Hey peoples. Me here. This is the first five pages of my story, since I was tired of posting little bits at a time. This is the official first pages, so I am deleting the other posts. I love getting comments, so comment, comment, comment.
Plus, I am not so sure about the title. It's okay, just want to hear any suggestions from people.
Also, if you like this, you can check out my fanfiction.net profile and stories. Same name, same person, same great stories.
That could be my slogan....
Anyway.
Comment, tell me how you feel. Make any suggestions you think should be happening, just tell me everything in general.
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Thx, here's the story!!
Creak, creak, the swing set whined. The pipes were rusty and about to fall apart after years of use. I looked across the empty, desolate park and the memory reared its ugly head up to the front of my mind.
“Why can’t you just shut up!?” My mother roared. Empty beer bottles were spread across the floor near her. Broken pieces of them were all over me, the scent of stale beer spreading through me.
She picked another one up. “He left! And it’s your fault! YOURS!!” She yelled, louder than ever. I should have been used to it, her saying it was my fault Dad left. But I still wasn’t, even after two years of thrown beer bottles. She hurled the one in her hands, this one getting a shard of luck and shattering on the wall, barely a foot from my face. I winced as pieces grazed me, but it wasn’t a problem. I knew better not to move when she was drunk as she was now. Last time I had ducked she had jumped on me, scratching me all over with glass shards.
My mother had yelled at me, for hours, while I stood there and took both her physical and mental beatings. Two years, and I still cleaned up the broken glass after she passed out. I was disgusted. Why I didn’t leave, I didn’t know. Maybe I still hoped Dad would come back home.
I realized she was spread across the couch, out cold. I would never not smell of beer. Twenty four seven, my mother ensured that. I headed to the kitchen for rags.
When I had finished, I packed my bag full with two days worth of clothes. Wren would understand. I had stayed with him plenty of times before, when I couldn’t bear to see my mother in the morning.
And here I was, waiting for Wren. He had moved last week, so I had no idea which tunnel to head down. He lived in the subway.
He had lived there for years, ever since I knew him. Which was back since… about fourth grade, I think. Of course, I hadn’t known until my Dad had ditched us. My mom had just started drinking her mind away and I had panicked when she threw the beer bottle at me. Wren had helped me and cleaned out the glass scratches.
I remembered how amazed I was that Wren lived in the subway tunnels, illegally. When I asked, all he said was, “Why not, I mean, it is New York after all, isn’t it?” So carefree. I wish I didn’t have to care about all these things anymore.
Speaking of the devil!
Wren was headed towards me. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets and he carried with him that relaxedness air he always had. The leaves scattered with the wind as he approached.
“Hey, Abs. How goes it?” The usual greeting. He settled in the swing next to me and started to swing.
“You know how goes it,” I replied moodily. I stared down at the ground.
“I was hoping this week’s would be better than last week’s,” he stated, a slight smile in his voice. He looked at me sternly. I sighed. Wren always had to be the responsible one, reining in wild Abbey every time she wanted to jump off the bridge. I shrugged.
“It changes when my mother does,” the well practiced routine set it’s roots. Every week between now and seventh grade we had this conversation. And he always forced me to go to school the next day with him, no matter how I refused to.
He stood up abruptly, the swing continuing its turns and coming to a rest on his legs. I stood too, picking up my duffel bag. We headed out of the park.
“So, where are you now?”
“Somewhere under Broadway.”
“Oooh, daring! Pray tell, why did you pick a spot so friggin close to the main?!” It was way too close for my liking. Illegal activities were something Wren was struggling to get me out of.
He grunted, showing he heard me but was unwilling to answer at the moment. I was fine with that. He’d tell me over dinner.
We entered the subway. I sat down on one of the steps and watched as a train came to a shuddering halt in front of us.
“Did you get hurt again?” He asked, concern showing. I had been sliced open plenty by the glass. Mom didn’t always miss. If she was awake long enough she might get in one good shot or two.
“Just a scrape,” I murmured. It became hard to hear anything besides the train rumbling away.
Wren stood and checked for people. He jumped to the tracks.
“Remember,” he leaned in and started. He was big on safety, too.
“Never step on the third rail,” I recited.
“And keep track of me,” he prompted.
“And keep track of you,” I repeated. A while ago I had been distracted by a rat and lost him. A train had whooshed in front of me, the only reason I lived was because of his quick reaction.
I followed him, clutching the edge of his sweatshirt. The dark edged in, surrounding me, choking me, suffocating me, cutting me, killing me all at the same time. His coat slid out of my grasp and I heard the scrape of his sneakers on the hard cement.
I felt around for the edge, feeling nothing but rough cement as high as my fingers would reach. Wren’s hands slid down to grab mine. He hauled me up and over the edge. I realized sweat covered my forehead and my breaths were tight.
“Sorry, Abs. There’s no vent, but I have flashlights,” he flicked one on. I could see his face now, still edged with darkness. I wiped my face with trembling fingers and my voice was shaky when it eventually came out.
“S’Ok. I’ll live. Shouldn’t be down here anyway.” I was shivering. This was right. Every time I was down here I hyperventilated and freaked out. He switched on his little rechargeable lantern, and I wondered where he got all the money.
“Don’t worry, it’s all legit,” he stated, his back turned to me. Another freakishly weird and un-New-York-ish thing about him was the fact that he could read minds. Unless you think of freakish and weird totally part of the New York requirement. Which would so put him at the top of the list of most eligible home owners. A homeless home owner, if that’s possible.
I shook my head clear. It was so hard to think properly with Wren around. He did try not to read people, though, unless he had to or their thoughts just screamed at him.
“You know I hate it, Abs, knowing everyone who has a liar husband, is harboring an escaped convict, juvenile delinquents, and problems in general,” he whined.
“I know, I know. Let up a little. Stop reading me, and don’t tell me you’re trying not to,” I accused, shaking my finger at him. He always seemed to know what I was thinking. Not like a friend knows, like a PSYCHO KNOWS!!, I screamed at him in my mind.
He winced and drew back.
“Ouch, Abs, that really, really hurt,” he sobbed dramatically. He held his hand to his chest and let out a little pretty lady sob from the movies. I couldn’t help but laugh.
He tackled me and tickled me, tickling until I flipped over and tickled him, his laughs loud and hard.
We collapsed, still taken over with the giggles, and listened to the street noise, loud enough at this time of night to cut through the pavement between us and the upper world. The upper world consisting of drunks, prostitutes, gang members, and who knows what else.
I wondered if my mother was up off the couch yet, heading out for another round at the bars.
“Abbey, you know she is,” Wren sighed and let out, reluctantly.
I shut down my mind, testing him. It was a game we played. It had no name, it was just us seeing how well I could keep him from knowing the inside me.
He sat up and concentrated. My eyes stared out blankly and an unwanted thought crossed my mind, briefly, and I almost panicked. Wren wouldn’t have liked to hear that one, and I hurriedly shut off again.
“Hmm….You’re worrying about tomorrow’s test…” he said slowly and my air rushed out in relief. Wait!
“There’s a test!? What class?? Why didn’t you tell me?!!” I panicked. Wren laughed.
“I can’t believe you believed it!!” He exclaimed in between giggles. A guy, giggling. Hmm. There was making-fun-of-Wren potential here, I thought and nodded, before I erupted into giggles.
“Oh my God, I can’t believe it either,” I murmured. My breath had started to come back normally again.
“Yeah, I almost thought you’d see right through it. Then I remembered how blonde you are,” he stated, seriously. It took a moment for it to sink in.
“You jerk! I have brown hair, not that disgusting yellow they call blonde!” I said, slapping him on the arm.
“Blonde. Is a state of mind, dear Watson, old chap,” he quoted our stupid English teacher, adding an accent.
The whole subway echoed with our laughs.
Wren stood and pulled out his blankets. He always kept extra on hand in case I came, which happened very often. I settled in a few feet away from him, reluctant to leave the glow of the light.
“Here,” he mumbled, and shoved the light towards me. I didn’t want to be unable to see him either, and shoved the light back.
“Here,” I snapped back, a laugh in my voice. I pulled my blankets closer until I was next to him. I could now see a bit of our surroundings, and he wasn’t entirely a shadow either.
I fell asleep listening to his slow, not yet sleeping, breathing.
“Morning, not so beautiful at this time of morning!” Wren woke me up cheerily. I reached up and softly slapped his face, telling him to shut up. He did, and I could faintly hear his footsteps drift away before I fell asleep again.
I wasn’t asleep for long, though, when he came back.
“Wake up, beautiful!” He almost yelled in my ear. If that wasn’t enough, he dumped a bucket of ice water over my head. I shot up, very awake.
“Dude!” I yelled back, surprised. He was grinning hugely. I reached towards him and pulled his knee towards me.
“Aah!” He let out, dropping sharply to one knee.
“That’s what you get,” I growled, feeling his breath spread across my face. His eyes widened as he read my thoughts once again. Or maybe it was a late arrival of last night’s delayed thought.
He turned around quickly, jumping to his feet.
“You’re lucky, it’s a Saturday!” He exclaimed overenthusiastically, covering it up.
“I don’t get why I’m so lucky,” I growled, “Its Saturday and six in the morning!”
“You’re lucky, because we get to go Dumpster diving today!” he squealed, almost like a little schoolgirl getting her first puppy.
Dumpster diving meant we got to tramp through the whole friggin city collecting good trash and selling it on Sunday.
It was tiring as heck.
I groaned and dropped back to the ground.
“Don’t do this, this early! Come on, please?” I begged. Dumpster diving all day was not fun in steel toed combat boots.
“Abs, don’t worry,” he said. He turned around and my heart soared. No Dumpster diving! “Sneakers!!” He whipped around and showcased a new pair like Vana White on Jeopardy. I groaned again.
I let my arm fall across my face, ignoring my soaking wet state.
“Well, come on, we need to get going, and you, milady, need to get dry!”
He ripped the blankets off of me, exposing the icy wet, soaked to the bone, me to the freezing cold subway air.
I stood and noticed his eyes on me. He quickly averted them.
“You really, really need to dry off,” he mumbled to himself. Like I couldn’t hear! His eyes widened and I blushed. He had read my thoughts again.
So, we set out. He led me by the hand to an old vent and knocked it out, lifting me up first. I bounced around in my new shoes a bit, making them more comfortable. I sprang back to the vent.
Wren was throwing up bags, big ones to put our good trash in. I saw the regular three lying haphazardly around the vent and leaned over to help him out. I flipped upside-down and my hair fell down in a flame shape against the gray of the inside of the subway.
“Well, come on, are you coming up or not?” I asked, dropping a hand down. He grabbed it and I hauled myself back out of the vent, pulling him half with me. I heard his feet hit the edge as he helped me.
I shouldered the bags, letting him lead me wherever he thought the trash would be best. Despite the time, there were tons of people on Main. They bustled around in their odd clothes, business suits, and church clothes. I never got the concept of church clothes in New York. It was stupid, because they always got dirty or you got robbed for telling people you bought nice clothes. I briefly wondered if Wren knew.
“I have no idea, either,” he replied, a little creepily. I was totally used to him listening to my thoughts but not talking to him that way.
“You might want to get used to it,” he said. We walked down the street. I held onto the sleeve of his sweatshirt as he guided us through the streets. I didn’t want to get lost in all these people.
I shivered. Creepy. I shook my head again. I have to focus on trash. Yes, trash all over the place, but more importantly, trash we could sell. Wren dragged me to one of the less populated streets and as we passed a diner my stomach grumbled.
I put a hand on it, trying to silence it. It grumbled again. Wren laughed and drew me into the diner. He picked a booth and dropped me in it, heading away.
“Aspirin,” he replied. I knew. All those thoughts jumping at him gave him headaches. One of the cons among thousands of pros, like knowing exactly what I was thinking all the time. I blew my hair out of my face and sighed. I would never have a moment around him that he didn’t know what I was thinking about.
The door slammed next to me and I saw a huge, burly man come in. Wow. Muscle- Bonanza! I shivered. Wouldn’t like to have that thing tackle me!
Wren returned. He took a gulp out of his water and searched for a waitress.
She soon came, taking our orders for the lumberjack slam. Eight pancakes, six eggs, ten pieces of either sausage or bacon. She poured our coffee and Wren did his up, two creamers and one packet of sugar. I put one creamer and eight sugars in mine.
Wren noticed.
“Hey, why eight? Usually you only put six,” he asked, stating the obvious. I needed some sugar after my rude awakening this morning. I was still drying off.
“Oh…sorry,” he mumbled, taking a sip of his coffee. Answering my unasked questions again!
“Hey, most people would call you a freak for not being too surprised, you know.” Wren told me, taking a huge gulp. I thought on it.
Yeah, I guess I was a little shocked at myself for not caring more. I shrugged, avoiding Wren’s eyes. I chugged my coffee and started to rip open sugar packets. One after the other, I made a pile in my hand. I watched the tiny bits fall down the sloped sides. The newspaper suddenly caught Wren.
“Dude, look at this!” He pointed to the front page. Deadly Rampage Still Unsolved. There was a corny picture of a white chalk drawing of a person, spread out on the ground. The arms twisted at awkward angles, the body crumpled.
I ripped it from his hands.
One look at the newspaper title and I knew.
“You’re kidding me. You know all they put in this is made-up crap! Listen to this, ‘There were no signs of an attack at the scene, although blood was everywhere. DNA analysis showed the blood at each of the crime scenes was of a different victim…’ Tell me you don’t believe it!”
“Oh, but I do,” he said severely. He adopted a spooky air. “Tis only true, I seen-er, saw- it myself…” He moved his hands in a little fakey crystal ball movement. I imitated him, trying hard to hold back the laughs. I didn’t even get what I wanted to say out before he read me and burst out laughing. I was disappointed, but laughing anyway at the absurdity of the situation. I threw the newspaper across the room.
It landed on the counter, sliding to a stop in front of a waitress. She glanced down at it and her face had a confused, shocked, and horrified look on it when she raised her head. She stumbled away, mumbling under her breath.
“Seventy…two…goodness…”
Wren and I cracked up again. I heard a thump, and he was gone. I looked to see what had happened, the laughs fading. He was on the floor, staring ahead, shocked. I broke down once more and helped him up.
He muttered about something or other, and then the food came. We wolfed it down, shoveling it in like there was no tomorrow. The plates were shiny reflective clean when we finished. Wren downed the remaining coffee and with a sigh, stood up. He threw the money down on the table and looked at me.
“Come on, Abs, dumpster day,” he said brightly, holding out his hand for me. I groaned and took it, letting him lead me out the door. The sun was bright through the gray clouds stringing themselves across the sky. People crowded in as soon as the door closed, pushing us back and forth. I had to grab his hand in a death grip just so I wouldn’t lose him in the rush.
He winced, flexed his fingers slightly. I loosened my hold, unwilling to let go. We weaved through the hustle; most of all I could see were people’s backs and arms, short as I was. I had no idea whether we were close to the pavement or not, and when I came close to finding out I was always shoved back.
We came to a side alley, in one of the oldest parts of town I knew. There were no fire escapes and a rusted Dumpster blocked the way. The padlock had been chopped off, leaving it wide open. Wren took the chance and climbed it quickly. I followed, not as fast because of the difference on levels of skill.
I fell face down in the burning stench of rotten bananas. I know everyone says rotten eggs, but once you’ve been Dumpster diving in New York you know the worst is a molded mattress mixed with rotten bananas. Moldy mattresses were the worst because if you touched it you got mattress fluff all over you. Not fun.
Wren choked back a laugh; instead it came out snargled and messed up. I humphed and turned away.
I dug in the trash, throwing everything we couldn’t sell at Wren, just for it to come flying right back at me. I threw it faster, dodging the returned pieces of trash. Any pieces we found were carefully dropped to the ground, close to the bags.
The ground was soon littered with cruddy romance books, okay looking chairs, and Mardi Gras beads. The last were for me. I was creating a haven in the subways. It was under 18th street, right before it hit Seventh. Both of my lucky numbers, big plus for me. I pinned them up on the walls, using duct tape. They rippled and shone when the subway trains rumbled by, shaking the walls.
I smiled when I thought of it. I was halfway done, thanks to Wren. He’d helped after school, burrowing through the trash. Every once in a while when he had a bit more money he’d buy a bunch of them, as presents. But he would only surprise me with them when I did well on a test. It was like he was trying to pull me back.
When my father had left I had nowhere to go when my mom-yeah-and Wren said I could stay with him. His house was all over the place. Back then he had alternated, sleeping in the warm subways in winter and rooftops in the warm summer. He hadn’t moved last summer, though.
“I was perfectly fine where I was,” he growled, holding my elbow. I was hanging half way out over the edge, moments to a very bad all over pain. He pulled me back with a snap and smiled. “I pulled out a piece of crap down by the bottom, Sorry, I didn’t realize you would fall off,” he apologized. I gave him a pat on the arm, acknowledging the words but not entirely accepting them.
For once he stayed out of my head and let me be as we worked through the day. I ended up with around thirty Mardi Gras necklaces and we dropped the bags off at his current place.
He led me by the hand to my abandoned station and helped me put up the beads. We sat down close together, admiring the effect. The reds, blues, and greens, stood out in dull but sharp contrast to the silvers and blacks. They shook violently as a train rounded the corner and fled past. I chanced a look at Wren. A huge, silly grin was spread across his face, from ear to ear.
He noticed my eyes on him and laughed, a sharp bark. I cocked my head, confused.
“It’s just, I was remembering when you stole my idea. You were so happy,” he laughed again. I smiled at the memory. It was a week or so after I stayed in the subway with him. We had been running around like the stupid idiots we were and would always be.
“What’s your number one thing to do before you die?” he asked me, wondering.
“I think it would have to be a glass house. I know it would kill me and all, but it would be so freaking awesome!” I laughed, walking next to him.
“I see what you mean, you know, getting fried by millions of little lights. Ah,” he sighed, “the good die too young, I say.” He acted dramatically, using hand gestures.
“Yes, and your time has come much too soon,” I snarled, menacing. I stooped down and picked up a piece of glass and pretended to jab him. He jumped back with a whoosh of air and snapped my arm up, twisting it so the glass was close enough to my face to strike.
He let out a growl, choking it off when he saw my face, then let me go, laughing nervously. He laughed even louder to cover it up, and I let him, laughing with him and forgetting about it for now.
A train rumbled nearby and he grabbed me, pulling me to the side and half tossing me up to the ledge. He scrambled up and I yanked him up. The train whooshed by just behind him. He collapsed in hysterical giggles.
I watched as broken glass shivered all around us, reflecting the light. I frowned. Wren’s laughing was starting to bother me in a major way. “Wren, you can’t be-” I was cut off when he slapped his mouth over mine, shutting me up. He went dead silent and gave me a glare, obviously saying to shut up. I nodded, almost imperceptibly. His whole body quivered and I realized it was from fear.
I snapped back to the now. Bad memories, I told myself. Horribly bad memories. We had ended up running all the way to the hospital for stitches. Not for him. Me. All up and down my legs and arms I had run that glass. I shivered in horror at what I had done.
I still want to do it. I’m just able to control it better. Especially with Wren here. That’s why I try to spend as much time as possible around here. He…calms me. Well, now more than ever. It was great having him in large crowds, or in the dark.
I concentrated on happy, happy things. Wren must have seen my face scrunch up as I thought hard and he sat up, looking at me almost sadly.
“Sorry, Abbey. I didn’t think you’d…”he let the thought trail off. I sat up.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, trying to sound not scared and horrified, “I’m fine.” Even I heard my voice tremble.
He nodded, knowing what I didn’t want to talk about, think about, remember.
I stood and walked very slowly to the wall of the abandoned subway station. The wall was covered with graffiti that you could only see if you stuck your face right next to it, because of the age and light. The station had been boarded up long ago. I ran my fingers along the wall, shaking the beads as I went. Wren sat still in the middle of the floor while I wandered.
There was only a little light, coming from who knows where, but not enough that I would have known where I was going. One second I was putting my foot down, the next there was nothing to put my foot down on. I had just enough time to claw for the wall and let out a shriek before I bashed my head.
There was black. Black, black, pressing in on me. It stabbed me. Everywhere at once. Fear shook my body. I could see nothing, touch nothing, smell nothing. It scared me enough that I wished Wren was here, in this darkness with me. Even though he wouldn’t like it, I wished for it.
The black punished me for getting distracted. It ripped me apart, tore me savagely. There was a hole in my leg. A hole in my arm. And suddenly, there was an absence of something in my chest. Like something vital had just been stolen. It pushed me back together violently, shoving until bones and muscle snapped back together. But the hole continued. I cried out.
What had I lost? What had been so important I had dared to forget it?? I realized with a shock that it was my heart. I heard my own gasp, the rattling of sucking too much air in. The air in the darkness suddenly turned into glue, sticking me down and weighting every corner of me.
I struggled to stand. My only goal was finding it now. Finding my heart. I felt a warm trickle down my chest. My hand flew to it, feeling. It came away dripping and sticky, redder than any blood I had ever seen. I felt a stabbing pain. I pushed my hand palm down on it. I had to find my heart. A whimper burst it’s way out between my lips, growing until it was a shriek. I shouted, feeling the ground and walls for my heart.
I heard a voice, no more than a whisper in my ear. Telling me something. It murmured, growing louder. My fingers found a slimy hand. Attached to a slimy arm. Connected to a slimy something. My yells dangled as I saw the horrible creature smile wide and eat my heart from its hands. It’s teeth chewed it up into shreds. Blood dripped from it’s mouth.
It pulled back a bloody fist and punched me. The air instantly disappeared, gone from my lungs. I sucked air in just in time for the creature to punch me again, disappearing into the darkness. I fell, breath no longer passing through my mouth, and my missing heart leaving a cavern in my chest.
“Abs, wake up! Come on, I’ve got you,” Wren whispered, his breathing shallow. I felt his arms wrap around me, lifting me off the ground. I panicked. My eyes flashed open. Wren’s face was right above mine, concern in his eyes. My hand flew to my chest, the other one grabbing him.
When I spoke my breath wasn’t even a whisper, a jumble of words floating out. Wren shook his head confusedly, staring at me. He suddenly sat down again. He pulled me up and held the sides of my face, looking straight into my wide eyes.
“Calm down, Abbey. It’s fine,” he murmured, trying to reassure me as I felt his mind fingers stick in my brain. I stared right back into his eyes. I felt my whole body tremble when he pulled back out. His eyes glittered in the dim light, a tear ripping itself free. He paid no attention to it, choosing instead to hug me closer, letting me cry.
It took me hours, but eventually the tear bucket had run out. He held me tightly, waiting for me to breathe normally again. I hesitated, and pulled away. My eyes floated back out into space when I realized I wasn’t hearing anything.
Nothing. Including a heartbeat.
I gasped, pressed my hand to my chest. I couldn’t feel a beat, no matter how hard I frantically searched for it. Wren had a stressed look on his face, looking at nothing.
I scrambled across the floor, trying to find it, to find something!
“You’re not going to find anything,” Wren whispered, his voice a ghost in the station, “There’s nothing to find.” He stated it simply, like there was nothing else to it.
My mind sped by.
What was the thing? Had it actually eaten my heart? Where was my heart now? The last question I asked aloud.
“Why…am I still…alive?” I choked it out. I stared sightlessly. Wren pulled me up by the hand. His voice scratched when he talked, his voice low and a deep sadness in his eyes, with almost a hint of guilt.
“Let me show you something,” he said, towing me away. He didn’t pause when we got to the edge of his current housing, drooping off the edge. He held his arms up for me. I leaned down and let him grab me. He lifted me slowly and gently, more than usual. He dropped me when I was able to stand.
Without looking, he stormed down the subway, drifting dangerously close to the third rail. I ran to catch up with him. Being alone in here was something I really didn’t want to do.
We got to Main, not bothering to avoid people. Wren didn’t even check before he jumped up, landing without even a feather’s noise when it falls. Just as well. Nobody was paying enough attention to notice him. He led me up onto the street.
The sun was setting, an orange tinge edging its way around each of the buildings. He led me to an old construction site, with only scaffolding to show. Wren climbed into it without stopping, just one continuous motion. I hesitated, looking up at it. It wasn’t too stable, swaying in the wind. He sighed and dropped down.
“I’ll hold on to you tight, okay? I’m not going to drop you, Abs. Abs?” He reassured me. My eyes went wide as I realized he wanted to carry me all the way up. I wordlessly pointed to it, he nodded.
“Look, you want to find out about what happened?” I nodded, he continued, “Then let’s get going!” He turned around, offering his back so I could ride piggyback. I shook my head. He would fall if I let him do that, all my weight just loaded on his back.
I steeled myself toward what I was going to do, finding my heart my only motivation. That, and finding out why Wren wanted to climb this.
The first girder I had to jump to grab hold of. I walked quickly across it’s broad surface to the very corner of the quarter constructed building. I ran my fingers up and down it, realizing that I could fit my feet in the holes, just enough to get me up to the next level. I glanced up, noticing Wren already three stories ahead of me.
I nodded to myself. “You can do this. It’s just like the little engine. I’m him. I think I can, I know I can, I know I can,” I talked softly to myself. Improvising, I changed think to know. All the better.
I stuck my hand in the hole, sliding my sneakers into the next holes up. My hands went up another hole. Up went my feet. I focused on the repetition, not paying attention to how far up I was or how far away the ground was.
The sun was down, gray light hiding me. I still found the holes, after ten stories the pattern had imprinted itself in my mind so that I was free to think of nothing. Hand, feet, hand, feet, up, over, hand, feet, hand, and feet. Wren’s hand interrupted my climb.
“Abs, you’re fine. We’re at the top,” he murmured gently to me. I gasped and grabbed his hand before my thoughts returned, choosing instead to ignore how high up I was. He hauled me up and over the edge, bringing me to the top.
It was the tallest building in the area, counting the fact that it was still not finished. The little houses were a story high, looking down at them made me feel sick. I sat down abruptly and my fingers curled around the edges, gripping it tight. I turned my face up to the black sky and stared. Anything to keep the far away lunch from coming back up.
Wren sat in front of me and put his hand on my knee, talking to me. His voice was soothing, like a mother’s lullaby.
“Abs, come on, we’re nearly there. Time to get up and go. Yeah, you did it, you climbed all the way up here in the dark.”
I hadn’t realized, I had been whispering ‘I knew I could, I knew I could’ for a while now. I shut my mouth, keeping a tight clamp on it. I sighed and lifted his hand off of my leg, getting myself ready for whatever this was.
“Alright, alright,” my voice shook out, “Let’s get this thing over with!” I gritted my teeth and raised myself up to a crouch, straightening out slowly. I stared straight ahead and tried not to think about how I was going to get back down. Wren led me to the middle of the possible roof. Empty air was around me and under me. I felt even more uneasy and panicky, if that was possible.
He sat down near the middle and pulled out a stick of chalk. I watched as he drew on each of the steel girders. The white stood out in sharp contrast to the rusted orange of the building.
I’m sorry to say that I can’t remember much else of that night except a blinding pain and waking up in the morning with an encyclopedia’s worth of magickal knowledge, literally, in my lap.
I fought my way out of the dream. Awesomely handsome men with fangs, along with equally awesome men that kept transforming into wolves had been chasing me. They never let up, even after hours of dream running, the kind where you never get tired. My feet moved and moved, but they were always at my heels, trying to bite me. Each and every step brought them even closer to me. I jolted awake just when they had their teeth in my pants.
My breath was quick, almost hyperventilating. The subway was still extremely dark, even through the grates overhead. The noise was at a minimum so I’d guess it was around six thirty or so in the morning.
Wren turned to me, crawling over to my side in a matter of seconds. He hugged me while I blubbered about the horrible night.
“I-I dreamt…that f-faeries….and mag-gick…were r-real…” I went on to roughly describe everything about my nasty dream. The vampires, werewolves, my heart.
He sighed, pulled away to look at my face. His next words were a vague murmuring to himself about how innocent I was. Wren’s eyes were sad, they looked like he had matured about a hundred years over the night.
He turned away from me.
“Get your stuff together. Time for you to get home,” he said roughly. I nodded and picked up my clothes, shoving everything into my backpack. I didn’t question him or why he felt I had to leave. I zipped my backpack up and hopped off the edge of the old station with a sense of finality. I walked quickly across the rails. I ignored the strange looks I got and the ones that were used to our foot traffic. I didn’t look back once until I got to the stairs, glancing behind me to see the flicker of a light go out and hear a faint sob.
“Why can’t you just shut up!?” My mother roared. Empty beer bottles were spread across the floor near her. Broken pieces of them were all over me, the scent of stale beer spreading through me.
She picked another one up. “He left! And it’s your fault! YOURS!!” She yelled, louder than ever. I should have been used to it, her saying it was my fault Dad left. But I still wasn’t, even after two years of thrown beer bottles. She hurled the one in her hands, this one getting a shard of luck and shattering on the wall, barely a foot from my face. I winced as pieces grazed me, but it wasn’t a problem. I knew better not to move when she was drunk as she was now. Last time I had ducked she had jumped on me, scratching me all over with glass shards.
My mother had yelled at me, for hours, while I stood there and took both her physical and mental beatings. Two years, and I still cleaned up the broken glass after she passed out. I was disgusted. Why I didn’t leave, I didn’t know. Maybe I still hoped Dad would come back home.
I realized she was spread across the couch, out cold. I would never not smell of beer. Twenty four seven, my mother ensured that. I headed to the kitchen for rags.
When I had finished, I packed my bag full with two days worth of clothes. Wren would understand. I had stayed with him plenty of times before, when I couldn’t bear to see my mother in the morning.
And here I was, waiting for Wren. He had moved last week, so I had no idea which tunnel to head down. He lived in the subway.
He had lived there for years, ever since I knew him. Which was back since… about fourth grade, I think. Of course, I hadn’t known until my Dad had ditched us. My mom had just started drinking her mind away and I had panicked when she threw the beer bottle at me. Wren had helped me and cleaned out the glass scratches.
I remembered how amazed I was that Wren lived in the subway tunnels, illegally. When I asked, all he said was, “Why not, I mean, it is New York after all, isn’t it?” So carefree. I wish I didn’t have to care about all these things anymore.
Speaking of the devil!
Wren was headed towards me. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets and he carried with him that relaxedness air he always had. The leaves scattered with the wind as he approached.
“Hey, Abs. How goes it?” The usual greeting. He settled in the swing next to me and started to swing.
“You know how goes it,” I replied moodily. I stared down at the ground.
“I was hoping this week’s would be better than last week’s,” he stated, a slight smile in his voice. He looked at me sternly. I sighed. Wren always had to be the responsible one, reining in wild Abbey every time she wanted to jump off the bridge. I shrugged.
“It changes when my mother does,” the well practiced routine set it’s roots. Every week between now and seventh grade we had this conversation. And he always forced me to go to school the next day with him, no matter how I refused to.
He stood up abruptly, the swing continuing its turns and coming to a rest on his legs. I stood too, picking up my duffel bag. We headed out of the park.
“So, where are you now?”
“Somewhere under Broadway.”
“Oooh, daring! Pray tell, why did you pick a spot so friggin close to the main?!” It was way too close for my liking. Illegal activities were something Wren was struggling to get me out of.
He grunted, showing he heard me but was unwilling to answer at the moment. I was fine with that. He’d tell me over dinner.
We entered the subway. I sat down on one of the steps and watched as a train came to a shuddering halt in front of us.
“Did you get hurt again?” He asked, concern showing. I had been sliced open plenty by the glass. Mom didn’t always miss. If she was awake long enough she might get in one good shot or two.
“Just a scrape,” I murmured. It became hard to hear anything besides the train rumbling away.
Wren stood and checked for people. He jumped to the tracks.
“Remember,” he leaned in and started. He was big on safety, too.
“Never step on the third rail,” I recited.
“And keep track of me,” he prompted.
“And keep track of you,” I repeated. A while ago I had been distracted by a rat and lost him. A train had whooshed in front of me, the only reason I lived was because of his quick reaction.
I followed him, clutching the edge of his sweatshirt. The dark edged in, surrounding me, choking me, suffocating me, cutting me, killing me all at the same time. His coat slid out of my grasp and I heard the scrape of his sneakers on the hard cement.
I felt around for the edge, feeling nothing but rough cement as high as my fingers would reach. Wren’s hands slid down to grab mine. He hauled me up and over the edge. I realized sweat covered my forehead and my breaths were tight.
“Sorry, Abs. There’s no vent, but I have flashlights,” he flicked one on. I could see his face now, still edged with darkness. I wiped my face with trembling fingers and my voice was shaky when it eventually came out.
“S’Ok. I’ll live. Shouldn’t be down here anyway.” I was shivering. This was right. Every time I was down here I hyperventilated and freaked out. He switched on his little rechargeable lantern, and I wondered where he got all the money.
“Don’t worry, it’s all legit,” he stated, his back turned to me. Another freakishly weird and un-New-York-ish thing about him was the fact that he could read minds. Unless you think of freakish and weird totally part of the New York requirement. Which would so put him at the top of the list of most eligible home owners. A homeless home owner, if that’s possible.
I shook my head clear. It was so hard to think properly with Wren around. He did try not to read people, though, unless he had to or their thoughts just screamed at him.
“You know I hate it, Abs, knowing everyone who has a liar husband, is harboring an escaped convict, juvenile delinquents, and problems in general,” he whined.
“I know, I know. Let up a little. Stop reading me, and don’t tell me you’re trying not to,” I accused, shaking my finger at him. He always seemed to know what I was thinking. Not like a friend knows, like a PSYCHO KNOWS!!, I screamed at him in my mind.
He winced and drew back.
“Ouch, Abs, that really, really hurt,” he sobbed dramatically. He held his hand to his chest and let out a little pretty lady sob from the movies. I couldn’t help but laugh.
He tackled me and tickled me, tickling until I flipped over and tickled him, his laughs loud and hard.
We collapsed, still taken over with the giggles, and listened to the street noise, loud enough at this time of night to cut through the pavement between us and the upper world. The upper world consisting of drunks, prostitutes, gang members, and who knows what else.
I wondered if my mother was up off the couch yet, heading out for another round at the bars.
“Abbey, you know she is,” Wren sighed and let out, reluctantly.
I shut down my mind, testing him. It was a game we played. It had no name, it was just us seeing how well I could keep him from knowing the inside me.
He sat up and concentrated. My eyes stared out blankly and an unwanted thought crossed my mind, briefly, and I almost panicked. Wren wouldn’t have liked to hear that one, and I hurriedly shut off again.
“Hmm….You’re worrying about tomorrow’s test…” he said slowly and my air rushed out in relief. Wait!
“There’s a test!? What class?? Why didn’t you tell me?!!” I panicked. Wren laughed.
“I can’t believe you believed it!!” He exclaimed in between giggles. A guy, giggling. Hmm. There was making-fun-of-Wren potential here, I thought and nodded, before I erupted into giggles.
“Oh my God, I can’t believe it either,” I murmured. My breath had started to come back normally again.
“Yeah, I almost thought you’d see right through it. Then I remembered how blonde you are,” he stated, seriously. It took a moment for it to sink in.
“You jerk! I have brown hair, not that disgusting yellow they call blonde!” I said, slapping him on the arm.
“Blonde. Is a state of mind, dear Watson, old chap,” he quoted our stupid English teacher, adding an accent.
The whole subway echoed with our laughs.
Wren stood and pulled out his blankets. He always kept extra on hand in case I came, which happened very often. I settled in a few feet away from him, reluctant to leave the glow of the light.
“Here,” he mumbled, and shoved the light towards me. I didn’t want to be unable to see him either, and shoved the light back.
“Here,” I snapped back, a laugh in my voice. I pulled my blankets closer until I was next to him. I could now see a bit of our surroundings, and he wasn’t entirely a shadow either.
I fell asleep listening to his slow, not yet sleeping, breathing.
“Morning, not so beautiful at this time of morning!” Wren woke me up cheerily. I reached up and softly slapped his face, telling him to shut up. He did, and I could faintly hear his footsteps drift away before I fell asleep again.
I wasn’t asleep for long, though, when he came back.
“Wake up, beautiful!” He almost yelled in my ear. If that wasn’t enough, he dumped a bucket of ice water over my head. I shot up, very awake.
“Dude!” I yelled back, surprised. He was grinning hugely. I reached towards him and pulled his knee towards me.
“Aah!” He let out, dropping sharply to one knee.
“That’s what you get,” I growled, feeling his breath spread across my face. His eyes widened as he read my thoughts once again. Or maybe it was a late arrival of last night’s delayed thought.
He turned around quickly, jumping to his feet.
“You’re lucky, it’s a Saturday!” He exclaimed overenthusiastically, covering it up.
“I don’t get why I’m so lucky,” I growled, “Its Saturday and six in the morning!”
“You’re lucky, because we get to go Dumpster diving today!” he squealed, almost like a little schoolgirl getting her first puppy.
Dumpster diving meant we got to tramp through the whole friggin city collecting good trash and selling it on Sunday.
It was tiring as heck.
I groaned and dropped back to the ground.
“Don’t do this, this early! Come on, please?” I begged. Dumpster diving all day was not fun in steel toed combat boots.
“Abs, don’t worry,” he said. He turned around and my heart soared. No Dumpster diving! “Sneakers!!” He whipped around and showcased a new pair like Vana White on Jeopardy. I groaned again.
I let my arm fall across my face, ignoring my soaking wet state.
“Well, come on, we need to get going, and you, milady, need to get dry!”
He ripped the blankets off of me, exposing the icy wet, soaked to the bone, me to the freezing cold subway air.
I stood and noticed his eyes on me. He quickly averted them.
“You really, really need to dry off,” he mumbled to himself. Like I couldn’t hear! His eyes widened and I blushed. He had read my thoughts again.
So, we set out. He led me by the hand to an old vent and knocked it out, lifting me up first. I bounced around in my new shoes a bit, making them more comfortable. I sprang back to the vent.
Wren was throwing up bags, big ones to put our good trash in. I saw the regular three lying haphazardly around the vent and leaned over to help him out. I flipped upside-down and my hair fell down in a flame shape against the gray of the inside of the subway.
“Well, come on, are you coming up or not?” I asked, dropping a hand down. He grabbed it and I hauled myself back out of the vent, pulling him half with me. I heard his feet hit the edge as he helped me.
I shouldered the bags, letting him lead me wherever he thought the trash would be best. Despite the time, there were tons of people on Main. They bustled around in their odd clothes, business suits, and church clothes. I never got the concept of church clothes in New York. It was stupid, because they always got dirty or you got robbed for telling people you bought nice clothes. I briefly wondered if Wren knew.
“I have no idea, either,” he replied, a little creepily. I was totally used to him listening to my thoughts but not talking to him that way.
“You might want to get used to it,” he said. We walked down the street. I held onto the sleeve of his sweatshirt as he guided us through the streets. I didn’t want to get lost in all these people.
I shivered. Creepy. I shook my head again. I have to focus on trash. Yes, trash all over the place, but more importantly, trash we could sell. Wren dragged me to one of the less populated streets and as we passed a diner my stomach grumbled.
I put a hand on it, trying to silence it. It grumbled again. Wren laughed and drew me into the diner. He picked a booth and dropped me in it, heading away.
“Aspirin,” he replied. I knew. All those thoughts jumping at him gave him headaches. One of the cons among thousands of pros, like knowing exactly what I was thinking all the time. I blew my hair out of my face and sighed. I would never have a moment around him that he didn’t know what I was thinking about.
The door slammed next to me and I saw a huge, burly man come in. Wow. Muscle- Bonanza! I shivered. Wouldn’t like to have that thing tackle me!
Wren returned. He took a gulp out of his water and searched for a waitress.
She soon came, taking our orders for the lumberjack slam. Eight pancakes, six eggs, ten pieces of either sausage or bacon. She poured our coffee and Wren did his up, two creamers and one packet of sugar. I put one creamer and eight sugars in mine.
Wren noticed.
“Hey, why eight? Usually you only put six,” he asked, stating the obvious. I needed some sugar after my rude awakening this morning. I was still drying off.
“Oh…sorry,” he mumbled, taking a sip of his coffee. Answering my unasked questions again!
“Hey, most people would call you a freak for not being too surprised, you know.” Wren told me, taking a huge gulp. I thought on it.
Yeah, I guess I was a little shocked at myself for not caring more. I shrugged, avoiding Wren’s eyes. I chugged my coffee and started to rip open sugar packets. One after the other, I made a pile in my hand. I watched the tiny bits fall down the sloped sides. The newspaper suddenly caught Wren.
“Dude, look at this!” He pointed to the front page. Deadly Rampage Still Unsolved. There was a corny picture of a white chalk drawing of a person, spread out on the ground. The arms twisted at awkward angles, the body crumpled.
I ripped it from his hands.
One look at the newspaper title and I knew.
“You’re kidding me. You know all they put in this is made-up crap! Listen to this, ‘There were no signs of an attack at the scene, although blood was everywhere. DNA analysis showed the blood at each of the crime scenes was of a different victim…’ Tell me you don’t believe it!”
“Oh, but I do,” he said severely. He adopted a spooky air. “Tis only true, I seen-er, saw- it myself…” He moved his hands in a little fakey crystal ball movement. I imitated him, trying hard to hold back the laughs. I didn’t even get what I wanted to say out before he read me and burst out laughing. I was disappointed, but laughing anyway at the absurdity of the situation. I threw the newspaper across the room.
It landed on the counter, sliding to a stop in front of a waitress. She glanced down at it and her face had a confused, shocked, and horrified look on it when she raised her head. She stumbled away, mumbling under her breath.
“Seventy…two…goodness…”
Wren and I cracked up again. I heard a thump, and he was gone. I looked to see what had happened, the laughs fading. He was on the floor, staring ahead, shocked. I broke down once more and helped him up.
He muttered about something or other, and then the food came. We wolfed it down, shoveling it in like there was no tomorrow. The plates were shiny reflective clean when we finished. Wren downed the remaining coffee and with a sigh, stood up. He threw the money down on the table and looked at me.
“Come on, Abs, dumpster day,” he said brightly, holding out his hand for me. I groaned and took it, letting him lead me out the door. The sun was bright through the gray clouds stringing themselves across the sky. People crowded in as soon as the door closed, pushing us back and forth. I had to grab his hand in a death grip just so I wouldn’t lose him in the rush.
He winced, flexed his fingers slightly. I loosened my hold, unwilling to let go. We weaved through the hustle; most of all I could see were people’s backs and arms, short as I was. I had no idea whether we were close to the pavement or not, and when I came close to finding out I was always shoved back.
We came to a side alley, in one of the oldest parts of town I knew. There were no fire escapes and a rusted Dumpster blocked the way. The padlock had been chopped off, leaving it wide open. Wren took the chance and climbed it quickly. I followed, not as fast because of the difference on levels of skill.
I fell face down in the burning stench of rotten bananas. I know everyone says rotten eggs, but once you’ve been Dumpster diving in New York you know the worst is a molded mattress mixed with rotten bananas. Moldy mattresses were the worst because if you touched it you got mattress fluff all over you. Not fun.
Wren choked back a laugh; instead it came out snargled and messed up. I humphed and turned away.
I dug in the trash, throwing everything we couldn’t sell at Wren, just for it to come flying right back at me. I threw it faster, dodging the returned pieces of trash. Any pieces we found were carefully dropped to the ground, close to the bags.
The ground was soon littered with cruddy romance books, okay looking chairs, and Mardi Gras beads. The last were for me. I was creating a haven in the subways. It was under 18th street, right before it hit Seventh. Both of my lucky numbers, big plus for me. I pinned them up on the walls, using duct tape. They rippled and shone when the subway trains rumbled by, shaking the walls.
I smiled when I thought of it. I was halfway done, thanks to Wren. He’d helped after school, burrowing through the trash. Every once in a while when he had a bit more money he’d buy a bunch of them, as presents. But he would only surprise me with them when I did well on a test. It was like he was trying to pull me back.
When my father had left I had nowhere to go when my mom-yeah-and Wren said I could stay with him. His house was all over the place. Back then he had alternated, sleeping in the warm subways in winter and rooftops in the warm summer. He hadn’t moved last summer, though.
“I was perfectly fine where I was,” he growled, holding my elbow. I was hanging half way out over the edge, moments to a very bad all over pain. He pulled me back with a snap and smiled. “I pulled out a piece of crap down by the bottom, Sorry, I didn’t realize you would fall off,” he apologized. I gave him a pat on the arm, acknowledging the words but not entirely accepting them.
For once he stayed out of my head and let me be as we worked through the day. I ended up with around thirty Mardi Gras necklaces and we dropped the bags off at his current place.
He led me by the hand to my abandoned station and helped me put up the beads. We sat down close together, admiring the effect. The reds, blues, and greens, stood out in dull but sharp contrast to the silvers and blacks. They shook violently as a train rounded the corner and fled past. I chanced a look at Wren. A huge, silly grin was spread across his face, from ear to ear.
He noticed my eyes on him and laughed, a sharp bark. I cocked my head, confused.
“It’s just, I was remembering when you stole my idea. You were so happy,” he laughed again. I smiled at the memory. It was a week or so after I stayed in the subway with him. We had been running around like the stupid idiots we were and would always be.
“What’s your number one thing to do before you die?” he asked me, wondering.
“I think it would have to be a glass house. I know it would kill me and all, but it would be so freaking awesome!” I laughed, walking next to him.
“I see what you mean, you know, getting fried by millions of little lights. Ah,” he sighed, “the good die too young, I say.” He acted dramatically, using hand gestures.
“Yes, and your time has come much too soon,” I snarled, menacing. I stooped down and picked up a piece of glass and pretended to jab him. He jumped back with a whoosh of air and snapped my arm up, twisting it so the glass was close enough to my face to strike.
He let out a growl, choking it off when he saw my face, then let me go, laughing nervously. He laughed even louder to cover it up, and I let him, laughing with him and forgetting about it for now.
A train rumbled nearby and he grabbed me, pulling me to the side and half tossing me up to the ledge. He scrambled up and I yanked him up. The train whooshed by just behind him. He collapsed in hysterical giggles.
I watched as broken glass shivered all around us, reflecting the light. I frowned. Wren’s laughing was starting to bother me in a major way. “Wren, you can’t be-” I was cut off when he slapped his mouth over mine, shutting me up. He went dead silent and gave me a glare, obviously saying to shut up. I nodded, almost imperceptibly. His whole body quivered and I realized it was from fear.
I snapped back to the now. Bad memories, I told myself. Horribly bad memories. We had ended up running all the way to the hospital for stitches. Not for him. Me. All up and down my legs and arms I had run that glass. I shivered in horror at what I had done.
I still want to do it. I’m just able to control it better. Especially with Wren here. That’s why I try to spend as much time as possible around here. He…calms me. Well, now more than ever. It was great having him in large crowds, or in the dark.
I concentrated on happy, happy things. Wren must have seen my face scrunch up as I thought hard and he sat up, looking at me almost sadly.
“Sorry, Abbey. I didn’t think you’d…”he let the thought trail off. I sat up.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, trying to sound not scared and horrified, “I’m fine.” Even I heard my voice tremble.
He nodded, knowing what I didn’t want to talk about, think about, remember.
I stood and walked very slowly to the wall of the abandoned subway station. The wall was covered with graffiti that you could only see if you stuck your face right next to it, because of the age and light. The station had been boarded up long ago. I ran my fingers along the wall, shaking the beads as I went. Wren sat still in the middle of the floor while I wandered.
There was only a little light, coming from who knows where, but not enough that I would have known where I was going. One second I was putting my foot down, the next there was nothing to put my foot down on. I had just enough time to claw for the wall and let out a shriek before I bashed my head.
There was black. Black, black, pressing in on me. It stabbed me. Everywhere at once. Fear shook my body. I could see nothing, touch nothing, smell nothing. It scared me enough that I wished Wren was here, in this darkness with me. Even though he wouldn’t like it, I wished for it.
The black punished me for getting distracted. It ripped me apart, tore me savagely. There was a hole in my leg. A hole in my arm. And suddenly, there was an absence of something in my chest. Like something vital had just been stolen. It pushed me back together violently, shoving until bones and muscle snapped back together. But the hole continued. I cried out.
What had I lost? What had been so important I had dared to forget it?? I realized with a shock that it was my heart. I heard my own gasp, the rattling of sucking too much air in. The air in the darkness suddenly turned into glue, sticking me down and weighting every corner of me.
I struggled to stand. My only goal was finding it now. Finding my heart. I felt a warm trickle down my chest. My hand flew to it, feeling. It came away dripping and sticky, redder than any blood I had ever seen. I felt a stabbing pain. I pushed my hand palm down on it. I had to find my heart. A whimper burst it’s way out between my lips, growing until it was a shriek. I shouted, feeling the ground and walls for my heart.
I heard a voice, no more than a whisper in my ear. Telling me something. It murmured, growing louder. My fingers found a slimy hand. Attached to a slimy arm. Connected to a slimy something. My yells dangled as I saw the horrible creature smile wide and eat my heart from its hands. It’s teeth chewed it up into shreds. Blood dripped from it’s mouth.
It pulled back a bloody fist and punched me. The air instantly disappeared, gone from my lungs. I sucked air in just in time for the creature to punch me again, disappearing into the darkness. I fell, breath no longer passing through my mouth, and my missing heart leaving a cavern in my chest.
“Abs, wake up! Come on, I’ve got you,” Wren whispered, his breathing shallow. I felt his arms wrap around me, lifting me off the ground. I panicked. My eyes flashed open. Wren’s face was right above mine, concern in his eyes. My hand flew to my chest, the other one grabbing him.
When I spoke my breath wasn’t even a whisper, a jumble of words floating out. Wren shook his head confusedly, staring at me. He suddenly sat down again. He pulled me up and held the sides of my face, looking straight into my wide eyes.
“Calm down, Abbey. It’s fine,” he murmured, trying to reassure me as I felt his mind fingers stick in my brain. I stared right back into his eyes. I felt my whole body tremble when he pulled back out. His eyes glittered in the dim light, a tear ripping itself free. He paid no attention to it, choosing instead to hug me closer, letting me cry.
It took me hours, but eventually the tear bucket had run out. He held me tightly, waiting for me to breathe normally again. I hesitated, and pulled away. My eyes floated back out into space when I realized I wasn’t hearing anything.
Nothing. Including a heartbeat.
I gasped, pressed my hand to my chest. I couldn’t feel a beat, no matter how hard I frantically searched for it. Wren had a stressed look on his face, looking at nothing.
I scrambled across the floor, trying to find it, to find something!
“You’re not going to find anything,” Wren whispered, his voice a ghost in the station, “There’s nothing to find.” He stated it simply, like there was nothing else to it.
My mind sped by.
What was the thing? Had it actually eaten my heart? Where was my heart now? The last question I asked aloud.
“Why…am I still…alive?” I choked it out. I stared sightlessly. Wren pulled me up by the hand. His voice scratched when he talked, his voice low and a deep sadness in his eyes, with almost a hint of guilt.
“Let me show you something,” he said, towing me away. He didn’t pause when we got to the edge of his current housing, drooping off the edge. He held his arms up for me. I leaned down and let him grab me. He lifted me slowly and gently, more than usual. He dropped me when I was able to stand.
Without looking, he stormed down the subway, drifting dangerously close to the third rail. I ran to catch up with him. Being alone in here was something I really didn’t want to do.
We got to Main, not bothering to avoid people. Wren didn’t even check before he jumped up, landing without even a feather’s noise when it falls. Just as well. Nobody was paying enough attention to notice him. He led me up onto the street.
The sun was setting, an orange tinge edging its way around each of the buildings. He led me to an old construction site, with only scaffolding to show. Wren climbed into it without stopping, just one continuous motion. I hesitated, looking up at it. It wasn’t too stable, swaying in the wind. He sighed and dropped down.
“I’ll hold on to you tight, okay? I’m not going to drop you, Abs. Abs?” He reassured me. My eyes went wide as I realized he wanted to carry me all the way up. I wordlessly pointed to it, he nodded.
“Look, you want to find out about what happened?” I nodded, he continued, “Then let’s get going!” He turned around, offering his back so I could ride piggyback. I shook my head. He would fall if I let him do that, all my weight just loaded on his back.
I steeled myself toward what I was going to do, finding my heart my only motivation. That, and finding out why Wren wanted to climb this.
The first girder I had to jump to grab hold of. I walked quickly across it’s broad surface to the very corner of the quarter constructed building. I ran my fingers up and down it, realizing that I could fit my feet in the holes, just enough to get me up to the next level. I glanced up, noticing Wren already three stories ahead of me.
I nodded to myself. “You can do this. It’s just like the little engine. I’m him. I think I can, I know I can, I know I can,” I talked softly to myself. Improvising, I changed think to know. All the better.
I stuck my hand in the hole, sliding my sneakers into the next holes up. My hands went up another hole. Up went my feet. I focused on the repetition, not paying attention to how far up I was or how far away the ground was.
The sun was down, gray light hiding me. I still found the holes, after ten stories the pattern had imprinted itself in my mind so that I was free to think of nothing. Hand, feet, hand, feet, up, over, hand, feet, hand, and feet. Wren’s hand interrupted my climb.
“Abs, you’re fine. We’re at the top,” he murmured gently to me. I gasped and grabbed his hand before my thoughts returned, choosing instead to ignore how high up I was. He hauled me up and over the edge, bringing me to the top.
It was the tallest building in the area, counting the fact that it was still not finished. The little houses were a story high, looking down at them made me feel sick. I sat down abruptly and my fingers curled around the edges, gripping it tight. I turned my face up to the black sky and stared. Anything to keep the far away lunch from coming back up.
Wren sat in front of me and put his hand on my knee, talking to me. His voice was soothing, like a mother’s lullaby.
“Abs, come on, we’re nearly there. Time to get up and go. Yeah, you did it, you climbed all the way up here in the dark.”
I hadn’t realized, I had been whispering ‘I knew I could, I knew I could’ for a while now. I shut my mouth, keeping a tight clamp on it. I sighed and lifted his hand off of my leg, getting myself ready for whatever this was.
“Alright, alright,” my voice shook out, “Let’s get this thing over with!” I gritted my teeth and raised myself up to a crouch, straightening out slowly. I stared straight ahead and tried not to think about how I was going to get back down. Wren led me to the middle of the possible roof. Empty air was around me and under me. I felt even more uneasy and panicky, if that was possible.
He sat down near the middle and pulled out a stick of chalk. I watched as he drew on each of the steel girders. The white stood out in sharp contrast to the rusted orange of the building.
I’m sorry to say that I can’t remember much else of that night except a blinding pain and waking up in the morning with an encyclopedia’s worth of magickal knowledge, literally, in my lap.
I fought my way out of the dream. Awesomely handsome men with fangs, along with equally awesome men that kept transforming into wolves had been chasing me. They never let up, even after hours of dream running, the kind where you never get tired. My feet moved and moved, but they were always at my heels, trying to bite me. Each and every step brought them even closer to me. I jolted awake just when they had their teeth in my pants.
My breath was quick, almost hyperventilating. The subway was still extremely dark, even through the grates overhead. The noise was at a minimum so I’d guess it was around six thirty or so in the morning.
Wren turned to me, crawling over to my side in a matter of seconds. He hugged me while I blubbered about the horrible night.
“I-I dreamt…that f-faeries….and mag-gick…were r-real…” I went on to roughly describe everything about my nasty dream. The vampires, werewolves, my heart.
He sighed, pulled away to look at my face. His next words were a vague murmuring to himself about how innocent I was. Wren’s eyes were sad, they looked like he had matured about a hundred years over the night.
He turned away from me.
“Get your stuff together. Time for you to get home,” he said roughly. I nodded and picked up my clothes, shoving everything into my backpack. I didn’t question him or why he felt I had to leave. I zipped my backpack up and hopped off the edge of the old station with a sense of finality. I walked quickly across the rails. I ignored the strange looks I got and the ones that were used to our foot traffic. I didn’t look back once until I got to the stairs, glancing behind me to see the flicker of a light go out and hear a faint sob.
Strange. I shouldn’t have been able to hear that from all the way over here… I shrugged to myself. More pressing matters were on my mind.
1 comment:
Not sure where to post this but I wanted to ask if anyone has heard of National Clicks?
Can someone help me find it?
Overheard some co-workers talking about it all week but didn't have time to ask so I thought I would post it here to see if someone could help me out.
Seems to be getting alot of buzz right now.
Thanks
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