The music pumped through my veins as an irresistible beat shook my hips and tapped my feet. It was late, it was dark, the nearest streetlight was at the end of the alley—but that was all okay, I have better sight in the dark anyway. I shook the can of spray paint vigorously getting ready to stencil in a crescent moon against the dull brick. When the piece was done it would be killer, the moon was going to have a girl perched on the edge dangling her legs down. I hadn't ever done a piece this huge before, and I was stoked.
I was just reaching to peel off the stencil when a hand clamped down on my shoulder; I jumped like ten feet before whirling around. Honestly, I should be smart enough not to have my ears plugged in when I'm tagging, but I guess I'm just not that smart.
"Roscoe! Baby, sweetheart, is this really what you're reduced to?" No cops, just Spike. Who, I may add, is a grade A jackass. I stretched the corners of my lips upward in what resembled a contorted smile.
"Honestly, the stencil is just for a clean line, I swear" Why do I constantly feel a need to explain myself to this guy? "And don't sneak up on me like that again!" Spike rolled his eyes and reached out to pull off my surgical mask. I slapped his hand away, ripping it off myself.
"Heard you were around back, I decided to check up on you, ya'know old time sake?" he murmured leaning into me, placing his lips against mine. His teeth were like a pair of fangs pressing against my lower lip.
"Shit!" I screeched, shoving him away, "you bit me!" I held my hand up to my now bleeding lip; his kiss was as hard and unpleasant as ever.
Spike laughed manically stretching his arms wide, "Animalistic natures, Roz, what more could you ask for?" his wink sent little creepers up and down my spine. What had I ever seen in this guy?
"I told you, I'm not doing this anymore Spike, I can't deal, for god's sake just leave." I wanted to shove past him, but I couldn't ditch my stuff like that, and he blocked my path anyway.
"What you gonna do Roz? I don't see your little fag around, so why don't you stay a while?"
By this time, I could swear I was seeing red, "how could you say something like that you ass hole?" and as I was saying this I was shoving him back harder and harder, "You know where I come from. You. Do. Not. Use. That. Word." By this time his back was against the wall. I could smell the sweat oozing out of his skin.
"Shit, Roscoe, you know I was just joking" Laughing nervously Spike held his hands up defensively.
"Doesn't feel like it to me." I spat back, my face inches away from his.
"I really hate to break up the love-fest here, but graffiti is a crime, and it's a slow night"
We both went rigid. The voice came from above, where a silhouetted figure stood on the fire escape. Shit. I turned to run, but before I could take two steps Spike was pushing off the wall; he shoved me to the ground, practically tearing up pavement as he made a break for it, coward. I screamed that after him as I scrambled to get myself upright. Who just leaves someone like that? I could really feel my blood boiling over now, Spike knew what would happen if I got caught again. My mom's a cop for Christ's sake.
WREN
Enclosed spaces, dancing bodies, and perspiration. Bad combination. I could feel the dull thump of the music; it vibrated through the core of my body. The music I could feel, but not hear. This might have been a good thing.
David always brings us to club x (at one time x was a real club, but someone bought it out, they only serve soda pop at the bar now and admit people between the age of 15 and 18) I only go because Roz and David. If I had a choice, I would stay home and break in my new Pointe shoes.
Roz had disappeared somewhere, leaving me with David. But the crowds, flashing lights, it was too much, David was swept away and I was alone in a sea of moving, sticky bodies. Managing to separate myself from the crowd I rushed to find a bathroom, a dull ache formed behind my eyes, I felt ill; my dress clung against my sweaty back like an extra layer of skin. I rushed into a stall trying not to notice the dingy tile or the sour smell. And then I was on my knees retching, lights flashing in front of my eyes as I faded in and out of two realities.
I rinsed my face in the sink—blacking in and out—Roz was in trouble, I could see snippets of a dark alley way and feel her pounding heart. I rinse my face, water icy cold, deep breath. My reflection stared back cutting in and out, within an instant my features shifted slightly to that of my twins, hair short once brown morphed into a clumped mess—dread locks she calls them—becoming a shade of vibrant green. A dark alleyway, another face, Spike. Roz swore she would not, but she was, Roz was tagging again. If Spike wasn't going to kill her, I would. Before a second though, I slipped out the bathroom door and made my way to the exit.
ROSCOE
My chest ached from where I had hit the ground; I rolled over and tried to scramble backwards as the voice grew closer. I was so freaked I couldn't even being to fathom what he was saying to me.
"You're one of them right? Those vigilantes I keep hearing 'bout on the news you really shouldn't be wasting time on some nobody low life like me" now it was my turn to laugh nervously, staring up at him. Now I can't see worth shit anyway, but he still stood back at a distance, in the shadows. I figured if I kept blabbering, kept stalling…
WREN
Rounding the corner outside the back exit I smacked into Spike, he was shaking. But he didn't stop, "where's Roz?" I yelled after him, I am sure it did not come out right. If he spoke I could not tell he was too far way, and did not bother to turn around anyway. Never liked Spike. He always treated me like I was stupid instead of deaf, like I was some type of freak. I ran in the direction where I saw him come from. Stopping at the end of the alleyway I saw a crumpled figure on the ground, Roz, someone standing over her.
ROSCOE
I heard her voice behind me, a little distorted, screaming. Wren always came when I needed her.
"Hey, leafe ma sisder alone" and then with a sudden blur of speed she came racing down the alley. I think this vigil was just as shocked at I was, because he just stood there, slack-jawed I'm sure, as my sister charged him. I'm not really sure what happened after that, but there was a struggle and a stream of cursing that I knew wasn't coming from Wren. A loud crash fallowed as I saw my sister thrown, as limp as a rag doll, against a pair of garbage cans. He leapt back up the fire escape and was gone as quickly as he had arrived.
Wren escaped that night with nothing more than a bloody nose as well as a few scrapes and bruises. She couldn't get over it though, her feet were black and blue, she said he was wearing some sort of armor on his back and no matter how hard she kicked it did jack shit. Talk about weird. Mum was naturally pissed when she saw the state of Wrens feet; the doc said no dancing for at least a week. I knew that killed Wren inside, but she said it was worth it. We never told anyone what happened, hell, we weren't sure what exactly went down that night. For now I've packed in my spray cans, talk about scared straight (well for the time being).