Rainbow Reflection

Chapter 1

Harley:

I cup my hands beneath the flow of cold water from the tap and wait until the water overflows from my cupped hands before I raise my hands to splash the water on my face. The cool wetness feels good against my heated skin. I fill my hands again and close my eyes before bending my head forward and splashing my face once again. I catch more water and rub it on the back of my neck. I sigh as I feel the cool water trickle down my back between my shoulder blades. Slowly I raise my head and use my hands to wipe most of the water from my face.

I open my eyes and barely recognise the image staring back at me from the mirror over the restroom sink. Pale, drawn, painfully thin features with dark smudges beneath the too large eyes making them appear sunken into my face. Faint traces of sickly yellow green bruises on the left side of my face.

I blink several times trying to ignore the fact one pupil is larger than the other. A thin veil of hair falls forward over my face as I close my eyes and let my chin sink towards my chest. The rest of my hair is cut short, a ragged and uneven mess that sticks out in spiky clumps failing to hide the spider web of bright pink scarring on my scalp.

"Who are you?" I ask. I don’t know this face. I don’t remember it.

I turn away from the mirror and pull the hood of my jumper up over the wreck of my head. The jumper is large and most of my face is in shadow as I step out of the restroom and move between rows of shelves. I am aware of the cashier behind the desk watching my progress, I am the only person in the roadside service station on a dark stormy night and I look more than a little ragged. I take several hot pies from the warmer as I pass and open one to take a large bite of it. The filling is hot and scalds my mouth. I open my mouth slightly as I puff air in and out to cool the food slightly before chewing once or twice and swallowing. Three bites are all it takes to eat the first pie and I open the second one. The cashier clears his throat noisily and I glance his way before continuing my leisurely examination of the shelves containing food.

I have finished the second pie and started on the third pie by the time I reach the service desk. I put the empty wrappers on the counter followed by a two-litre bottle of plain milk. The cashier frowns as he scans the empty wrappers.

"Around these parts we pay for our food before eating it," he tells me tightly. "And we take our head wear off so other people can look us in the eye."

I look down at my hands, at the folded, damp notes I take from the front pocket of my baggy jeans. My eyes don’t get above the button over his sternum as I raise my right hand and push the hood to the back of my head. Slowly I raise my eyes to his.

‘There. Happy?’ I don’t say the words but I know they are there in my eyes.

"Looks like the weather is setting in out there," he looks away as he makes small talk. Everyone I’ve met the last few days avoids speaking about my battered appearance.

The scars on my scalp and the one by the outer corner of my left eye that goes up into my hairline are still new enough to stand out. The bruises are more recent, faint reminders of the seizures that plagued me.

"Twelve dollars, fifty cents all up," he says when there is no answer forth coming from me.

I hand over a couple of notes and take my change before lifting the bottle of milk from the counter. I hesitate as I look out the large glass windows at the rain that can be seen in the glow of the lights.

"I might sit just inside the door for half an hour or so," I say quietly. "Maybe the rain will let up."

"Yer not from around here then," He says and I can hear the frown in his voice. "I thought for a moment you looked familiar. Rain won’t let up, it’s comin’ off a cyclone off the coast. We often get this this time of the year,"