Thirteen

The eyes of Nine is of mine own. As was with all of the other female projects I was made with. Many identical twins were birthed with at least one odd trait.

It was then that I was staring at Nine’s missing finger. Many, many times before I had felt them blink at the severed lobe of my right ear. Each of us, flawed.

Nine smiled. “What’s the matter, Thirteen? You seem...cautious, perhaps.”

Nine had the sense of touch. She was able to feel others emotions, as well as able to change the core temperature of your body. Unlike others, she was able to feel finger prints that the natural body was unable to detect. She could alter the human body in ways unimaginable, grotesque even.

But, above all, you did not want Nine to physically touch you.

“The elements are elsewhere,” I answered, sternly. When I spoke, my lips didn’t move. My voice carried beyond them. “So why, might I ask, are you deliberately migrating in my direction?” We had already been released, and at the moment of departure, Three immediately had gone.

“If it’s any concern of yours,” Nine threw out carelessly. “I would like to...study my fellow accomplices.”

“Very well.” I didn’t consciously speak this time, but I knew she was able to hear me. If Nine would like to waste her time reviewing what she had already seen of me, she would.

I stopped my journey on the busy, paved streets of San Fransisco. The citizens were littering the streets, all different voices and pitches pervading the air. Their sound waves echoed off of the back of my throat, and I breathed in the vibrations. I needed them like I needed the air.

And, I closed my eyes.

I let myself sort through every sound in the world, casually picking through the peculiar ones. So many sounds of laughter, love, hate, sadness.

And then, I heard the music.

It was a soft, perfect tune. Far away, but it was there. Within each of the gifted protectors lies within a song. A song that only I can hear. A song that only I can track. The song was neither a voice of a man or a woman, but of both. Not of a young boy or girl, but of both. Nor human nor beast.

Because, within each protector, held the melody of the world. The tune of what was to come and the tale of what had already happened.

After I judged the distances of the songs by their vibrations, I opened my eyes.

I knew where they were.

And, so, began the bloodshed.

I turned to Nine, delight in my eyes. I could hear the words of what she was going to say before she said it.

“Watch yourself. Thirteen, after all, is a cursed number.”