That night I dreamt of the mall again. I dreamt about the fire that didn’t burn a man, and about him being taken away and thrown in a concrete room, screaming. Then suddenly I replaced the man. My metal wings restrained in chains, me kicking and screaming as I was thrown into the room. The wings had popped out in the mall and injured those around me, but of course I was fine. I dreamt about tracking the days in the room by carving marks into the walls with the tip of my feathers. I did this until I lost count and the feathers dulled from the concrete.

I woke up dripping in sweat with Alex shaking my shoulder, a concerned look plastered on his face. “They’re gone,” he said cautiously, letting go of my shoulders as I woke up and started to calm down. I must’ve been screaming.

“Who’s gone? Did I do something?” I asked in fear, not awake enough to process what he was trying to tell me.

“No, the wings are gone,” he said, smiling now. He got off the edge of the bed to let me up and I all but ran to the bathroom to confirm what he’d told me.

I spun around in the mirror and confirmed that no traces of the hellish wings remained. My back still seemed red, and there were scars, but nothing was protruding from it. “They’re really gone,” I whispered. I felt like if I said it too loudly I’d wake up from a dream, still plagued by the wings. I carefully felt my back, checking again that nothing was there. “They’re actually gone, does this mean we can go home? Things can go back to normal?”

I nearly cried as Alex gently hugged me, the first time since yesterday evening he didn’t seem afraid to touch me. I buried my head in his chest and let a few tears fall out. I was so relieved that the nightmare was over. I got so lost in the hug I almost didn’t notice that where his hands were holding my back started to itch. It was an all too familiar feeling that sent a wave of panic through me.

“Back!” I screamed at him in fear, “Alex get back!”

He hastily removed his arms, that same sense of fear filling his eyes as he tried to move away from me. He gasped with shock as my wings shot out. They were faster this time. It came with hardly any warning and no pain at all. They grew to their full size in an instant, slicing his fingers as he tried to retreat. I threw myself away from him, into the tub. I folded the wings behind me as quickly as I could, making them non threatening but it was too late. He landed on the ground in front of me and stared down at his hands. He seemed to enter a state of shock as he watched the cuts across his fingers start to fill with blood and drip to the floor between us.

He looked up at me, eyes wide with fear and concern. I stared back at him with regret. I was too quick to trust the absence of the wings and too stupid to feel it coming in time to warn him. I couldn’t look at him anymore. My eyes fell to the growing pool of blood.

“I’m sorry Alex,” I eked out, barely audible.

“It’s ok, I know you didn’t mean it. I’m sorry I got your hopes up. I should’ve been more careful,” he said it gently and sincerely, but it did nothing to mask the fear he felt towards me. It was obvious. We both stared at the blood for a moment, lost for words, before snapping back to the situation at hand.

Alex carefully rose from where he was sitting and turned the sink on, letting the water run over both hands until the bleeding had subsided. I got up from the tub and turned sideways to walk behind him, careful to keep the wings as far from him as possible as I exited the bathroom. I ran to the living room and grabbed the first aid kit. I fumbled around with it until I found enough bandaids to cover the damage I’d done to him.

When I returned to the bathroom door I felt unable to enter the room. I just stood in the doorway and watched as he carefully dried his fingers with a white towel that had been hanging on the rack. It left streaks of red, less than before but enough to make me feel sick. He was standing in the small puddle of blood we’d watched form before, but he didn’t seem to notice.

He glanced over at me and tried to produce a small smile, “It’s not that deep, really it’s ok,” he assured me. I stretched out my arm and leaned to hand him the stack of band aids, not wanting to take a step closer to him in fear of hurting him even worse. He laughed at me, seeming less afraid now. “Really now you seem scared of me,” he teased and took a step towards me. He faced me and held his hands up so I could see the cuts clearly. Across all of his fingers on both hands there were two lines of cuts, straight across and large, but seemingly shallow.

“I think it’d be better if you bandaged them, If I do it I’ll just make it bleed more,” he said trying to reassure me. Even with the calming words I could tell he was afraid. He wouldn’t admit it, probably out of pity, but his hands were shaking too much to excuse it as anything other than fear. Who could blame him? I was a walking weapon, unpredictable and sharp.

I realized my wings were blocking the doorway and carefully folded them behind me again, turning to the side and letting him pass. “I’ll help, you’re right I’m sorry,” I said quietly, following him to the chair in the living room.

He plopped down in the chair, trying to be casual to keep me calm. I carefully faced him and sat on the coffee table in front of him. I made sure to tuck my wings over the far edge of the table, as far away from him as they could be. We sat in silence as I carefully bandaged each finger. The only noises were the wrappers rustling and his occasional winces of pain if I put too much pressure on a cut. Even now after injuring him twice he was still protecting me, calming me, when he had every right to be terrified or angry. I felt an intense wave of guilt.

When I was done patching him up I scooted off the table to the side, still facing him so the wings wouldn’t turn and do more damage to him. He wiggled his fingers around in front of him, testing the wounded digits for function, and seemed satisfied with the results. He smiled and showed me his hands again.

“See? All better. They really are pretty cool if you’d stop using them on me,” he laughed nervously gesturing to the large metal wings.

I rolled my eyes and gave him a half smile, trying to return the gesture of normalcy. I went and cleaned the bathroom in an attempt to bury any reminder of the incident. After that we sat across from each other in the living room for a while, our attention fixed on the small tv above the fireplace.

We watched the news attentively for anything relating to incidents like mine or the man at the mall. There were arrests, all of them ‘public incidents’ that only ever had one victim. All of them were too vague to be anything more than a cover story. I was more sure than before that these were related. Someone was covering them up, and taking the people away. I shuddered at the thought of where they were taken. Where I would be taken. I held my breath for fear of seeing my face on the news. ‘Freak spotted in prom incident, wanted for questioning’ the news would say. They would be onto me, someone would’ve seen, and they’d track my phone and come for me.

“I know that face, stop it,” Alex demanded, chucking a pillow at me. With reflexes I didn’t know I possessed I pulled one wing in front of my face, blocking the pillow and redirecting it towards the ground. It was like a personal shield. He raised an eyebrow at me, intrigued at the display. “I didn’t know you could do that,” he added, sounding amused.

We continued to talk about the wings, what control I do and don’t possess, the possibility of putting the wings away again, the possibility of flight, basically anything we had questions about. We realized we hadn’t eaten since the dinner at prom, and the cabin hadn’t been stocked with food for the upcoming summer. We texted our parents with details of a made up vacation so they wouldn’t worry. After that Alex headed off to the store for food and other necessities, a better first aid kit among these supplies, and left me with the task of testing some things with the wings while he wasn’t around to be collateral damage.

He was going to be gone for a few hours, and made me promise to stay hidden inside until nightfall out of caution, even though we were fairly secluded. My stomach rumbled from hunger while I was busy putting my focus on the wings. I practiced turning the feathers to be less lethal in any given direction, and folding the wings themselves in different ways for safety. Out of boredom I entertained the idea of a shield and worked on swiftly pulling them up in front of me, over me, and straight out to my sides, mimicking a bird in flight.

The thought had me curious and I flapped the wings gently, mocking flight the best I could. I was too restrained by the height of the ceiling to fully stretch them, and I could tell it was like a muscle I would have to train to really be able to utilize them, but it felt possible. If I worked at it and familiarized myself fully with the wings I felt I could actually achieve some level of flight, as absurd as the idea sounded. I’d have to try it once I had better control over simple movements and the muscles in my back weren’t as sore.

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Then a new thought entered my mind. Despite the wings coming back out, they were retracted when I woke up. Maybe it was possible to at least hide the wings for some periods if I was going to be stuck with them. I focused on the feeling of spreading them, and tried to do the opposite. I strained myself to fold them up, smaller and smaller, until they felt weightless. If I focused I think I could keep them that way. I checked my theory in the bathroom mirror a few times and sure enough I could fold them up until they were fully hidden in my back, leaving nothing but what appeared to be two vertical scars where the wings would protrude from.

It seemed like I could hold them this way indefinitely if I focused on the feeling of tucking them in, but if I relaxed they would unfold again, revealing their full menacing size. I was tired from testing the wings, and way too hungry to push through it so instead I tucked the wings in again, and laid back on the couch. I watched the news while keeping the tucking sensation in my mind. I felt like this skill was the most important one I could focus on for now so I sat like that until Alex returned, splitting my attention between the news and keeping my secret hidden. It wasn’t physically demanding at all to keep them stored away, but it did require way more focus than having them out. It felt natural to let them out somehow, and odd to put them up, but my safety and freedom could very well depend on my ability to keep them hidden.

As I was lost in thought constructing an elaborate story for explaining the scars upon returning to my normal life I heard the door open. I was fearful for a moment that someone had found out about me somehow, and they were coming to take me away. Before I could even think about it I pulled the wings out to my sides on instinct alone, directing the full force of blades towards the door. Alex pushed the door open with his foot, and glanced up at me. He threw his hands up mocking surrender with an amused smile on his face. The bags on his arms slid up towards his elbows from the gesture.

“Just me, calm down. Though I'm glad to see your first instinct on someone walking in is death by many blades,” he laughed as he started to unload the bags on the floor.

He turned back towards the car to retrieve the rest of the bags and I blushed from embarrassment. I decided to show him what I’d been working on and quickly tucked the wings back in, leaving nothing but the scars as evidence of their existence. Alex propped the door open with his foot again a moment later, bags heavy on his arms. He looked up and opened his mouth to start saying something, but he must have noticed the lack of wings. His eyebrow shot up in intrigue and he grinned at me.

“I see you’ve been hard at work,” he praised sincerely as he dropped the rest of the bags and turned to lock the door. “So what have you figured out?” he questioned while gesturing for me to come help unload the large pile of bags.

I hopped up and gave him a proud smile, turning around to show him the scars. “I’ve mostly been working on a way to explain these,” I said, gesturing at the deep vertical scars on my back. “Seems like no matter how long the wings are folded away they’ll stay there.” I pulled out a bag of chips from one of the grocery bags and ripped it open eagerly. My stomach growled again in anticipation as I stuffed a few chips in my mouth. “I can keep them put away if I focus on it, the hard part is controlling them while they’re out,” I said between bites.

He nodded his head, seeming pleased with the progress I'd made. He grabbed a few chips from the bag I was holding, to my stomach's dismay, and we made quick work of the rest of the bag. I threw the bag away and started emptying the various shopping bags full of food, medical supplies, and a few backless shirts. I raised my eyebrow in confusion and held up the shirts at him. “Cute, but why?” I questioned.

He laughed and gestured at the torn dress I was still wearing. “I figured you’d want to wear something you wouldn’t rip every time you use your wings,” he said, smiling at me. “Oh that reminds me,” he said loudly, spinning around and heading back outside. I wanted to follow him but was still too afraid to be outside. I continued to unload the groceries while I waited. Alex came back inside carrying two large suitcases, one I immediately recognized as the suitcase I kept tucked under my bed. I smiled at him, and reached for the suitcase, relieved to have something other than the torn prom dress to wear.

“I drove to our houses to pack some clothes for our romantic getaway while I was getting groceries,” he grinned and winked at me while handing me the suitcase.

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop from smiling. “Thank you,” I said happily while unzipping the suitcase to get a change of clothes. Alex nodded and followed suit. We both picked out some more comfortable clothes, and I opted for one of the new shirts that I wouldn’t tear if I chose to let my wings out. It really was thoughtful of him. We finished putting all of the groceries away, choosing to leave the first aid kit on the kitchen counter, and cooked dinner together. The news was quickly becoming the only thing we watched, and we found ourselves analyzing each story as we ate dinner. It was more of the same, a few incidents, but nothing being revealed.

After dinner we cleaned up and then took turns showering. I put new bandages on all of the cuts I’d caused Alex and eventually decided to let the wings unfold again. “How does it feel to keep them folded in like that,” Alex asked, gesturing at the released wings as I stretched them out.

I shrugged and thought about it for a second before answering, “I have to focus on it or they’ll come back out on their own, so it’s kind of tiring, but it doesn’t hurt.” I explained how the wings felt like an extension of my body, how I could feel what they were feeling, and how using them was like working out muscles I didn’t know I had.

He nodded along, paying close attention to my explanation. “What about flying?” he asked like an excited kid.

“I was told not to go outside during the day so I wouldn’t know,” I said, putting on my best pouty face. “But ya I think I could,” I continued, flapping my wings gently to prove my point.

“Crazy,” he said absentmindedly while watching my wings move up and down in the mock-flight demonstration.

“This whole thing is crazy,” I agreed, letting my wings fall to my side again. “I meant to thank you earlier,” I started seriously, “I remember you justifying them locking up the guy at the mall-”

“I’d never let that happen to you,” he cut me off, frowning. “You don’t need to thank me for keeping you from being a lab rat. You really scared me. I didn’t want to lose you,” he trailed off and looked down at the table.

I blushed from the sudden seriousness in his voice. “Still, thank you,” I smiled and squeezed his hand.

“Anyways back to flying,” he quickly changed the subject and cleared his throat, gesturing to the door, “Shall we? It’s dark now.”

I followed his finger to the door, and moved the wings gently, contemplating the offer. “Tomorrow? They really do feel like a sore muscle,” I replied, yawning and folding the wings back in to prove my point.

He nodded his head and smiled. We moved to the couch and talked for a bit longer about everything that had been going on, and our plan from here. We decided to make the vacation a week long, and I’d work on controlling my wings, flying, and keeping them folded away for long periods of time. If everything went well, and nothing crazy happened on the news then we’d return in time for graduation, and go back to our normal lives, keeping the secret between us. Once we were done talking about all of the serious stuff we just talked for a bit how we used to. We laughed and joked and I realized how bad I’d missed this side of our friendship.

It was starting to get late so we went to sleep. Since I had woken up with the wings gone the night before, I slept with the wings folded away to test the theory. It seemed like they would stay put away while sleeping. I didn’t know why, since I had to focus on it during the day, but I was glad to have one less thing to worry about in regards to keeping the secret safe. I slept soundly, and nightmare free. It was probably just the exhaustion from using the wings so much, but it was the best night of sleep I’d had in a while.

In the morning I woke up to the smell of pancakes. My stomach growled to wake me, and I rushed to brush my teeth and change. I opted for one of the new shirts again, and strolled into the kitchen. Alex heard me coming and turned from the stovetop to smile at me. He removed the pan from the heat and fixed me a plate. We sat at the kitchen table and ate, the whole time I kept the wings tucked away without issue. We decided that I’d keep them folded up all day as practice, then at night I’d go outside and try to fly. The rest of the week I’d work on using them a bit each day, so my muscles weren’t too sore if I needed to use them. Most of the week I’d keep them folded up, so we would know for sure If I was ready to go back.

With the plan decided we spent most of the day relaxing. I had to keep some focus on keeping the wings put up, but it was becoming easier to do. Once night fell we headed outside the Cabin. Alex looked around a bit, and we listened carefully. Once we were sure no one was nearby I let my wings out, and stretched them out, relishing the feeling of it. It was dark this far away from the city, but the moonlight bounced off the shiny metallic surface of the wings and made them visible. Alex noticed it too and seemed to take a moment to admire them.

“Can I be weird for a second?” Alex asked quietly. I laughed and nodded my head, motioning for him to continue. “They really are beautiful like this, it’s hard to even grasp that what I’m looking at is real,” he said softly, still looking at the wings.

“Thank you,” I said sincerely. I could feel myself blushing a deep shade of red, and I was thankful to the dark for concealing it. It was unlike him to make comments like that, but I understood. Even though it was scary, they really were amazing to look at.

“Okay just take it slow,” he said returning to the subject of flight.

I took a deep breath and spread the wings up fully, flapping them a few times to test my control over their full range of motion. Once I was convinced it was possible I nodded to him, signaling him to move back safely out of the way. Once he’d moved far enough away for comfort I started to move the wings faster, and I felt the weight of my body lift. I could actually do it. Encouraged by that I fully committed to the idea and lifted myself off the ground with a powerful gust of wind from the wings. I picked my feet up and leaned forward. I flapped the wings harder again until I was about the height of the top of the cabin.

Flying felt surprisingly natural, just like controlling the wings did. I pointed the blades back, so they wouldn’t catch wind, and leaned in the direction I wanted to go. It was harder to fly up, but everything else seemed easy. A small flap of the wings on occasion allowed me to stay at the height I was, and I could adjust the feathers slightly to change direction. Once I felt like I had decent control I flew around for a bit, enjoying the surreal experience, before returning to the ground in front of Alex. I promptly folded the wings back in, concealing them again. And beamed at him.

“Incredible,” he whispered to me and squeezed my hand, “how are you feeling?”

“Tired,” I admitted and rubbed my shoulder. My muscles were sore from the endeavor, but I still felt amazing from the accomplishment.

We went back inside and briefly discussed what it felt like. Alex asked a lot of questions about them, and seemed truly stunned. After a short shower I went straight to sleep, thoroughly exhausted from the mentally and physically demanding day. At night I dreamt of flying, like a bird high above the clouds. I woke up feeling refreshed, and my muscles didn’t seem as sore after the workout.

The rest of the week went off without a hitch. I kept the wings folded up throughout the day, and practiced control and flight at night. It became easier both to keep them put away, and to use them precisely how I wanted to. I could fly higher, and faster, and didn’t get sore. It was still tiring, but I felt like if I didn’t practice now I wouldn’t be able to. Each night that I unfolded my wings Alex looked at them with the same stunned look as the first, like he was seeing them for the first time.