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Now, I promised you action, so here it is. I appreciate all of your reviews, and I love reading them, so keep writing them! :D And maybe I'll finally get out my next one-shot by the New Year :P I hope you guys enjoy the chapter!
Ding.
I skimmed my sensitive fingers over the keys, counting the number of little bars to the next note. I furrowed my eyebrows, sticking my tongue out a tiny bit in concentration. First D...then A...
Ding.
That, my friend, if the sound of progress.
"Iggy?" Max's voice rang through the house, vibrating through my head. "The kids and I are going out to get food that isn't Ramen Noodles."
"Watch out for a the toxic sign on the label." I called back, not turning around. "That means bad things."
"Gotcha." Max replied. The sound of money being dropped to the ground and picked up again entered my eardrums. "I won't make that mistake again."
"I will never recover!" Gasman cried.
"We'll be back in about an hour," Max informed me. "Just...sit there and do stuff."
"Keep practicing!" Nudge encouraged. "You're getting so good!"
Bullcrap.
"Oh, and Ig?" Max came up behind me. "Do..uh, do you..."
"No." I sulked visibly, my fingers pressing a few keys that did not go together and issuing a horrid sound from the piano. "I don't even...no."
"O-Okay." Max put her hand awkwardly on my shoulder for a moment, and then turned around and walked out of the house without another word, dragging the kids and Nudge out behind her. The door slammed, and I sighed. Had I remembered something? Yes. Did I remember anything now? Nope. Everything had just disappeared in a big poof of smoke, and the wind had sent that untouchable cloud of memories far, far away from me.
I'm such a poet, aren't I?
It was just...frustrating. I swung my fist out behind me, sure that I would find a hard wall there to attempt to break down. There was just air. And maybe that was the worst part of it. I let my head drop softly onto the piano. It had been there, damn it, and now it was gone. My whatever-part-of-my-brain-that-held-memories-and-was-stupid was just a huge colander, letting my past flow right through...everything. There was nothing.
Nada.
Zilch.
Zip.
Zero.
Shoot me.
I pressed a few more notes with my fingers, and then finally gave up and stepped off of the bench, my thoughts elsewhere. Bored, I stepped toward the door and opened it, feeling the brisk cold air rush onto my face. I knelt down and formed a snowball in my long fingers, shivering as the cold jolted through my body. I smiled and sat down, my butt in the living room and my legs outside in the cold. I dug my lighter out of my pocket and flicked it open, cradling my snowball in one hand and the lighter in the other. I lit a flame and held it under the snowball, feeling the warmth spread through the ice and my hand. After the snowball had melted in my hand I closed the lighter and stood up, shaking water off of my freezing fingers. Well, I got my daily dose of burning something over with, even if it had been water. I closed the door again, desperate for something to do. I refused to be ruled by the horrible thoughts of my past. I was an amnesiac, and I couldn't change that. The best I could do was look up something on Web MD when Max got home. That was a good plan.
But until then...what do do? What to do...
I walked back over to the piano and tried to play "Mary Had a Little Lamb". Guess what? I failed miserably. I had no idea why Nudge wanted me to play the piano, but it seemed like that was the only thing that ever made her happy, so I was going to try at the very least. No matter how bad I was at it.
"Why can't I not be blind?" I asked no one in particular, leaning my head back. Everything would be so much simpler. I could see the flock, and maybe remember them that way. They could show me a video, like they did in 50 First Dates. I could freaking know something. I didn't even know what Nudge looked like. How unfair was that?
Well, Iggy, you're life's unfair. So you don't get sight, family, or memories. But lookie, you get half a cookie. Everything cool?
No.
I walked over to the kitchenette, pulling brownie mix out of the cabinet and setting it on the counter. I took out a bowl and the ingredients. I needed chocolate, and I needed it now. I mixed the stuff in the bowl and then tasted it. After deeming it tasted enough like chocolate, I poured it into a brownie pan and stuck it in the oven. Well, the kids would be happy when they got home. I bent over, setting the timer at twenty minutes. I hoped. Whatever.
You'll all be dead soon, anyway.
I stopped, my hand on the oven. The voice had come from my head. It was my voice, but unlike before I hadn't been thinking to myself. I stayed frozen there, breathing hard. What did that mean? Could you be schizo if the voice was your own? I shook my head. The voice didn't come again. I was hearing things. I was sure of it.
Growling. I saw flashes in my head of wolf-men, fully morphed and teeth baring down on me. Screams of the flock, a little girl with blond hair being taken away. The rest of the flock, lying in a strawberry field. A gun firing. Blood.
Suddenly I whipped up, swinging my head toward the hallway, then the living room. "Who's there?" I muttered, but no sound came out. Someone was in the house. The Erasers, I knew it. I walked silently into the living room, my arms up in defense. I wasn't going to let them take her again. I wasn't going to let them kill them. I'd kill them first. My head cocked toward the hallway again, my breath hitching.
"Who's there?"
FANG
I yawned as I sat up in my bed, stretching and rubbing my eyes. Naps were wonderful. I took more naps than usual lately, what with me getting over a bunch of injuries (Iggy's eye still wasn't healed. I needed to tell Max to fix that). I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood, grabbing a shirt off of a chair. I swung it over my shoulder and walked out of my room, heading into the bathroom and splashing some water on my face before putting my shirt (black, of course) on. I strained my ears, only hearing the beep of the oven downstairs. Iggy must be cooking. That was good. An Iggy that was cooking was an Iggy that was normal. For Iggy, anyway.
I stretched again, slowly making my way to the stairs. Max must have still been out at the market. I hoped she got me some root beer. I loved that stuff. I gradually made my way down the stairs, running a hand through my hair. I needed something to eat. Maybe Iggy was making lunch. I hoped it was grilled cheese.
I stopped in the doorway and looked in, leaning on the door frame and fingering the bruise on my stomach. Iggy was in the living room, stiff and rigid. I frowned.
"Who's there?" He asked, his fists clenched and up near his face. I stepped forward, coughing a bit. My voice was scratchy and husky.
"Ig-"
"Who are you?" Iggy snapped. He advanced toward me, his eyes flashing. I held up my hands, and then realized he couldn't see them. I put them down again slowly. "This is our house!"
"Ig, I-" I put my hand on his shoulder. Iggy tensed and snarled. I backed up a step, but it was too late. Iggy lashed out with his arm, smacking my hand away. He wound up and kicked me in the chest. I smashed into the wall behind me, more surprised than hurt. Iggy swung at me again, growling, but I ducked and rolled out of the way. Iggy's fist smashed right into the drywall, cracking the wall and blasting it to pieces. I dodged his other fist and ran into the living room as Iggy yanked his hand out of the wall. He ran after me, but I jumped over the couch, taking a pillow and throwing at him. Iggy hit it out of the way.
"What are you doing?" I cried, astonished. Iggy didn't answer, and instead launched himself over the couch and elbowing me in the shoulder. I caught his hand before he could nail me and pushed him into a chair, taking the time to jump on the other chair and knock it over all cool-like. It was a complete waste of time. Iggy roared and continued his chase. He rugby-tackled me to the ground and punched me in the jaw, making my neck snap. If I hadn't rolled with it he could have broken my neck. I kicked him off of me and took off into the hallway again. Iggy grabbed something off of the counter and followed me. I leaped onto the stairs as Iggy threw himself at me, his knife sticking in the wall now. I froze for a minute, staring at the knife and Iggy's furious facial expression. It was a minute too long, and Iggy ran after me again. I tore up the stairs, running as fast as I could possibly go.
See, even though I'd never admit it to any shrink or Max or anyone, I was kind of afraid of Iggy. The guy was a damn good fighter, and even though I knew it wasn't him that had almost killed me, he still scared me to hell. Especially with that look in his eyes. That was his protective, killing look. And trust me, everyone has that look. They just haven't made it yet. I still had nightmares of Iggy's clone attacking me, attacking my flock. He was a killer.
And no matter how much I didn't want to admit it, that made Iggy a killer too. Or at least a potential killer. Right about now it seemed like I was going to be the first victim.
And that scared the shit out of me.
"Come back here, jerk!" Iggy roared as I sprinted down the hallway. I was a jerk, I admit, but I didn't do anything! There was something wrong with Iggy. I had to get downstairs, and then outside, and then I had to find Max. I couldn't fight Iggy. This wasn't his clone. I didn't want to hurt him. But he still wanted to kill me. Did everyone want to kill me?
I'll take that as a yes.
"Iggy, it's me!" I shrieked, knocking into the wall. "It's Fang!"
He didn't listen. "You're not going to hurt them!" He screamed. He tackled me again, this time sending us down the stairs. We crashed into the platform, breaking the railing and falling down ten feet onto the wood floor. I landed on my back, and all breath left me. For a moment I didn't realize Iggy was punching me until the blood started to trickle out of my mouth. I scrambled out from under him and ran into the living room again, completing the full circle. I side-flipped over the kitchen counter, panting. Suddenly a knife pierced the wood, taking a tiny chunk of my ear with it.
"Oh, SHIT!" I screamed, and Iggy jumped over the counter. I uttered an apology in my head before throwing a fist at him, but he hit it away with his arm. He grabbed my shirt collar and punched me again, pinning me to the ground. I got a few hits in, but Iggy was angry, and I was reluctant. I didn't know what Iggy thought I was, but my voice was even more husky because I hadn't had anything to drink and I had been running for my life. I was sure that I didn't even sound like myself, and evidently Iggy was reliving something. Oh, great, he was remembering!
Not really what I expected.
I dribbled out blood from my mouth, trying in vain to knee Iggy in the nuts to get him to stop. That would make him see reason. At least I hoped. Iggy grabbed my throat now, and I weakened. I started to become tired, and my eyes fluttered. No, no. Iggy was my brother. There was something wrong with him. I had to stop him. Iggy punched me again, and I wheezed. He was going to kill me. I had to stop him. What if the flock came home? He could still be lost in his memory and attack Max, or the kids, or Max...
I struggled weakly. I couldn't bring myself look at Iggy's angry eyes and instead let them flicker to the side. The knife, stuck in the counter. I...I could get it. My hand inched toward it, trembling. Iggy's hold on me wasn't enough to suffocate me, and I was surprised. I looked up at him for a second, and realized that there was hesitation reflecting off of his clouded irises. Iggy stopped for a moment, letting his arm hang down but keeping his other on my neck. My fingers dropped from the knife.
"What are you doing?" Max screamed, ripping Iggy off of me. I sat up, spitting out blood and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I coughed a little bit, and Max dropped to my side. Nudge grabbed Iggy's arm, looking from him to me to him again. Gazzy stood in the doorway, his hand tight on Angel's. "Are you okay?" she asked me, and then turned to Iggy again. "What were you thinking? What is wrong with you?"
"I-" Iggy stammered, his face flushed of color. There seemed to be a thousand things running through his head at one time. "They were going to kill me, they-they killed you, the Erasers, and I wouldn't-their copter, they were going to take Angel, and I couldn't..."
He stopped, paler than ever, words forming in his mouth that didn't make it to our ears. He bit his lip, an inner battle raging in his head. We watched helplessly as Iggy yanked his arm away from Nudge, disbelief etched across his face. He shook his head, backing away from us. I frowned, knowing what was going to happen. In one second he was out the door, flapping his wings and flying away as fast as he possibly could.
Gazzy said what we were all thinking, his voice low and solemn with disappointment. "He's not coming back this time, is he?"
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