Gone with an Angel

Chapter Four:

By the next morning, there was still no sign of my father. I didn't ever worry about him, because I could only hope something bad had happened to him.

It was not unusual that he disappeared for a few days or so, always returning drunk and as vicious as ever. I was curled up in a tiny sea blue quilt with a few too many holes in it, not doing much to keep me warm. I was staring at the graying ceiling while thinking of everything, and at the same time of nothing at all. Then suddenly, I remembered the note from yesterday that the creep had "found." I urged myself out of the tough uncomfortable bed and stretched my arms out towards my bag, digging my hand inside for the note, and laying back down. Sighing, I broke the seal and began to read.

Kris,

You're never truly alone.

What the hell did that mean? It wasn't even signed. What kind of person just writes five words on a fancy piece of paper, seals it, and then doesn't tell me who it is?

I lay back in bed for a while longer, running my slender fingers through my blond hair, attempting to draw the tangles out of it. I stayed there for a while, trying to rid my hair of tangles and twirling the cork-screw curls around my finger again and again.

After about thirty minutes of that, I dragged myself reluctantly out of bed, still wearing the old clothes from the day before, and went out for a morning walk. My life was too sheltered, with no friends, so you can imagine it kind of ruins plans. I walked past towering houses, bright, clean, sparkling green grass, happy children laughing as they tossed around a rainbow shaded beach ball. Bright sunshine danced across freshly mowed lawns and brought warmth to all of the homes and yards it enveloped. Happy. Decorated. Beautiful. It was hard to decide when the world lost all of those qualities to me. When was the last time I was a happy smiling child? The last time I saw the bright colors and the decorations as something to be celebrated? I was lost in my thoughts when I ran into something. Or more like someone.

"Hey! Watch-" I paused, looking up into the guy's face. The all too familiar guy who was everywhere. God, where wouldn’t this guy be? My eyes turned down and I pushed past him, not bothering to glance at his face, knowing a smile was glued to it.

"So, here we are...again," The idiot turned around and started walking beside me...again.

"Yup," I replied, trying to see if he would go away noticing I didn't want to talk.

"Walking? Up so early?" He asked me, which I thought was rather stupid, seeing as he's up early walking as well.

"Nothing else to do...and you?" I said simply, seeing as he wasn’t going to be easy to shake off, so I might as well try at something.

"Oh you know, just seizing the day, Carpe Diem and all that. Might as well when it's such a beau-"

"Look. I don't know who you are, or what you're doing, why you bother talking to me, or why you can't catch a hint. I don't want you around, I for sure don't need you, and clearly I'd rather not talk to you or anyone." And at that, I picked up the pace. Surely that would've lost him by now.

Once again, Kris is wrong. "I'm James," This time there's no smile, and he seemed to be more calm. But he was still hanging around me like a lost puppy.

"Kris," I nodded. That was as close to friendly as I was going to get.

"And...I'm your neighbor. I just moved here. I thought you seemed cool. Sorry for coincidences that do seem to happen a lot. I'm not doing anything, I'm new here, I just thought 'hey, maybe I should make friends with the beautiful neighbor.' I don't expect you to need me, and I figured you looked lonely, too. You don't want me here, then fine, say the word and I'm gone," His deep set brown eyes were sparkling, and he looked more relaxed, and not some dopey smiling stalker. Kind of.

I didn't reply, because I didn't know what to expect. How should I react? What should I say then? He seemed more normal now, and oddly that seemed to be more unsettling. I kept walking, and he did, too. I zoned out into my own world of thoughts and ideas and forget he was there. That time, he was not trying so hard to talk. We walked in silence for a few minutes when it was slowly broken and I remembered that he's there.

"Where are we walking to?" he asked.

Every time I walked it helped me feel a bit freer, and I walked on the same route I used to walk with Shaylee before she fell into her deep coma. We used to round the bend of houses near ours, walking up the narrow, clean streets, passing the noisy, clattering bus stop, walking around a few run-down apartment complexes, and making our way to the local park.

"Just to the park. I usually take the same trails every time I go walking..."

"You take the same route every time you walk? Why?"

I hesitated... Maybe he wasn't as creepy now, but I wasn’t so sure I should be best friends with this guy either. Because of my father, my guard was up for everyone I met. I had lost the only people I loved, my mother and my sister, so I worried it would happen to someone else again. To prevent it, I kept a wall up to block out anyone and everyone. "Shaylee," I murmured under my breath.

"Hmm?" He slowed his walking then, and for some reason I forced my legs to do the same. Before I knew it, I was talking. Talking to this guy I should hate, and this creep who had done nothing but weird things. This guy who was everywhere I was, wherever I seemed to be.

"Shaylee...My sister. I used to always go walking with her, the same route every day. It was kind of our own escape."

I had expected him to ask more, or smile thinking this was all such a perfect thing. He didn't press on further though; he just trained his eyes on the sidewalk in front of him and nodded. I was thankful. We walked in silence the rest of the way until we stopped at the park.

"So," he started up another conversation, “what do you and Shaylee usually do at the park?"

It had been three years since we had gone, so I stopped a minute to try and flash back to the last time and all the times before it. I couldn't remember , and for a moment I felt infuriated that it was seeming my father was taking away my best memories too, which are sometimes all that I have left.

I couldn’t form an answer to tell James, even though I was desperately trying. He didn't seem to mind though, he just lead the way to a shaded bench under a willow tree which offered some refuge from the steaming summer sun.

 I didn't remember what happened next, I remembered sitting next to him, he said something, but before I knew it I was slipping off into a sleep. A deep sleep while the light rays of sun covered the world and I was only sitting on an old wooden bench in a familiar park with a guy. Then I was gone in an instant.