Unwound

by Yolanda Olson

  tighten up and that’s when I decided it would be best to stop and

  rest altogether.

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  Sitting on a bench I felt my waistband to make sure that the

  book hadn’t fallen out during my escape. It was still there.

  I couldn’t help but smile. I had done something, that if any

  that had been made before me had dare tried, were probably

  dismantled because of it.

  I shoved London and any thoughts of what the repercussions

  those before me and what repercussions I would probably have to

  suffer if she found me. Leaning back on the bench, I decided

  started to watch the humans as they went by. Some were in small

  groups, others were alone, but all of them seemed so full of

  something I longed for.

  Never mind that; you’ll never have it and if you let yourself

  think about it, you’ll torture yourself more than she ever did to

  you.

  Suddenly I had the feeling that I was being watched. Glancing

  around me I saw a little male human standing no more than

  fifteen feet away from me holding a balloon in his hand. I knew

  what it was from when London celebrated the years I was alive.

  She called them my birthday and said that balloons were part of

  the celebration.

  That lasted two years.

  I smiled uneasily at him. Upon seeing my smile, without

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  hesitation he came over and sat down next to me.

  “What happened to your eye?” he asked curiously.

  “My eye?”

  “Yeah, it’s like a hole,” he said reaching out to touch my face.

  A hole? I wasn’t sure what he was talking about. Then it

  dawned on me. In my clumsy need to run away from London I

  hadn’t taken any care to cover the part of my face that was

  unfinished.

  Quickly, I put a hand over the left side of my face and looked

  away.

  “Don’t hide it,” he said tugging on my hand, “I think it looks

  cool!”

  I turned back to him doubtfully wondering if he was lying to

  me, but the sudden big smile on his freckled little face told me he was being truthful.

  “Okay,” I said putting my hand down.

  I decided to take him in. He was average size for a child I

  would assume. Light brown hair, golden brown eyes, a smattering

  of freckles around his nose, and when he smiled you could see

  that at least two of his teeth were missing.

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  “My name is Jared, what’s yours?” he asked as he tugged as

  his balloon string.

  I wasn’t prepared for that question. I wasn’t prepared for

  human interaction at all, but least of all to answer something as

  simple as what my name was. Instead of answering him, I

  tentatively reached over and gave his balloon string a tug.

  He smiled that big smile at me in return, and then stood up.

  “Mom and Dad said I shouldn’t talk to strangers so I should

  go before they come out of the store,” he said pointing across the street, “But don’t leave yet. I want to go in there and get you a

  present for being so cool.”

  Before I could protest, he got to the edge of the sidewalk,

  looked both ways and took off like one of the animals I had seen

  in the forest straight into the store. For just a moment I felt like running away. London had once promised me a present, which

  was the night I had woke up screaming in pain as she unstitched

  me.

  My leg started to shake. It had only been a few moments but I

  could feel myself start to panic. What if this was a trap? What if London was in there? She was smart enough but was she fast

  enough to catch me?

  I felt a small tap on my shoulder.

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  “Here you go,” he said holding out a small article.

  I hadn’t even realized that I had closed my eyes in my fear of

  London coming out of the store to drag me back to hell.

  Grabbing my hand, he turned it over and dropped the present

  in it. I started at for a moment. It seemed to be a black patch of some sort with some kind of thick string attached to it.

  “It’s an eye patch, I won it out of the claw machine,” he said

  proudly. “For me?” I asked softly. Nodding, he grabbed it from

  my hand and fastened it over my eye, adjusting the string so that

  it would sit comfortably around my head.

  “Now you look like a pirate! There’s nothing cooler than

  that,” he exclaimed with a grin of satisfaction.

  “Thank you,” I whisper as I watch him walk away. I had

  never known genuine kindness until this moment. Any nice thing

  London had done for me I knew was a lie.

  I spent the rest of the day on that bench. I watched everyone

  as they walked by and noticed how the adults would not as much

  as glance at me. To them I was probably a vagrant and I could not

  fault them for that. I’m sure I looked anything but dashing after

  my sprint through the woods. I reached up and ran my hands

  through my hair. No, it’s not yours. It never was. I cringe at that thought. So many things attached to me were not mine but it had

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  never crossed my mind until I found that damn journal.

  Leaning back in the bench I search my memory, I couldn’t

  remember who she had gotten my hair from, though I’m sure she

  had made a very intricate entry about it.

  I still damn myself for my curiosity. I should’ve known better

  than to touch anything that London created yet I had found myself

  so drawn to the numbers on the journal. They were just too

  familiar for me not to open it and see.

  Looking down at my arm I made sure that I couldn’t see the

  numbers. Even though it had been a bright, warm day, I kept my

  hooded jacket on and my sleeves rolled down. I had enough

  reminders moving inside of me to let me know that I wasn’t like

  the ones walking around me, I didn’t need another.

  I sighed.

  The longer I sat here the longer I realized I was alone now. I

  had nowhere to sleep, no one to talk to, and no mother. I was

  what I had once read in a book referred to as an orphan. In my

  situation that should be the better thing for me but I had just left London and so I missed her still.

  My insides ticked louder the longer I sat lost in silence. I

  stood and prepared to move. I couldn’t be found out for what I

  was and now I didn’t have the one person who made me to care

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  for me in her own twisted way.

  Oh stop it. You wanted to escape and you did. Now live as

  normal of a life as you can. I smiled slightly. Sometimes I

  wondered if the voice inside me were really my own thoughts or

  if they were the thoughts of the man or woman she had harvested

  part of my brain from. I knew it was only half because the other

  half had to be what she put throughout most of us. Little cogs and wheels, screws and pins; we only looked human on the outside

  but on the inside we were something much more intricate.

  It didn’t matter anymore though. Out of all of us, because I

  knew deep down inside me th
ere had to be more than just me and

  the Other, I was the one that looked the most passable as a real

  man. She had harvested most of my skin from the same person so

  that there were little to no discolorations noticeable on me. I

  clenched my fists angrily.

  How dare she? How dare she destroy other lives to make us?

  What were we that were more important than a real live breathing

  human? Sighing, I unclench my hands and begin to walk quickly.

  That was London; creator extraordinaire who gave no pity or

  thought for anything other than what she wanted to accomplish.

  I walked until my legs started to stiffen. The sun had gone

  down some time ago and night had fallen with a cool, crisp breeze

  as its acquaintance. I found myself in a small park with benches

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  lining most of its sides and decided it would be a good idea to rest until I felt ready to move on. Leaning back I crossed my arms

  over my chest and closed my eye. It felt nice to sit and feel the

  breeze go around me like an embrace I had never known before. I

  sat there and let ticking inside of me grow louder and stronger,

  blocking out the sounds of the night.

  I could feel my body going into its recharging mode and for

  the first time since I had been “born”, I actually felt safe as I felt myself slip further and further away.

  Suddenly my eye snapped open and I felt my makeshift heart

  start to beat erratically. I could hear the sound of chains creaking close by and any feeling of safety immediately left me. How

  could she have found me so quickly? It had not been a full day

  and already London was here to drag me back to hell.

  Shakily, I got to my feet and started to slowly head in the

  direction of the chains. There would be no point in trying to

  escape now with my legs still feeling tight. Taking a deep breath I continued as bravely as I could toward the horrible sound until I

  found myself in a small clearing. There she was on a swing. I

  knew what that was only because I remembered coloring it in a

  book she had once given to me when she had been kinder. It was

  ironic now how she chose this way to come drag me back to

  torment.

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  The closer I got the more I realized that something was very

  different about her. She seemed smaller somehow and there were

  paintings on her arms. She had a hood over her head and her hair

  had seemed to grow longer in the few hours since I had seen her.

  Even her skin color had changed; pale small hands gripped the

  chain as the strong, small legs swung her higher and higher in the air.

  I got as close as I dared.

  What had she done to herself in the time since I had seen her

  last? Had she decided to make an experiment of herself?

  London slowly turned her head to the side, which was still

  shrouded by the long hair and the hood. I wasn’t sure if she had

  noticed I was there until she gave one more powerful kick and the

  swing circled over the top of the swing set. Landing on one knee,

  she looked up at me with dead, dangerous eyes.

  Those eyes.

  They weren’t familiar yet they held such an animalistic, dead

  gleam to them.

  This wasn’t London.

  What I was staring into the face of was something much,

  much worse.

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  Three

  Instinctively I backed away and choked back a scream.

  She got to her feet in front of me and stuck her hands in her

  pockets. The moonlight made her look so pale, fragile, and young.

  Her eyes were captivating, one being ice blue and the other a

  green I could only have seen in a dream; under the watchful eye

  of the moon they were given such a magnificent glow to them

  that for just a moment I felt myself lost in them. I couldn’t let my guard down though, because I knew I just knew she was

  dangerous by the way she dismounted the swing.

  She stared at me for a moment with a great deal of curiosity

  before speaking.

  “What are you?” she asked in a soft voice. I hadn’t expected a

  voice so sweet to come from something that so closely resembled

  a monster.

  “I… I don’t know really,” I replied answering as truthfully as

  I could.

  “Hmph.” She stood there and took me in. I could tell she was

  looking at every detail of my being and for some reason, I almost

  felt as if though she could see inside of me.

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  Closing her eyes she lifted her head slightly and took a deep

  breath. The moonlight glistened on a scar on her face as she did it, but I still couldn’t help thinking that she was absolutely beautiful.

  “Not human,” she said as she lowered her head and trained

  her eyes on me again. “Not alive, but not dead and definitely not

  undead,’ she said with a small grin. “I don’t think we’ll be hurting each other this evening. I’m Finnegan.”

  She stepped closer and held out her hand. I stared at it for a

  moment unsure of what she wanted to do until she let out an

  impatient sigh and came over, taking my hand and putting it in

  hers, shaking it up and down.

  “What are you so scared of? You seem awfully jumpy,” she

  said shifting her weight from one leg to the other.

  “My mother.”

  She stared at me for a moment almost as if she were

  considering what I said to be false. For someone else to have such a fear of their mother must seem unheard of but she didn’t know

  the pains I had suffered at her hands. The nights of torment where I would wake screaming in agony because London had either

  decided to tear off a piece of me for one of her new experiments

  or make little adjustments as she called them.

  Finnegan searched my face for any signs of deception and I

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  could feel myself starting to get angry. How could she not believe me? Had she not known similar torments as I’ve had? She

  must’ve because she too bore scars. She scratched her artfully,

  colored arm and raised an eyebrow almost as if to question what I

  had just said.

  “Yes.”

  She looked away for a moment then back at me. Again I had

  the feeling that she was trying to look inside of me. I wondered

  what she would think if she saw that most of me was nothing

  more than used pieces of scrap. Her eyes drifted down to my

  hands and lingered there for a moment. I looked down and saw

  that the moonlight made the scarring on my hands more

  prominent too so I shoved them in my pockets.

  “Do you have a name?”

  “Three two five seven,” I replied.

  Her reaction almost caused me to laugh out loud. The look of

  confusion was so apparent on her face.

  “You don’t look like a number,” she said with a shrug.

  “It’s all I’ve been known by,” I reply looking away.

  “Is it okay if I make a suggestion?” I nodded as she tilted her

  head slightly to the side and she glanced up at the sky again. I saw 39

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  her place purse her lips as she searched the heavens but for what I wasn’t sure until she spoke again. She po
inted to a cluster of stars and my eyes followed. “Do you see that pattern? I know that it’s

  hard to see especially with just one eye but I think your name

  should mean something great,” she said with a smile as she

  glanced back at me. “That set of stars is named Caelum, and it

  means ‘chisel’, you know like an engraver’s tool,” she said

  glancing at my arm where I was hiding my numbers. I think that

  should be your name,” she said looking into my eye purposefully.

  “Caelum,” I repeat thoughtfully. This was another being that

  was doing a random act of kindness for me, how could I refuse?

  Mother had never given me a name before. Honestly I don’t think

  it was ever a thought in her head. Maybe if she did she would’ve

  assumed it would make me real to her. That’s not love. As it

  stood the only reason I had only thought of myself as three two

  five seven because of the journal I found. And here was Finnegan,

  a complete stranger, putting so much effort into naming me when

  London couldn’t be bothered enough to care. “Thank you. My

  name is Caelum.”

  “Good. Now that we’ve been introduced, I suggest you get

  out of this park. Strange things happen here after dark if you can’t tell,” she said with a laugh. “It was nice to meet you and I hope

  that maybe one day we can be friends.”

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  Before I had a chance to reply she had turned and ran off

  faster than anything I had ever seen move and was gone into the

  night. As I stood there I thought of the last thing she said to me. I never had a friend before and I found myself hoping that maybe

  one day she would be the friend I never had as she had so

  generously offered.

  A twig snapping broke me from my thoughts. I didn’t turn

  toward the noise, but instead walked quickly in the direction

  which she had ran since I knew it had to be the other side of the

  park, Another twig snapped and then another. It was almost as if

  the sounds were getting closer the faster I walked. I still refused to look.

  The pace behind me quickened as soon as my own did. I knew

  I couldn’t run because I was in enough pain trying to walk as fast as I was already. Maybe unlike death at the hands of London,

  whatever this was following me now would make it quick and

  with little pain as possible.

  I could almost feel its breath on the back of my neck when to

  my left something came running quickly out of the darkness