She was in horrible, stinging pain. She was shaken out of her sleep by a slight throbbing pain at the back of her skull. She rolled onto her back to get more comfortable on the ragged, lumpy, cotton mess of a mattress. It was not getting any better. Thinking back to yesterday, she didn’t see what the problem was. She had been sober for three days, but she now really needed some dizzy juice. It was slightly bright enough in her room to see the splinters in decaying wooden floor, but she couldn’t tell whether it was the morning or the afternoon. She let her lethargy drag her back down and tried to recapture the only thing that gave her any sense of peace in the Sixth City, sleep. A dim light shone from the hazy window above her head, and after a minute of the light gently attacking her face. Fine! Im up! Im up! Les just get this over wit! she thought as she pushed off her rags and made an ungainly rise.
Upright, she could feel the all too familiar warm dampness in the air that was nearly suffocating her. Coupled with the headache, her irritation drove her to hastily run across the damaged floor towards the window to try to pry it open. She struggled and sweated against the unyielding rusted metal in a quick burst of panicked energy, groaning as her muscles tensed at the incredible pressure, but it was no use. The slight buckle of the window sounded like satisfied laughter in her exasperated state. With her bruised palms, she made a fist and pulled her hand back in a desperate attempt to try and break the window open, but she halted when on closer inspection of the window, she saw the little handles that locked the window. Her anger faded immediately, and she let out a small chuckle of relieved laughter.
Man, I woulda messed up my hand if I'd done that! she joked as she gently twisted the handles and yanked the window upward.
A warm breeze whipped across her face and briefly refreshed her drowsy spirit and moist skin. She smiled and breathed in deeply, but she quickly regretted that decision as a puff of smoke went into her lungs. “Ack! Ack!” she grabbed her throat as she started coughing rapidly and some moisture started coming out of her stung nose and eyes. She wiped her face roughly with the back of hand and looked out into the street. She saw the depilated, old buildings and shelters littering the broken, crowded concrete, and smoke rising into the sky that was familiar all around the city, and she assumed was in all the cities in Onyx.
“Whoa, girl! You gonna give me a show?” howled an old man wearing a long coat standing on the sidewalk below her window.
“Ewww! What makes you…” she had spit out before she suddenly remembered that she had slept naked last night, and looking down, she could see that her whole upper half was exposed to the outside world. She rolled her eyes and curtly retorted, “Move alon oldie. You don have the money.”
“Ya… don kno wha…I got. Come dow so… so I kin play.” he slurred. His teetering and swaying gave away that he was completely under the spell of the dizzy juice, and not being one to waste opportunity, she ripped off a loose chunk of wood from the floor and chucked it at his head. The wood hit directly in the center of his forehead, allowing blood to streak down his dirty face and fall flat on his back. Satisfied, she left the window, but she looked back to briefly enjoy the sight of small children ravaging the man’s pockets and ripping his clothes off. Thas wha you get. she thought as she decided to get ready for the day.
Her eyes swept the littered floor to her giant sundry pile of clothes and bags. She let her knees fall onto the pile and flung the various cloths left and right, but none looked particularly appealing to her. Finally settling on a top and bottom, she moved back to her mattress and slipped on a faded pink spaghetti strapped tube top that wedged into her sides, a pair of tiny blue shorts with a short red skirt on top and scuffed, red painted army boots. She went to rusted cabinet next to a long jagged edged mirror to put on the finishing touches.
Out of the cabinet, she grabbed a paper bag filled with her prized collection of face paints and pulled out a tiny glass jar of bright red goo and plastic covered petri dish filled silver, sparkling dust. She sat cross legged in front of the mirror, screwed open the jar, scooped a small glob of the red goo onto her finger and smoothed it gently over her lips. She then took the small cotton swab inside the dish and swept a silvery bead across her eyelids. After she was done, she spent some time admiring her handiwork. She loved how her face now sparkled against her gray skin even with the scars on her cheeks. In the city, it was easy to blend into the shadow that seemed to drape over everything, so she held onto any form of color she could find.
After pushing her cheek length, black hair to the back, she got up and placed her face paints back into cabinet but not before taking out a few weapons before she left. She gathered a few long metal shards that she placed strategically into her boot straps and the side of her top, but she made sure that her favorite weapon, an extremely rare handgun that she stained red paint, was tucked snugly into the a little pocket on the side of her pants.
She left her room satisfied with her outfit choice and entered a larger but equally disordered room that held a few pieces of sketchy furniture and many piles of trash and treasure scattered throughout. In the middle of this wasteland, there was a bald, potbellied man sitting smugly on his cotton exposed armchair like a king on his throne.
“Took ya long to get up, Accident!” he snarled at her clutching a couple of dirty pieces of paper in his right hand.
She grimaced at the mention of her name and didn’t hesitate to walk up to the chair and put the metal sliver to his neck.
“It’s Acci! Say that again, Burnt! I'll slice your throat!” she said menacingly, but she knew she couldn’t do that. If she killed him, she would be fined and would lose a house. Burnt knew this too, but he was certain that she wouldn’t hesitate to cut him, and pain was out of the question.
“Fine! Ya know the deal. Bring back food an money,” Burnt replied. Acci backed off him and headed towards the door.
“I know!” she yelled before slamming the door behind her. Little weakling. she chuckled to herself, satisfied to leave the king to his broken kingdom. It warmed her heart to once again prove that she had nothing in common with Burnt though she is his kid. He might be content to sit around all day and read dirty pages, but Acci was strong enough to face the world and take her fill of it. She went down a couple of stone steps, and noticed an acquaintance of hers waiting for her. The girl wore long black pants, a closed chest length, frayed black jacket, short pigtails and annoyed look on her face as Acci walked down the steps.
“You ben waitin for me, Tonic,” she said truly surprised.
“You? Ha. I have betta things to do than wait for you,” she replied with sarcasm laced in her voice. “You’re lucky I came. I gotta anotha job for ya.” Tonic signaled a lanky, muscular man with a wide, drooling grin on his face, unfocused eyes, and carrying two large boxes on his shoulders. “This is Bighead, and you’re gonna protect him while he takes these juices to Squeal’s Place.”
“Fine, but you betta have my money when I get back,” Acci replied nonchalantly and went with Bighead. She was surprised that Tonic could find a Bad Head who was in such great shape, and if he wasn’t so stupid, she wouldn’t mind playing with him. She hated how Tonic was her age, and yet she had the most connections and was probably one of the richest people in the whole city. Unlike the foul smelling, throat burning, weird tasting brews that were stirred in rusty, questionable buckets, Tonic’s drinks were sweet, easy to swallow and would still put your mind in a fog in just one sip. She paid Acci and a whole team of people to protect her and deliver her products all over the city without getting her hands dirty. Despite her jealousy, Acci got along with her better than most people, and would rather use her for financial security than the average desperate old man.
Acci and Bighead were able to make it to Squeal’s Place much of a problem. Sometimes a few would try to approach them, but a flash of her gun or a kick to their sides usually scared them off. She saw that there were only seven people who were inside the slanting, wooden, short roofed building. There was two men and a woman laughing noisily at a round table, one old man face down on a table while another man was sipping his drink, the back of a man sitting alone in a corner, and a little girl giggling nasally into her drink and none of them gave off any sign of being a threat to her. She finally saw Squeal, a pudgy man with a large scar across his cheek, serving drinks on the short circular stone wall in the front of building, and she approached him with Bighead behind her.
“Hey Squeal. We brought your orda,” she said casually while holding out her hand.
“Right. Right. I just needa take it to the back an check it. Tell big boy here to give it to me,” he replied coolly with a secure smile. Acci smiled back and walked her two fingers up his chest, pulling her chest in his line of view.
“Sure. Well do that. And after we could…” she batted her eyelashes and watched him foolishly get closer to his face with a lecherous smile.
She twisted his shirt around his neck, pulled him down to her face, and held a piece of sharp metal up to his neck. “You think I'm stupid. Give the money now an well give up the drinks. K?”
“Yes. Let go of me!” He tried to twist out of her hold, but she was stronger than most females.
“Money now an I'll let go.” She let him go just enough for him to hand over a couple a plastic bag of jingling coins.
She let him go and left the table to count the coins at a table in the back. After seeing they were the right amount, she turned back to Bighead and Squeal. When Bighead, with the same blank grin on his face, put the boxes on the table, Squeal took them, placed them on the floor, and gave Bighead a fast, wrathful punch to the face. The crowd erupted in laughter as he staggered to floor and started flapping on the floor. She couldn’t help giggling to herself as he started thrashing and clawing the air with the mad ferocity of a wounded beast. However her laughter stopped when she looked at his face. That droopy grin had turned into a strained, painful toothy frown, his nose was flooding with yellowish mucus and his eyes, bright red and bulging with unfocused madness seemed to stare at her. She abruptly felt her stomach drop and her chest being compressed by an overwhelming sadness that she couldn’t explain. She first thought it was disgust at such a weakness, but it wasn’t that. It was deeper than that.
The feeling finally materializes into a single unexpected, panicked thought. Poor guy.
She felt the all heat leave her body, and her heart beating so hard against her chest that it felt like it was trying to escape. I can't feel like this becaz of him. I am ok ,and I can't use that guy for…anythin. Why do I feel like this? This has nothin to do with me…nothin…this doesn't hurt me but why do it hurt me? Seein someone hurt has neva hurt me…why… I don't wanna play wit him…I don't care bout him…It can't be him. He's not me? she thought rapidly and uncontrollably.
Then her headache exploded into a firestorm of pain, pushing her into the edge of the table in a fit of horrible agony. She pulled at her hair, squeezed her eyes and clenched her teeth in the hopes that no one would notice her vulnerability. Sharp bolts of pain seemed to radiate down her back and spread to every pain nerve and fiber in her body. When the firestorm dulled back into an ember, her body was sore and rubbery. The only thing she was sure of was that she really needed a drink. She saw that everyone was still too busy laughing to have noticed her and that Bighead was now crawling around on the floor without his dirty gray shirt. With her available strength, she lifted herself up using the table and limp over to Squeal’s long table. She dug into her pant pocket and sloppily dropped a couple of coins on the table.
“Two Juices,” she spat out before draping herself over the table. Squeal seemed to be in a better mood and gave her two the drinks without any argument. When she swallowed at least half of it in one gulp, she knew why. It tasted terrible and was stronger than it should have been, but it did what it was supposed to do. Her headache faded away and her mind was now in pleasant fog. She was able to forget about that strange incident with Bighead and drift away in total bliss. She temporarily snapped out of it when she felt a small hand digging into her pocket. She saw the girl from the corner reaching for the coin bag and now wearing Bighead’s shirt. She kicked her face and stepped out from the table. When she walked out of Squeal’s place, she saw a peeved Tonic waiting for her outside the door.
“Why so long, Accident!” she sneered at her, but Acci was too woozy to care.
“Squeal was bein a pig. Ha!” Acci giggled, “Here’s ya money.” She passed the bag of coins to Tonic while trying her best to keep herself up right. Tonic looked in the bag and seemed pleased at its amount.
“Fine, here is ya money. What happened to Bighead?” Tonic said as she reluctantly handed over a handful of coins.
“Squeal punched him. Hes crawlin on the floor in there.”
“How bad?”
“Not that bad. No blood or anythin.”
“Good. I can still use him.”
Since their business was done, they went their separate ways. Tonic went into the bar to get Bighead, and Acci went back on the street to find things to do that would push the bar incident further back into her mind. Many hours later she returned back to the house barely able to keep her eyes open. She dropped an apple into the lap of her slumbering caretaker and stumbled into her nearly pitch black room. Finally I’m back. she thought as she collapsed onto her mattress. She pushed back the hair that had landed on her face, but when she looked at the few strands of hair that was still in her hands, she noticed that a few of them looked white. In her drowsy state, she shook them off as just small pieces of string and allowed herself to slip back into the comfort of sleep.