The Numbered

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Edward landed unceremoniously at the bottom of the steps, face down in a puddle. He cried out and grabbed at his jarred right knee and rubbed. He turned and looked back see the guards walking away, their laughter ringing in his ears. Edward knew he should brush himself off and head home, but he remained in a heap, defeated. Everything seemed to be slipping away from him and it was all because of her. It wasn't supposed to be like this. For eighteen years he'd waited to become a man, a man of standing; living proof that being born in the gutter didn't mean ending up there. But here he was now, in a gutter.

Edward decided that as soon as he got home he would instruct his father to sue the guards who has assaulted him, as well as the doctor and the council. They couldn't do this to him and get away with it. A small, metal object caught his eye; it was the key to his new car. He reached out for it, but a highly polished shoe crushed down on his hand and he cried out in pain again.

"Filthy scum! Get up off the floor and go find a job. People like you should be ashamed."

Cradling his throbbing hand, he watched as the finely dressed owner of the shoe, side stepped him and walked off. Why couldn't the man see that he wasn't one of them? He wasn't a Flawed! Was his new, reduced SPR score visible for all the world to see? With his pain-free hand, he placed the key in his jeans pocket and forced himself to get up.

"Are you ok?"

Edward almost didn't hear the quiet, feminine voice behind him.

"Sir, I asked whether you're alright. I saw what happened and wondered if you needed any help."

Edward spun on his heels. Oh, so now someone wants to help, do they?

Go a...!"

A pretty young woman was looking up at him and stopped him mid-sentence.

"I'm, err ... fine, thank you. It was nothing. It looks worse than it is."

"But you're bleeding. Here, let me help."

He reached up and touched his face. His chin felt warm and sticky; a little blood coated the tips of his fingers.

The young woman fumbled in her bag and withdrew a neatly pressed handkerchief. She unfolded it and reached up to dab at the blood now drying on his chin. Edward flinched at her touch and the girl jerked her hand away.

"I'm sorry, I...," she said.

"There's no need. I'm fine. Honest."

The young woman's concern confused him. Woman rarely even looked in his direction.

"I'm Melody." Her cheeks flushed with colour.

"Edward," he replied. The girl replaced the handkerchief in her bag.

"Well it was nice to meet you." She began to walk away.

Edward began to argue with himself. A small hopeful voice told him to run after. A larger, more familiar voice told him to get back in his car and drive off. She wouldn't be interested in you anyway, the inner voice, chided.

"Melody!" He called after her. Maybe his luck was about to change? "Would you, err... like to go for a coffee some time?" The words didn't slip easily from his lips. Awkward and anxious, he waited for her rejection.

"Now?" she asked quickly.

"Now, is good with me," he grinned.

"I know a place not far from here where you can dry off and get warm. They also sell good coffee."

"Great, warmth and coffee sounds good."

They walked slowly towards the north of town; an area he wasn't too familiar with. Their conversation was lightweight, inane; he wasn't prepared to answer questions as to why she found him on the pavement. Neither did she ask.