I swear the drinks weren’t roofied or anything! Oh shit, oh shit,” Cymone says, panic gripping each of her words.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Zavid says, walking from the shadows as if he’s been stalking us this whole time.

  “Danger.” We lash out towards him, freezing him to his spot. Cymone glances over at him with confusion clouding her eyes.

  “Um, hey. This is a weird time to be playing freeze tag, are you going to help or what?”

  “Cymone,” we say. “Take us home, please.”

  “Us? Who else do I need to take home?”

  “Just us,” is all we’re able to say before passing out.

  10

  Renee/Sheya

  My cousins run around our home, all of them excited because in a few days, some of us are going to be blessed with our Inner Self. It’s also a terrifying time, because some of us won’t be. Our Inner Self will grant us abilities from our ancestors in the Other, and that would show the rest of the world our favor. Once blessed with our Inner Self, we will cease to age after our eighteenth year and can live for a long time. The stronger we are, the longer we live. The King is the oldest known Blessed in history.

  “Ren,” my mother says as she walks over to me. Her brown skin is flawless and her curly hair reaches down to the back of her thighs. She looks only a few years older than my sixteen, and I have to keep reminding myself that she’s my mother and not my sister. “
You have nothing to worry about, my child. Our family has always been blessed by the Ancestors. You will receive your Inner Self.”

  “But how can you be so sure?” I ask. “Aunty Ariese has her Inner Self, but two of her children do not.”

  “That’s because your uncle does not have his Inner Self. Thankfully, he will live as long as Ariese due to the mating Ceremony, but that does not guarantee that all of their children will be blessed with one. That was the sacrifice that she has made; she will out live some of her children unless they mate with someone who are Blessed.”

  “So, you are saying that I have a better chance of having an Inner Self?” I ask, timidly.

  “Yes,” she answers. “Your father and I are both Blessed with strong Inner Selves. We are even strong enough to be contenders for the throne.”

  I gasp, looking around to make sure that no one else heard her. She knows that if the King hears of anyone strong enough to take the throne from him, he will have them executed.

  “Don’t worry, Ren, there is no one or nothing that will take us away from you.”

  Our eyes open up and try to focus on the room around us, but we can’t seem to see anything. Our body is on fire and it feels like our insides are getting shredded to pieces.

  “She’s transitioning,” someone says. We try to turn our head towards the voice, but we don’t have any strength “Look at her, we can barely get within three feet of her body before falling to our knees.”

  “So, what do you want us to do? She’s not supposed to go through the Awakening for another six months!” another voice says.

  “We have to take her back right now. That’s our only choice,” the first voice says.

  “And how do we do that? You just said that we can’t get close to her, so what would you have us do?”

  “Leave her alone,” a third voice says. “She doesn’t deserve what’s in store for her if we take her back.”

  “Stop thinking with your dick, Titus. Dad is depending on us.” Titus? Are we dreaming or is this conversation really happening.