Inside Out

"Are you sure about this, Luka?"

Luka lay on another mat that had been placed on the floor next to Keisha, with Samuel and the shaman kneeling over them, the former staring anxiously down at him. The ritual to forge a mind-link was about to start, and Samuel still had doubts about sending his delinquent ward into the mind of one of his favourite students.

"Yes. Now chill the fuck out, Bowers," Luka growled in annoyance, earning an eye-roll from the dean, who motioned to the shaman to begin.

The woman pulled out a scepter from her bag of instruments, and began to wave it over Luka and Keisha's heads. "I need you to relax, my lord. You will soon feel extremely drowsy, and a deep sleep will fall upon you. Do not resist it, as this is how the link is forged.

"When you successfully cross the link, you will be present in her consciousness. Your goal is to find where the poison is infiltrating her mind and holding her captive, and then you must destroy it. Be careful, however, as the human mind is a fragile and dangerous place. Do not interfere with her memories or try to change anything you may encounter, as this could lead to catastrophic consequences for both of you."

The pureblood nodded in understanding, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He was about to do something no creature was permitted to do, and a part of him felt nervous, something he hadn't felt in a long time. His only solace was his immortality, although despite knowing that he couldn't die, Luka still felt uneasy. Sure, he may be immortal, but he could get seriously hurt. Mind-linking was a very mentally tasking feat, and any mistakes could lead to him permanently losing his sanity.

The last thing he wanted was to end up mind-fucked for the rest of his eternal life.

Shooing away his dreary thoughts, Luka focused on the voice of the shaman as she passionately chanted her incantations, waving the scepter between the two students. True to her words, Luka felt a spell of tiredness come over him, and his eyes began to flutter to a close.

"Yes, my lord. Fall into a deep slumber."

The voice of the shaman seemed far away, and Luka could feel his consciousness slipping. He relaxed into the warm embrace of deep slumber, his mind finally letting go. This was it; the moment of truth.

Next stop, the little human's consciousness.

-

When Luka opened his eyes, he was lying in a single bed. He jerked up, immediately scanning his surroundings; pink walls, a furry carpet and a dresser with a full-size mirror. It appeared he was in a girl's room.

Was this Keisha's room?

He'd never actually been into the human's room despite flooding it and sending notes there severally, instead using some of his pawns to carry out his dirty work, so he wasn't sure if this room belonged to her. However, he'd been to the female dorms a few times, and he was certain their rooms didn't look anything like this.

Carefully getting out of the neatly arranged bed, Luka stalked over to the dresser to investigate. There was random girl stuff he couldn't identify scattered across the dresser's top, so he searched its drawers instead for information. Pulling out the various drawers, he came across more unidentified female objects, with no clues alluding to the owner of the room.

He groaned in frustration, wondering what kind of person didn't have any kind of identification in their room. Perhaps the room did belong to the human, and he was just overthinking it. After all, he was within her consciousness, so who else could it belong to?

The sound of footsteps approaching put the vampire on alert, and he was torn between hiding or standing his ground. Deciding not to be a coward, Luka cautiously awaited the entry of whoever was coming. The door knob twisted and Luka readied himself for action in case the intruder was dangerous, holding his fists up in a combat-ready manner.

As the door pushed open, a little girl with a big head of kinky hair walked into the room, tears trailing down her cheeks. Luka immediately lowered his fists, not wanting to further scare the child who would probably already be freaked out by the presence of a strange man in her room. The girl in question however, walked past Luka and sat at her dresser, bursting into tears as she stared at her reflection in the mirror, completely oblivious to him.

Couldn't she see him?

"I'm so ugly," the little girl sobbed as she studied herself in the mirror, reaching up to touch her hair. "Why won't Mommy let me get a perm like all the other girls?!"

Her sorrowful cries pulled at Luka's heart strings, and he wondered why such a small child would think that about herself. She seemed so young, maybe around seven, yet she was calling herself ugly? What kind of horrible upbringing did this child have?

The little girl in question was far from ugly, with chocolatey brown skin and big doe eyes that stood out on her chubby, round face. Her hair though disheveled, was thick and poofy, standing in a big afro that reminded Luka of a soft cloud. In all, the child was very cute and he found it quite disturbing that she thought she was ugly.

Suddenly, the door burst open and in came a woman with a small frown on her face. The child bore a strong resemblance to the woman, and Luka immediately knew that was her mother. Seeing her child bawling her eyes out, the woman's frown was immediately replaced with a concerned stare, and she rushed to the little girl. Kneeling beside her, the woman put an arm around the child, lifting her chin up with her free hand.

"Keisha! Why are you crying, sweetie?" The woman spoke softly, wiping the tears off her daughter's cheeks. "Is it because I'm not letting you get a perm?"

The little girl nodded sadly, her eyes still beady with tears as she stared up at her mother, who heaved a small sigh. "Keisha, why do you want a perm so bad? I thought you liked your hair?"

Shaking her head vigorously, the woman raised a brow at her daughter's reaction. "Why don't you like your hair, sweetie?"

"Because it's ugly," the little girl whispered, her voice hoarse from crying. "I'm ugly, Mommy!"

The child burst into another round of sobs as her mother gasped at her words, visibly heartbroken. Sweeping her daughter up into her embrace, the woman cuddled the girl, gently patting her back to soothe her cries. Lifting her daughter's head up, the woman cast her a serious look, concern evident on her features.

"Who told you that you're ugly? Is it those nasty kids from your school again?" The little child nodded sadly, and her mother lovingly stroked her tear-stained cheeks. "Oh, my poor baby! Don't you ever believe a word those horrible children say about you, do you understand?"

"But they said my hair is dirty like a racoon! They're calling me Garbage Girl!"

"It doesn't matter what they call you, sweetie, that's not who you are. What matters the most is what you believe, and I know you know you're not Garbage Girl."

The child sniffled, looking up gloomily at her mother. "And what about my hair?"

"Your hair is perfect, Keisha. If anybody ever laughs at you because your hair texture is different, then that's they're loss. Don't you know your hair is magic?"

"It is?"

"Yes, it is, baby girl. Your hair is fluffy and free, and it defies gravity. It's literally straight out of a fairytale if you ask me. You have beautiful cotton candy hair, Keisha."

Tentatively touching her hair, the girl looked at it in the mirror. "Cotton candy hair?"

The woman smiled at her daughter, nodding affirmatively, to which the little child smiled back. Throwing her hands around her mother, the child beamed. "Thank you, Mommy. I love you."

"I love you too, Keisha."

Luka silently watched the scene that had unfolded before him, holding back the urge to smile. So, this really was Keisha's room, just from when she was younger. The vampire turned to leave, not wanting to intrude on such a personal experience. Turning the door knob, he cast the hugging pair a final glance, smirking to himself, before walking out of the room.

He suddenly appeared in a classroom, seated amongst several other students. Shocked, he flew out of his seat, wondering how on Earth he'd gotten here. Once again, it appeared nobody could see him as none of them reacted to him, not even casting a curious glance.

Concluding he must've been transported to another one of Keisha's memories, Luka sat back down, glancing around in search of said human girl. As if on cue, she trudged into the classroom, and he smirked in victory.

Bingo.

Like all the students around her, she wore a school uniform – a plain white shirt, a red tie and a navy-blue plaid skirt. However, something about her seemed different than how Luka knew Keisha to be, and it wasn't just the fact that she was a high schooler. Her head was hung low as she scurried to her seat, avoiding eye-contact with everyone around like she was scared of them.

Keisha the man-hitter scared of a few highschoolers? Luka scoffed at the unlikely possibility. Perhaps she was in some kind of trouble.

As she was about to sit in her chair, Luka noticed the boy who sat behind her secretly pull her chair backward and his eyes widened in realization. Before he could react, Keisha leaned down to sit but since there was no chair, she fell to the ground, landing hardly on her ass. The whole class burst into laughter at that, the boy responsible for pulling the chair even receiving a few high-fives from nearby students.

"Would you look at that," the boy sneered, "little miss Keisha is sitting right were her ghetto ass belongs, at the bottom."

A chorus of 'ooh's and 'ah's erupted at his jest, and Luka could clearly see tears well up in Keisha's eyes from where he sat. Chuckling, he leaned forward in his chair, knowing what the feisty little human would do next.

Poor boy was about to get the daylights smacked out of him.

Holding back a sob, Keisha clumsily picked herself up, attempting to gather her scattered books off the floor. As she reached out to pick up one of her textbooks, a girl kicked it away, snickering as she did. Keisha only clenched her fist, much to Luka's confusion, biting her lip to stop herself from crying.

Why wasn't she doing anything?

"Oh my gosh, she's going to cry!" The girl mocked, earning another round of scornful laughter. "What a pathetic waste of space!"

What the hell, Luka thought. Do something, human!

"Look at her face! It's priceless!"

"I hope someone is filming this?"

"Why does she even bother showing her dirty face in this place?"

"If I were her, I'd kill myself!"

A sob escaped Keisha's lips at their demeaning words, tears spilling from her eyes. This seemed to only further irritate her classmates, as they began to hurl even more insults at her.

"Whore!"

"Ape!"

"Fugly bitch!"

"Cry harder, you dumb bitch!"

Luka could only watch in shock as the entire class turned on her, dumbstruck at the human's pathetic reaction. Was she actually crying or was he seeing things? Wasn't this the same girl who dared to raise her hand to him, defying him on multiple occasions, yet here she stood, whimpering like a coward as her classmates verbally assaulted her.

Something about her sobbing figure made Luka's blood simmer, and he clenched his fists to control his rising anger. Was this the pitiful mortal Samuel had so proudly claimed he could learn from? Was this the so-called 'fighter' with a powerful soul force; a wretched, lowly, human girl who couldn't even fucking defend herself?

She was supposed to teach him? When she couldn't even fucking stand up to these assholes?

The pureblood scoffed bitterly, offended by the thought of being associated with such a woeful being. He'd come all this way, created this stupid mind-link, just so he could see first-hand what made this human so special; what made Samuel so interested in her. Somewhere at the back of his mind he'd hoped she was a fierce tiger, worthy of laying a finger on him, but all he could see was a miserly housecat with not a shred of courage.

Pity.

Not able to bear their hurtful words anymore, Keisha ran out of the classroom, leaving her belongings scattered on the floor. The classroom burst into a chorus of sardonic laughter, and Luka didn't feel a shred of compassion for the human.

She was weak, and she deserved what was happening to her. Call him sadistic, but he believed there was no place in the world for the weak. It was either kill or be killed, and those not strong enough to kill were deserving of their fate. That was life – a sick, twisted game, where only the strong could survive.

In his eyes, apathy was the greatest mercy you could show to the weak; turning a blind eye to the oppression of those who weren't worthy of their freedom.

And that was a quality the Prince of Hell had long-since developed – the beautiful art of not giving a fuck.