I do not own any characters or basically anything in this story; it's a work of pure fiction.
Hello, everyone, this is my first story ever published here and I don't really know how everything works.
Also, the lyrics from the summary belong to Marina and The Diamonds, I do not own it.
The title of this story is the same as the title of one of the songs of Taylor Swift; it has no association with the said song, but I'm just going to write that and say that I don't own it, 'cause I don't want to be sued.
Happy reading!
I
The town's dark
The light's dimmed
The heart's shattered
- the excerpt from the Grounders' book of poems Of The Night by Anya
In every city there are nooks and crannies undiscovered by any human. Untouched, still, withered and shrunken by
the sense of invisibility. It's not even the fact that no one set a foot there, places like these are simply unseen. One
can smoke there, laugh or cry, lonely or not, but they never acknowledge the plain presence and location of the spot, it's nature and atmosphere.
I'm in one of such places. It's near the centre of the town, its market precisely, but this fact makes it even harder to notice. You know what they say, it's always darkest under the lighthouse... Does this even relate to my story? The answer is obvious, yet unclear, for those who know the abyss has no bottom, same goes with life. The depth of its absurdity leads us through thorny tunnels, but one thing is certain. You never know what's around the corner. That said, such places might never bother the mind of an ordinary person. They might never even cross or akcnowledge them. For some people, however, the very fact of their existence makes them dizzy and unsteady. Why is that, you may ask. You see, I'm one of the unfortunate ones, those who have to spend a vital part of their lives lurking in the shadows, waiting ambushed in such places. I have my experience to speak for the entire group of people, because there is literally no difference. You've got some town, night, a couple of gloomy alleys lightened by ghostly glow of a broken lantern and a person with dirty hands and some wicked business. This time, it's me.
Not that my hands are particularly dirty. I just have to surivive somehow. And behind somehow are hidden some nasty things, but isn't survival the basic human instinct? I just can't resist it and give in. No way.
'Griffin', I hear a female voice behind me. I can immediately tell who this is. Places like these get little recognition, but that's been already said.
'Reyes', I turn around waiting a bit before doing so. Reyes is actually a surname of a young girl almost in her twenties, going by the name of Raven. It always gets me though, the way this name suits her. She has dark almost black hair, even darker eyes and eyebrows. Her face isn't sharp, but it has a distinctive shape with her striking cheekbones and full, seductive lips. It's an unforgettable face, one that you contemplate and dwell on. Raven is truly beautiful.
But that's not exactly the best thing about her. There are many pretty people, sure, only some of them can be called beautiful, but there are even less who have brains as brilliant as hers. And that's the best thing about her. Raven is simply a genius.
'Yo, what's up?', she says gravely, posing as a downtown gangster with dirty businness on their mind. We both burst into laughter at the same time. It's our inside kind of a joke. We usually meet in places like this one and it always looks mysterious and ambiguous, so Raven said this thing one time, that we look like we were acting suspicious and dealing coke. Hilarious.
We're not drug dealers for the record, because we as drug dealers is literally the last thing on Earth to happen. Even after nuclear war, when the entire humanity would be wiped out and this would be my last hope for survival. I'd rather eat a two-headed deer for that matter.
'Yo, Big Bird. Ain't got no coke today', that's the right answer. I remember one time, I wanted to visit Raven in her hideaway and she would be like 'What's up?'. I spotted a small carved description on her wooden door, it said password. I then recalled when she told me that in her neighbourhood coke was always the answer and it would get you through any door there. Raven was silent, so I thought that was the case and said 'I don't have any coke today...?', she laughed and let me in. Later, she said this password wasn't meant for me to say, but it became our little traditional greeting anyway.
'We should really stop saying this, you know? Someone might arrest us', she grins.
'No, why would they anyway? It's not like we do have any coke', I smile back.
'Clarke, actually... I wanted to meet up, 'cause I met this one guy... He's a shooter', she spits out and looks at me firmly. I break the eye contact and sigh.
'What kind of guy are we talking about here?', I demand looking around.
'He's got a couple of automatic guns and other really kick-ass weapons and besides... He's got his clique', she says trying not to grin at what she just said. There's a lighthearted spark in her eyes as if she was very excited about this whole thing. Which makes me wonder though...
'And that was supposed to make me feel better? They'll shoot me, if it's such a clique', I suppress a smile.
'No, baby girl. They'll teach you how to shoot', she says lifting one corner of her mouth up.
'When am I supposed to meet him?', I sigh. I don't like this idea very much. I wanted to practice on my own, but Raven's just incredibly stupidly stubborn.
'Tomorrow at five p.m. in the old warehouse hall on the Grounders Street', she answers with a strange spark in her eye and turns around.
'One more question, Reyes', I smile against my will.
'Shoot', she doesn't turn around just keeps going.
'Did you sleep with him?', I smirk as she moves her head and I hear her chuckle.
'Maybe', she says playfully, raises her hand and waves me goodbye.
Did I mention that I love her? We've known each other for just a couple of weeks now, but with her briliance she's made my life easier and brighter. Only times like these she's slightly annoying, 'cause I didn't ask for a shooter, just for a gun. Not that I wouldn't be able to get it on my own, but... Well. I don't want to become a criminal worse than I already am.
I leave the alley before anyone can see me and move away from the city lights. It's almost midnight, but I don't mind. I'm not an avid sleeper if I can put it that way. I always imagine that one day I'll just fall asleep and won't wake up for the next twenty-four hours for all these sleepless minutes I spend on everything but sleeping.
The night is dark and foggy, there's no moon and the stars aren't visible thorugh thick layer of smog. I live in the poorest region of the country and therefore the least picturesque. The concrete is cracked and covered in coal dust, the roadway is made of asphalt that melts every Summer and the freezing always leaves ruptures. There are hundreds of little pebbels on it and it practically serves as a pavement for pedestrians since not many people here can afford a car. Unless, of course, you're priviledged, which I used to think was a word describing me. Not that I particularly liked it though. Why would some people have it better than others? Who said that? However, every fool knows that it's better to be the priviledged one than a mere mortal in these surroundings. So I kept my mouth shut. Things changed since that time, now I'm living on my own and I no longer know where my loyalties lie, so I've been called numerous names, none of which considered me a priviledged person anymore. Traitor. Double-crosser. Renegade, backstabber, misfit.
That doesn't bother me anymore, because I'm not the same person I used to be. And that's good, I like it. Sometimes, just sometimes, I feel a bit lonely. I guess solitude is the best friend of the treacherous.
Raven used to sing a particularly haunting song about a young girl, a child actually, who committed a murder and then regretted it so much, that she jumped from the cliff.
She was just a little girl, a little child,
Her fathers, oh they sent her here to die,
She witnessed a murder, what a sight,
But she didn't know, she didn't hear,
They only killed him,
'Cause he was ill,
She had her demons, baby girl,
And she heard from someone,
Poor advice: slay them, don't act so small,
And so she did, but the demons weren't demons at all,
It was a boy and now he's dead,
And the girl's soul wants to pay this debt,
So she runs to meet the waves,
Oh, what a haunting story this song tells.
It's stuck in my mind and it won't go away. I've been hearing it all around me for the past couple of days. The trees hum it with the help of the dead rustling leaves, the river buzzes like the girl's muffled scream and the boy, the particular one, who told her to slay, I see him every night.
I wonder how little this girl was and what haunted her so much that she decided to kill someone. And who on Earth told her to do so...?
As I enter the oldest building in the town, abandoned centuries ago by some loner who thought it'd be great to leave it with dozens of carpets lying on the ground or hung on the walls, I immediately tense trying to sense anyone's possible presence. You never know these days, who's lurking in the shadows and this exact person might be out there trying to hunt you down.
I look out of the window and notice the night sky. It shines with thousands of stars, one particularly light, spreading it's glow as if to announce its supremacy. There's a strange sensation in my stomach whenever I glance at it. Raven says we're made of stardust and that's why people keep looking at the night sky as if to recall their home. Maybe she's right.
I hope you enjoyed it and if you did, I'd like to ask you guys for some reviews since I'm not sure whether to continue writing it or not. Also, English isn't my first language, so if there are any mistakes (I hope not!), please let me know so I can correct them. Love you all!