Fay

Chapter 1

Wind blows through the sheet covering the jagged hole in the window, filling the room with the smell of exhaust, sweat, dirt, and a hint of slightly burnt falafel. It gives me a chill when it touches my skin,causing me to pull the small worn out blanket tighter around me. Another gust proved that trying to obtain anymore sleep would prove impossible.

I grunt and roll over relishing in the last moments of being able to semi-relax. My head lands on the ratty pages of an old copy of Wuthering Heights – at the same moment knocking over the flashlight I had been using last night. The dim light from the flashlight flickers wildly around the room while it rolls away. I must have fallen asleep while reading again. I choke out a sleep deprived giggle and pull the thin blanket over my head in an attempt to block out the light.

That's when I hear a scream.

You would probably assume that I should be used to screaming. Living in an old abandoned apartment building in lower Manhattan gets you kinda used to that kind of stuff. But there was something about this scream. My blood turns cold, my heart skips a beat, all thoughts of sleep flee my mind. I am up and at the window before I even have time to think. Below me in the street I see a little girl with golden curls sitting in the back seat of a car. She looks to be about five years old and has chocolate ice cream smudged all across her face, her brown hair and her pink flowered dress. The woman driving looks around frantically as the girl screams her little head off.

 I sigh, just another confused tourist trying to find their way around. I slump to the ground holding my head on my knees waiting for my heart to stop racing and my breathing to slow.

That little girl sounded just like.....

 A flashback of a small little girl with the blonde curls flashes through my mind so hard and fast that I collapse to the floor. At that moment I can almost feel the warmth of her blood on my arms.

My head shoots up and I look down at my arms. I can feel blood. My nails had dug into my skin without my notice and now there is blood gushing out of both palms from eight small crescent shaped cuts. I sigh and wipe my hands on my shirt causing a permanent red stain. Slowly my breathing returns to normal. It was not uncommon to start my day like this. Very quickly in life I learned the best way to get over it was to just ignore it.

I start the morning off in my usual way, with my chores. I climb up the thin swirled steps that sit in the left corner of my floor. Climbing up the rusty black metal steps can be tricky, especially since at least five steps are missing and the ones remaining are half way on their way to joining their fallen brothers.

Once I reach the top of the staircase (almost having to climb the railing all the way up) the wind immediately picks up my hair. I close my eyes and stretch my arms out wide enjoying the feel of the wind rippling through my clothes. I breathe in deeply taking in the slight hintof salt water and ever-present car exhaust and basic smog of NYC.

At the far end of the roof facing the barely visible sea is a "curtain" made from old ripped window curtains and sheets sewn together and held up by a bent rusty pole and a severely broken baggage cart. Moving toward the edge I gently move back the makeshift curtain revealing my small little garden.

I smile every time I think about the first plant that had started this garden. I had been standing outside a small gardening supply store when I noticed a small blue flower shaped like a star sticking up through the sidewalk. I felt a strange connection with the flower. It was something with the potential to give so much joy but had grown in a place where it had so little hope of survival. I had found a small ripped and abandoned plastic cup in a nearby dumpster, and began the task of shoveling the poor thing into it with my hands (being very careful not to damage the roots) when I was startled by a voice behind me