The Creature only moves when my hair does.

I’m not sure when it arrived. I’ve been here a couple of years now, avoiding that blue freak, learning. People avoid me and I’m fine with that. I don’t want to interact, just learn.

I just need to understand things.

When I enter the home, the thing wakes up. I know it’s awake from the smoke. It billows from the closet, suctioning through the vent installed over it, choking through the roof. I don’t know who installed that. I don’t know where the house came from, or why I live in it.

Usually, I set my books down on the desk that is there for me. I sit down myself. I start on the work the instructors provided me.

I just need to understand things. That is the only thing I know for sure.

The Creature, when I lean forward to much and my bang moves, when my hair shifts, it slowly adjusts. The smoke billows a bit more.

It wants what Jude wants.

It wants to see my face.

I WANT TO SEE IT SO BAD.

It itches. It BURNS. I stare at her sometimes, through her window or from her vents or outside of her classroom. I get into all those odd places and I STARE at her and I can’t make any sense of it.

There’s nothing under that bang, I bet. I’d bet human lives that there’s nothing under there. No eyes. No ears. Nothing. And she doesn’t smell like the humans, either. A scent comes off of her that is intoxicating, it’s beautiful.

Even her garbage smells good. I go through it every now and then.

Aite walks like a human. She eats like a human. She stops writing sometimes, looking over her work, and worries like a human.

It’s that bang. No matter how much it moves, you can’t see under it. She never coughs or sneezes or leans her head forward. When she’s writing she tilts her head up, facing forward, hands moving with no visual guide.

I have few hunches on what could be under there.

I’m sure it’s a lot worse than what I’m hiding under mine.