January 12, 1967 - New York - Leaving Donna's House
"Are you sure you'll be alright?" Donna asked. She leaned her body up against the door frame. The stirring breeze from the semi busy street behind us blew her brown hair in every which direction, making her look ten times more beautiful. She was already gorgeous, even with her assumed average looks. But, I knew better. Just looking at her now, the brightness in her eyes, and the gorgeous small smile that stretched on her face, I knew she was going to grow into a remarkably beautiful woman.
I smiled at my friend. "It's not that far, Donna."
"True," she said, "but I don't want you to..." she trailed off looking over my head at the busy street behind me.
I waved her off. "I can get home just fine on my own."
Donna shifted on her heels, and rested her head on the door frame. The smile left her face. "The streets are just so dangerous at night with those guys in capes running around-"
"Those 'guys in capes' are the good guys," I interrupted, shooting her a dirty look. "You can blame them for whatever you want, Donna, but their status won't change."
"They're lunatics doing the police's job, Irene!" Donna spat. "They aren't doing justice. Justice is the law."
I held my tongue, and didn't say anything. Donna's father was a cop, therefore, she knew much more about laws than I did. She wanted to become someone of the law, just like him, and make his eyes light up with pride. Of course she was too blind to see that she could be nothing more than a housewife and her father would be proud of her.
That's what I liked most about Donna. She always shot for the stars to make the people around her happy. She was selfless, and kind, and she always brought me up. Well, unless it came to the vigilantes, she seemed to hate them with a burning passion. It was weird to see how much she seemed to despise the group of wannabe-heroes due to how kind to everyone she always was.
Donna's eyes caught mine. "Are you sure you don't want my father to drive you home?" She tilted forward, as if leaning forward would change my decision.
I nodded. "Yes, Donnacakes. I don't want your father to work more than he has to." Donna gave me a small, reluctant smile.
She sighed. "Well, if you insist on going home alone..." she trailed off, and bit her lip.
"Of course I insist," I said. I stuck my tongue out at her. "Don't think I can handle myself, Donnacakes?" I teased.
"Oh gosh," she said with an eye roll. "Stop calling me that!" She gave me a playful shove.
"Donnacakes, Donnacakes, Donnacakes," I chanted childishly, putting my hands on my hips. Her face flushed, and she balled her fists up.
"Knock it off or I'll sock ya in the face!" Donna tried to screw up her face to look angry, but the look in her eyes gave her away and she couldn't seem to make her grin turn into a frown. I gave a hearty laugh, not at all intimidated by her.
"Who's messing with my daughter?" her father demanded, popping up behind her. Unlike Donna, he had black hair, not brown, and was far from childish. His voice was deep, and his eyes held a certain old wisdom that a child could never possess. He saw me and his eyes lit up in surprise. "Irene? I thought you left already. My, it's already nine-thirty. Should I call your parents?" He paused, shifting on his heels. "Better yet, do you need a ride home?" His head tilted to the side, looking at me hopefully.
I felt the color drain from my face as I shook my head. I didn't hear anything he had said after he told me the time.
I was dead.
I glanced down at Donna to see she, too, was pale. She gulped, her mouth presed into a line and I looked at her with desperate eyes. Don't tell him anything. She had wanted to tell her father as soon as I'd confided in her all those years ago about what life was like at home, but I hadn't let her. Her father narrowed his eyes at my reaction, but dismissed it with raise of the eyebrow. I noticed that ever since then, though, her father watched me more closely every time he spoke of my home. I never told him anything about my house or my parents, but I told Donna everything. A part of me briefly wondered if she'd ever told him about my life at home, but another, the more rational part of me, knew that Donna would never go against her word or betray my trust.
"Well, then you best be getting home to your parents then," her father said. He flashed me a warm smile and then put his hand on Donna's shoulder. "I'll see ya around, Irene." With that, he pulled Donna inside, and closed the front door.
I stayed there for a fleeting moment, staring at the step Donna had just been, before turning on my heel and bolting into the street. "I'm dead."
