Storm

Chapter Sixty-Eight

I had to find Noah.

But where could I even start? And how likely was it that he actually cared enough to want me back?

I knew he couldn't hate me. I felt like we'd become relatively decent friends in the time I'd been with him. I couldn't imagine him hating my guts so much that he wouldn't help me now, when my life had literally been destroyed in a blender.

I winced as I remembered what he'd said before I'd run off.

Get out.

That was it.

Did he regret it? Or was he out with Emma celebrating the fact that he no longer had to deal with me?

Either way, the first place I'd have to look would be his house. I mean, where else would he go?

As I pushed myself to my feet in the dark alleyway, I realized just how good I felt. For one, I could actually walk. I cautiously put a bit of pressure on my leg. Nothing. Nothing was wrong with it. I could walk, run...

I jumped in the air.

Okay, I probably looked really stupid, but I could do that, too, so that was pretty exciting.

It'd been so long since I'd been able to do anything without worrying about my leg.

But what were they going to do with my body? I knew they traded them. Perhaps they'd throw it away because it was such a torn up mess. I really hoped not. After I got to Noah, my next step would be getting my body back.

I refused to accept that I'd never return to the old version of myself. As great as it was to be able to walk again, it all still felt wrong. As I headed out of the alleyway and into the dark streets, I tried to get used to my new body proportions.

I never realized just how weird it'd be changing every physical aspect of yourself. My stride was different. The way my neck turned as I triple checked my surroundings was different. Even just the way my fingers flexed as I tested those out to make sure they were still working.

How could anyone deal with this on a regular basis?

I hated it. I hated what was done to me. But right now was not the time to worry about that. Noah's house was just down a few streets. Right?

By the time I reached Noah's place, it had started to lightly drizzle. My short red hair stuck to my face as I paused at the bottom of his steps. The lights were obviously off in the main living room, different than they'd been when I'd left. It was eerily quiet. Almost as if nobody was home.

I prayed he was home -- if not, I'd have nowhere to go. I guess I could always wait at his doorstep for his return, but that'd probably raise a lot of questions from passer-bys.

I tried the door. I guess it was the easiest option. Locked, of course. Should I knock? Or would he just spit in my face the second he opened the door.

Screw it.

I knocked.

Then, I waited in that awkward way you do when you feel like you don't belong. I brushed my hair back behind my ear habitually, only for it to fall back in front of my face. Getting used to this hair would be a struggle in itself. It didn't help how bright it was -- I'd really have to hide it if I ever planned on sneaking in anywhere.

Noah should have shown up by now.

I knocked again, this time a lot more aggressively. The sky was already lightening. A couple minutes passed, and I realized this wasn't going to work. I needed to get inside.

After all, this was somewhat of an emergency.

I glanced up and down the street, before sneaking into the alleyway and towards the back of his building. There was a small backyard fenced in where his back door was. Weeds grew along the metal wiring, but otherwise, it was relatively well-kept. I guess it made sense. Noah seemed like someone who'd be good with plants.

The fence door was locked, but that didn't stop me.

Weirdly, I was grateful I was still bare foot. Trying to climb the fence with shoes would be a lot more difficult. With great caution, I grasped onto the fence and pulled myself up, before managing to get over it completely.

My back hit the muddy ground, knocking the breath out of me. Then, I staggered up and towards the back door.

The screen door had been left open. I wondered why. It didn't seem safe on Noah's part. But as I neared the pathway, I noticed a few scattered boot prints leading out of the backyard. Had Noah hurried out in a rush? But to where? Behind his building was just another row of buildings with their own backyards.

The door handle was cold and slightly damp. The moment of truth.

I twisted the door handle.

The door opened.

And then I came face to face with the barrel of a gun, Emma right behind it.