by Dan Thompson
“Your hair is so perfect. I’ve never seen anything like it before,” Tristan moaned amatively, “you should see it. It lights up the blue haze like a sorcerer’s enchantment.”
Abbey held on to him tightly, lapping up every kind word, uttered so gently and with such warmth. They made her feel safe, comforted and special too.
“Ah, ever since you wandered into my life, Abbey, you’ve lit up my thoughts. We’ve only known each other for a few days, but you’ve left a handprint on my heart that will never fade. You brighten every room you walk in, like a firefly.”
Abbey hastily stiffened and pushed Tristan away with a hard thrust. “What did you say?” she spat harshly.
“What’s wrong?”
“Is this some kind of sick joke?” Abbey scrambled up off the ground, backing away steadily.
“Abbey?” Tristan mouthed. “I don’t understand.”
“Firefly? You’re with him, aren’t you?” Abbey felt herself trembling, both through anger and fear. How could I have been so stupid? Nausea hit her without warning, her head dizzy. She crashed into the empty mugs strewn across the floor, falling over and cutting herself with the broken ceramic.
“Abbey, what’s wrong? I don’t know what I’ve done.” His voice cut through her, more so than even the broken cups. “You’re bleeding!”
“Stay away from me,” she hissed sibilantly. She felt the pieces jab at her palms. She fumbled nervously to pick a shard up and threaten it in the boy’s direction. “Don’t come closer, I mean it.”
Tristan’s face turned serious. He placed his hands up in capitulation, but continued forwards, edging closer. Abbey’s hand wobbled, she could hear her heartbeat building up as if at any moment, it would crack her ribs. She momentarily faltered, double vision boggling her intoxicated brain.
“I won’t let you do what that monster did,” she sobbed with a melancholy quiver. “I can’t believe I fell for it.”
With each sob and with each warning, Abbey pressed her feet against the cold ground, backing towards her escape, for what was left for her to do now but run? The fire now crackled with a crisp sinister hum that reminded her of Stefan’s own voice. He used to whistle and purr on his way down the bare corridors to where kept his prisoners.
Abbey pressed her free hand against her ear and shook her head in disbelief. Why had she drank the brew? This was his plan all along. “I mean it, I said. I will stab you?” The blood felt hot and sticky on her hand as it ran along the edges of the dirty white shard. It was thick like soup and the sight of it made her even more nauseous, rocking her nerve somewhat. “I’ve fought one monster, I’m not as easy to manipulate as you think.” Her voice broke, not even convincing herself with the determined words.
“I don’t have a clue what you’re on about. It’s the drink talking. Look, just sit down and calm down. I’ll get a bit of cloth to clean up the blood.”
Tristan, still with his hands out, tried to shimmy by the wall and get passed, but Abbey was having none of his pretence. Feeling the ceramic cut through her own fingers, she lashed out. No matter what the cost, she wasn’t prepared to be a victim again. She didn’t sense the chip connect, but Tristan raised his forearms to defend himself. He grunted, which Abbey took to mean she had hurt him. A part of her was sad that things had turned out the way they had, but if he was in league with Stefan, then any pain she could inflict was worth it. Guilt wouldn’t matter.
Despite her heroic intentions, she couldn’t become the monster that scratched underneath her pale skin, itching to be set free. She wasn’t stupid, seeing this as a good chance to flee, her shaking hand dropped the weapon and she ran as fast as she could.
She didn’t look behind her as she crossed the living room, crashing into the cooking pot, which made a tremendous clatter as it thundered across the floor. Ryan appeared at the exit and he clung onto her.
“Hey, what’s going on? Are we playing a game?”
Abbey didn’t utter a response, instead lashed out at him too, pushing him into the wall in her eagerness to escape the school. She wasn’t sure if he was involved in the depraved scheme; if he wasn’t, then she was immensely sorry, but she had to get out any way she could.
Only minutes earlier, her head was light, airy and free. Now, however, it was heavy and slow, her vision taking more than a few seconds to catch up. A tightness gripped her chest, but she knew she couldn’t back out now. In the blackness of the corridor, Abbey thought she could see stars; flashing, blinking after spots from staring at the burning pyre for too long. She knew she had to be careful, the gaping hole that traversed into the viscera of this ancient structure would soon be upon her. Abbey was thankful she even remembered its existence.
Skidding to a halt, Abbey discovered the plank of wood propped in its place before she reached the hole. It was amazing that she had even spotted it so easily in the first place. Speculating what would have happened if she’d have fallen into the hole was a question not worth thinking about.
“Ah, damn it,” Abbey cursed, a splinter stabbing at her finger as she paced with the beam to the gap.
Thunderous footsteps echoed and boomed behind her. The boys, coming after her surely? Although they didn’t call her name. Not now their secret had been exposed. They would be coming back to claim her, like she was a lost plaything.
She removed her dirty finger from her mouth; sucking it profusely hadn’t dislodged the splinter and at this very moment, she didn’t have time to worry about it. It would be the least of her troubles if they caught her. She chucked the plank down, dust hitting her instantly; its mouldy touch strangled her with a cloud of vile filth. She coughed and spluttered, saliva sliming over her chin, but pressed on. Nudging the plank with her foot, she outstretched her arms and crossed the hole. As she reached the other side, she stretched her jumper sleeves over her hands and sprinted towards the exit.
“Damn,” she cussed, quickly changing her tack and heading back towards the hole. Abbey knew Tristan and Ryan could already be about to cross, but she had to take decisive action now to prevent difficulties later.
Their outlines fizzled from out the darkness, but Abbey got there just in time. Without a second thought, Abbey booted the wooden slat, sending it crashing down below.
“Abbey?” both boys called out, but Abbey ignored them. She stood up proud and defiant, and refused to give them attention. She narrowed her eyes, hoping that her nonplussed scowl would scare them off. She couldn’t help but notice that Ryan looked most confused, looking at her with a glint in his eye. Tristan rubbed a hand through his hair and crouched to the ground, shaking his head.
Abbey knew they wouldn’t be following her for some time.
Backing up slowing, on her soles, Abbey continued to stare in their direction until the gloom consumed them. As she jogged further down the passageway and into the entrance hall, Abbey had no idea of where to go or what to do. Her involvement with the two lads had provided a haven from the cruelty the outside world hurled at her, but she knew she had to continue, press on and discover somewhere new. She stopped to a halt and stared up at the statue, a stitch grumbling within.
“Help me,” she sighed.
The statue remained hush, keeping its clandestine truths forever closed. What that statue must have seen in its lifespan was knowledge Abbey craved to know, but for now at least, she knew she must trust no one. She took a deep breath and cradled herself towards the heavy entrance doors.
Chapter Ten. The Star
A change was coming. The air was somewhat lighter, the blue haze too. Its harsh tone seemed diluted and pale, as if it was losing the ability to illuminate the city. Abbey had only just learned of the blue haze’s synthetic origins and already that appeared to be turning from her too. This was a city of many faces: derelict, abandoned and lost to some, yet home to others, like the man who kept his apple in the window.
Home, Abbey thought to herself. This city was most certainly not home. It was a hell that unleashed its horror onto her wit
h profound fury. It was any wonder she was still alive when she could have been so easily buried beneath the hard, dry earth in Stefan’s grounds - a permanent fixture along with Rheanne and the others. Or she could be lying face down in the gutter, all life sucked out of her by the attacking wind.
As Abbey looked out across the city, high up upon a roof perch, she felt as if the life had already been sucked out of her. The vantage point gave chance to see a different face of the city, one that portrayed its tragic story of defeat. Some of the taller buildings still stood in defiance to the dystopia of the world, but they couldn’t hide their lethal scars underneath the giant building blocks. Entire levels were ripped open, exposed to the visceral elements. Huge dirty windows were cracked and dull that offered no view of solace inside. The city had fought with all its might against an impalpable enemy, but in due course, it lost, and now stood bearing its shackles with a melancholy resolve.
A change was definitely coming.
Upon fleeing the school, Abbey had drifted and roamed aimlessly, struggling to move on. Paranoia had overtaken her reason and it refused to remain quiet. She had cried down an alley, shouting at herself to gain some focus, but a change had already taken place. As the ‘special brew’ had left her system, her mind was left cold and bare; a daydream of its former self. Her shadow had chased her, no matter how fast she ran, always matching her pace. Monsters in all corners of the city were after her. Sweat had soaked her matted hair and her fingers were sore as she scraped them over the dry bones of the relic buildings.
She was falling apart - her mind was falling apart.
When she had spotted the ladder, she dashed for it without question. All Abbey needed was a way out of this labyrinth. Time to reflect and calm down was an important step to take, more so than finding water. She ignored her dry lips, sore as they were, and ascended the ladder with what little energy she had left. The rusty green metal flaked in her hand, which made her cuts sting and her eyes water, but she had forced the pain into the back of her mind.
Abbey had crawled over the top, sliding herself onto the roof terrace like a wounded animal. Her body ached, the discomfort sometimes so severe, she wasn’t sure if she had lost consciousness, but for a while, she remembered cradling her legs and lay there, staring at nothing in particular before sleep’s temperate hand had touched her eyes.
With no way of knowing how long she had slept, Abbey awoke with stiff limbs and an ache in her stomach. Abbey was used to surviving on little sustenance, but that had been locked inside that awful wooden cage, not running around dark alleys, lost in an urban jungle. How was she to subsist in this harsh, cruel world now?
A clatter rang out from within the depths, from down in the alleyway. Abbey held her breath and bit her lower lip. Was someone coming up the ladder? There was nowhere to hide. She tiptoed in jerked circles, mulling over what to do. Her hands were shaking, her fingers twitched in anxiousness too. Suddenly, her foot buckled beneath her, which made her shriek and fall to the ground.
An old granite brick.
Ignoring the sharp throb at her ankle, Abbey fumbled for the brick. A weapon, exactly what she needed. Abbey lugged it with both hands and limped towards the ladder. The brick was dry and rough against her hands. It crumbled too, making it difficult for Abbey to get a concise grasp, but although she nearly dropped it, she managed to raise the heavy thing above her head, ready to drop it onto whatever stranger was about to invade her refuge.
No one was there.
The ladder was silent, no clanking reverberated from the alleyway either. Abbey squinted and darted her eyes up and down in search of the source. All was still. Abbey sighed and let her hands go limp, the brick falling into the alley. She observed it pick up speed, twirling around and around, thundering downwards.
The pale brick obliterated upon contact, firing smaller chunks off in all directions like boulder shrapnel that pierced anything in its course. It was a long way down. Abbey groaned and turned back. Her mind was turning against her, she couldn’t deny it any longer. It was as if it was a separate essence, detached and in opposition to her. Everything was just so confusing and her indecisiveness affected her behaviour. Abbey was having trouble distinguishing what was real and what was a fabrication of her rival mind.
Had the noise come from within the darkness expanding in her mind? Her aural sense now siding with the malignancy that crusaded from within the void. How long would it be before her other senses, her other important organs joined the invading army?
Abbey approached the edge. She kicked off her boots and curled her bare toes over into the gulf. The concrete slabs felt cold. She had had enough. Life was too hard, living too painful. Eternal sleep was a soothing notion. It was time to end it. End it all. Allow the worrying and harrowing memories to suffocate and fade.
The dark alley looked a million miles away at that height. Images of her exploding like the brick had done faltered her nerve. Her legs became heavy, stiff and refused to budge another step.
“Please,” she said, her eyes watering. “I don’t want to live anymore.”
A panging ached in her chest, but Abbey knew she had no other choice. She wouldn’t be remembered. Or forgotten either for that matter. It would be the kindest gift she’d ever given to herself. No, it must be done.
Her legs wouldn’t move still, glued down upon the concrete slabs. Abbey’s body wanted her off that ledge; safe. She fought the resistance, longing to be freefalling; all responsibility out of her hands. She closed her eyes and imagined what it would feel like, the rush of falling. It was her body, she could do with it what she liked. The decision to end it all was hers, and hers alone.
“OK,” she stuttered, “on three. One … two …”
Abbey leaned forward, but the very bottom stretched further and further away. Her skin prickled and her breath caught. Butterflies rebounded inside her stomach. Her head went light. Biliousness chortled from within. Come on. Come on. She could no longer feel her body, except for the invading bile slowly seeping and percolating and oozing upwards.
As she pulled her sleeves over her hands, Abbey was reminded of Tristan. Why had he invaded her thoughts? Damn him, she cursed. His strong presence, soft lips and grey eyes that sparkled, had vexed her entire essence. He was in league with that monster, Stefan, wasn’t he?
Abbey slipped her heels backwards, off the ledge, and collapsed onto the roof terrace. She sobbed and hit the floor in rage.
“Damn you, Tristan.”
Abbey wanted his stain off her. She yelled and cussed in between breaths, while tugging at her hair. She was at war with herself, belligerent in her loneliness. She rolled from side to side, kicking and writhing with force. The pain she unleashed upon herself bruised not only her skin, but her faith too. She couldn’t do anything right, not even something as easy as throwing herself off a tall building. The voices in her head sniggered, seemingly winning their battle.
Abbey shed tears, cuddling up on the ground. She knew the sobs of sadness would fall on deaf ears, so she tried to keep them in. For some unknown reason, she thought of her mother. She had no idea what she looked like, or sounded like for that matter, but an image of a motherly figure soothed and calmed her aches. If only she had survived, then maybe life would have turned out much different. The world would still be miserable and drab and unpromisingly bleak, yet a glimmer of virtuousness and integrity would have influenced her path. They could have been a family, her father and mother and she.
The what ifs and maybes and never-ending possibilities brought with them a tiredness, an inertia to sweep her away into the land of dreams. Abbey welcomed it, hoping deep from within that she never had to endure the burden of life again.
~ * ~
The rain hammered hard against the window, so hard in fact, it wouldn’t take much more battering before the window would give in and simply implode. Abbey had always told her dad how wafer-thin she thought them to be. It would be useless to mention it again. “Glass isn’t produced any
more,” is what his response would be, Abbey just knew it. She had heard it many times before.
She sat, cradling her knees, her arms inside the sleeves of her mauve jumper. Despite the stormy weather outside, the woolly jumper that covered even her neck, always kept her warm and cosy. Her gran had knitted it for her using the old wool from an old jumper she no longer wore. Her gran was resourceful like that, taking something old and turning it into something new; a rebirth, she had said. Abbey remembered how disgusted she felt when she learned of what her gran’s needles were made from: bone. Animal bones, as if that made it any better.
Over the din of the hailing wind and rain, Abbey strained to hear the conversation taking place below.
It was unusual for them to have company, but uncommon as it was, a man had rapped on their lighthouse door and her father had let him slip inside. She had never seen the man before, assuming that he must have sought shelter from the worsening weather, but her dad seemed as if he was expecting him. The man appeared polite, removing his black hat and said hello, but there was something strange about his voice that made her cautious.
Why wouldn’t her dad look her in the eye?
His nervousness was an indication that something was amiss, but precisely what was grating on her as she sat up in her room.
Her dad had asked her to leave them be not thirty seconds after the stranger had entered their home. Although, Abbey couldn’t prove it, she was certain that this man was here to talk about her. Her ears had pricked up as her name was mentioned in, albeit, hushed tones.