I groaned as the bright sunlight hit my closed eyelids. I rubbed the sleep from my grey eyes and opened them slowly. My pupils adjusted to the sudden change of light and I could now see the blue, cloud filled sky. Not that it made me overjoyed or anything, especially since the stupid sun woke me up in the first place. God, this is annoying.
I slowly raised myself up from lying down and ran my fingers through my hair. I pulled my hand away and examined it. A few stray strands had wound their way around my fingers. I could tell what time of year it was depending on the lightness of my hair. It was a bright blond; summertime. In winter it was much darker, bordering on brown. Therefore, if I somehow turned idiot and didn't have the capacity to look out the window or register the temperature outside, my hair would still be able to tell the time of year for me.
I let the hairs fall to the ground and pushed myself up. I dusted myself off and yawned. I looked around and I registered that I was in a park. I didn't know what park it was, and I probably didn't know what park it was when I came.
I frowned. Must have gone for a walk. I'd been angry...angry at...Ivy.
I sighed heavily. The entire conversation of the previous night came back to me in all its horrible clarity. We'd been fighting. Again. Over the phone. How is it possible to be so angry at someone thousands of miles away? She'd moved away to Japan six months ago yet she still had such a firm grip on my life. I hated it.
The phone call had started out innocently enough.
"How are you?" Ivy asked.
"I'm good. How are you?"
"I'm great. How's the weather over there?"
"It's pretty cloudy."
"I see. So, do you miss me?"
"Well no, not really."
"Aww you're so mean. When are you going to come over?"
"We talked about this. I'm never going over there. Never."
"...What?"
And that was where it all went downhill. It didn't matter that we'd discussed it before, countless times I might add. It didn't matter that Japan was over twelve hours away by plane. It didn't matter that I would have to leave my entire life behind. The only thing that mattered was that she was upset that I completely shut down her idea of my coming to live with her.
It was absurd. How could she expect me to just drop everything and run to her? You don't follow your friends when they move away. You stay behind, pine for them for a few weeks and then try and move on. Her constant calls and her insistence were making the moving on part rather difficult.
At some point in every conversation we had she would bring it up. At some point in every conversation we had I would turn her down. And at the end of every conversation we had I got angry. I had a bad habit of wandering around aimlessly when I got upset. I'd left late last night, around eleven thirty. I must have ended up walking to this park, caught up in the whirlwind of my emotions.
The worst part about this, you see, is that it is quite possible for me to leave everything behind and move away. I am an orphan. My nearest relative is my aunt who practically lives in the hospital with several problems with her heart and blood. And, even if she were healthy, I wouldn't have to live with her because I'm eighteen. I have a job, but that was easy enough to quit. I was out of high school and I had few people who I could honestly call 'friends'. It was merely a matter of speaking to my landlord, picking up the things in my apartment, and getting on the next plane to Japan. That was what bothered me. And that was also what bothered Ivy.
I was starting to realize that, despite my most desperate efforts, the idea was starting to grow on me. But I refused to give in. I would stay here out of sheer spite if I had to. Worst comes to worst I move to some random country, change my name and life a relatively normal life with no interference from Ivy. Over the top I know, but sometimes it's the most irrational plans that calm you down.
It was actually that plan that had gotten me to lie down on the grass and try to sleep.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. All this thinking can't be healthy.
I found a trail and followed it to the edge of the park. It was Saturday and I had the day off so I was free to do what I wanted. I decided I would go to the observatory. I wanted to see the stars, and I wasn't in the mood to wait until night.
I walked quite a few blocks. I felt detached, detached enough to not pay complete attention to the street lights that were showing that now would be a very bad time to cross the street. I did not see those lights and therefore ended up crossing the street while cars coming towards me were not slowing down. It was only when the horn blared at me did I jolt back into the present and step backward to narrowly avoid being hit by a black Bentley.
I couldn't see who was driving, but the passenger was an old man with round glasses and a grey beard. He stared at me. There was something deeply unsettling about his stare, something in his brown eyes that made me uncomfortable. The car quickly pulled away into traffic and disappeared.
I shook my head to clear it. A few strangers asked me if I was okay. I nodded mutely and continued on my way.
It took about thirty more minutes of walking to reach the observatory. I paid the entrance fee and began walking around inside. The entire building was divided into two sections; a large section and one that's fairly small. The first was about the sky and outer space before the gates appeared, the second was after. I spent most of the time in the first room as did most of the older generation who had grown up with the original stars.
I hated the sky now. I disliked those cubic zirconium stars glimmering, portraying false hope. The thing was that I was probably one of the only ones who knew about the distinct different between the two sections. I had discovered that society at large was not up to speed about most things that occurred these days. Contractors and their powers, I knew about them. How? Ivy.
It had happened six and a half months ago. She had been acting strange, on edge all the time. One night I finally asked her what was wrong. I wish I hadn't asked that question. It had lead to blood, shock, and her leaving this country forever. Part of me thinks that if I hadn't asked her, nothing would have changed. The other part of me knows better.
I couldn't help remembering every single detail about that day.
The sky was filled with dark grey clouds. You could almost feel the storm coming. There was a chill in the air with a biting wind. The shadows seemed sinister and the people were agitated, as if they could tell that something unpleasant was going to happen. I had forgotten my coat; it was sitting on my bed. I had left without it, and was paying for it. My cheeks were soon red and goose bumps rose on my arms. I rubbed my arms and my teeth chattered. The wind was enough to make me squint and have to brush away the tears that were constantly forming.
The reason I was out walking? I was going to see Ivy. She had called and told me to meet her at her house. Then she hung up after she had finished talking, giving me no time to argue. I had grumbled about it but could find no good reason not to go, so I went.
As I began walking, it started to rain. Fat, wet drops fell on my head, soaking me in a matter of seconds. After twenty minutes I made it to her house. I knocked on her front door, shivering. No one answered. I looked around and saw a damp piece of paper lying on the ground in front of the door. I picked it up and looked it over. The writing was in blue ink and so the water made it run, but it was still legible. It read:
Mitch,
Meet me in the backyard. We need to talk.
Ivy
I shoved the note in my pocket, walked around the side of her house, and through the iron gate into her backyard. I closed the gate behind me and trudged across the puddles that were already forming in the grass. I spotted her sitting on the wooden swing that hung from the large oak tree that touched the edge of her property. Her red hair was plastered to her head and her clothes clung to her. She must have been sitting there for a while.
As I approached, she turned to look at me with sad, green eyes. She smiled, but it was filled with bitterness, "Good morning Mitch."
"It's two o'clock in the afternoon." I replied, taking a seat beside her on the large swing.
"Whatever you say." She answered dully.
I blinked in surprise. She was usually so feisty. If ever I went against what she said, she would simply declare that she was right and wouldn't let it go until I admitted that she was right. For her to just drop the subject like that...something must be very wrong.
Unsure where to begin I decided to go with, "So...how are you?"
She didn't reply right away. After a moment she replied in a quiet voice, "I hardly know anymore."
I was troubled by this, but didn't let it show, "...I see. Well, why did you call me?"
"I wanted to talk to you...to hear your voice. I think I'm...I'm going crazy." Her voice was so quiet, just above a whisper.
I didn't know what to say. I didn't say anything.
"The sky...it used to be so wonderful. Wasn't it?" she continued.
I nodded, "Yes, yes it was."
"Now there are new stars... do you think the old ones are gone?" she asked.
I took a moment to think about it. It had been a year and a half since the stars changed. Were the other ones gone? I shook my head slowly, "It's difficult to say."
She laughed humourlessly, "Always thinking. You're so rational all the time, do you know that?"
"I've heard the occasional rumour." I answered.
She picked at her wet, orange shirt, "I'm not rational at all am I?"
I looked at her, confused, "I was under the impression that rationality didn't really matter to you."
She didn't answer. I felt compelled to say something nice, no matter how embarrassing it might be.
I turned to her and said, "Well you know...I think that the fact that you're irrational is a part of you. It makes you who you are."
Her head snapped towards me, eyes wide. Her lip trembled, then she burst into tears.
I reared back in surprise, "W-what is it? What did I say?"
She sobbed harder.
I didn't understand. What did I say that was so upsetting?
I gripped her by the shoulders and made her turn to face me, "What's the matter? What's wrong?"
Suddenly her large, teary eyes were fixed on mine. A red glow filled the centre of her pupils. The branches of the oak tree jerked, then shot at me. I cried out as they wound their way around my arms and legs. They lifted me high in the air. I struggled and pulled, but the branches held fast.
Ivy was standing up now, starring at me in horror. Her hands covered her mouth, and I could see she was trembling.
"No! Not again!" she screamed. Again? This happened before? Was she doing this?
Another tree branch snaked towards me. Towards my throat.
Ivy screamed again and the tree branch sped up.
"Stop!" I shouted.
Her scream cut off abruptly. The tree branch froze. Then it continued forwards, this time very slowly. Ivy was controlling these things? If that was the case then I needed to calm her down.
I turned my head and looked at her, "Ivy, calm down! You have to calm down!"
She was still trembling. Her eyes were glued to the branches. She whimpered.
I realized shouting would just made her freak out more, so I tried to make my voice sound as normal as possible, "Ivy, relax. Take a deep breath."
She took a quick breath in and out.
"No Ivy, take a deep one. I'll take one too. Breathe in." I breathed in. So did she.
"Now breathe out." I breathed out. So did she.
The tree branch was moving at a snail's pace. But it was still moving.
"Now, could you move the tree branches away from me please?"
"But I don't know how!" she cried.
The branches tightened.
"It's okay. It's alright." I said quickly, "Let's just stay calm. Take another breath."
She took a deep breath. The branches loosened a little.
I didn't know how this had happened, but somehow Ivy made the branches attack me. There was no other explanation. Not that the explanation made any sense. How was that event possible? I could figure it out after the oak branches released me.
"Ivy, try and make the branches let go, but stay calm."
"H-h-how?" she stuttered.
That was a good question, "Um, do you remember what you did to make the branches move in the first place."
"N-not really..." she rubbed the tears from her eyes. She was calming down now.
I wracked my brain for something that might work, "Okay, try picturing the branches letting me go."
She closed her eyes for a moment then opened them. Nothing happened.
"Mitch it isn't working!" she was getting worked up again. That made things worse.
"It will be okay. Just stay calm." I had no idea if it would be okay but someone had to be in charge and Ivy didn't seem to be in the best shape.
I thought hard for something else that might work. Then I remembered what happened before the branches attacked.
"Before, what were you feeling?" I asked her.
Her brow furrowed in confusion, "What?"
"When you were crying, how did you feel?"
She shifted from foot to foot, something she did when she was nervous, "I was...so sad. I felt like my world was ending."
I frowned, but I didn't have the time to ask her why she felt that way. The tree branch was still making its way towards my throat.
"Try and feel like that again. While you feel like that, try and make the branches let go."
She pursed her lips, "I don't know..."
"We don't have much time before this tree strangles me. Just try."
She closed her eyes again. The tree branch was inches away now. I strained my head to go back as far as it could. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Ivy's eyes open. The red glow was in her pupils again, and I could have sworn she glowed blue a little.
Just as the branch was about to choke the life out of me, the branches holding me in place let me go without warning. I slammed into the ground. Painfully.
Ivy walked over to me, extending her hand, "Need some help?"
I reached up and she pulled me up. I smiled weakly at her. She smiled back.
"So...what now?" she asked.
I opened my mouth to answer, but just then Ivy's mother, Lucy, opened the back door that lead into the backyard.
"Hello Ivy! Have you seen your father?"
Lucy's cheery voice startled me. It startled Ivy too. It startled her enough for her pupils to glow red.
"Ivy no!" I shouted. That was the last thing Lucy heard before a root speared her through her heart.
Ivy broke out into screams and sobs. She fell to her knees.
"No no no! Not again, NO! Why, why is this happening? Please no..." she wailed.
I was stunned. Just like that Lucy's life had ended. I saw blood welling up around her wound and at the same time being washed away by the rain. I stared. My mouth opened and closed, no sound coming out. My brain felt like it was short-circuiting. Lucy, dead? Ivy, a murderer? Everything had happened so fast. It was all over in a split-second. This can't be real. I felt my stomach clench and a wave of nausea overtook me.
For some reason I suddenly had the notion that I needed to get Ivy away from here, now. I dropped down next to her. I grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her up so that we were both standing. She turned and wrapped her arms around me tightly, crying into my chest. My arms hung limply by my sides. I couldn't summon up enough energy or will to comfort her. I was too shell-shocked.
Ivy continued to weep into my already soaked black shirt. I looked up at the sky. The rain showed no sign of letting up. We had to get inside. I tried to pry off her arms, but she had an iron grip.
I sighed quietly. We stood like that for a few minutes until finally she let go. I placed my hand on her back and started pushing her towards the back door.
We were almost inside, when she froze. She turned around and walked over to the oak tree. I saw her pick up two rocks. She dug two holes in the dirt and placed one of the rocks in each. She buried them and then she made some sort of marking in the dirt over where they were buried. She stood up and walked past me, stepped over the body of her mother, went through the open door, and into the house. I followed her in.
Inside was the kitchen. It had stainless steel appliances and beige countertops. It wasn't particularly remarkable nor was it very large. There was a round table made out of dark wood with four chairs. Ivy stumbled towards one and sat down heavily. I paused, then sat down in the chair closest to her.
We didn't speak. I didn't know how to begin. I don't how long we sat like that. An hour maybe? In any case, my brain was rebooting. I began to need things. A shiver wracked my body. I was very cold.
I stood up and left the room, off to go get us some towels.
I left Ivy sitting there, eyes glued to the floor.
I exited the kitchen and went into the living room. I knew my way around her house quite well. She was my closest friend, after all. I shuffled across the carpet, leaving a trail of water in my wake. I went upstairs and down the hall. The last door on the left was a closet that held Ivy's family's sheets and towels. The door opened with a loud squeak. I pulled out two large beach towels then shut the door.
When I came back downstairs I noticed that Ivy was now standing in front of the open door. I went up and stood next to her. Her hand was hovering next to the door, as if she were going to close it. Her eyes were fixed on the corpse of her mother which was lying a meter away, a bloodied root sticking out of her back.
I unfolded the towel and put it on her head. It covered her eyes which was my intent. I forced my eyes away from Lucy, which I admit was difficult. She couldn't deal with that right now. I couldn't deal with that right now. I might snap if I thought about it too much.
Ivy didn't move. I grasped her hand and lowered it so it hung by her side. I reached out and shut the door. I turned her around and pushed back towards the table, then pushed her down so that she was once again sitting in the chair. She didn't protest.
I sat down next to her and began to dry myself, trying desperately not to think. After a time, Ivy began drying herself too. Though, there really wasn't much we could do without a change of clothes.
I eventually gave up on the endeavour and let the towel hang around my neck. Ivy still hadn't spoken a word.
Somewhere in the back of my burned out light bulb of a mind I realized we would get hypothermia if we just sat here unmoving for hours.
I rose and went over to the far cupboard. I pulled out the kettle and filled it with water. I put it on the element and turned the dial on high, then I opened a second cupboard and examined the different brands of tea. I picked up a box of Earl Grey, turned, and held out the box to Ivy, silently asking if this flavour of tea would suffice.
She looked at me and shrugged her shoulders. I took that as an 'any kind is fine' or something along those lines.
I opened up the box and pulled out two tea bags then placed them on the counter. I picked out two mugs and set them beside the tea bags, opened the drawer, and pulled out two small spoons and set them down beside the mugs. I leaned back on the edge of the counter, letting my eyes wander around the room while waiting for the water to come to a boil.
It was surreal, sitting here in the kitchen while a woman lay dead in the backyard. I almost felt like I must have been insane to not be screaming, crying, or a combination of the two. Yet some part of me had accepted it, adapted to it already. I couldn't fathom it, but slowly that part was growing and so somehow I had a feeling that I would take it in stride as though it was something much less horrific than it actually was.
The shrill whistle of the kettle interrupted my musings. I quickly picked up the kettle and set it down on a cool element that was adjacent to the hot one. I turned the dial off swiftly then picked up the kettle a second time. I poured the water into both mugs and dropped a tea bag in each mug, followed by a spoon. I picked up both mugs and walked over to Ivy. I set one down in front her, the other I placed in front myself as I sat down.
I prodded the tea bag with the spoon and watched the dark, inkiness bleed into the hot water. The silence was beginning to wear on me. I felt the need to say something, anything to break the heavy silence.
"You know," I began quietly, "it's not a kind of tea at all. Earl Grey I mean. It's actually just black tea infused with the citrus flavours of bergamot."
The smallest shadow of a smile found its way across Ivy's face.
"Trust you to say something completely unrelated to the situation at hand." She said with a voice just above a whisper, filled with a dullness I that I assumed was stemming from her grief.
"What else can I say?" I asked her.
She shook her head and didn't reply.
My mug was almost completely drained when Ivy spoke again.
"Dad came home early today."
I sipped my tea and remained mute.
"He came upstairs, came into my room," she continued, "I was listening to music. I was really stressed. He didn't like my moping around, said I should be doing something productive. I was too wrapped up in my own world to listen to him. He noticed I wasn't paying attention and ripped the earphones out of my ears. Then he threw them out the window. He started yelling. He told me it was time I did things with my life, time I got a job. I got angry. I told he didn't have control over me. He didn't like that. He started yelling more, starting bringing up things best left alone. I got very, very mad. There was a Venus flytrap sitting on my desk and...and I..."
She trailed off, gripping her mug until her knuckles turned white.
I slowly reached over and laid my hand on hers. Her head snapped up, looking at me with eyes filled with fear.
"I understand...I think." I told her.
Her eyes turned to stare at the contents of her mug.
"Is he..." I licked my dry lips, "is he still...?"
In the softest voice I had ever head she said, "He is lying on my bedroom floor."
"Young man, are you alright?"
I was jolted out of my reminiscing by a voice. I turned to see who had spoken. It was an elderly lady, probably in her early fifties.
I blinked a few times, clearing the memories from my head as best I could. I answered, "Yes. I'm sorry I was just caught up in a memory."
She smiled, "Yes that tends to happen doesn't it?"
"I suppose so."
I left the observatory shortly after that. I remember the rest of the memory with less clarity. I dragged her father's body down the stairs and out into the backyard. She and I dug deep graves for the two of them. We buried them under the oak tree, side by side. I didn't have the heart to say any words as a sort of service. Ivy just cried.
Afterwards she packed her things. We created a false story about her parents going on a trip and Ivy was sent to her a close friend of hers whose name I've forgotten. We looked online for places Ivy could go, countries she could hide in. We knew there was no hope for her being able to stay here. The police wouldn't understand that she had next to no control of her powers and that the entire mess was just a terrible, terrible accident. They might not even believe she had powers at all and just say she was making it up to cover up her true intent. If I hadn't been there I doubt I would have believed it either.
The sun was setting as I walked home. I was in the process of mentally preparing myself for the phone call with Ivy that was sure to take place sometime tonight. I kept touching the phone in the pocket of my jeans, waiting for the call.
I was almost home now. I was walking down a much darker road, a shortcut that went behind most of the major streets. I was so tired at this point that I was dragging my feet. Out of the corner of my eye I saw something. I turned my head to see a silver car slowly driving right behind me. I sped up. So did the car. I went from a fast walk, to a jog, to a flat-out sprint. The car sped up and remained behind me, but it was also gaining ground. I started backing away. I turned a corner fast and ran into someone's yard. I hopped their fence, crossed their backyard, and hopped the back fence which lead onto another street. I ran across the road and into a park. I kept running until I reached the other side. I stood on the sidewalk, panting.
It was quiet. I didn't see the car or hear it. I let out a sigh of relief. Who was following me anyway? And why? I was too tired to try and piece a theory together. I would figure it out in the morning.
My legs were burning from running and they protested when I walked across the street.
Halfway across the poorly lit street, the silver car came racing around the corner at top speed. My heart slammed in my ribcage. The most I could do in my state of shock was turn to meet the vehicle head on.
Just as the car was about to hit me I felt pressure build up inside me. It built up so much it burst and I felt it surge out to the ends of my toes and the tips of my fingers. The engine of the car spontaneously burst into flames. The smoke obscured the driver's vision causing the car to swerve to the left. I jumped to the right just enough to avoid getting hit. The car smashed into a streetlight, the loud sound of the crash filled the air.
I stood panting, staring at the wreckage of the car. What was happening? I didn't understand.
Then a second car, this one black, came racing down the street. It came to an abrupt stop right next to me. The back door opened and two arms reached out and grabbed me, dragging me into the darkness of the automobile.
The only trace I left behind was a broken shoelace and the smoking remains of a silver Audi.