Silverlighters (revised version as I edit)

1 - Dedicated to Dalfare for being my inspiration

Before 

                                                                               1

I still remember the way I fumbled with the key to the security door, my hands numb with the cold. My only thought reaching the warmth of the apartment on the fifth floor where I lived with my father. That and the fact I was running late, and was meant to be studying with Bianca for the Biology test the next day.

If only I knew then how much everything was about to change. I might have paid more attention to the small details. And I definitely wouldn’t have been worrying about some stupid test.

I remember feeling as though I was being watched. Or maybe that feeling came to me later, after the explosion.

I’ve gone over it so many times in my mind I can hardly remember what was real and what wasn’t.

I remember glancing down the street as I struggled with the key. I saw a man standing there, watching me. He was half hidden by the shadows, his hands thrust in the pockets of his long, dark coat, his back hunched with the cold.

I never got a good look at his face, though now I wish I had.

You see, the security door suddenly swung open, and a woman rushed out, colliding with me. She looked up, her face obscured by the hood of her black jacket and the thick blue scarf around her neck.

For a moment time seemed to stop as she met my eye, the tendrils of our warm breath mingling in the cold air between us.

The woman stepped back, letting out a small gasp of surprise.

Something deep inside me woke. There was something familiar about her.

My hand reached for her as though it were possessed, my subconscious mind already aware of the one thing I failed to even consider at the time. 

A look of horror and fear crossed the woman’s face. She broke eye contact, and pushed past me.

I turned, my hand still reaching for her as she moved quickly down the street.

The man stepped out of the shadows, linking his arm through hers, and they hurried away. Neither of them looked back.

If only I had realized then. If only I could go back.

I would have followed them, because now I believe I know who the woman was. Why she seemed so familiar.

I think it was my mother – which should be impossible considering I watched her die the day I turned eleven.

Instead, oblivious, I hurried toward the elevator, rubbing my hands to warm them. At the time I was more worried about how late I was and how angry my father was likely to be on a scale of somewhat annoyed to seriously pissed off.

As far as my father was concerned, I didn’t have a curfew as such. You would think that was a good thing, right? But it wasn’t. Instead, he demanded I be home by dark. No exceptions.

He said the city wasn’t safe, especially for sixteen year old girls, to which I always reminded him that I was almost seventeen – practically an adult – and that it wouldn’t be an issue if I were a boy.

At the time I thought he was being overprotective.

Now I know better.

I was rehearsing my apology when I reached the fifth floor.

As it turned out, I didn’t need it.

A thin sliver of light spilled out into the corridor, coming from our apartment door.