“Uh, hey Kara, what are you having?”

It’s Harvey from McDonald’s. He works here a lot and knows what I like. I usually order something to pass the time when I visit my mom. Makes it weird that he’s asking, yeah?

“Big Mac and nuggets. Like always.”

“Um, I’m not supposed to give you anything with carbs anymore, I have orders to not-”

Another unwelcome surprise.

“Just the nuggets, then. Just a tenner pack. That’s barely anything. You can do that much, right?”

He reluctantly obliges and rings me up. I have no clue who found out I’ve been scoring extra goods from him, or why they decided to rob me of this small joy, but if I ever find out I’m gonna-

Did I mention I hate shocks right now? Did I mention I don’t want any more unwelcomed surprises? I know I did. But apparently, my mom didn’t get the memo.

Shouldn’t she be, I don’t know, working?

Fuck, just what am I seeing?

My mouth is open, and I probably look like a guppy but what the actual fuck is going on here?

I turn my head away for one fucking second while waiting for some damn nuggets and I see my mom making out with some random doctor?

Suddenly I’m no longer hungry. For the first time in a while. Instead, I want to vomit out anything I’ve ever eaten in my entire life. And I want to gauge out my eyes. Oh lord, I should have let that Ice Doctor take me out. Why? Why did I choose to live?

I take it back! I have regrets!

Their hands are all over each other and from my position I get a perfect side profile view. Gods they’re worse than teenagers. Get a fucking room.

I can’t see the guy’s face very well, but he has distinctive mousy brown hair with long streaks of speckled grey. I’ll be able to spot him if I see him again. Hopefully he’ll be within apple throwing range next time. And that I have an apple.

Okay that’s all I can handle.

I block my face with my hand, grab my nugget box, and hurry out the shiny new main doors as fast as my feeble body will allow. It’s the fastest way out of this situation.

Oh my god- her hands were all over him and- Ugh­- his mouth was all over hers and- Oh fuck I might actually hurl. I dump my box on a bench and run for the nearest garbage can. I lean over it until wave after wave of nausea passes.

Thankfully, I don’t throw up in the end, but I come close. My stomach pains me enough that I might as well have gone on with it, instead of just dry retching.

As soon as my gut has settled, a wave of something else hits me. Fear.

I realize I haven’t been outside in days. I haven’t had the courage to even go to the hospital gardens. Yet here I am outside the main doors. Something always made me feel like it would be a bad idea, but gross mom visions forced me out. Now I know why I felt that way.

“A man almost made off with your meal, Miss Lowe.”

Detective Idiot is still here.

STILL!?

He really is a stalker.

But he’s wearing different clothes. And it looks like he washed his trench coat. Or tried to, it still has blood stains on it. But some look older than others. Just what is this guy’s real job? I still don’t buy the detective gig. And why can’t he afford a new coat?

“Still stalking me, I see. And it’s just Kara. We’ve been over this. You got a learning impediment or something?”

I yank, rather than take, the box out of his hands.

“I realize it’s not somethin’ you’re used to, but it’s an important formality and-”

“Ah-ah-ah-” I talk over whatever bullshit he was thinking of spewing. “In the modern era it’s a formality for a subservient towards a person of higher authority, a master. You take orders from an evil Council that wants to kill me, you don’t take orders from me. So, no need to be so polite. It’ll make it kinda awkward later when you stab me in the back.”

Probably literally. I shiver a bit, but I don’t let it show.

His face is also calm, but that doesn’t lessen my fear. Somehow, I feel I shouldn’t be here. Like there’s a reason he’s guarding these doors.

“Why are you outside?”

He doesn’t take my bait. Darn. These people really don’t wanna tell me anything.

Then they’ll have no leg to stand on when I decide my own answers, and they don’t like them. I mean, what could they even say? ‘Sorry we didn’t tell you anything, but your own conclusions are wrong and now you have to believe what we tell you now that we’re talking.’

If that’s how they’re expecting things to go, then our future meeting is going to be more entertaining that I thought it would be.

Yeah, I’ll show then how difficult Kara Lowe can be when she’s angry.

Uh, but I should probably say something. It’s a simple question he asked, but it’s also not a question. It’s an accusation.

“Why are you asking me why I’m outside?” Answering people’s question with your own questions can often throw people off. Especially true if it’s the same question flipped around on them. Psychology 101. Told you I studied for that quiz.

I plunk myself down on the bench farthest from him and closest to the door. If I have to run for my life, I’m running towards the place with doctors.

“We can’t have an Unknown mucking about outside, that’s why.”

“I’m an Unknown now too, eh?” I shove a nugget in my mouth and glare at the giant. Not at his face or anything, I still have trouble meeting his gaze. Just in his general direction. I might be scared of this guy, but he also pisses me off.

“It’s safer indoors.” He has his arms crossed and I notice, from only glancing at him sideways, that he’s constantly checking around him. Staring at everyone walking by. Looking them up and down.

Like they’re so dangerous. Has he ever looked in a mirror?

None of these people have Auras above the level of a squirrel.

“For me or for other people?”

He looks at me, but only for a second. Apparently, strangers are more interesting.

Well, jokes on him. I am probably the most interesting person in the world. Certainly more interesting than Mary the secretary, Sue from accounting, and Gary from… also probably accounting. Seriously not a lot of variety in the Suits passing by.

Well, who cares, my nuggets are more interesting that this idiot.

Except they’re not. Like most other things, I can barely taste them. So much joy, gone. My mood turns sour, but I still manage to get a couple more down. It’s just so hard to swallow.

Nuggets probably wasn’t the best choice.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“So, you’re a giant right?” I talk and chew at the same time.

Now he’s looking right at me. He looks confused.

“What?”

“David’s a bloodsucker, Clifford’s a puppy, and you’re a giant. You know, like the whole fee fie foe fum deal, right?”

Still confusion. Oh, come on, there’s no way I’m wrong about this.

“Your true form is fifty or so feet, yeah?” I manage to swallow one more. There’s still another five left, but there’s no way I’ll be able to eat them all, so I set the box aside. Detective Idiot still hasn’t responded. He’s not oblivious to his size, is he? “Then you’re a Halfie or something?”

“You shouldn’t use that term.” He shakes his head. The spell of misunderstanding me is broken, and he goes back to watching strangers. I can’t believe he’s going to leave me hanging like this.

“Excuse me, miss.”

“What?”

I turn around to see that a dirty man with a couple of golden teeth and a couple of missing teeth is talking to me for some reason. He’s… a bit of a character. I can’t tell if he’s a homeless guy or not. And it’s hard to determine his age.

I mean he has a grey fur coat on that is somehow the only thing on him not dirty, and it looks mighty expensive, but then he has mismatching blue and green plaid socks and grey pants covered in colourful patches, decidedly not expensive.

His hair is mostly black and long, hanging in oily dreads down his back, but the sides of his hair show some age, being pure white, with large white sideburns, too. He’s also wearing eyeliner. A lot of black eyeliner. But he has no wrinkles or anything that on older man or younger hobo would have. The white almost looks like it’s natural? Or is it just dyed like that for some reason?

Not that any part of his get up seems reasonable.

He also has a large solid black backpack swung over just one shoulder that looks way to big for him. What is even in that thing?

And now I realize he is looking at my nuggets with more hunger in his eyes than I have in my stomach.

From behind him I see the detective no longer has his arms crossed. One is stiff at his side, as if in anticipation, and the other is inside one of his pockets. The pockets filled with a ton of weapons that are most likely not legal to carry. Like that ice pick he had. No way was that standard police issue.

Oh boy, what a spaz.

“Jus’ wonderin’ if you might want to share a bit, eh?” He looks at the box and at me then back at the box and licks his chapped lips.

Share? What a weirdo. Ugh whatever. “Just take it all.” I shove it towards him, and he grips it with shaky fingers.

“O-oh, wow, uh, are you sure, miss?”

“Wasn’t going to finish it anyway.” I give him a fake smile.

“Thank-you very much, miss.”

“Hold on, you aren’t supposed to-” Owens takes a massive step forward and the poor odd man flinches and grips my, err- his now, nuggets a little tighter.

“Oh shut up, you drag. What’s wrong with you? Don’t tell me you’re prejudiced against the homeless?”

“What? No, this man isn’t-”

“I ain’t truly homeless miss, I am but a wanderer.” The strange man bravely states his case and stands and little straighter. Not that that helps, he’s not much taller than me.

“A wanderer. Right. Well, you shouldn’t be prejudiced against wanderers either, Owens. It’s a bad look on you. Almost as bad as a bloody trench coat.”

The man uses the nuggets box to block what is very clearly a high pitched, squeaky giggle. Hmph, at long last I’ve found someone who appreciates my elite sense of humour.

“Thank-you very much miss. I can give the food back if you-”

“Nope that’s fine it’s yours now.”

No way I’m taking it back. It touched his dirty face, and he’s holding it with hands wearing filthy half finger gloves. His nails are yellow. Probably from smoking.

“You’s a kind child.” He smiles with his weird assortment of teeth. They’re not all the same length either. What a peculiar man. “Here, I’ll give you my favourite stone.”

He pulls his backpack off and rummages through one of the many string-locked pockets on the sides. Because of how very black the leather is, you can’t see anything inside of it. It doesn’t help that a bunch of clouds decide to cover the sun right at this moment, making it even more difficult to see.

The inside of the pocket just looks like, I don’t know, darkness. Like he’s carrying a lot of darkness on his back. Except it wouldn’t look that heavy if that were the case.

Well, it’s not like I’m that curious anyways.

And I really don’t want a dirty rock.

“Oh, that isn’t necessary-” Aaaaand it’s already been placed in my hands. “Oh. Okay. Thank-you. So much.”

“No problem, miss. Would ya like to see what else I have? I’s collected many things.”

“That’s alright.” I decline as politely as possible. He is weirding me out a bit now.

He nods dramatically and seems oddly happy I turned him down. “You’s a smart child.”

He then scuttles off in an excited manner on his short legs. Seriously, that guy is all torso.

Good thing he left when he did. If he’d called me ‘miss’ one more time, man. I might’ve let Detective Idiot have him.

I take a look at the rock he gave me. It’s half white and half black, with a noticeably clear line between the two, and it surprisingly isn’t dirty at all. It’s cool looking so I guess I’ll keep it, but I’m still going to wash it though. I place it carefully deep into the pocket of my sweater.

Hm, come to think of it I never got that weirdo’s name. Ah well. It’s probably not important.

Owens is still watching him walk away with far too much interest.

“Will you chill out?”

He is still watching the guy. He’s like a block away now. The dude gave one of my nuggets to a pigeon. Wow. What a fricken waste. But I guess I can’t be mad about what people do with the stuff I gave away. And wasn’t that a carrier pigeon? I’ve seen pictures. But aren’t those extinct? I must be seeing things. I need to get more sleep.

This idiot still hasn’t let his guard down. Dude, get your hands out of your pockets, it’s freaking me out.

“Seriously, what’s your problem? He was just hungry.”

So what if he was a little weird? Most decent people are.

The detective finally lets go of whatever weapon he was more than willing to potentially use just now.

“And you’re not?”

“Oh, I see. You can ask me whatever you want, but not the other way around.” I roll my eyes lean back against the bench. Jerk.

“So you’re not hungry?” A pushy jerk.

“All the time.”

“Then why did you-”

“Because I wasn’t hungry for nuggets.” I sigh. “Or pudding, or whatever else I’ve had all day. Nothing is right.”

I wrangle my courage and take a step towards him. He’s watching me but I can’t read his expression, and I can’t even catch a whiff of his Aura anymore. How did he hide it? And why? Is it because he’s ‘scouting?’

“Maybe you know something about that?” I cock my head at him, but he looks down and crosses his arms again. Suddenly interested in the passers by once more, and not in the weird, dirty man who is now eating my remaining nuggets in the middle of a busy intersection. Right on top of a manhole.

Seems a little unsafe. As a cop, shouldn’t he be a little concerned about that?

“The Council-”

“-will convene after your recovery to answer any and all questions.” I lower my voice and adopt a terrible Scottish accent.

I see his mouth twitch into what might have become a genuine smile if he didn’t have a stick up his ass.

“Why are you outside?”

This time it’s a real question.

“I saw something horrible.”

I guess I know what’s been keeping my mom in this stupid town now. I got murdered because that dumb bitch didn’t want to leave her illicit lover.

I’m fucking done with everyone.

I might not be willing to put my own mother on my Shit List but she’s also firmly out of my Good Books.

Ouch. I have a moment of discomfort as that small seed in my stomach grows again. Because I’m angry at my mom? Eh, that’s fair. Seriously, fuck her.

He looks at me with pity for a moment. “Did someone die?”

“Worse. I saw my mom kissing some doctor.”

He blinks and then erupts into laughter. While I’m here moping, this bastard has the nerve to laugh at my pain. I lose my footing because the ground shakes a bit and I’m still unsteady on my feet. I’m not exaggerating, the ground is shaking because of this idiot.

“Oh my god, stop. You’re going to break the sidewalk.” I grab a nearby streetlamp to keep from falling but my comment just makes him laugh more. Why? Why me?

He quiets down just as suddenly as he started and wipes legit tears from his eyes. “You’re funny.”

“Yeah, well, you’re dangerous.”

For a moment, he has yet another expression on his face I don’t understand, and I’m pretty good at reading people.

“You should head back in. They’ll start wondering where you are.”

I shrug and agree. I’ve reached the limit of my patience for this guy, anyway. He’s actively choosing to keep me in the dark. He’s on my Shit List.

My so-called friends should be visiting soon anyway, at least the ones who want to keep up the pretense and not be written off forever, not that they know this is a final test or anything, and I still don’t know how that will all go.

You might think it’s unfair to give a test without any warning. All I can say is if you think that then you’re definitely not a teacher.

I think expecting a visit after literally dying is a reasonable expectation. I think only a complete moron would expect me to continue a friendship if no such visit takes place. This isn’t a surprise exam. It’s the very bare minimum of what a normal person would do. There’s no way they don’t know that this is a crossroads moment. If they choose to ignore it, that’s on them.

And if they believe I’ll roll over and forgive them if they show up later on, like nothings happened, then that is an unreasonable expectation on their part. And they will be disappointed.

And I know I was told by Stupid Boy and Clifford not to say anything to anyone, but I’m not going to be able to resist the urge to gloat either. Half truths should be fine. They will probably just pretend not to believe me, and life will go on as usual. Like it always was.

That’s the hope, anyway.

I sigh when I reach my room. Detective Idiot was right, and I don’t like that.

When I get back three nurses are surrounding it and clucking to each other.

Damn annoying hens.

“Hello.”

“Oh my goodness, Kara, where did you go?” Rachel confronts me.

“Just went for a walk around the hospital.” I lie. “Thought I’d stretch my legs.”

Can’t let them know I tried to score contraband. Or left the hospital. Come to think of it, these are probably the joy-stealers that ordered Harvey to not do his dang job. I hate them even more now.

One of them puts her hand to her heart and walks away shaking her head. The other looks annoyed and stomps off. Rachel sighs.

“I wish you’d tell me these things first, so we don’t worry.”

“You weren’t around. I will next time.” I lie again.

I don’t think she buys it, but she leaves quietly.

I crawl back into bed and straighten my sheets distractedly. It’s 4 O’clock. If they’re coming at all it’ll be very soon. I turn on the T.V to distract myself. There’s a feeling of anticipation mixed with dread filling me and giving me a headache. I have a feeling a lot of things will change soon.

That’s probably not great for me.

Five minutes into some talk show I hear a familiar cough from the doorway. More like a dove’s coo.

It’s Chayla.