I know that this one's a lot longer... Enjoy!)Chapter 2
I glided back through my window noiselessly, still shaking from the adrenaline rush that I had been subjected to. Chance was sprinting back to his home next door, and the faint noise of hurried footsteps in the distance haunted my ears for the next hour. My little sister was in a state of comatose on her bed, as one her age should only be when something like this happens. Someone as young and innocent as Joy shouldn’t have to know about her older sister’s troubles.
I slipped under the covers, hoping that whoever was still searching for me and Chance would give up soon. Staying out past curfew is one thing, but staying out past curfew and going to a place were you can’t even go during the day is an entirely different matter. The punishment for that alone would be at least two weeks behind bars, which was something that I definitely couldn’t afford. Not again.
However, I knew that if I didn’t fall asleep I would only ruin my sister’s day. So, instead of mauling over what had happened, I rolled over and shut my eyes tightly, willing myself to sleep.
I woke up to the sun shining through the window and wide, excited brown eyes staring down at me.
“Wake up!” she exclaimed, jumping up and down. Smiling faintly, I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. Before I could wish the rambunctious youth a happy birthday, she was scurrying throughout the house, making enough noise to wake everyone within a five-mile radius. Deciding that I needed to get up, I removed the blanket from my legs and stretched my arms out.
While I was shuffling through the hallway, I mechanically bit down on my lip, worry creasing my forehead. Last night’s events played over and over again through my mind: Chance and I hiding behind the mound of illegal objects, the police searching for us, and lastly, running away and barely making past them. I stared down at the strawberry-colored scrape that was strategically placed on the heel of my hand. The pain was nothing compared to the strange guilt I felt for actually going out with Chance. If there was anything that I should have known by then, it was this: never trust Chance Alberik.
Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and put on a false smile. I knew that my sister wouldn’t be able to tell that I wasn’t in the mood for a celebration, but my parents would notice. However, I was also aware that no one would mention anything. Not today.
After I noted that everyone was upstairs, I hobbled over to the front door and opened it carelessly, wondering if Chance was outside so I could see him once before I was forced to stay indoors for the rest of the day. Well, that’s odd, I deducted when I found that the door wouldn’t bug. Shaking my head, I tried once again to pry the lopsided, wooden door open. Nothing. It was as if a pile of bricks were shoved in front of our door, blocking any way of escape.
“Papa!” I shouted, leaning with all my weight against the door. I heard some slow-paced footfalls coming down the stairs, and soon enough my father was standing in front of me, his eyes glazed over with sleep. Evidently, I wasn’t the only one who wasn’t ready to be woken so early.
“Hm?” he quizzed, rubbing his left eye.
“The door won’t open,” I dejectedly responded, glaring at the inanimate object that seemed to be the cause of all my problems. My father furrowed his brow and stepped closer to the door. After he examined it with an extremely perplexed look, he gently leaned against it, and it once again refused to budge.
“That’s weird.” He stared, taking a step back and gazing at the door. After a few seconds he tried it again, but this time it cracked open about two inches. My father beamed in my direction before gazing through the crack. Not even two seconds after, his eyes widened in disbelief, and without delay he ordered me to help him open the door wider.
“Eloise!” he shouted upstairs. I was about to ask what was going on, but that was before I saw the horrified look on my father’s face. Without another question, I pushed with all my might on the door. Together my father and I forced the door open, and I what I saw before me was nothing I expected to see in my lifetime.
Lying there, unconscious, was a man who wore clothes that were now ratted and torn, but seemed to be that of a rich man; they looked warm and comfortable. I heard myself gasp in awe, and my father looked down at me with worried eyes.
“Kiara,” he called my attention with a commanding tone. “Help me get him inside.”
I nodded lifelessly and bent down to pick up his feet. My father scooted over to the other side and gently slipped his hands under the man’s arms. Guardedly, we ushered him inside where all chaos was about to break loose.
My mother gasped loudly and rushed down the stairs. Joy began firing pointless questions out of her mouth. Ignoring both of them, my father gestured his head towards where our tiny sofa was located. Nodding my head in understanding, I slowly began moving in that direction. By the time we lowered the unknown man onto the cushions, my arms were aching from the unexpected amount of weight that I had to carry.
By then both Joy and my mother were asking about the stranger, and I could practically see the irritation painting my father’s expression. If there was one thing that my father couldn’t stand, it was this: more than one person talking at once. Mom recognized the exasperated look and instantly stopped talking, yet Joy, completely oblivious as she was, continued to jabber on.
“Eloise,” my father addressed my mom, “come here.” Together they walked into the kitchen where they could discuss the matter in private. Joy was staring up at me with a mad expression, her lips pursed and her tiny fist clenched at her sides.
“Why won’t anyone talk to me, Kiara? It’s my birthday!”
“Well.” I scrambled for answers. “We’re just having a little bit of a… delay. We’ll have cake and open presents later.”
Joy crossed her arms and pouted on the floor besides the stranger’s head. Biting my lip, I sat Indian-style on the floor, as far away from the couch as I could manage. Strangely, something about the man compelled me to stay far away from him. His face was covered in a stubbly beard, and yet I could clearly see the outline of a strong, authoritative jaw. His eyes were closed, his mouth was open slightly, and his chest was raising and falling in an even pattern. This, of course, all seemed completely normal. However, the gun that was fitted into its holster on his hip caused my stomach to churn.
“Joy,” I whispered, motioning for her to come sit next to me. My little sister stood up and moseyed over to me. Her face showed clear annoyance as she huffed in an annoyed way and parked herself on the floor beside me. After she stopped squirming in order to find a comfortable position, I placed my arm over her shoulders in a protective manner.
I could hear my parents’ muted voice from where we sat. I strained my ears in order to understand what was going on. Puckering my lips, I realized that my parents knew that I would be listening, and were speaking at a frequency so low that it surprised me that they could even hear each other.
Joy was still pouting in my arms, not really wanting anything to do with this new discovery. I, however, was racking my brain for any sort of connection. Do my parents know this man? Why was he passed out at our door? Why does he have a gun? Only the rich have weapons. Well, legally, anyway. Swiftly, my mind went to a completely different question. Is he a convict?
The door opened, breaking off my concentration. I heard my brother’s voice drifting in from the front room. He was signing a song for Joy. This seemed to please my sister, because she perked up and a smile spread across her lips. Unexpectedly, she jumped from my arms and sped across the room.
“Joy!” I warned, reaching my hand out in a lame way. When she galloped past him, the stranger mumbled something in his sleep and stirred a little bit. Feeling my stomach churn in fright, I stood and quickly joined the others.
My father was standing with my mother, who looked more pale than usual. Joy was sitting with Corwin and Leisa at the table. Standing in the doorway, my eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep, I felt uncannily out of place. I wasn’t one to fit in with my parent’s, because they seemed suspicious and worried, while I was scared and tired. And I didn’t fit in with my sibling, for they were happy and exited.
Not knowing what else to do, I sat down next to Leisa, sending silent signals to my parents. What’s going on?
♤
My mother hovered in the doorway with a mask of unease over her face. I couldn’t blame her for her discomfort; I was just as nervous as her. I could hear Joy and my father climbing up the stairs, leaving me to fend for myself while a man who I didn’t know from Adam slept just two rooms away from me.
My mother embraced me one more time before hesitantly heading upstairs, glancing over her shoulder every few seconds to make sure I was still there. Chewing on my lip, I closed my door and quickly locked it. The window was cracked a little bit, poisoning the room with the chilly fall air. Rubbing my arms, I crossed the room and slammed the window closed, taking a deep breath when I turned around to survey the room. The moonlight covered the space with an eerie glow, which did nothing for my already erratic nerves. Hesitantly, I crossed the room to where my dresser was and removed a pair of old sweat pants. After I had changed, I tiptoed over to where my bed was.
I sat under the covers for what seemed like hours, and yet no sleep reached me. I was too paranoid about the sleeping form in the next room. Curling into a ball, I shut my eyes securely and began humming to myself. The nameless tune did nothing to sooth me, so I sat up, aggravated, and stared out the window.
Since I couldn’t fall asleep, I figured that it was my turn to torture Chance, instead of him crawling through my window as he usually did. After I shuffled over to the dresser once again, I grabbed my only jacket and zipped it over my shirt. Opening the window, I scrambled over the frame and dropped to the ground. Chance didn’t seem to have as many issues maneuvering in and out of my window. This was, of course, one of the many perks to being tall.
Checking my surroundings, I walked toward the Alberik home, making sure to hide in the shadows. All of a sudden, I felt the unhealthy guilt from that morning return. Groaning as silently as I could, I sat down on the ground, clearly unhappy with myself for actually feeling regret. Regret for my past mistakes, and for the promise I had made to my father; the promise to stay out of as much trouble as I could, which was the reason for Chance and I only meeting at night.
I sat there for an hour, seriously contemplating on whether or not to sleep outside. Is it bad, I mentally counseled, that I would rather sleep outside, where I risk getting shot or thrown in jail, then sleeping in my own home? The answer, obviously, was yes.
Taking a deep breath, I pushed myself up off of the grass. Stealthily, I bolted through the shadows and finally reached the window that lead to my bedroom. Sliding up the window, I slithered back through the gap and landed lightly on my feet. After once again closing the window, I nervously walked over to my bedside table. I scavenged through the drawers until I located the candle and matches. Next, I lit the match and help it above the wick, letting the orange flame collide with the string.
Fidgeting for what seemed like hours, I managed to convince myself to pick up the metal plate off of the wood. I uneasily placed the candle into its holder and walked across the wood floor. I had a mission.
As I crept down the hall, I felt my veins run cold. The entire house was silent except for the light sound of my father’s snoring. My footfalls echoed off the walls, and the wooden floor protested beneath me. Everything seemed to be running in slow motion as I moved closer and closer to the front room
I stood in front of the door for some time, contemplating on what to do.
“If I go in there,” I weighed the options out loud, “then I’ll have to see him. If I don’t, then I’ll be sitting in bed, thinking about going to make sure he’s still there…” Sucking in a large gulp of air, I pushed open the door and lightly stepped into the room. The entryway to the side room, where we were keeping the stranger was closed, but I could hear the fire crackling inside the fireplace.
Slowly, I poked my head in through the entryway. The man was still reclining on the sofa. His eyes remained shut, and his breath was still coming in an even pattern. Tentatively, I stepped into the room, submerging myself into the fire’s light. I parked myself on the wooden chair beside the couch. Oddly, in the fire’s glow, all traces of a cold heart that seemed to be radiating off him earlier had simply floated away. Smirking, I realized that my father had removed his gun, possibly thinking the same way as me.
The man squirmed in his slumber, and he brushed his slick hair away from his forehead. I spotted a large gash over the man's left eyebrow, which, in turn, caused my eyes to widen. Standing up, I hurriedly swept into the kitchen. I grabbed a washcloth from the top cupboard and stuck it under the faucet, using some of the limited water we were privileged to have at night. I then retrieved a band-aid from our poorly stocked first-aid kit.
The foreigner was still unconscious when I returned. Dropping to my knees, I dabbed the wound with the washcloth, causing him to flinch slightly. Scurrying away like a mouse that had just been caught, I curled up in a ball beside the fireplace, my eyes concentrating on the still form.
Seconds passed, and I knew for sure that I had been caught. This was it. Surely he was just as I had first thought him to be, and I knew at that moment that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill me. The analog clock in the corner ticked away, and still the man remained silent. Squinting, I realized that his eyes were, in spite of everything, closed.
Grinning, I crawled back to my perch beside him. Gingerly, I continued to dab the wound. After I had cleaned off all of the
dried blood, I cautiously applied the gauze. Unfortunately, I knew that this would be the hardest part; applying the correct amount of pressure in order to keep the bandage on.
Before I could bring myself to finish the task, I surveyed the room once again. When I was sure that no one was there, I lightly tapped the edges of the gauze. Holding onto the edges, I reached with my other hand for the tape. I was about to apply the thin tape to the four corners of the square, but something firm wrapped around my wrist.
A hand.
Jumping in fright, I tried in vain to maintain control of my arm. The unknown man was glaring at me with crazed eyes, almost as if he were seeing something other than me. A silent gasp escaped my throat as I stared back at his intense blue eyes. A few moments passed with neither of us saying anything. It wasn’t until I felt my head swim that I noticed that I wasn’t breathing. Sucking in through my nose, I realized that the man must have been hallucinating.
“Please,” I whispered. “Just let me go.” The sound of my voice must have brought him back to reality, for he shook his head and stared in confusion at my wrist. The stranger released my limb and furrowed his brow. His mouth was agape, almost as if he was trying to say something. If wasn’t for the circumstances, I would have found his expression comical.
Finally, after taking a few minutes to gather my courage, I fled the room. Leaving behind one very confused man, I journeyed back to my room in the dark.
♤
I woke up to the sun shining directly into my face. Rubbing my eyes, I sat up, stretched and planted my bare feet on the floor. Because my mind wasn’t awake, I stood up and fled the room in search of food. I scuffled into the kitchen, only to find it oddly empty. Usually my mother was always in that compacted space during the mornings. Creasing my brow, I slid out of the room and entered the front room, where my mother and father were huddled together.
“Papa?” I called. This was the first time since the stranger’s arrival that I had been able to converse with them alone. My father snapped his head up and motioned for me to come closer. “Papa,” I continued, “who is he? Why… why haven’t we called the police yet?”
“Kiara,” he began, “I promise I’ll explain later. But, for now, just don’t tell anyone that he’s here. Is that clear?”
I nodded my head solemnly, not really knowing what to think about the situation. “He’s hurt,” I informed him, not really wanting to question my father’s motives any further.
My father sighed. “I know, Kiara.”
“Then… why didn’t you do something about it yesterday?”
Father wavered. “I didn’t want to… disturb his sleep.”
My bruised wrist was suddenly all I could think about. Disturb his sleep. Is that what I had done? Was he some sort of robot, in a constantly slumber until needed? No, I knew that couldn’t possibly be it. He seemed too alive-too real- for anything so artificial. Involuntarily, my eyes gazed through the open doorway that led into the side room. He was still passed out on the settee, only, for some reason, he seemed to be alert. My eyebrows tugged together. I was confused by the predicament I had gotten myself into. Should I have told my parents about him waking up? No, for some reason, that idea seemed completely wrong.
Instead, I let the subject drop, and I asked where Joy was. “She’s still asleep,” my mom said in a worried tone.
I titled my head. “Still?”
Sighing, my father looked me in the eye and told me something that I wasn’t expecting. “She couldn’t fall asleep. They say that some children can sense danger, you know.”
Then why haven’t we reported him yet? I mentally interrogated. This comment seemed to be a warning, and I knew immediately that my father wanted me to steer clear from the stranger. Nervously, I bobbed my head in understanding and fled to my room.
Sighing, I plopped down onto my bed and closed my eyes. I sat there for an unknown amount of time, but by the time I heard tapping on my window, I knew that it had been quite some time. Standing by my window was one nervous Chance.
Holding up my pointer finger, I motioned for him to wait a few minutes. I quickly changed into a long sleeve shirt and a pair of jeans, not wanting to draw attention to the faint, purple patches on my right wrist. Slowly inching back to the window, I decided that if I left than my parent’s wouldn’t notice for a while. They were too busy stressing about the man on our couch.
“What took you so long?” Chance practically yelled at me. Springing into action, I jumped out the window and clamped my hand on his mouth- much like he had done too me before- and gave him an exasperated look.
“Do you want the whole world to hear you?” I snapped, stepping cautiously away from him.
Chance thought about that for a second. Finally, tilting his head, he gave me a thoughtful look. “Yes, actually, I do.”
Sighing, I shook my head in a concerned way and stood there, waiting for him to say why he wanted me to come outside. Chance looked down at me, confusion in his eyes.
“What?” he asked, seeming to be unnerved by me staring at him.
“… Why did you want me to come outside, Alberik?” I questioned slowly. Finally recognition flashed in his eyes.
“Oh!” he exclaimed. “Yeah, that. Someone’s been spreading’ a rumor that you guys are harboring’ a run away of some sorts. Seems that ya found him on your doorstep yesterday.”
Joy, I mentally declared. Since I knew that I couldn’t let Chance get suspicious, I maintained a straight expression, not that Chance would have picked up on my worried countenance, anyway.
“Do I really look like I’m hiding a thief? Really? Chance, you of all people should know that it’s just a rumor. The people get bored in this town. Yes,” I explained calmly, “there was a guy on our doorstep. But he was a vagabond. Totally out of it, too. Said he knew where some treasure was hidden in one of the caves out West.”
Chance arched an eyebrow. “Treasure?”
“Ah!” I threw up my hands, laughing at his greedy expression. “There’s no treasure. He was completely out of it. I’m pretty sure he was drunk.”
Young Mr. Alberik seemed completely let down by this news, and he nodded his head in understanding. “Fine… But how long did he stay?”
“Long enough for my dad to threaten him with one of my mom’s kitchen knives,” I laughed at the false memory. “He ran off like a scared mouse after that.”
“Too bad… I would’ve liked to get my hands on some of his funds, that’s for sure.”
“Chance.” I placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “He was poor. He didn’t even have a real shirt.” I knew that I was laying it on thick by then, but who was to stop me? “It was all torn up and barely fit him.”
“Hm… Poor soul,” he pitied, crossing his arms across his chest.
I nodded in sober agreement, my eyes studying the gravel under my toes. The trees shed their shadows over almost every surface, casting an almost comfortable atmosphere. Almost. The chilly autumn air bit at my skin, even though the sun beamed down on the small village of Deadalus.
Our small town was right in the center of Labyrinth, the dreaded country that I was born into as a citizen. Never had I ventured outside of the town, for I knew that although we could venture out into the outside world, it was at our own risk. The police scavenged the forest every night, despite the laws that allow us to roam freely. Most who choose to leave this way, however, usually don’t last till nightfall. It is rumored that some sort of savage beast lurked in the shadows, waiting for its next victim.
My parents always said that in the Old World, things like that never happened. People were free to come and go as they pleased, never to worry about curfews or of animals that supposedly take your life at unexpected times; at least, not from where they came from. My parents grew up in some city that had been overthrown for some twenty years by then, and most of those who resided there had their own ways of protecting themselves, of protecting each other. After Talbott took control, my parent’s fled to the town that would later be known as Deadalus, home of the worthless and unimportant.
As far as I know, most of the poor, wretched souls who remained under the control of Talbott all lived as we did. Of course, there’s an exception to every rule, and in this particular situation that would be the city of Theseus, home of Talbott himself. I’ve heard rumor after rumor about this wondrous land, only to find that I feel a vengeful rage twist in my stomach. No one should be aloud to live a life of luxury while others wallow in places like Deadalus.
With these thoughts plaguing my mind, I mechanically followed Chance down the street, not particularly caring where we were going. Without a warning, my mind shifted from thoughts of Talbott and Theseus, to thoughts of the incident of last night. Unconsciously I rubbed my sore wrist, contemplating how to inform my parents of Joy’s slip up. But then again, wasn’t something like this expected from an eight-year-old?
I realized that the sun was no longer beating down on us, for we had entered the canopy of some of the billions of trees that decorated our land. Not looking up from my wrist, I stepped forward, expecting to only find crunchy leaves embellishing the forest floor. Instead I bumped into Chance’s chest. The impact caused fall backward, almost colliding with one of the trees. Instinctively, Chance reached out and caught my arm. I winced when I become conscious of the thought that it was injured wrist. Once Chance had finished making sure that I was no longer in danger of falling, he stared down at my wrist.
“What…?” he failed to finish his sentence. Chance and I had been bruised and scrapped many times; the raspberry on the palm of my left hand was proof of this. However, injuries like this, the faint fingerprints and shapes of another’s hand, were all to unfamiliar.
“It’s nothing,” I snapped, tugging my arm away from his grasp. Chance narrowed his green eyes at me. I returned the favor. Soon enough, we were staring each other down in an unfriendly way.
“Tell me,” he ordered. In response I tightened my jaw, refusing to break eye contact. Five, ten, fifteen minutes past, I’m not entirely sure how long it took. Eventually Chance broke down and sat down beneath one of the trees, a defeated look in his eyes.
“Fine,” he gave in, “don’t tell me. But the least you can do is save your death glares for Apollo Dilaurie.” The sound of the obnoxious boy’s name caused a feeling of disgust to form in my belly.
Rolling my eyes, I moved to the tree and plopped down next to Chance. “Why would I do that?” I faked an innocent expression. “I’m totally in love with him,” I sarcastically admitted, placing a hand over my heart and giving a whole-hearted sigh.
Chance snorted.
Eventually things slipped back into their normal routine. Alberik and I chatter leisurely for a few hours. To my irritation, every once-in-a-while I would spot Chance staring at my wrist with both sadness and fury in his eyes.
I returned home through my window, regardless of the fact that I knew that my parent’s had noticed my absence. I strolled into the kitchen, hoping that my casual and easy gait would let them think that I hadn’t done anything wrong. Which I hadn’t; not technically, anyway.
My parents looked at me indifferently, as if me being a ghost in our home wasn't a big deal. Clearly, my parents were more absorbed with our new visitor than I had suspected. Sticking my head through the doorway, I stood with most of my body residing in the kitchen while my shoulders and head were poking into the side room. Joy was sitting on the recliner next to the outlandish man, her eyes staring at his sleeping form. I knew that he was obviously unconscious, albeit I remained with a sense of worry churning inside my stomach.
“Mom,” I whispered, stepping closer to her. “I heard some ladies gossiping today..., they were talking about us helping out a run away.” I jerked my head toward the door. “I think Joy told someone.”
A wave of apprehension flashed over my mother's soft features. “Don't worry,” I assured her, “I covered it up by saying that he ran off and never came in the house, but I still think we need to talk to Joy.”
My mother nodded in agreement. I watched as my mom stalked off toward my father, who was sitting in one of the five shabby chairs that surrounded our dinning room table. Soon after Joy was standing before them, a confused and shocked light reflecting in her eyes.
Thoughtlessly, I strolled into the side room and plopped down on the floor, facing the sleeping man. Biting my lip, I stared without expression at his odd features. His jet black hair had returned to covering his eyes, a habit, I realized, which must have been a normal thing for his uncooperative hair. A structured but not pompous nose placed symmetrically on his face, and his mouth was slightly agape. This were all the characteristics of a sleeping form. And yet, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't bring the same amount of fear to stir me as it did the day before. Yes, I had to admit, he had practically attacked me that night, but the look he had given me as soon as he realized what was happening seem to cancel that out. It was... sympathetic, in a way.
For the first time I was able to pull my eyes away from his face and look at the rest of him. His arms were curled underneath him. Unnaturally, his right leg was twisted at what looked at a painful angle. I realized then that he must have injured not only his head, but some of his limbs, too. What was he doing? I couldn't help but wonder.
Day turned into night, and before long my parents and sister returned upstairs. I, however, was left to fend for myself once again. Nevertheless, I couldn't help but feeling somewhat relieved to be alone, to hope, in my own childish way, that he might wake up once again. Oddly enough, I felt as if I were a child on Christmas Eve, waiting to be given the presents that I had waited an entire year to receive.
While I sat with my feet curled underneath me by the fire, I decided to fill the silence by singing so gently that I myself could barely hear it. I sang one of the few songs that I knew. My mother used to sing it to me and Joy when we couldn't sleep.
When I was about to finish out the small tune, the drifter rolled over to his side, exposing an image that I had only seen once in my life. I widened my eyes at the site and crawled slowly, yet greedily, towards the sofa. Hesitating, I stretched my hand out, careful not to actually touch his clothing. Bracing myself, I pulled the rectangular object out from underneath its hiding place and held it before my eyes.
There, sitting in my hands, was something that I had never expected to see ever again in my life. One of the many things that had always been forbidden.
A book.
.
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