DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE UNDERLAND CHRONICLES
Chapter Two: Anger Management
Warm tears of shock cascaded down Gregor`s boiling face as he fled the apartment room. He stumbled down the two flights of concrete stairs, thrust the rusty building door open, and plunged into the cold darkness of New York in October. He sprinted down an alley to the right, past the old drunk, and finally collapsed till he could not run anymore. He breathed in raggedly and heavy. He wiped the clammy perspiration off of his dizzy head with shaky hands.
How could his own mother told him to leave? She was drunk alright, but still, she must of been furious. How could she have just thrown him out? He didn`t have anywhere to go. Except...no...he could`nt. Had his mother possibly meant that he could return to the Underland? No, she was drunk, she had told his a million times, no matter what, he would never go back. But still where was he supposed to go? He lived in New York! There was crime everywhere! He was sure to get in some kind of trouble.
A churning sensation turned in Gregor`s stomach as his anxiety increased, and a wave of nausea rattled his bones. He clutched his stomach. He had started having panic attacks similar to Lizzie`s ever since he left the Underland. Gregor swayed on his knees and hurled. He sat there retching till there was nothing left in his stomach.
Ugh...great. He had probably just lost his lunch and dinner. Gregor clasped the side of a nearby dumpter for support and heaved himself up unsteadily. He breathed in taking in the fresh air. He slowly turned on his heel, heading toward a nearby drug store he recalled. Where else was he supposed to go? He scuffled about ten yards down the alley when three drooping figures appeared in front of him. The middle figure looked up from the ground and spotted him.
"Hey kid come here." The man said in a deep and somewhat dangerous tone of voice. The other two characters chuckled a little bit, and started walking quickly toward Gregor.
Gregor mentally spewed at least ten curse words as he sharply turned away from approaching men. Another wave of nausea washed over Gregor as he attmepted to escape, he stumbled a few steps, and then returned to the cold ground. The men, laughing now, started speed walking toward him.
"Damn it." Gregor growled to himself. It seemed as though his legs were not in the mood for running right now...or walking. He pushed himself up with his quivering arms, but they turned to jello and he once again fell to the ground.
He could hear the men`s noisy footsteps behind him, he counted the steps they took each one getting closer. He just couldnt get up, he was going to be sick again. Gregor sucked in a deep breath of air when he was abruptly yanked upwards by the scruff of his neck.
He looked upwards to find an ugly man, with tanned, leathery skin, and droopy eyes. The man smelled putrid, like he hadnt bathed in three weeks. The scent of drugs reeked from his pores, and sweat seemed to be hiding in every wrinkle on his unattractive face.
"You got a date kid? Where you headin to so fast?" The man asked gruffly. Gregor smelled the distinct smell of alcohol and tobacco on hot breath of ths tranger. The other men chortled at their ringleader`s bad joke.
"N-nowhere." Gregor stuttered. It wasn`t that he was afraid, he usually wouldn`t be, but his legs didn`t seem like they could go very far without melting, and he still felt lightheaded.
The leathery faced man smiled a big yellow`toothed grin at Gregor.
"Well then kid, you wouldn`t mind hainging around with us then? Would you?" The men asked, emmitting another waft of alcohol towards Gregor`s nose.
Gregor suddenly felt a sharp pang in his heart for his mom. If he didnt come home what would she do with Lizzie and Margaret? Yeah she had told his to leave, but she had been totally wasted, she didnt mean any of what she had earlier said...probably.
Coming to his senses, Gregor jerked out of the mans grip and backed away.
"I have to go..." Gregor babbled while retreating. He clenched his fists tightly turning his burning face from the men.
The men bellowed at his unease.
"Where? Home? To your mom?" The inebriates sniggered at in their stupor.
Gregor stopped retreating immediately. His knuckles grasped in desperation into his pockets, searching for a hold on his clouded mind.
The familiar sensation of pins and needles slithered up Gregor`s arms slowly, like a serpent. His heart hurled itself painfully into his ribs.
The ugly man laughed even harder at his anger.
"No response huh? Well, I`m sure she`d be a little more talkative than you are if I show her a good time".
Gregor could not control it, his legs moved without permission, as though controlled by a puppeteer. His heel crushed into the leader`s knee, causing it to instantly buckle.
With a deafening crack then a squeal, the drunk was on the ground. He grasped at his bent kneehis face contorted and expression of pain.
Left temple, right temple, abdomen.
Left temple is facing ground, not visible.
Right temple is clearly visible, clear shot, possibly immediate.
Abdomen is partially visible, but may not be instantly consequential.
His vision was blurred and pulsing.
Hands maniacally seized at the fallen man disarrayed hair.
Right temple.
A strong fist collided with the soft flesh of the the once boisterous man`s head, and his not silent body fell to the ground without life.
His eyes were sealed shut now, shielding him from the nightmare he had instigated.
His breathing slowed, his vision steadied, and he regained control of his limbs. He was free of the paralysis of his rage.
He turned around to see two suddenly sober faces of the other men. There eyes were wide with shock and fear.
"What the hell wrong with you?" One of them shrieked while quickly backing up. His eyes were wide with utter fear, fear which certainly mirrored Gregor`s.
"Did you kill him?" accused the other. They simultaneously turned on their heels and sprinted down the ally, stumbling over trashcans and the old drunk during the process.
Gregor dropped to his knees and shook the unconscious man. He fumbled with the man`s wrist, checking or a pulse. There was none. He stared into the brown leathery face of the body. How had a crime something so evil and violent been so easy? Who was he to take another life?
Tears poured out of Gregor`s brown eyes as he stared into the dead pair in front of him.
Sirens roared in the distance, the sound increasing as police cars neared. Gregor jumped up squarely and fled from the horrific scene in which he had created. He knew where he was going there was only one place. The other choice was a trial and quite possibly prison. He once again seemed to have no power of his libs, but it was different now. His body was trembling, fear taking his free will. He passed his apartment complex without a look back. He had no time for regret. He had to leave. Now.
Central Park was surprisingly austere when Gregor arrived, but he would not have noticed anyway, there was only one thought traveling through his mind. Gregor approached a small boulder and halted, panting. He shoved his shoulder into the boulder with all of the force he could muster. His bones ached with grief, hurt, and pain, but he had to escape. Gregor finally displaced the it, revealing a stone plate in the ground. He slid the stone away from the entrance unveiling a rectangular pit of darkness.
Gregor felt fear arise from inside of his body, but he forced it back down. Gregor dropped purposely to his rear, and slipped into the hole feet first, leaving behind the lights of New York City.
He almost instantly hit the ground with a thud. He looked around searching for something to guide him, but he had not luck considering it was pitch black. He attempted using echo location. He had gone down to the basement with Lizzie several times during the past four years and practiced, so he had not totally erased all progress he had made while acquiring the skill. He clicked a couple time but found nothing. He pinched at his forearms frustrated. Gregor cried out and dropped to his knees. His heart beat hastily, and he felt unstable. He felt like he was dying. He should die. He murdered a man.
Gregor shot up as a scuffling noise was emitted from the darkness in front of him.
"Who`s there?" Gregor asked nervously. His voice sounded cracked and pained.
"Well, well, well...what do we have here? A blubbering eighteen year old boy-no a man. How pathetic...and to think we used to call you a Warrior." A familiar voice dripping with sarcasm came from the darkness.`
"Who are you?" Gregor questioned defensively, although he was certain he knew that sarcastic but somewhat joking voice before.
"Oh come on boy! Really! You must remember me! We only spent about every day together while you were here!" The voice replied sarcastically. "Might I add that I volunteered to spend my days with you...wasnt the best time I ever had but..." The voice trailed of distastefully.
Hope ripped through Gregor.
"Ripred?" He asked shocked for some reason.
A long gray snout appeared out of the darkness, followed by a gray furry body, and head with two long scars across the eye.
The rat smirked, "No, its the Queen of England."