Hey! I'm loved! :: does insane happy dance::I decided to put this up tonight instead of tommorrow b/c of you guys. Thank-you for reviewing:
Valkyrie-alex, Lizbeth, pita, Me: I'm so glad you liked it! I hope you like this next chapter, too.
KaliAnn: there probably won't be any heavy duty romance for any characters. Until a later chapter, at least, any Virgil/Richie could be strong brotherly friendship. I'm glad I have potential, though.
Webkitsune: I orginanlly had this chapter coming before the first/prologue, but now I kinda like your idea of puttin it after- it's such an intesting idea and it fits. so this can come before or after the first, however you may like. -
I had to reload this, sincesome paragraphs were deleted. Remember, comments are really really appreciated.
Realization
Today was not a good day. It was only 8 in the morning, on a Sunday, and already the day was horrible. Traumatic, even.
I walked into another light pole, the fifth this morning and got some weird looks from an elderly early morning jogger. He'd been breathing behind me since 3rd street, long enough to see me bang straight into three poles, a garbage can and some old lady.
"He-he" I grinned weakly as he slowly passed me, squinting at his vibrant suit- my headache worsening by the second. "That pole wasn't here last week."
He shook his head and jogged off, muttering about brain dead kids and drugs as he picked up speed. I probably looked like shit, too. Did I even take a shower last night? Got back to HQ, took picture with the Justice League, went inside, showered- check, talked with V, typed for a while, V left, got up, bent down and... woke up on the couch? Weird, Richie, weird; you probably just conked out with changing your clothes.
So now you smelled today. I sighed, nothing's going well today, and stared at the blue metal in front of me.
"Oww." I told it, rubbing my nose for good measure. Not only did I have a head ache, but now a nose ache. "You know, all I wanted to do was head home and go back to bed and into some pjs. And eat. But nooo, every inanimate object from here to China gets in my way. Stupid lamppost."
I'mdefinately not thinking clearly- I mean, talking to a lamp, Richie? Real smart. Stupid migraine.
The lamppost was giving me weird looks now and I knew I had to get some sleep. And food, my stomach reminded me, growling loud enough to start an earthquake; I started walking again, on the look out for lamps and free food.
And some aspirin.
I had missed dinner last night, after the whole Watch Tower/Justice League/Brainiac incident. And someone, namely Virgil, had eaten the last of emergency food supplies in HQ, so there went breakfast. And even if I did have money, there were no food stores in sight. This was just not a good day. The sun was too bright, the birds were too cheerful, everything just seemed horrible
My head...gah, feels like some one popped off my brains and shook. Is this how a hangover feels? Why does it hurt so much?
Seven blocks and nine lampposts later, I slumped against the door and fumbling for my key, let myself in. The hall was empty and there weren't any shoes near the door.
"Mom? Dad?" No answer
Huh, I guess no one's home. Mom should be here at least, but it's fine, then. She'd silently let me go up and sleep, but then I'd feel all vaguely guilty when I woke up, like I should have helped her or not done…something? I sighed as relocked the door. Mom was... difficult.
I don't think I could handle my father at the moment, either. I'll probably end up saying something and get in trouble.I could just imagine it. Even before I walked in, he'd start. "Richie! Where were you! Come home at a decent damn hour-" then he'd actually look at me. "What the hell happened to you? Did you get beat up? God, Richie, why can't you fight back? Stop beinga wimp and start obeying your father. I told you to stop hanging around with that gangster…."
I banished my father's voice as I slipped my shoes off and walked up the stairs toward my room, leaning on the rail, wincing as my back rubbed against the bar. I shouldn't hurt this much- something triggered in my mind. The tiredness, loss of coordination, hunger, the aches, memory loss. Something's wrong.
Very wrong.
Heart pounding, I went to the bathroom, looked in the mirror, the one over the sink- not the one on the door, which was full length and just about the only thing I'd ever seen my mother ever argued with my father over. She certainly never cared enough stand up for me, a stupid mirror was more important-.
Focus Richie, I told myself. mope later.
I inspected my face, tired and beat, but nothing out of the ordinary. I looked down at my hands, just pale paper cuts, and rolled up my sweatshirt sleeve.
I froze and then rolled up the other. Both arms had a nasty dark bruise a little above the elbow and they weren't there before.
A thousand prospective ideas instantly came to mind. I flung my sweatshirt off, and then my T-shirt joined it in a pile on the floor; stared in the large mirror at myself. What's going on? There were bruises in the front, too. Three on my right and three on my left in eerie symmetry. Eight bruises all together...
I turned around in the mirror, trying to see my back and stifled a yell. Oh, my god…
All different colors, it looked like some one had splashed badly mixed paint on my back. All blue and red and green and brown. I felt sick looking at it. It was one big bruise- all dark and splotchy with sickly yellow marks that went down my sides, far down my sides...
My hands clenched my jean pants. They were stiff and rough againest my sweaty palms and I held them therefor a long moment as horror swamped my brain. I looked down at my legs. What if...
I stopped that thought in its tracks, threw up a wall of denialand lookedback to the mirror.My own face stared at me pale and scared, a ghost in a pair of blue jeans. My pants. I didn't want to look, couldn't look, couldn't face...
My brain told me that bruises weren't really all that terrifying. That it was just blood pooling beneath the skin and it doesn't hurt that much either. Just sore and it'd heal in a day or two with some ice. But… all my instincts screamed panic to yell and cry. Something's going on and I have no clue. I don't know. Tired. Bruises. Can't think. No one's home. Why aren't they home?
I was getting seriously freaked out, feeling like those teenagers in horror movies when the first kid disappears and the scream trails off to nothing. I couldn't remember what I did last night- I mean, I didn't do anything! Did I? And then today, there's all these marks…
V! I had toget Virgil- he might know something, anything. He can always make it better... In a spur of action fueled by fear, I grabbed my discardedclothes and reached in the hoodie pocket for the Shock Vox. It wasn't there. My panic growing, I patted it all down,shook out my tee-shirt and checked the cold floor. I patted my jean pockets with trembling limbs. My Shock Vox was missing.
I left the bathroom and raced to the closet phone, still shirtless, with a single goal in mind. I had to call Virgil-needed Virgil. Something was wrong, desperately horribly wrong. A super brain isn't good in panic, millions of possible scenarios- rape, kidnapping, no one home, popped into my head as I grabbed the phone, my hand shaking. I was never good with panic, not when it's about me, when I'm the problem, lost, all alone, I don't remember… what's going on?!
2394-
Fingers halted mid-dial as I stared at the wall phone in horror. From the hall mirror, the image of my bare bruised back wavered on the sleek phone's surface.
There was something on my neck.
end chapter 1