Trace

Four

Trace was lead to a small room, lit only by the last dying rays of the sun coming through the open window frames. It had chipped, white walls and a matching ceiling, the floor covered by grey tiles. Two beds lay butted up to each wall. One lay unused but the other had tousled sheets and a divot in the center of the pillow, indicating it had been used recently. A small bedside table stood beside each bed, their white edges lining up with the beginning of the window. The only other feature was a tiny light switch, seeming immaculate against the crumbling plaster it was grafted into.

"It looks..." Trace started but couldn't find the right word. Allivan laughed and pulled out a sheet of thing metal from his pocket.

"It does indeed." He swiped the metal card between the handcuffs with a small snap, the circlets of reinforced metal falling to the floor as the links fizzled out. "I'll meet you at the kitchen in one hour. You can get acquainted with the other staff around here and learn your way around. Don't be late."

Allivan turned and walked promptly out the door, looking at his wrist and muttering something under his breath about being late. That's ironic, she thought as she looked out the window at the now black sky, considering what he just said. Deciding to learn her way around, she retraced Allivan's steps back into the hallway.

Trace walked down the hallway, slowly getting further and further from what she assumed to be the main room. She passed locked doorways, branches of hallways and more window frames, the moonlight filtering in and the floor around them covered in shards. A few edges were tinted red and a spot of dark red had crusted near one of the largest pieces, a piece about the size of her hand. Something clicked in the back of her mind as she picked her way across the glass-strewn floor to study it- the room she had been given to stay in was the only one without glass on the floor or stuck in the frame. That meant someone had been in there to clean up.

A noise like tinkling glass caught her attention and Trace turned on her heels, clutching the glass in front. Slowly, she got to her feet. Each step caused glass to crinkle and snap beneath her boots. Dances of light sent shadows sliding across the hall, like marionettes in a show. The sound stopped for a moment. Then it started again.

Trace reached the last shard of glass and half ran, half tip-toed to the corner she last turned, keeping her breathing quiet and her fingers curled tightly around the glass diamond. She could hear the echo of someone's footsteps as they came closer to her. Her head told her to drop the glass; instinct told her to get ready to defend herself. She didn't know anyone else in this household. For all she knew, this person could try to attack her, capture her, kill her.

Counting to three, she could still hear the footsteps. Their owner was just around the corner.

Attacking on instinct, she swirled around and held the glass to the persons throat.

***

"What do you want?" She demanded, pushing the tip of the glass further into the boys throat.

"Nothing!" He replied, eyeing the glass as it pressed further into the skin below his Adam's apple. A spot of red started to form at the tip.

"Why were you sneaking up on me?"

"You were the one doing the sneaking!"

Trace pressed it a little harder into the boy's skin and he yelped. "Why were you sneaking up on me?"

The boy sighed and lifted his hand to run a hand through his brown hair. "I heard a noise while I was working. I came to investigate, like any normal person would."

Trace blinked and slowly pulled the glass from the boy's neck. Something wasn't right in this picture. She studied the boy, properly this time. He was tall, lean and slightly tanned, with a smattering of freckles across his face. His eyes were deep brown, almost black but not quite, with a glint that showed that, once, he would have been cocky and mischievous, a troublemaker in a school classroom, a joker, popular with a group of friends who would show off.

Now, as she looked at him, she realized something. He looked different before. Right? She wasn't so sure. Her mind was a blur of emotions- confusion, relief, fear- each mixing to cloud her thoughts. Trace chided herself for acting so childish. Almost as soon as she did so, a memory flashed in her mind and her eyes snapped to his.

He had looked different, with blonde hair and blue eyes. She was positive now.

"Is everything-" he started but Trace cut him off.

"How did you change your hair? And your eyes?" She demanded, brandishing the glass in front of her again.

The boy scowled and took a hasty step backwards. "You look smart. How do you think?"

Trace paused, her hand wavering slightly and her mind ticking overtime. She hadn't counted on this. slowly, her mind worked through everything she knew, about before and after the meteors, about here and now, standing in this hallway, threatening this boy with a piece of broken glass. Something clicked.

"You can," She said slowly, not sure whether she was right but deciding to risk it anyway. "Change what you look like."

The boy nodded, a slow smile creeping onto his face, a feature which, Trace decided, looked better than a scowl. "That's right."

Trace smile back, a let her hands fall to the side, the glass slipping from her grasp and plummeting to the floor. The shatter broke the silence and Trace jumped back as fractals of glass skipped across her boots. The boys arms flew out to grab her but she was already halfway to the floor.

"Ow." She grumbled unhappily, pulling a piece of glass from her palm and sitting up, gingerly wiping the streaks of blood from her wrist with her shirt. That was the second major cut she had received in a space of two hours, a record she wasn't excited about.

"You OK?" the boy asked, crouching down and looking at her.

"Yeah." She replied, nodding her head, before wiping her hand fully on her pants. The blood soaked through the fabric, wetting her thigh slightly.

The boy stuck out his hand to help her up, a gesture which Trace gladly accepted. Part of her was just happy he hadn't started laughing at her- if it was the past, he probably would have without a second thought. Now they were all in the same boat. But, considering she'd just tried to kill him, it was a surprise. Maybe this mysterious boy was more than just a pretty face and smart remarks.

"Name's M." The boy said, pulling her to her feet.

"Trace." she replied, brushing herself off before glancing at the glass on the floor.

"Don't worry about it." M said, stopping her arm as she leant to pick up a large shard. "That's my job at the moment. Beside, I heard that man tell you to meet him in an hour. You should get going."

Trace frowned; she'd nearly forgotten about that. "I guess you're right. Let me know if I an help you sometime."

M laughed but shook his head. "It's fine. I'll see you 'round, Trace."

With that, he turned and walked back the way he came, his footsteps echoing around the hallway. Trace smiled as she watched him become a shadow of a person, his dark hair illuminated by a beam of moonlight filtering through a broken window. Maybe she did have a friend, after all.

As she left to find the kitchen, a grey tail slipped around a corner, accompanied by the serpentine hiss of a snake and the clatter of scales on the floor.