They sent me out to do the monthly shopping.
They being Ryan and Blake, of course, because August was out with Jessica, and if August knew they sent me out alone into the city of Denver to collect everything we needed, well . . . he would have probably exploded.
I was trying not to spontaneously combust myself.
While the previous four months had seen promising growth in my social and emotional capabilities, they were still decidedly sub-par, and Ryan thought it the bright idea that sending me on my own for the day into a city with thousands of people would be the "push" I needed in the right direction. I hoped he was right. Aside from training instances at the safe house, I hadn't used my abilities on anybody. Feeling that sense of normalcy, however fleeting, made me happy.
But now, as I stepped off the bus and skidded through a muddy puddle of rain water, I was faced with reality; a very lonely reality, as I confronted the city of Denver by myself.
Great.
Crowds and I didn't always mix exceptionally well.
"Okay, Ellie," I mumbled to myself. "You can do this. Get the groceries, and get out."
But, the list was long, and had me going to more than one place, and if I made it through without curling into the fetal position-full-on hyperventilation included-that would be my greatest victory, yet.
My first stop was the local grocer. Blake was the official cook of the house, and he refused to cook with any vegetables that weren't organic, or any meats that were too processed. It cost more money, but they always had that money, and I never asked where they got it from. My only job was to get the stuff, which was hard enough.
The supermarket was bustling with people, which only made sense considering it was a Saturday. I clutched the list tight in my hand and surged onward, moving fluidly through the throngs of people. Luckily all the vegetables were in one place, so I threw the necessary ones into my basket and then moved on to the fresh meats.
"Excuse me," a lady said, pushing by me. I froze up for a second when her elbow jammed my side, but when she proved to be of no ill intent, I continued on.
Just a person, Ellie. No harm to you.
I wished I could always believe that.
The meats were less crowded, so I grabbed the steak and bacon and chicken without hassle. On the way to the check-out I snatched some herbal teas for myself and Jessica, and a packet of licorice for Augie. I'd seen him sneak some at midnight a couple times, and if I was correct, he should be about out by now. I smiled. He would enjoy the surprise.
The woman at the check-out greeted me as I put my items up to be scanned. I handed over the cash when necessary, and before I knew it I was standing outside with two bags of groceries and the warm feeling of success filling my stomach.
It was something to get used to.
My phone began buzzing in my pocket, so I moved to a nearby bench and sat down, placing the groceries on the ground so I could answer it. "Hello?"
"Ellie!" Ryan called. "So good to hear your voice! How's the shopping going?"
"Good! I successfully conquered the supermarket."
"That's awesome! So, uh . . . yeah, August is home, and he's kind of pissed. Just warning you now."
I frowned. "He is?"
"Yep. And currently pinning me to the ground right now trying to get the phone. I don't think I can hold him off much long-"
His voice disappeared, and there was some shuffling on the other end. Seconds later a different voice shouted, "What the hell were you thinking?"
I winced. "Hi, August."
"How could you be out there by yourself? It isn't safe."
A small child across the street waved to me, flashing her toothless smile. I waved back. "I'm doing fine."
"Oh, really?"
"Yes, August. I got two bags of groceries. You know how exciting that was for me? I only froze up once."
His anger seemed to lessen, tone becoming softer. "You did?"
"Uh-huh. I'm proud of myself."
He sighed. It was his I'm-frustrated-but-I'll-back-off-anyway sigh. "I'm proud of you, too, El."
"Thank you."
"And I guess you want to keep expressing your newfound independency."
"It's kind of fun."
"Fine. Just be careful, alright? You never know who could be a Prophet, or working for Angel, or some asshat bureaucrat hired to tail you, got it?"
Paranoia was already a familiar feeling. So many other times seemingly innocent people turned out to be monsters, and I knew better now than to trust so willingly. "I got it, August. I'll be okay."
"I know. And if you need anything . . ."
"Call. I know. I'll see you when I get back."
"Okay."
He hung up, and so I slid the phone back in my pocket, exhaling slowly. I leaned back against the bench for a moment, taking a nice long look at the city around me. People brushed by, ignorant of who I was and what I could do. Unknowing of how quickly I had killed thousands of them before. Just thinking I was another teenager doing the grocery run for her parents.
A faraway life so polar opposite from the one I lived, it wasn't even worth fantasizing about anymore
The thought depressed me, so I stood and continued on with the rest of the shopping to lift my spirits. We needed a few odds and ends things, like a screwdriver and nails and a rolling pin for Jessica, so she could make her pies. This was crucial, as it affected everybody in the safe house. She had amazing cooking talent.
I stopped by a corner mini-mart to grab a water bottle, pausing outside to let the cool liquid slide down my throat and quench my thirst. The shopping was an astounding success, and I could head home with a smile on my face and a spring in my step. August never let me go anywhere alone. This would show him.
Just as I tossed the bottle in a nearby recycling bin and was about to head toward the bus, I saw her. A fleeting glance, there one second and gone the next, and I could have definitely been seeing things, but it was her.
Hard to miss somebody who looked exactly like you. The feeling still sent chills down my spine.
"Excuse me," I said to a woman leaning against the building, lighting a cigarette. "Can you watch these, please? I'll be right back."
She raised her eyebrows, but when I handed her a twenty, she shrugged and said, "Yeah, I can do that for ya."
"Thanks."
I rushed off through the crowd. The appropriate thing to do would be to call August, or anybody back at the safe house, and alert them to the sighting of my twin. Alert them that she knew where I was and my position was compromised, but over the years I had accustomed myself to handling things at the moment and by myself. After all, she was no threat to me, and vice versa. Not unless a gun was involved, of course.
Which was partly the reason I chased after her with ire in my blood. She shot August. Almost killed him. And I could never forgive her for that.
People complained and shoved back as I scrambled through the crowd, every so often catching a flash of my sister's short hair. What I would do if I caught up, I had no idea. I just needed to get to her.
I tripped over the sidewalk, and nearly mowed down a homeless man, but regained my balance and kept going. I had to keep going. She was in my sights, I was closing in fast. Five feet . . . four feet . . . three feet . . .
Nothing.
The crowd opened up and I skidded to a halt down an alley, and she was gone
No.
After a full three-sixty and a search of the area, I realized I lost her. My one chance, and I blew it, and now I had no idea where she could be.
Or if she was watching me right now; if others were watching me right now.
The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I ran back to my groceries, thanked the lady, grabbed them, and was grateful the bus was already stationed when I arrived. I nabbed a seat in the very back and put the groceries beside me, inhibiting anybody else from sitting with me. Then I proceeded to flick the hood of my jacket over my head and curl into myself, curtaining my face with my hair, making sure nobody could tell it was me.
Angel was there. I knew she was. It had to be her.
But she was gone, I had lost her, and my safe four months were washed away, just like that. Compromised. Unimportant.
And honestly, I was a little scared.
The ride was long. I dozed in and out of sleep by the time I was dropped off on the far perimeter of our land. I paid the fee and began hefting the bags of groceries down the long path. There was no distinct way to walk, because it wound through trees and bushes and flowerbeds, but it had to be that way to discourage trespassers. The correct route was engrained into my memory; I walked it without thinking.
Humming to myself took some of the edge off. It was a song called "Stairway to Heaven", one of August's favorites. I found I liked it myself.
Roughly five minutes later, I happened upon the more solidified path that would take me straight to the safe house. This offered me some comfort. Even if Angel was in Denver, how would she know where I was? She'd have to find the general location of the house, traverse her way through thick woods, and if anything, accidentally happen upon the actual building. The odds were against her. This brightened me a little bit.
The bags became heavier. I hummed the song a little louder. All I wanted was to be inside the safe house and away from prying eyes. Exposed out in the open was not a place for Ellie Armstrong to be.
With my head up in the clouds, I didn't even realize the dislodged clump of dirt until my boot caught the top and I tripped, barely catching myself in time. Confused, I glanced behind me, noticing a disturbingly large patch of unsettled dirt.
Weird.
My phone buzzed, but I ignored it in favor of dropping to the ground and scooping away the dirt with my hands. There was a lot of it, and I was probably kneeling there for a good ten minutes.
"There you are," I whispered, brushing away the remaining dirt. It was a bag of some sort, rough but not caked with dirt, so that meant it was fairly recent. Had anybody at the safe house done this? Would they know about it?
Figuring it was Ryan playing another one of his jokes, I found the seam of the fabric and pulled. It fell apart easy. What I was expecting, I wasn't exactly sure.
But certainly not the lifeless eyes that gazed up at me.
Lifeless, familiar eyes.
"Oh, my God," I breathed, tearing away the rest of the fabric, revealing the long body of none other than Jim Grayson. His clothes were torn and bloody. There was blood everywhere, actually. I searched for a pulse, found none, and began seeing stars in my vision. My breath quickened.
Not real. This can't be real.
I pinched myself, over and over, until there was a fine bruise on the back of my hand. When I opened my eyes, he was still there. Still dead. Still not moving.
No, no, no.
"Please," I gasped, placing my hand over his heart, trying to kick-start it like I did Augie's. Just do something, but he was cold beneath my palm. Cold and so very dead.
My phone buzzed again. I grabbed it.
"Ellie-"
"Help," I said, not registering or caring who was on the other end. "Just come and help, please, he's dead, and . . . just come."
I dropped the phone to the ground, trying again and again to bring some sort of life into him. But I hadn't called on my ability for real in months, and it was like scraping away the cobwebs and the dust in an attic. I was out of practice. I couldn't do a thing.
No.
All I could do was sit there with tears streaming down my face, gazing at Jim's lifeless and bloody body, feeling guilt and sorrow gnaw to my very core. I thought I was done feeling guilt and sorrow. I thought that was over.
It's never really over.
An agonized scream blew passed my lips, loud and blood-curdling and desperate and just . . .
Sad.
Pained.
Miserable.
And I hated it.
"Ellie!"
August's voice barely registered. I continued to scream and bawl and question the cruelty of the universe. Hands appeared on my shoulders and I wrenched away, forcing them backward. My power was on full throttle, always easily-enhanced by overwhelming bouts of sadness and pain.
"She freaking Jedi-forced me!" Ryan complained, and I drew small comfort that it wasn't August who was targeted by my ability.
"Then don't go near her, jackass," Blake retorted.
"Comfort! I was offering comfort!"
"Does it looked like it worked?"
"Both of you shut up!" Jessica snapped, as thunder rumbled in the distance and a couple splatters of rain dotted my cheeks, mixing with the salty wetness of my tears. "Can't you see she's in pain?"
They fell silent behind me. August dropped to his knees by my side. I didn't look, but somehow, I could always tell it was him.
"Oh, my God," he whispered.
I clamped a hand over my mouth, tipping forward with the ferocity of my sobs.
"Jessica, take Ellie back inside. Ryan, Blake, I need you to get the shovels and come with me."
How could he be so calm? I turned to him, aghast at his cool demeanor. "This is Jim," I whispered. "Why aren't you sad?"
His jaw tightened. "People die every day, Ellie."
"But this is Jim!"
"Jessica, take her."
She stepped forward, and August must have sensed my abilities stirring, because he cut me with a sharp look. "Do not use it on her," he warned. "Go."
Hurt by his callous actions, I allowed Jessica to wrap an arm around my shoulders and lead me back inside. The rain began to pound harder. I was glad to be submersed in the warmth of the house.
"Want some tea?" Jessica asked. I hadn't noticed she'd grabbed the bags I dropped, but she set them on the counter and pulled out the box of tea bags.
"Y-yes, please."
She smiled faintly and went about preparing it. I stared out the window through the sheets of rain, catching the silhouettes of the three boys digging through the damp earth. "Why does he not care?" I questioned. "Why isn't he sad?"
Jessica leaned against the counter where I sat, cupping her chin in her hand. "Who, August?"
"Yes. He looked like he couldn't care less about Jim's death."
She scratched her head. "That was Jim Grayson?"
"Yes."
"Well, none of us knew him that well. We'd heard of him, of course, but never really personally knew him. Maybe August was the same way?"
I shook my head. "No, no he wasn't. They were close; friends."
The tea kettle started to gurgle. Jessica ignored it. "Then that's just how he's handling it," she said. "August isn't big on emotions, you know that. And at this point, you expect people to die, Ellie. He's just ready for it."
Her statement was horrifying. "I hate that. I don't think I'll ever be ready to see people die."
She finally turned and poured us both a mug of tea. "I wish I could tell you differently, El. Me, Blake, Ryan, August . . . we were all trained for this, basically from birth. Granted, we didn't know it would be this exact situation, but this is what we prepared for. And it sucks-it does-but these are the cards we were dealt."
I accepted the tea gratefully. "People always tell me that."
"Because it's true."
"I don't like it."
"You're not supposed to, but that won't make it go away." Her gaze strayed toward the window, where it was raining harder. The boys couldn't even be made out anymore. "I'm going to get a fire started, to warm them up when they come in. You can sit here and gather your thoughts if you need to."
She left with her cup of tea, and I sat in the swiveling stool at the counter, staring into the rippling liquid. The heat crept up my fingers and arms, warming my body to the core. Or, near my core.
That would probably always be cold, impervious to warmth from all the deaths on my conscience.
More tears slipped from my eyes. I rested my head on the counter and cried.
~*~
They made a make-shift cross out of wood. Somebody etched R.I.P JIM in bold letters across it.
The burial site was behind the safe house, between two trees, out of sight. A peaceful final resting place, or as peaceful as one could get in our world.
Rain still poured, pounding down on my shoulders. I stood there soaked to the bone in my nightgown, shivering, not caring because at least I was alive. Jim wasn't. He was dead six feet under the ground, because of me.
Me.
I told everybody about my supposed Angel sighting while in Denver, when we were all circled around the fireplace drinking tea. Everybody grew quiet, contemplative. August mentioned how I was to never go out alone again, under any circumstances, and I was given no choice but to agree. Afterward everybody made a silent procession to their respective rooms, heading to bed early. I went outside.
No more tears, though. I was done crying.
Footsteps sounded out behind me. A coat was draped over my shoulders, the hood tugged over my head. August stood silently beside me, staring down at the grave.
"You should come inside," he said eventually. "You're soaked."
I shook my head. "I need to do this. I have to do this. He . . . Jim was killed because of me."
"He wouldn't want you getting sick."
"He won't want anything anymore. He's dead." I pulled the jacket tighter around my body. "I'm paying my respects."
August simply nodded, understanding my strange desires, shoving his hands in his pockets as we stood together. I leaned into his side and he hooked an arm around my waist, offering comfort.
"I miss him already," I whispered. "I miss him so much."
He sighed. "I know."
"You do too, right?"
"Yeah."
I sniffed. "It's not fair, August. I hate this so much."
"I know, Ellie."
"I wish it would all just go away."
If only it could be that simple. Easy as closing my eyes and counting to three, and then all the bad things would be gone.
"Hey, there was a note in the sack for you. Maybe from him?"
He procured a piece of folded paper, and I snatched it hopefully. It was spotted quickly with rain, and the inky words began smudging, but it was still legible.
Hey, sis. Here's a token of my gratitude. Glad I found you. The next bell tolls at eleven where new meets old and past meets present. See you there.
Love, Angel.
A frustrated cry escaped me, and I crumpled the note, falling to my knees. August crouched beside my shuddering form. "What is it?" he asked. "Who was it from?"
"Angel," I said. "She knows where I am, she . . . she killed Jim."
"Okay, calm down. Deep breaths."
I did as I was told, controlling the tempest whirring inside of me. "I have to find Esme."
August stiffened. "What?"
"Esme. If Angel is targeting people I care about . . . what if she's already dead? Augie, we have to go find her."
He grabbed my arms to stop me from running off. "Just hold on, Ellie. Esme is hours away, in a completely different state. Hell, if Jim's dead, she might not even be there anymore. We have to stay here and think of our options."
"No. We have to go, we have to find her."
"She'll be fine," he assured. "Really, Ellie. Esme has been in this game longer than any of us. She will be okay."
I stared into his deep blue eyes, breathing heavily. "Promise?"
He swallowed hard. "I promise. Now will you please come back inside?"
I hooked my arm through his and allowed him to lead me back inside, but my thoughts were by the grave, with Jim. And somewhere else, with Esme.
Please be okay, I thought to myself, wishing Esme could hear and respond. Please, please, be okay.
All too often, nobody ever was.