--ovw--LXIX--ovw--
Take a step, and then it's over
And then it's over
I wasn't
Looking
For a
LIGHTHOUSE
Even though it was a really dark bedroom
Half a page is missing here. Again. But it just looks like poetry to me.
Where to put these other pages, though...
--ovw--
MONDAY
11:29 AM
Jeff Tobler's hideout
Status: Available
I wondered if Belinda had answers. Maybe. Because this time, it was different.
Because although I was a marshmallow, she was now going to be talking to a killer.
--ovw--
"Well," James said, across from all of us but not at us- his sleek red hair only a few shades lighter that that of his older brother's- "It was good to see you again, and to finally see you on the ground." He kicked Jeff's decapitated head, and it rolled over so that its face with my knives still buried through the flesh and cartilage and eyeballs were shown to us in more full, focused detail. It was not gross. "A body."
His words were almost a whisper, that, on a normal day, would have caused me to shiver.
But the warmth of Anthony's mantle and the fire that would not stop, would not cease burning, inside of me- that fire was not something that could be stopped.
I got up, Lyca immediately getting up with me and Kaylee doing the same- wrapping my left wrist, twice, immediately, in stringvine and whipvine.
I walked slowly toward James, and for only a moment, we locked eyes over the dead man's body. It wasn't what I wanted, but I had a family in Jameson Adam Tobler; it felt like more than I had ever had. No one was family- no one cared.
I looked down at Jeff's... dismembered, mangled, crushed, shattered, mutilated face; the separated head and body.
Just like the fourteen-year-old girl from the Lowdown.
I knelt down, in front of James and all my friends, even Connor who had finally come to albeit he was probably just as severely concussed as all of us or maybe even more so- and I slowly, savoringly yet almost without emotion, pulled out my knives- one at a time.
As I pulled the first one, I said, "That was for the fourteen-year-old," and as I pulled the next one, I said, "That was for me."
Between my sobs, my ragged breathing and now-shaking body, I pulled the next one, all with my left hand as my right was broken probably to bits and also frozen, "That was for Sam Shilberg." I heard Kaylee start to wail behind us, as did Connor minus the amount of vocal sound, as did Lyca- because even though they were rivals in and out of the ring, they only made each other better. Anthony David wrapped his big, warm arms around me from behind- and I didn't mind because there was no way James or Kaylee would let him hurt me- while Elyza contained herself to sniffing silently and wiping tears as she attempted to nurse Caleb using whatever ointments she found in the torture house. I said it, once more, and so did Kaylee- we said it together. Both telepathically as well as physically.
We were in tortures, and out of tortures, together. She knew what I was going to say right at that moment and when.
She and I both said her name together.
"That was for SAM SHILBERG." Heedlessly, turbulently, I pulled out three knives- all at once- for her, and then I continued to physically speak. As more tears and more sweat and more blood coated my lips and imperfect teeth; as James and Kaylee read my mind both unabashedly and uninterruptedly; as tiny, tiny bits of diamond and pseudo-diamond glass ceiling sparkled on their way down to the floor and hit the ground like broken-emerald-glass pearls, I said more than just her name. I spoke other names:
"That was for Marie."
Tiana Ambervi, who had been knocked out early on in the explosions and came to with a severely bleeding neck and glass punctures in both arms, laid a small stone of... who knows, maybe graphite, maybe quartzite, maybe diamond for each name, each knife I pulled back out, on the ground, beside us, beside the evil's body.
I still didn't hate him, like the way I felt maybe I hated his brother, James Tobler; he wasn't worth that much; he wasn't worth the hate.
He wasn't worth anything at all.
For Sam.
She's not gone, she is NOT gone
I can save her.
The tears rolled down my face; I didn't know for how long that would happen, or if it even ever would stop. Do you know how a marshmallow breaks?
Because I did.
Again.
I can save her.
Let's just say my thoughts were no longer coherent.
She is fast, faster than shooting stars
Actually, looking back at it, I didn't even know which ones were new thoughts, or which ones were echoes of a memory. Or echoes of something I wrote about her on a page, perhaps.
That was what it looked like:
When the softest thing, breaks.
I like her
She bought me cotton once. And bandages. From Emberion. And this was before she even knew who I was.
Her eyes are like the snow...
I can save her.
She is NOT GONE
I'm hungry.
Sam is NOT GONE
"That was for Carter."
More voices in my mind. Floating, all floating in a semi-transparent haze of purple, purple and light purple, purple and dark purple, and black sunflowers and Kaylee's brown hair.
Kaylee...
In that moment, she spoke into my mind.
"So the-" her telepathic voice began. It had to creep through red sludge, poison jungles of humidity and prostitution and drugs and memories and trash, through the stuffed animals that were torn to pieces in front of me. Telepathically she had to go through all of those things; her voice needed to go through all of that to reach me. But she had already seen some of it, for herself, because of Nightingale. "...the orbiplosions-"
I thought about it once more. Nightingale, per se, may have been harder for Kaylee, because she had not seen any and all of those evils prior to the torture of the experiment, whereas... I had already seen some of those things in the past.
But that is exactly why we survived, Kaylee's telepathic voice spoke in echoes that went in invisible diagonal waves all around us.
I heard it. But my broken fingers and hands were fumbling around and still yanking out the knives.
She's right, a male voice said. I wasn't sure whose, but I assumed it had to be one of the telepaths with us. She wouldn't have survived if it weren't for you. She wouldn't be alive today, if you hadn't been there.
Gruesome, battered, and inured- I extracted yet another knife.
I'm her older brother, said the same voice. Because now, you need to be reminded.
I keep diaries. I don't need to be reminded of anything.
I tried to respond.
Orbiplosions, spoke a voice. Was it in my mind only, was it something I wrote on paper, was it my voice, was I telepathically communicating it and if so was I doing it correctly, or was I physically speaking the word, or was I trying to get my lunch money back from Wyatt or hearing the grating screeches of Avyeena or looking once again for Penguinowo, I did not know.
I am so hungry
Can I have just one jellybean please
Somewhere in my mind, I still reached for Crayon, and for Skittles.
And for Sam.
I thought of my big little (little and also big at the same time) fluffy white pets. Fluffy, and white but not blinding. I thought of them again. Because- and even now I can still remember it clearly- there was a point in my life where a dog was my only friend.
I reached for the innocent sources of light that were no longer there; the innocent sources of light with hearts no longer beating.
And for Sam.
Something tugged at me.
The dogs.
Didn't I bury them with someone...?
Knife.
Knife.
Knife after knife, after knife.
"That was for Emberion Myelantic."
And Sam.
One knife, after another knife, after another knife.
I'm hungry...
"That was for Charlotte Miller."
After another knife.
I'm hungry. I want a cupcake.
Charlotte Miller...
And Sam. And the fourteen-year-old who I never met.
And for Sam.
I refuse for these people to simply be forgotten. I REFUSE.
They deserved better THAN HIM.
And even as I write this, I know that all things will eventually be forgotten. We all know this. But they will not fade the way HE WANTED THEM TO.
Their kindness will live.
The damage he did can become something powerful- something powerful and something beautiful, even though this damage stays in a lot of us.
The strength we have- the strength from the harm inflicted upon us- will touch others who need it.
While him and his evil DIE.
Setting fires
For all the lies he told.
Setting fires
For all the harm he has inflicted upon children and upon the truly innocent who were blamed for all the horrible things he did.
Setting fires
I'm setting fires.
--ovw--
Orbiplosions, spoke the voice again. Was the voice my own? I didn't know. I couldn't tell anymore. But a voice spoke back to her and almost to me as well. And I don't even know if it was meant as a response to Kaylee, whose aura and energy and whose entire telepathic vibe were suddenly exactly like mine: if it was an announcement to all of us telepaths in the room. White. Blinding white.
Blinding torture light. Of course I'd seen it before.
I didn't sleep for weeks.
If fear was a color- mine would be white.
Yeah, mine, too.
We knew that, Kaylee.
Midnight didn't.
Not a surprise anymore that my favorites were black and red.
Blinding white light.
In perfect circles. Exploding flashes of blinding white, white, white lights in perfect circles...
The falling of castles. The crumbling of walls.
Towers- all falling down.
The attempted destruction of the most kind but most resilient and the most superhuman of minds-
"That was for Avyeena."
Even though nobody liked Avyeena. I think Kaylee punched her once. Or was that someone else?
Kaylee shot me some kind of a look.
I want a cupcake. Or maybe some French toast. Oh, it's been so long since I had French toast!
Why is the whole world spinning all around us-
A male voice spoke in my head: "He's not doing this to you AGAIN."
Was it the flash of a memory? I had PTSD. It was probably just that.
I am SO hungry. I really want a cupcake. And this super dark red blood from my hand looks so warm and so delicious...
At one point, Tiana got down on both knees beside me, and pulled out the knife that I was just going to- and dropped it on the ground.
Where is Penguinowo right now?
"My sister," she said, in her unique and almost archaic half South Asian, and half East Asian accent, "that for my sister."
I picked up one of her earth stones and laid in on the body, following the circle of small stones she was creating.
She smiled at me, and I tried to smiled back but succeeded only for the fraction of a moment before I was weeping again.
For Sam.
Sam
I know I'm angry but she is NOT GONE
"This is for what you did to Kaylee and what you did to me," I whispered, "this for what you did to all of those children at Nightingale."
Lyca, who had stepped away for a moment, returned to us carrying Sam's body.
She was so beautiful, in life or even now, in her rest... I knew she was beautiful.
"I know where Chaquille lives," I said. "I can help out... with the... with the funeral, and arrangements, all of that."
Emberion.
I still had to go get miracle apples, for Emberion...
"I'm with you there," said Kaylee. And all I remembered next was her hugging me and water from my eyes that did not seem to stop, until, for another time on that same day, I blacked out.
--ovw--
I wasn't looking for a lighthouse
Even though it was a really dark bedroom
--ovw--
Lost page? Partially torn, but obviously from one of these notebooks.
It seems to be inserted here, though.
The ink looks a little different...
And the handwriting even, it looks a little different, too (????)
Exact time of writing: Not yet identified
Do you ever remember something, and then you have to stop moving? You breathe, but you don't feel anything?
And then you can't sleep?
Or you cry?
Do you ever remember something and then suddenly you want to scream at the world- a world that you were kept away from while you stared at it from a literal prison?
And it's not because you hate the world- but because you know it is all pointless? When you have seen every evil that this world could possibly offer?
She is gone, I tell myself now.
And so is every single part of me, I say now as I write this.
I will remember.
As I remember now.
My left hand is shaking as I write this on what I can only hope is a piece of paper that will not be torn to parts by an abuser. I do not know how I can spell any words at all. The ugliest of scars- on my leg, and on my face- will never go away. As much as I have hurt myself, I can never hurt myself enough. It will never match what has been done to us.
I am the story of a brainwashed and programmed cynic who falls both backwards and forwards on the line between empath and apathetic; between the floors of gentleness and the broken glass ceilings of physical pain that some people know and that some other people will turn a blind eye to.
I have experienced the most extreme of love and also the most extreme of hate.
I balanced on the tightrope that was once my life. How I still managed to walk across a such a length of precarious mind control is still beyond me.
It still hits me today. In my nightmares. I wish I could almost say that I'm done with all of the tears and all of the crying- but things are NOT. FINE. when you dream about it. Take the ugliest moment of your life and turn that into a nightmare and then play it in your mind in the most vivid way possible; do it every night. That is also a recipe of me.
To you who know who you are- you burned every single thing I had. You prevented me from receiving every opportunity because you never had one.
But I will not be like you.
Because, I never was like you in any way.
While I now believe that all people are selfish- which might or might not only be a phase, because now I know that everything can change in the blink of an eye or in one flash of blinding light- I will not become the monster that you wanted to impose upon me.
She is gone.
She is gone, and, in many ways, so am I.
Others that I cared about were permanently taken away from me.
But everything that feels permanent, is not.
Someone may read this one day. Perhaps not, but perhaps.
I do not know.
Maybe, that "someone" will even be me. That someone might even be a friend from a past life. Or that someone might be someone I never met.
I do not know.
But someday someone might read this.
And so:
I fight for the all things I lost; I fight for the things and the people I didn't get to have; the things and the people I didn't get to experience life with; for all the things I was deprived of; FOR ALL OF THE OTHER PEOPLE OUT THERE WHO HAVE BEEN HURT.
Because as selfish as we are- as selfish as WE HUMANS ARE, AS DISGUSTING AS OUR ENTIRE EXISTENCES MIGHT BE- you WERE NOT and you ARE NOT ALONE.
Whoever you are- your abuser cannot win.
Because abusers abuse themselves more than they can possibly abuse anyone else, no matter how much damage they try to inflict. Their clock runs out fast while yours keeps turning.
One day, the page will be written by you.
And you, my friend, my fellow survivor- you can let these pages be your reminder.
--ovw--LXX--ovw--
I waited there in the dark for another word
Dirty water, mud puddles, shoes thin in the dirt
Take it off for the last time I get hurt, you said
Dirty water, mud puddles, shoes thin in the dirt
I keep on running now
No time to get back to you
I see you slip and then that's it
You keep on burning further
Don't even pick up now
Now I know when you're lying
See anyone can see that so you can keep going under
Minefield, minefield
I see you losing your grip in a minefield
Minefield, minefield
I see you losing your grip in a minefield
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
You're losing your grip in a minefield
Losing your grip in a minefield
Losing your grip in a minefield
Lie once, all it takes is one hot word
I see you sweat like the paper you stole gonna burn
Take it off for the last time I get hurt, you said
Dirty water, mud puddles, shoes thin in the dirt
I keep on running now
No time to get back to you
I see you slip and then that's it
You keep on burning further
Don't even pick up now
Now I know when you're lying
See anyone can see that so you can keep going under
I keep on running now
No time to get back to you
I see you slip and then that's it
You keep on burning further
Don't even pick up now
Now I know when you're lying
See anyone can see that so you can keep going under
Minefield, minefield
I see you losing your grip in a minefield
Minefield, minefield
I see you losing your grip in a minefield
Losing your grip in a minefield
Losing your grip in a minefield
Losing your grip in a minefield
Take a step and then it's over
And then it's over
I see you losing your grip in a minefield
I keep on running now
No time to get back to you
I see you slip and then that's it
You keep on burning further
Don't even pick up now
Now I know when you're lying
See anyone can see that so you can keep going under
I keep on running now
No time to get back to you
I see you slip and then that's it
You keep on burning further
Don't even pick up now
Now I know when you're lying
See anyone can see that so you can keep going under
See anyone can see that, anyone can see that
Don't even pick up now because I know when you're lying
I know
I know when you're lying
I know when you're lying
I think, think you're losing your grip in a minefield
Try to leave this one out, if you're coming in, honey
If you're waiting for a next time, I won't show up
You're leaving, because I'm coming in faster
Believe it? I will end your lies
You're never gonna see an ever after
You burn when you look in my eyes
You said I was going to be killed before the night falls
Before the night falls
Before the night falls
You're leaving, because I'm coming in faster
Believe it? I will end your lies
You're never gonna see an ever after
You burn when you look in my eyes
You said I was going to be killed before the night falls
Before the night falls
Before the night falls
--ovw--
THURSDAY
11:45 AM
The woods between the Bay area/the Port and V4
I stared at the surgically repaired hand, now mobile and functional, but I still had to throw roundoffs and front handsprings now and again just to remind myself that by body knew the motion.
Those blasts really messed all of us up.
I stared at the shovels. There were two of them.
Someone helped to bury Skittles and Crayon with me? Somehow, my memory didn't think it was Kaylee. Could the bodies have been heavy and perhaps it was Carter?
"Hey, little buddy."
I whipped around, instinctively pushing off the grass and soil on the ground into a simple backwards tumbling pass of two whips into a full twist.
"Sorry, didn't mean to scare ya."
The voice was somewhat familiar now. It was the man we helped rescue at the Diamond Mines, the one who wrapped his mantle around me.
"Hi, David," I said.
"I told you- call me Malc."
"Malc."
"Yes. Short for Malcolm."
He was chastising me, but I was comfortable. For whatever the reason, I was comfortable. I wonder how he followed me here.
"So... you're here... because...?"
He shrugged.
"I wanted to be here," he said.
He had a nice funny voice, deep, gruff, slightly raspy as though he smoked megacigarettes- which he didn't- perhaps ten percent the raspiness of Connor's voice, five percent the raspiness of Sam's voice, when she was here...
"Hey," he said. "Hey, I'm here. I got you."
His arms were around me before I knew anything was happening or anything was changing.
I looked up, at the sky, but his face and ultramarine eyes and trimmed, semi-maintained beard of chestnut brown and salt-and-pepper colors got in the way.
"I just..." I started. "The snowflakes. The color. They remind me so much of her-"
Of course, I tried hard not to cry and failed, as always.
"Mind if I join the party?"
Kaylee's voice.
I lit up immediately, like... like a lamp. Like a ferret in a bucket of snow, like a corgi that was about to get a treat.
"Kayles!"
My life was like that at that point- having lost so much... and then, also being told I'd lost stuff but had no idea, exempli gratia memories- just for example but I still didn't buy it having survived Nightingale and WITH KAYLEE together for that matter.
Besides, Caleb Samuel and James were the only two people claiming I had been chemically or toxically memory-altered. And if I was, I knew it'd fade soon. It did in Nightingale for both me and Kaylee for the Zapryekavil stuff, so this was- what? Nothing. It was nothing.
"Your big brother still insisting that we kissed?" I said, with a smile, the dimple on the center of my left cheek and the second dimple on my right, which was closer to the side of my mouth- forcing creases into my face and the smile reaching my eyes.
"No, actually," said Kayles. "He's insisting you did a lot more than just that!"
Malc guffawed, loud, and so did I, and Kaylee did, too, albeit her laugh was a bit softer, perhaps... perhaps still under the gloom of all that had happened.
A light lilac sky and turquoise-green snow came down, slowly, gently, silently, all around us. The color of her eyes- the exact same color of her eyes.
"I'm wearing this in honor of her," said Kayles, showing off her silk double layer orange tank top- "What'dya think she'd say to me?" Kaylee smiled and laughed; some kind of giggle that clearly showed that she was not entirely over what happened at the Diamond Mines.
Neither was I. Not in the slightest.
"Uhhhhhm-" I said. "She'd say..."
Malc butt in.
"She'd say 'your mama raise you better than that.'"
I wasn't expecting it- I didn't think that Anthony Davi- I mean Malc- knew Sam at all.
I laughed hard; we all laughed hard- because, it probably would be exactly what Sam would say, but-
"But I literally don't even have a mom," Kaylee said in between her tears and laughter.
"Me, neither," I replied, in between my own tears and laughter.
--ovw--
--ovw--LXXI--ovw--
THURSDAY
12:25 PM
The Everglades: Crisanto Pacifico
My mind had been strangely blank of any Nightingale memories. Perhaps, it was the trauma- well, the more recent trauma. The toll of all of the losses. I wondered If Kaylee, who sat to my left eating purple Taro ice cream with light purple Taro bubble tea felt the same-
"Yeah," she said physically, "I haven't had many nightmares or memories lately, either."
"Oh," I said, somewhat embarrassed. "Okay."
She laughed.
"Don't be, Danny. Your mind's a nice place."
Something tugged at me.
The turquoise-emerald snow fell into my cup of hot chocolate and I sipped it afterward. Still too hot; I didn't care. Cars from the Suburbs area or the V5 area passed us as we watched them, playing a card game I completely did not understand and lost one-hundred percent of the time at- trying to figure out or next move covering the murder.
"Yeah, well-" Kayles quipped.
"Well, what?"
"You and I are off the case another week or so," she said.
I sipped my hot chocolate.
"Really, Chris?"
A red car with a light candy blue spoiler stopped in front of us; an adult couple with a child picked up their order of Wintertime Overwoods Supreme- literally tuna, pie, and chicken, and sandwiches.
The little girl, bundled up in a coat, scarf, and bright yellow mittens, took one of the sandwich and- was I imagining it? She was running toward me like she recognized me.
"Kayles," I whispered. "Are agents or Webwork employees allowed to take their child to the SRAs?"
Kaylee shook her head, a knowing smile creeping across her light-purple-covered lips from the ice cream and bubble tea; she was already reading this child's mind. She just did it, did it all the time.
"It's not about the SRA, dum dum."
The young girl was beside me and Kayles now, insisting I take the sandwich. "Awwwwww!" I squealed like Jupiter Two got me a stick from the Bay of Bodies beach or like Happy was offering me a twig from a primrose-heliotrope-sugar maple mutated hybrid plant. I was so eternally, ever so glad I told Kayles to tell Connor to tell the adorable happy pets to stay off of and steer clear of the Mines entrance. "It's okay," I said. "You can give your mom or dad the sandwich."
The young girl left the sandwich on the table.
"This is for what you did to the bad man at the Suburb that I live at," she warbled before she ran off. Kaylee and I waved at both the parents before they got back in the car, and drove off.
Like... WHICH bad man at which Suburb that she li-
"Oh," Kaylee said with two spoonfuls of Taro ice cream still in her mouth. She swallowed hastily. "She meant the one where-"
"Yeah no I didn't really ask, no, thanks."
I pulled out my U.S.-issued phone and started running through facial composites.
Around eight men, nine women, three of unidentified gender roles. Strangely enough when I visited Anthony's house for hot ribollita and stroganoff there was a room with these same photographs in them. Anthony said that I stayed there once on a mission and left all the facial photographs there. It was embarrassing- I glued them onto his CEILING- I was, apparently, the WORST possible guest EVER. There were even songs written on paper there and one of my ukuleles- which was even MORE emba-
"No, it wasn't, Chris, there's nothing embarrassing about-"
"Dude," I said. "Like, shut the fuck up."
She laughed, and called a waitress's attention to order more ice cream. I returned my focus to the photographs.
"Tobler said Sarah Peters knew everything."
Kaylee snorted as she daintily flipped through the ice cream menu.
"You really believe that?"
I paused.
Another couple of snowflakes floated their way into my hot chocolate and then I took more sips. I liked snow-flavored hot chocolate.
"Why would he have even said it?" I replied, answering her question with a question. It was quite rude and I felt bad.
Like a ghost in a horror movie, one frame not there and the very next frame- THERE, Connor appeared in the seat in front of us, across us at the table. Kaylee and I were the friends that always sat beside each other.
I gasped sharply and the light purple bubble tea with pearls in Kaylee's mouth projectile flew in water-fountain-esque trajectory onto Connor's face and facial hair, little bubble tea drops of purple dripping off of his whiskers. I laughed hard, like manic, crazy hard, and so did Kaylee.
We were, very obviously, coping with a lot.
I offered Connor my table napkins and he ungraciously wiped the colloidal mix off, picking half-chewed tapioca flour pearls from the bubble tea that landed on his shirt and his pants and the side of his ear.
Kaylee and I were still stuck laughing. Yeah- we were coping with A LOT. Though for all I knew, maybe this was change? Maybe we were both starting to become more capable of handling fear; of handling grief?
Perhaps, we were slowly understanding that life is life- and it happens to all of us? I didn't know. I just knew that Connor Meadows was covered in Kaylee's spit and chewed up bubble tea pearls and light purple Taro flavoring. Married in his early twenties and with his own house, I always assumed that he was THE PERFECT picture of adult-ness; of put-together-ness- that was, of course, until I worked with him and realized that he had just as many issues as I had.
Or Kaylee had.
Or James had.
I wondered how my uncle was...
"I'm glad to be of y'all's service," Connor said as he picked the chewed tapioca flour bits off his eyelashes. "Glad to make y'all laugh."
"What's funny is how you seriously thought you'd reach that one glass tile on the lower-upper levels," said Kaylee. "You're lucky they weren't on fire anymore after Elyza was done; because when Chris and I went through the-"
I tapped her shoulder, and I gave her a smile.
"Yeah, uhm." She passed the menu to Connor. "Yeah, never mind."
"Isn't it dumb that Wyatt's the only person permitted to work on this case this whole week?" said Connor. "I mean, doesn't make sense to me- does it make sense to you?"
"He's the only one who technically followed the few orders he had, was needed for interrogation because I wouldn't do it and therefore wasn't out that first week like I was because I instigated the hotel search-"
Kaylee chimed in. "Saving Elyza's life and catching Sarah Crack Sandwich-"
"Coke Sandwich, Peters," said Connor.
"So short answer is: Yes. Also Wyatt is an asshole nobody wants to be around, because, like, he's kind of an asshole. So, yes." I sipped my amazing happy hot chocolate, it was SO good! "Mmmmmmh," I said. "Literally, the taste of happiness."
"Y'all are on crack." Connor shook his head at us.
"Kind of..." Kaylee began. "Maybe ironic considering that the only one that actually does crack here is, um. You?"
"I should have just stayed at home," said Connor.
"But you literally texted me just to say that your wife is stoned as fuck and that she set both your thousand-dollar ovens on fire," I said.
Happy the raccoon sauntered over from an upturned rubbish basket. He gave each of us a happy little apple. A happy little healing apple. I patted him on the head twice and he ran up my left shoulder and poked the dimple on my cheek.
"There's a betting competition at the Webwork for any agents that are Level I and up-" Connor started.
"We are not into betting," Kaylee and I both said in unison.
I gave Happy the rest of my hot chocolate.
"What I was going to say," Connor's chalk-pale face turning beet red, "was that there are these three versus three SRA things going on."
"I'm listening," Kaylee said.
"Yeah, I'm not."
Kaylee pushed me and my chair and I fell to the grass like a rag doll. She offered me her hand.
"Still not doing it," I said as she helped pull me and my chair back up.
Telepathically, Kaylee and Connor both connected to my mind- perhaps in an attempt to change it; it was, to me, pretty obvious.
"Y'all aren't getting nowhere," I said.
Kaylee rolled her eyes.
"Says the guy who literally forgets his own boyfriend," she said.
This time I pushed her and her chair and she fell to the grass. I helped her up, too, of course.
Yeah. Friendship goals, I know, right? We literally push each other. It's so great.
Like, our friends die and we push each other.
Such genius.
"I mean really," I said. "Connor- what's the point?"
"The point," Connor said, is that all three of us are off any cases for this entire week, AND we have an excuse to show off to the entire Union of Stars cadre!" He was beaming at us.
I sipped my hot chocolate and called a waiter to order another one. As much as a total lunatic I was for ALWAYS saving as much money as possible, a second cup of Crisanto Pacifico hot chocolate with free snowflakes for toppings was just what I had one my grieving-and-completely-entirely-destroyed-psychologically budget.
Kaylee shot me a quick glance before returning to side eyeing Connor Meadows. "Same," she said. "Fucking same."
And then, Connor delivered such a wonderful blow, so wonderful that to say it hit too close to home was some kind of tacky and garish understatement.
No, it HIT home. For all of us. Unless Connor was stoned on some shit- he probably was.
"You know, Sam would want you guys to be in this."
I got up and walked without waiting for my second cup of hot chocolate.
"I'll see you there," I said.
--ovw--LXXII--ovw--
"You know, Sam would want you guys to be in this."
I got up and walked without waiting for my second cup of hot chocolate.
"I'll see you there," I said.
THURSDAY
12:35 PM
The Everglades: Crisanto Pacifico
I was crying before I knew that I was crying.
Fortunately, I had already faced the other way.
See, this is why Connor has a wife that would rather be STONED all the time, thought Kaylee, loudly to where any telepath that cared would hear it.
Happy the raccoon hopped off my shoulder and tried to offer me a tiny little apple, but I didn't acknowledge it. I let Happy catch up to me on his own four paws.
I flexed the fingers on both my hands- from the damaged reconstructed left one, to the even more damaged and more reconstructed right one.
"Chris," called Connor from behind me.
Almost exactly like how Emberion Myelantic did when I was trying to leave the Thornton building...
"Chris!" he said again.
I said nothing.
"I just... I just want to talk," said Connor.
Kaylee chimed in in her Southern U.S., melodic, singsong cheery cheerful vibe of a voice.
"Yeah, well. That ain't no way to talk to the guy that's just lost it all."
Thanks, I said to Kaylee telepathically.
No problem, she said. Stay safe and stay fighting.
I looked over my shoulder and offered her a smile and a wave goodbye.
"You, too," I said, physically.
I waited for the cars to pass, calculated line and distance, and threw my roundoff hard into the sidewalk across from us.
Spinning, spinning, high up and twisting. It always felt like home.
Next destination: Port.
--ovw--LXXIII--ovw--
THURSDAY
4:45 PM
The Bay of Bodies/The Port
I WILL NOT CRY TODAY.
I repeated it in my head. Over and over and over again.
"I will not cry today," I lied to myself, ripping the hanging skin off the newest wound on one of my right knuckles. "I will NOT cry today."
I said it out loud; I said it repeatedly.
Pretty dumb, considering I had already cried, like, five times on that day alone. But who expected more from me, right?
Orbiplosions.
Of course you've seen them before.
Orbiplosions.
Of course you did.
The photographs and facial composites of abuse leaders and criminals that I hadn't yet put down were pinned to a tree on my left.
To my right, punching bag, and makeshift vault.
It was practically a table, the vault. But that I could work with. I was dirt poor essentially all of my life, anyway. The punching bag was... was a gift. From someone. I... I didn't remember.
Really, I should have seen coming what happened next.
"That's because it was from me!" an awfully... awfully familiar voice hollered.
I raised both my arms above my head.
Hello and thank you but no thank you, I thought to no one in particular.
I swung my arms down with bent knees.
"Don't leave!"
I straightened my legs tightly as I pushed off, my arms going upward again and my head going back- one handspring backwards, triple back half out, front layout, two-and-a-half. I landed on the disorganized pile of old discarded knives I'd started obsessively collecting like a normal person, and selected one.
It was like he was telepathically molesting me.
"Danny-" he said.
I said nothing.
MY.
NAME-
I took one breath and gripped the blade of the handle-heavy knife that I chose.
IS.
"CHRIS!" I screamed aloud. James would have been so proud of me, had be just been there.
I threw the blade hard, mid-spin, my left hand setting the rusted knife ablaze before I let it go and flicked and arched backward onto my hands and knees on the sand.
In a slow-motion that only my damaged emotions admired, I telepathically screamed at no one.
At no one, but also at everyone, and at Jeff and at Skittles and Crayon and Ember, but most of all, at Caleb.
A screaming high pitch, like a tuning fork, exploding while also screeching in a twisted experimental accident of sound versus light versus sharp static that cuts thin like thousands of stinging razor wires all around us, followed by the words:
YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO CALL ME THAT
YOU SHOULDN'T EVEN KNOW THAT NAME
My eyes followed the speeding, flying blaze of rusted knife, my image of the astonishing orange-blue smeared by tears that constantly double-coated my eyes all the time, as I stared ahead on bleeding hands and on all fours.
I will not cry today
...
No.
I could let the water from my eyes fall here.
--ovw--
The knife collided with the ultra-shiny silver laptop Caleb was carrying, breaking it in two at the hinges, both pieces of the device falling onto the sand.
But not before a perfect circle of white light and red carbon sparks emanated from the burning knife upon impact.
Orbiplosions...
Caleb stared at the two broken pieces. He didn't pick anything up.
A small hermit crab scuttled from under a hole in the sand and started dancing on the space bar.
"Did you see that?" said Caleb.
I pushed myself to a kneeling position, taking my bleeding hands off the sand and resting my weight on my butt.
"What, the dancing hermit crab?" I said. "Yeah, I've seen one before." I rolled my eyes. "They have the right to dance if they want to, you know."
"No!" said Caleb. "No, I mean the way the impact of the knife you threw-"
I cut him off, mid-sentence. I was rude like that.
"No idea what you're talking about," I said. Well, at the time no idea, anyway. "Can you please leave so I can be alone and not have to have any judgmental eyes around while guilt and self-loathing consume every part of me?"
I was drenched in saltwater and sweat. My clean set of clothes was in the recycled cardboard bag from Baker Joe's.
Baker Joe's...
I covered my eyes with sand-covered, torn, bleeding hands.
The exact same place, I thought to myself, the exact same place where Sam got me the cold strawberry pudding. Baker Joe's.
"There's no need to go there."
"To Baker Joe's?"
"No, to get lost in self-hatred," said Caleb.
He had such a funny voice. I liked it.
"You deserve to know that you deserve better than that."
"I'm not gonna kiss you," I said.
He pressed his lips together.
"Really?" he said.
Um. Yeah.
Pretty much.
"Yeah," I said. "No."
I don't know this guy.
Clearly, I've done way more things than just kiss men and women I barely knew or didn't know at all.
Not the point, though. I still barely know this guy.
It was then that he looked hurt. Something on his face and on his eyes told me, somehow. I chose to just dabble in whatever mental aura was really about him without actually going in and reading his mind. But as soon as I got close, I regretted it. I was a mess.
I was a mess and the look on his face was right- I was just hurting someone.
"I'm crap right now," I said.
Very crap.
Very very very very very crap-
"I really am. I mean, I always was. Caleb, I'm sorry." And I really was. "I'm so sorry, it's just..."
I shrugged my shoulders.
"It's just you don't remember me," he said.
"I'm just not really sure that I've ever met you."
"There are photographs-"
"Photographs can be altered." I heaved a sigh. Half of it from exhaustion- we'd argued about this fifty-five times since I woke up from attempting to kill myself TWICE on that day in Diamond Mines- and then half of it... I had the miracle apples in my bag.
No one was going to have them.
I stepped away, trying really hard not to be rude now that I'd discovered I could now use the word fuck without to much of a painful, disturbing recoil- and tried to breathe slowly, in through my mouth, and out through my nose.
"I... want my jacket back," he said from behind me.
I didn't even look over my shoulder.
"What jacket?"
"It's in your bag."
Oh-
Ugh. I really liked that jacket, too...
"Sure," I said.
I walked over, barefoot in the sand, to the recycled cardboard-and-paper bag from Baker Joe's. It still had biscuits that I hadn't given to either Happy the raccoon, or Jupiter Two the big adorable fwuffy Samoyed.
Big fwuffy dog
Big fwuffy dog yay c:
:3
I smiled and offered him the bag.
"Just take it," I said.
A pause. Just the salty, hot and humid Bay of Bodies wind, it always ran from the shores of Vicinity Seven in the south and then north, through the Port and through to the Bay of Bodies. I tasted salt. It was disgusting and awful.
Kaylee, I said, telepathically. Your brother is drunk, tell him to go home.
I felt her roll her eyes at me, even from the distance, all through telepathy.
Chris, she said. He really loves you. Kind of like I do... only he'd freaking marry you.
"Ew," I said physically/out loud to no one in particular.
KAYLEE-
Deal with it, she said and telepathically hung up and closed those telepathic walls.
Yeah, no shit he does.
I remember... I remember that I had to take a moment knowing that somewhere, somewhere lost inside me- all I wanted was just to be loved.
But "he'd freaking marry you"?
Married?
Who the fuck gets married?
Looking back at things, I think I just didn't feel anything.
Or I was trying too hard not to feel anything.
Because the truth is I was in so much pain.
Orbiplosions. Explosions of ultra-flashes of ultra-white light in perfect circle-orbs.
I took a breath.
And then I took another breath.
Happy place?
Happy place
Happy place happy place
Happy place happy place
Happy happy
No, that wasn't enough on that day, either...
I wasn't coughing weirdly anymore, or at least not nearly as much. A peach-and-cranberry drink did the trick. One that Ember left at the Webwork for me, before he went running to WDSM Diamond Mine with Tiana on his back. He told White to give it to me, if I was still coughing the next time Carter decided to grab both my arms and pin me to the floor.
I shut my eyes again.
"Give me a moment, okay, Caleb?" I said. I pressed a finger to my right eyebrow. There was still a lump and a scar there, stretching a few millimeters above it and toward the bridge of my nose. Even I didn't notice it unless I decided to look closely. "It's just..." What? It's just what? How do you even say everything? To someone you literally don't even know? "It's just..."
I wiped water off my eyelashes before they could skydive.
"It's just... I don't know. I'm sorry." That was all I had. I made some kind of hissing sound, and then a choking sound. And then another weird hissing sound. "I don't know, Caleb. I'm sorry."
He shrugged his huge shoulders, and nodded, probably at my thoughts; he kept staring into my eyes, which made me uncomfortable.
"At least you remember my name," he said.
I said nothing.
"You used to really like my eyes, you know," he said. "A lot."
WHAT A FREAKING NARCISSIST-
I took three VERY deep breaths.
"Caleb's not a name that's hard to forget," I replied. "It isn't hard to remember, either."
A red squirrel- the exact same one I'd seen in the school in the Suburbs! Scurried over, with two little acorns. He dropped them at my bare feet in the sand and then scurried off.
"Thank you!" I smiled and called after it. Man, sometimes I really really wished I had Connor's superpower.
That same squirrel. That night, after Kaylee's dinner party for our birthdays and everything. Henry was so drunk and grilling me, it was AWFUL.
But...
But. There's a but.
But... what? What was it?
"Sorry," I said, AGAIN, to Caleb, who still wasn't taking the jacket that he said he wanted back. "Take the jacket, okay?" My hands began to shake and I hated it, I hated standing in front of a person in a state like that. Any person. "Just... just hold on."
Orbiplosions...
I closed my eyes, but all I could see... All I could see was just... Sam's dead body. Emberion. Sam.
Emberion, Sam.
Emberion, Sam.
Emberion.
I still had the apples...
Holy shit
Can someone please
Stop
Me
From
Thinking
My telepathic barriers fell apart for the 900th time that day.
YOU ARE NOT ALONE
The glass that ripped her; the glass that pierced and cleaved into her and... and the ANIMAL. That... that BEAST that took her from us-
IT'S DONE AND YOU'RE SAFE NOW
Will you please come back to me
--ovw--
I'm right in front of you.
Will you please come back to me?
Come back TO WHO?!
I felt the most vicious heat surge through both my hands, but channeled the inferno back into my core; I took two steps toward one of the dead tree stumps by the saltwater and threw a gainer forward leading with my right leg, this time wrapping into my left, my elbows tucked in and my body pencil-straight; double rotation backward with three-and-a-half twists leaning in towards the left side before I let the fire back out through my hands again, physically striking, fingers bent like claws on the tree bark.
"STILL TO BE FIRMLY VALIDATED
*Able to set objects on fire"
From the inside AND OUT, yahoos.
Abominations.
Validate the fact that you suck and are nothing but monsters and will never be anything BUT abominations.
Validate the fact that trying to inflict your toxic twisted poisonous greedy harm and bullshit WILL NOT FIX YOU.
WILL NEVER FIX YOU.
Validate the fact that you are pathetic. And that you will never be anything more than that.
The impact with the dead-but-massive tree stump combined with IGNITE, as I called it, smashed its way and creeped its way into the broken pillar and turned it into a pillar of actual fire- smoke and heat faintly radiating in visible waves upward, even in all this hot salty humidity.
Upward to the snow and the lilac sky.
Sam was gone now. Even the sand reminded me of her. Random things did. Everything beautiful did.
They still do.
Two things consumed me as I stood there:
1) The memory of her, and
2) The memory of the ugly voice.
"I missed injecting you, boy."
I sat down on the sand, and yes, of course- only started to cry. I reminded myself of the twelve-year-old mess I was, after Kaylee Davenport and I survived Nightingale.
I felt the large man walk toward me, his heavier-than-mine body a very perceptible shift in the air and the sand under me. Kaylee said that I loved him back.
It's...
It's, I want to! But I don't know the guy! It was almost like my days back in the Lowdown, for crying out louder-
"Don't put your arms around me," I said, getting up and brushing the wet sand grossly off my black exercise pants. "I'm really sweaty and gross and also covered in Bay of Bodies saltwater. Not a good time or idea. Not hot."
Caleb snorted.
"You're hot whatever you do," he said.
I laughed a sarcastic laugh. "Bro." I thought maybe if I bro-zoned him, he'd stop. "I'm a stick. And if I'm so hot maybe I should set YOU ON FIRE."
"Well," he said, probably not meaning to but really showing off that accent at the word well- "You're a very attractive stick."
I almost LITERALLY puked.
But only almost, thank God.
So I settled for a literal facepalm. The sound of my hand hitting my forehead was my response.
"I know," he rushed to... I don't even know, reassure me, or whatever. "I know people told you-" he stumbled and mumbled. "People told you things like that in the Lowdown."
Okay how THE FVCK with a V does he KNOW THAT?!?!!!
IS THIS DUDE JAMES'S TWIN
OR SOMETHING??!11?! with the number eleven
I seriously thought that was what it was, and I didn't need another uncle who didn't give a flying fuck about my well-being; "biological family" meant nothing but abuse.
"Yeah," I said. "And you're a genius for telling me that. You were the smart one in this supposed, alleged relationship, right?" I scoffed. "Caleb, I'm going home. Take your jacket with you."
Home was James's house in the Suburbs. He was really nice, most of the time at least- I avoided him if he was... under some form of influence.
From a branch in a tree, the red squirrel I was friends with threw an acorn at me- at my HEAD. I flinched for a moment while the acorn bounced off and dropped to the ground at our feet.
Hey, that hurt.
LOL jk
"Ow!" I said, to/at the little animal. "Improve the aim next time?"
Fwuffy c:
:3
A soft breeze pushed the leaves and branches and hot salty air around us. Between my fight training and vault workouts and the ignite on the tree and now, the sky had turned from the light lilac to an even more relaxed and calming sky blue; light blue. The way it was in posters, before the world and its islands and its people had mostly all destroyed each other.
Well, I was... probably destroying the guy right in front of me...
He was wiping a tear off his cheek. He still had to go see both Elyza Cobb and Tiana Ambervi's family to speed up treatment for the poisons. Apparently, his tolerance or body defenses were not the same of that as Kaylee's, or mine. His Caucasian white skin was some kind of almost-sunburned shade of orange-red, and it clearly wasn't from a tanning bed. Though who was I to judge at all- I had eczema.
He sniffed, and wiped another tear before he spoke again. "Just don't forget me forever, Chris."
"I don't know the future."
And I proved myself right, again- because the very next thing that happened was Caleb got a phone call, from Wyatt Shafer.
He picked up.
"Bye," I said.
I had only time to put my socks on before Caleb was at me again.
"It's..." he began. "He wants to talk to you."
Caleb had turned his speakerphone on.
"You're on airplane mode, Midnight," said Wyatt in a chastising voice, scolding me as always, berating me; as if I needed it, I already berated myself.
"I am on airplane mode and I am also not supposed to be working," I said robotically.
"Well, change of plans. James will talk to you."
"What's going on, Mr. Shafer?"
"Did I tell you I love how you call me that?" Wyatt laughed.
"Back off," said Caleb.
This only made Wyatt laugh even harder.
I rolled my eyes.
"Dude," I said. "Tell me now or I go home and James can just tell me when he's..."
"When he's sober?" said Wyatt.
"Yeah."
A moment's silence. Caleb was seething but beneath the seething, was only more hurt. I wanted to hold him but I didn't know the guy and the guy was HUGE.
Of course, I was smaller than everybody. Not necessarily his fault.
"It's been... it's been a while on this case and Peters and Klein refuse to talk to me. They're not making it easy."
"Oh, boo hoo," I said, completely indifferent; callous. "Tell them their little friend killed two of mine- and they could be next. Next," I repeated. "And tell Belinda that the only one who was going to be crying to James after all was her. Though I doubt that'll do her any good. Tell her that the next time we fight, it won't be in an SRA."
The late afternoon sky was shifting slowly into evening; light blue with visible clouds to a very deep violet, almost black. The stars that twinkled up there were... actually the exact same color of Caleb's eyes. I stared for just a moment. It was fascinating.
Then I caught myself- we both did; I cleared my throat and waited for someone to say something.
Apparently, Wyatt had been stunned- he said nothing, and from the telepathic aura he just barely gave off from miles and miles away, he was dumbfounded.
Was it because I could say the word fuck now without too much difficulty?
"Chris," said Caleb softly. "This... this isn't you."
"This is me trying to survive on a planet where monsters kill your friends, and a strange man that's even weirder than I AM claims we kissed-"
"You know," said Wyatt, "we kissed too, my sweet Danny boy."
I don't think we did, but... I kind of liked the endearment.
"SHUT UP," Caleb said.
"I can't crack them," Wyatt said. "I can't. I've tried everything. James and I both feel they'll talk to you. And, Belinda... she even said she'd talk to you. She said she'd be willing to."
I said nothing; I stared at the colors of the sky blur and shift slowly into each other- transform the was the Overwoods night sky always did. Small harmless insects- combustiflies, as they were called by most of us- took to the air and started glowing in small, mesmerizing circles.
"Aww," I said to no one in particular. "They're cute, aren't they?"
"James had you approved for an interrogation-filled shift tomorrow. It'll be nice to have you around, sweetie."
I generally did not like the guy, but it felt nice to be endeared. Perhaps, really nice just to be endeared at all at that moment- judging by the fact that I was vulnerable, broken, and damaged.
I'd been messed up; I was in a cloud of sadness and darkness and my barely frozen PTSD shocks and nightmares weren't even something I could feel at the time- and I just barely knew it.
By the look on Caleb's face, I could tell that all he wanted to do was hang up. And, honestly... I almost felt bad for the guy.
But why would an eighteen-year-old former forced-child-prostitute that starved for all of his life who got consistently abused ever feel bad for the rich, powerful, unconcerned privileged man?
Caleb looked at me like I'd just verbally told him the most damaging insult of his life.
"I am not unconcerned," he just barely whispered.
I tied my long black hair back in the double-ponytail.
"Thanks, Wyatt. I guess I'll see you tomorrow."
END OF BOOK ONE
--ovw--Possible end of book one.--ovw--
POSSIBLE OOOOOOOOOOOO
--ovw--Performed and recorded versions of all the songs referenced throughout this book were originals and are on both YouTube and Spotify.--ovw--
Check out the author's random videos!
youtube.com/realnotperfectofficial
--ovw--The main character, Danny, is based off of the author's real-life personality and experiences (singer/author/songwriter Danny Mier).--ovw--