Underground, the stars are legend." - Catherine Fisher
She
It took the promise to Skype every day and call at any time, regardless of the different time zones, to convince Sabrina to leave. There were tears. I cried too; I knew it was going to be difficult, but I meant what I said about feeling guilty if they were to miss this trip. Besides, I had already decided to stay. I knew the circumstances were different, considering what happened, but my reasons remained. I had to find out if I could live my everyday life alone without Sabrina pushing me.
Although Dr. Kronh couldn't tell when my concussion would be healed enough to release me from the hospital, he was optimistic that would happen sooner than we thought. There was no way I needed to be kept in the hospital for six weeks.
The first three days after my family left were not that bad. I was determined to follow the doctor's orders to the smallest detail, hoping that my body would recover as fast as possible.
On the fourth day, I was seriously bored. I felt like my body was aching equally from my bruises and from just laying in bed. I was scared to venture walking very further from the room, but slowly I got the green light to do so, and thanks to that, days five to eight were tolerable.
I was feeling better. Stronger. I was still avoiding the mirror because the left side of my face was still badly bruised, my eye even slowed, my lips burst. It was a pitiful sight. No one cared to mention my appearance until Brian came to say goodbye before leaving and said that I "looked like shit." Sabrina was mad at him, but honestly, I didn't mind much. One could always count on Brian to tell the truth. It was one of his best characteristics.
As the doses of pain medication were being reduced, I started to be more aware of my surroundings. The lights in the hospital room were far too invasive. There was always noise in the background. It was soft but constant; a mix of running machines, muffled voices, and rubber against the tiled floor. It was an annoying, never-ending soundtrack that soon started to get to my nerves.
The tic-tac from the clock was painfully slow, dragging its speed as if to tease me. When, eight days after Sabrina left, I spent another night without sleeping, I knew I needed to go home.
Dr. Krohn agreed he could release me, but he wanted me to stay another three days because one of my fractured ribs was still giving me a hard time. I decided that three extra hours was already too much.
I would have to come back for check-ups, which was ok because the hospital was nearby Dr. B's office. I was not clear to drive yet, and that was going to be a problem. The idea of having to travel on the bus every day was not appealing to me, but all I could think about was going home.
I made a mental note to thanking Sienna when I found a pair of jeans and a couple of t-shirts in my bag. Sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for my discharge papers, I couldn't help to glance at the clock on the wall. Knowing that it was a matter of minutes before I could return home, the movement of the seconds seemed to have returned to its average pace.
The soft vibration near my leg told me I had a call. I hesitated briefly before grabbing my cell phone. I knew my family would find out about me leaving the hospital, but I was hoping to at least get home first and had my deserved rest. The name on the screen, however, told me that Detective Matt was the one calling me. I swallowed hard before picking up. What could that phone call mean?
"Hello?" I forced my voice to sound void of emotions.
"Hello. Alexa? This is detective Matt speaking. How are you?" His voice was calm. Like me, he was giving nothing away with his polite greeting.
"I'm fine, thank you. I'm actually leaving the hospital today."
"Really? That good news, then. I'm glad you are feeling better."
There was a pause. I was expecting Matt to tell me about my mother.
"Well. Thank you, Matt." I offered.
"Look, Alexa. We think we may have a lead about your mother," he started. His voice seemed to lower. "A witness spotted her in a gas station. She's heading north, apparently. Also, she was not alone. Do you have any idea who could be riding with her?"
I took a moment to organize my thoughts. I wanted to search my mind, hoping I could provide him some important information, but the news that she was heading north, away from me, was all I could think about.
"I honestly don't know, detective. I wish I could tell you something that would help, but it has been years since I saw her brought someone home. And when she did, I didn't stick around to learn their names."
"I understand," he said, not sounding disappointed. "I thought it was a long shot, but still worth trying."
"Sure. I wish I could help." I said again.
"Don't worry about it. She is not close, Alexa. Know that. You are leaving the hospital today, and that's great news, but I want to assure you that you're safe. Ok?"
"Thank you. I guess I don't have to tell it means a lot." I felt a presence near me. Dr. Krohn. My eyes darted to his hands; I was rewarded with the sight of the papers that would allow me to leave.
"Alexa..." Matt's voice dragged my attention back to the phone call, "If you need anything, you can call me, ok?"
I was through aback for a moment, didn't he mean If I knew anything?
"Really, it's no trouble. I mean, if you need help with.. anything really," he sighed "your safety is important, so... stay safe..."
"Bye." that was all I could offer him. He said bye back, and once again I found myself not knowing what to think about Detective Matt. He was nice, so friendly. In a way that a part of me thought strange, but then there was something so caring about the way he spoke.
My attention returned to Dr.Krohn and his papers.
Alexandra Turner.
I wrote two words and was set free.
Getting outside was a little harder than expected. The brightness of the summer sky hit me in full force, making me falter. Who the hell moved the sun closer to the earth because I could swear our major star had never been so bright before. Holy crap! I squeezed my eyes. Probably looking like someone who had myopia but forgot their glasses. Instincts made me lean against the wall of the hospital. Only then I realized how good it felt to support my weight with something else than my legs. With so little energy on my body, I decided to spend a ridiculous amount of cash on an Uber instead of taking the bus. I needed my bed and needed it fast.
Insomnia and I were no strangers, but this time was pretty sure I just needed my bed.
The Uber driver was a lady in her early forties with her hair cut short, accentuating the oversized gold earrings on her ears. Her bright smile vacillated for a moment when she looked at my face, but she recovered fast. My bruises were spots of brown and yellow, fading, but clearly still not as discrete as I would wish.
I was feeling zero tolerance for small talk, and thanks to God, she didn't attempt to make it.
I was in the shower enjoying the relief from the cold water against my skin when I finally felt I could breathe freely. I dried myself clumsily and grabbed my usual sleeping clothes from my drawer, cotton shorts, and a tank top, and let my body collapse on my bed.
Almost immediately, I was swimming in the dark sky without stars, again.
He
I parked my bike across the street of the cream painted house, removed my helmet, and shook my head. It was an attempt to both make my hair look better and organize my thoughts, although I had no hopes of being successful in neither of the tasks.
Why the fuck did I agree to do this again? Ah yes. That Sabrina girl is dangerous. She looks all innocent and nice, and she plays you like a fool before you can blink. Poor Brian.
How in the fucking hell did I let her convince me to babysit her cat?
A cat! For Christ's sake.
Well, she said it was a cat... Lies, lies, lies... The thing was a monster. I glared at my hands and the red scratches on them.
Weren't cats supposed to hide under the bed when they see a stranger? Well, not that one. She guarded her water bowl! Seriously! It was just water. We were not in the fucking desert. What was the point?
The crazy beast looked cute as well. The thing was all fluffy and yellow with huge green eyes; a stupid pink collar around the neck. Strangling the creature with the pink collar and made it pass as an accident crossed my mind the first time I felt her sharp little teeth on my skin.
There I was, trying to be a nice guy, to be friendly with my cousin's girl, only to end up playing with the house keys in my hand, actually dreading the moment I would have to face a fluffy cat that wore a pink collar.
I was 21 years old adult man; I fought in a ring with guys the size of bulls, and a cat was making me nervous?
This is as low as it gets.
Man up.
I put the keys on and pushed the white door open.
I navigated through the corridors until I reached the kitchen. The monster's food was on the cabinet below the sink. A lilac package with a photo of a similar specimen. The cat in the picture was playing with a ball, pink tongue out like the equivalent of a human's smile. Bull shit. The fluffy monster didn't play; she used her claws for torture only.
I approached the food bowl, putting on the tiny brown biscuits. The sound of the food against the plastic was impressively loud in the quiet house. Usually, at this point, the little monsters would make her appearance, bouncing her tail around. I was sure she could hear me as soon as I opened the door, but did she care? No. The fat beast only cared about the food.
I proceeded to change the water. I had tried to do the water first, but the result is the same. She felt it running and kept guard of the bowl, trying to drag the claws in my hands until I released it. The little fucker, although clearly overweighted, was fast. And when I managed to be faster, she took pleasure in digging her nails into the bottom of my jeans.
The so-called cat was nowhere to be found this time. A satisfied smirk was my first response to her absence. Something felt wrong, though. I knew I was planning to kill the beast, but what if something really happened? Brian and Sabrina would be pissed at me.
I sighed, not believing what I was about to do. Well aware that the little monster was probably ambushing me, I made my way to the corridor, feeling awkward while looking around the rooms, even if no one was at home.
The third door on my left was pushed open, so I entered, and my jaw dropped. There was the fluffy monster. And there was why she was not concerned about me.
In a white bed, the fluffy monster was looking all comfortable, curled into a ball around a pair of feminine feet. The girl was wearing black shorts that barely covered her ass and a black top. Lying with her stomach against the mattress, one of her hands was hanging out, almost touching the floor. The position seemed a bit off, like she had just collapsed there. I could see the soft and constant movement of the air entering and leaving her lungs, telling me she was sleeping. Her long hair, which seemed to be of an intriguing shade of blond, spread across her back and shoulders, like a fan. I tried to tear my eyes from her, but I was just hypnotized.
No wonder fluffy monster won't leave this girl's side. There was no way anyone in their sound mind would want to stop staring at her. Her mile-long legs, pale against the dark blue sheets, were a road of silky promises, meeting the perfect curve of her ass. The black top had found a way of climbing up her waist, revealing a strip of her skin. Somehow, just that little piece of her fair smooth skin, showing inconspicuous between the darkness of the clothes, was the personification of sexy.
I bet her face is beautiful too.
I moved carefully, not making a noise, around the bed to see her face picking between her hair and the pillow. When I did, my heart stopped. Literally. I had to force myself to put some air back inside my lungs. Her features were soft and beautiful, all right, but someone had beaten the hell out of that girl.
A sense of nausea overpowered me. My mouth felt like someone had just fed me a handful of sand. My eyes blinked furiously, trying to get rid of the image that could only be a trick of my imagination, but the image didn't go away. A big part of her face was bruised. The faded colors of yellow and brown were familiar, but never caused such a reaction on me. How? I tried to think of another explanation, but the bruises in her arm were clearly shaped as if someone had held her with brutal force; the cuts, still swallow spoke of rage, her wrist was wrapped in bandages... maybe broken.
I took a step back, fighting the impulse of pulling her close to me, hug her, protect her. I have seen far worse lesions, caused them, and suffered some of my own, but they were so foreign on her skin. I felt like an asshole for checking her out while she was sleeping. Noticing a small blanket, neatly folded in a chair in front of me, I took it to cover her exposed legs.
She moved her head lightly, and I paused. I waited, not knowing what to do if she woke up, but her body was again still safe for her rhythmic breathing. Leaning over to pull the blanket over her body, I felt it drop from my hands when she spun around and, faster than light, moved, so her knees were pressed against her chest. Her eyes opened wide when a terrifying scream erupt from her lips before she buried her face in her hands.