The Lost Ones
{A story about white nights}
Her mama didn't send her to school to learn letters. Her mama straightened her spine and did a just-fine job teaching as she cleaned the house and hid her daughter from the streets. Listen up, Dilly, because these'll be important one day.
Dill's favorite are the vowels. Dill aint spent a day she can't hear the vowels in her mind, mixing in tune to the city.
[A is for anxiety. This is important, Dilly-Billy. Anxiety is a crushing understanding that this world is a-crumblin'. Anxiety is that moment when you pull your nails into your palm and hold onto air. This is how you know love, too, Dill, because love comes with an anxiety of separation. If you can bear bein' away from him for more 'n' an instant, t'aint the one for you, baby.]
Dill finds her mama's A For Anxiety written in the soul of her. Right now he is exactly two feet away from her and it's already too far. Rigby sends her a look from where he's hiding, sees her work the vowels over her lips, knows she's scared, holds out his hand so she can grip it.
[E is for expectations, in that you shouldn't have any. We is all just peoples, darlin', and if you go 'round expectin' more from folk, won't get you nothin' but heartbreak. Expect things only from yourself at all times. Expect you could do better, 'cause aint a job been done perfectly in the Father's kingdom. Expect to be kinder, 'cause not a single 'vidual needs cruelty in these times. And expect to love with even more of yourself every day, because there's always gonna be some part of you that's not been touched yet. Expectations are important, Dilly.]
The whistle sounds for the morning and Dill jumps. Rigby knows she's at E without looking, just by the squeeze of her fingers. He can feel her heart jack-rabbit through her skin. He lets her clutch at him and pulls her along the shadows. He can smell the oil and slick heat of the tracks. The train is due any second, and if they're not careful, they both bite it.
[I is for introvert. Now there aint too many things you can do 'bout your personality, darlin', but one of them is thinkin' like an introvert but actin' like an extrovert. Speak less and think more, but never be afraid to be where the action is. Trust only a few people in the Father's kingdom, but make lots of friends. The important thing here is that you never be afraid to take a risk, but you bet your crumbly soul that you consider the ramifications of whatever you're about to embark upon. If it's somethin' your introverted self thinks is mean kinds of crumble, you best talk your extroverted behind out of there. I mean that, Dilly. You listen to the inside of you firstly.]
She's at introvert, he can see it in her pale skin. He brushes the blonde hair out of her eyes. When he touches her, his skin dances. She nods at his silent question and he keeps going. The train is in the distance and he picks up the pace.
[O is for owing and how if you got a debt in some way, you pay it back and then some. I don't care if it t'aint a real debt proper, if you perceive any kinda unevenness twixt you and some smack, you solve it and come out on top. If a sir has lent you a shiny, you give him back two. You hear me, girl? If you do this rightly and never let someone hold somethin' over you, why, you'll be happier 'n' the Father when he's huntin'.]
Every day that she wakes up next to Rigby, it saves her life. She doesn't know how to pay this back so she's currently ducking along the deep trench near the tracks for him. Her bag jostles against her back as they run. She wasn't supposed to fall in love with him.
[U stands for unequivocal. Now you might not go to a fancy Heights school or nothin', but that don't mean you don't know how you want your life lived. Some smack asks you what you want, you want unequivocal answers, you want unequivocal fairness, you want unequivocal justice. Unequivocal is the clean type of things, the kind where there's no fog about it. T'aint no one think you're crumbly if you use words like unequivocal and live your life in plain and simple terms. That's what it's all about. Be plain and simple, folks'll respect you.]
He pulls her to their checkpoint and she drops the bag. He picks up the one waiting for them, knows better than to look inside. Takes the device out of his pocket.
The train whips by and Dill feels her breath leave her body. Rigby keeps calm like always. He waits for the perfect moment and throws. There's no way to know if he managed to tag it, but when the train is finally past, there's nothing left on the tracks.
Someone shouts from a distance. Time's up. Rigby starts running, tugging her in his path. She takes a few seconds to get her feet under her, and then she's flying just as fast as he is. She does her best not to notice the satchel they just picked up is slowly leaking blood.
[And finally there's that crumbly Y. Y is special and only used sometimes and it stands for the most important thing in the world: you. You is a special word and most folk don't give it two thoughts, but without it, there's no "could you" or "you know." You're the most important thing in the world, but when you say those words exactly as I have, you won't mean yourself. See? It's a tad confusing but I suppose what I'm tryna get at is that the word "you" means that things go in circles instead of straight lines. I give my heart to you, and when you say "I give my heart to you," it comes back to me. You is so important. Without it, there's no "only you" and "because of you." And of course the most sky phrase you can say, the one you should never say 'less you mean it entirely: "I love you."]
Dill grips Rigby's hand tighter.
=={Oh the streets}==
"Today?" Rose wants to know, squishing Eclipse against her. His back paws dangle and his tail flicks irritably. He wiggles and she scoots her arms farther under his ribcage.
Zyon rolls his eyes. "No, Rosie. You know that. Where's your bag?" he asks. He pauses to cough and he and his sister freeze. He holds out his hands. They're steady. They both relax.
Eclipse squirms again and she flips him onto his back, cradling him. "But Zyon," she whines, following him as he searches their empty house, "You said 'one day' and today is one day. Lawrence already went and now he's all special and stuff and Miss Katelyn said that our classes today were short anyway. No smack would notice if I weren't there, Zy."
He makes a face at her. "Keep talkin' like that and folk'll think you don't attend school at all. And put him down, he'll bite you if you're not careful."
Rose obliges, dropping the fox-cat unceremoniously. He lands on his feet and sends her a look. He's brushing up against her legs within seconds.
"Zy," Rose is undeterred by her grammar correction, "The streets aint safety. I know that. But I've been practin' my fightin' and I could take a smack."
Rose adopts a stance her brother taught her and he stifles the urge to laugh. Her black hair is a mess around her and he rolls her eyes, throwing her a comb. She fumbles for it and sends it skittering across the floor. Eclipse bounds after it, bringing it back to her. Zyon makes a face at the black creature's devotion.
"Firstly," Zyon says, finding her bag under the sink, "I don't give two shinies what Lawrence has or has not done in this beautiful life. If his older siblings or parents or what-have-you are all fine with him tumblin' 'round the streets, well, I am in no position to stop them. But you are my sister and that means I decide 'xactly what places you roam. And the streets is not gonna be one of them, not if I can help it, Rosie." She opens her mouth to protest and he holds up a hand to shush her, packing her lunch as he goes. "Second, it's bad 'nough we got some kinda critter hidin' in our livin' space. If we don't act like proper folk who aint done a wrong in our lives, you bet we gon' get Found, little girl. If you like Eclipse in any kinda way, you'll go to school and sit nice and do your work and not think 'bout the streets no more."
His tone is final. She huffs at him, slinging her bag over one shoulder and tearing at her hair with a comb. She storms away and he rolls his eyes. He can hear her in the kitchen, but he gives her space while he does the laundry.
Drying his hands, he finds her pouting on a stool, glowering at him. Her food is untouched and he sighs. "Eat your first meal," he tells her gently.
She jerks her nose into the air. "Aint hungry," she bites back.
He closes his eyes briefly, silently asking for patience. He picks up his own bowl and starts eating loudly. "Wow," he says between bites, "This first meal has got to be the best thing ever. Why, I doubt there's been a better meal in the whole of creation."
Rose's eyes slide towards him, but he ignores it.
"Huh," he says to Eclipse, "I bet you want some. Well, ok."
Zyon makes sure to slurp and smack his jaws just as much as possible. His spoon scrapes the empty bowl and he looks to his sister.
"Hey, Rosie, if'n' you're not gonna eat that…?" he reaches out one hand towards her food.
She instantly scoops it into her arms. "Mine," she hisses, grabbing a spoon from him. She glares at him and devours her portion without a word. She clunks down the container and hops off her chair. "Bye," she throws over her shoulder, "Just goin' to my school where I'm bein' educated."
"Love you, Rose," he calls. She mumbles something and the door closes. He looks down at Eclipse, counts to ten. The door opens and Rose's shy face appears in the cracks. "Zy?" she whispers.
"Yes, darlin'?"
She looks down at the ground. "Sorry I yelled. I didn't mean nothing by it."
He crouches and opens his arms and she runs into them. He hugs her until she cannot breathe, and then just a little longer. She laughs and wriggles away.
"One day, Rosie, I promise," he tells her, looking into her eyes, "When I think you're ready. But you gotta wait until then, ok? In the meantime, you keep practicing those things I taught you."
She frowns. "If it t'aint safety, why do you go?"
He pushes her hair back from her eyes. "'Cause somebody's gotta, sweetness." He sees how sad she is at the thought of it and smiles. "Hey. Tell you what. I'll come home early-like today and pick you up from school."
The little girl knits her eyebrows. "Promise me you'll stay safety, Zy." She holds out her pinky.
Zyon loops his finger around hers, shaking. "I promise to stay safety if you do too, baby."
Rose hugs him again. "I love you, Zyon," she states, "You're pretty ok for a big brother."
"Thanks, girl," he laughs, standing and leading her outside, "I guess you're not half-bad for a sister."
"You chose me," she calls, running down their path to join her schoolmates, "Shoulda chosen better."
He watches her go and thinks he couldn't have chosen better if he'd tried.
=={are falling down}==
Beck wakes up cold and covered in sweat. His eyes catch the ceiling and he gets his heart beating normally. He closes his fingers into a fist.
His dad knocks twice and opens the door, peering in. "Nightmares again?" he asks. "Heard you callin' out in your sleep."
The teen rolls towards the wall. Pulls his covers up.
"Any… anyway, first meal is up. Buncha folks stopped by after you'd gone to sleep. I told 'em you'd had a hard one and were restin', and most were pretty understandin'. Few left notes." He waits for a reply. After a few minutes of silence, he mutters, "Just… just thought you should know." The door creaks shut.
Beck stares at the cracks in the wall. Does not cry.
He takes a deep breath and slowly stretches every muscle of his body, thinking as he goes. Last night he'd gone to bed earlier than he should have, but he'd been too tired to do much else. Guilt hits him and pulls him out of bed, into the wash room, into his clothing, into the kitchen.
He flips through the notes. Lots of simple things that could wait. A basket of herbs someone thought he could find a use for. Several thank-you foods. A supply of things he'd happen to mention he needs. No one died last night, as far as he could tell. He relaxes.
There's a knock on the door. Landa. She nods to Beck's father and sits down next to her friend, helping him sort the goods. She adds her own to the mix and together they start separating out the ingredients for their patients. After a while, Landa yawns and jumps up, shaking herself awake. He watches the curve of her body as she does so.
"Alright," she grins. "I'm thinkin' today everyone'll take a day off bein' sick. How about you?"
He rolls his eyes. "Why would you torture me with a question like this?"
She shrugs and rifles in her bag. "I'm makin' tea," she announces, "You're having some."
Beck shakes his head but can't stop the smile on his face. Landa's a lot of things, and she's also one of the only reasons he was tethered to the ground.
"I bet you haven't eaten, neither," she says. He avoids eye contact, but she knows she's right. She heaves a sigh. "What are we going to do with you, Beck?" she groans. She heats their water and makes them both food, humming as she does so. When he'd first seen her, she'd been covered in bruises, looking at him through one eye, begging him for death.
Beck's dad comes in at the smell of food. He sends Landa a thankful glance. "Without you, I swear Beck wouldn't eat at all," he chuckles. The joke falls flat and she gives him a tight smile in reply. His dad recognizes the silence that falls and takes his food in another room.
"So rounds for today," Landa changes the topic, putting Beck's meal in front of him, "What do we got?"
=={falling down}==
Rence waits out on his porch, yawning. "Deeter," she calls, "Hurry your crumbly self up."
"He can't find his pants," his little sister tells her, "He doesn't want you to see him mostly naked."
The teenager groans and leans her head in the door. "I seen it all before on others, smack. Nothin' I'm gon' be scared by."
"Give me five tracks, Rence," he calls, "Father Almighty."
Rence makes a big deal about this, sighing loudly and leaning against his house. She examines her split ends.
Harper had woken her up with a first meal and a smile, shaky on her thin legs. The sickness has turned her nails black and brought their beds back to her first knuckle. At first Rence thought it was going to be a good day, but then Harp had started spewing things about the Father and they'd had to lock her up again. Rence had wrestled her to the floor and shoved a gag into her mouth.
Deeter bangs out of the house, shoving food into his mouth with one hand and tucking in his shirt with another. He rolls his eyes at her.
"Couldn't this have waited?" he says around his meal, "Mom's gonna kill me."
She prances down the steps. "What, put off goin' to the Heights? What kinda smack are you?"
He sighs and finishes eating, trailing behind her. The kids on their way to the streets call out her name and she offers shrugs and tiny waves in reply. Everyone likes Rence. They've seen what she'd do for her sister. Deeter gets kind of the same acknowledgement, but more in the context that he's her best friend than because he's special in any particular way.
She looks behind her shoulder and slows down to match his pace. "Haircuts and rations. How hard can this be? Don't suppose the Father could just smell our bad on us, could he?"
"You legitimately just want to kill me," he tells her as the ground starts to slope upwards, "Go 'head. Just jibble every single detail of my life to strangers."
She grins. "Well," she says in a loud voice. He claps his hand over her mouth to stop her and she bites him. He protests and she snaps at the air, clicking her teeth together, making a joke about it. She's light on her feet and already bouncing into a jog.
"It's a bad day, isn't it?" he asks.
She breaks out into a run.
=={falling}==
"Meow," says Jason. Carrie rolls her eyes.
"Meow yourself," she laughs, fixing her shirt. New clothing bothers her. "How was last night? Sam stay over?"
Jason's long eyelashes flutter. "Don't see how it rightly affects you, but yes."
Carrie pulls her hair up into a pony tail, catches sight of the scars on her neck, drops her hands. Takes a deep breath, does it again and does not look at her reflection.
A long, long time ago, she had picked up a blade. Sometimes her heart beats undo, undo, undo.
"Where we goin' today?" he wants to know, shadowing her as they make their way past the farmlands and into the tight city.
"Well I have to go help some street-kid get his medical gear together or something. Miss Kate says he comes highly recommended and he'd take a look at Kas if I was nice, so I guess I gotta be nice and proper."
Jason snorts down his nose. "You don't even know what proper is, little lady."
"You should talk," she retorts, "Seein' the kinda mischief you and Sam is up to."
He squares his shoulders and drops a shiny for food, pocketing it for his pets. "I am mon-o-gam-ous," he declares, "I don't see a thing wrong with that at all."
She rolls her eyes. "Sure, you're just the Father above. Pure, aint ya? Why don't we take you to the Heights and see just how pure that goes? Better yet, let's ask Micah just how monogamous you are."
Jason lets out a long sigh. "Can't help I'm irresistible," he says, winking. She laughs and lets him take her hand. They wander for a bit, picking out food and shinies and supplies for later. She stops by her work and gets the description and instructions of her charge.
They pad to the front gate, waiting outside the guarded door. He challenges her to a card game, which he cheats at. They end up drawing a crowd and eventually the subject of Carrie and her knives comes up which is how she ends up on a table, throwing one behind her shoulder with one eye closed. She's supposed to hit a target fifty feet away.
"Alright," Jason calls over the shouts, "Bets placed that she misses go in the bag. Bets that she hits and we all go home and cry go to me. Takers?"
Carrie closes her eyes as the noise swells.
Her father had held her hand and showed her how to flick her wrist just so. His smile had been with wrinkles around his eyes.
She takes a deep breath. Wishes Prime was here to steady her hands. Like usual, she has to do it herself.
Forward, back. She can see the arc of the blade before she's let go. Her fingers leave the handle and she tenses. The moment of the curve through the air is the one that taunts her. She closes her eyes.
It echoes where it hits and she turns. Her knife is shuddering in the center of the wood. She wishes she had missed.
Cheers and shouts meet her as she hops off the table. She trots to her blade and sheathes it, ignoring the others. After she's thrown, she just kind of becomes invisible. No longer special. No longer useful.
A hand taps her and she twists down, has his throat at her metal's edge without thinking. He holds up his arms to show he's friendly and takes a step back.
"Sorry," he doesn't look very sorry, just annoyed, "I was told to look for the girl with a knife habit. I assume you're her?" He has grey eyes and smooth, tan skin.
"Who's asking?" she hisses. Thinks about how fast she could run. Points her knife at him still.
"Beck. They said you'd show me to the supplies." He looks more like he would prefer anything other than spending time with her, but she can't really blame him. She thinks about the scars on her neck and collarbones, the ones that peek out and snake under her clothes. Ugly.
Never show them your weakness, Prime had whispered to her, Do not turn from anyone. He had trailed kisses down her neck and sank his teeth into the soft of her skin.
"Beckett Dane?" she clarifies. "You're Beckett Dane?"
"Beck," he growls.
She backs towards Jason."Can I see your ring?" She's always supposed to ask but she can already tell by his pack that he's a healer. He flashes the thick silver band anyway, and she leads him through the crowd.
"Jace," she calls, "Our meat is here."
"Go on without me," he shouts back, "I seem to have discovered another person interested in monogamy."
She does not roll her eyes even though she wants to. "Alright," she says finally, "This way." She wishes Kas was with her. The idea makes her heart drop. Be nice, she reminds herself. "So," she tries for cheery, "I'm Carrie Ashlyn."
He cuts those endless-fog eyes over to her at the change in her attitude but lets her lead him out of the square. Doesn't say anything, just shifts his bag.
"So," she's not sure how else to approach the subject, "Do you mind if we check out my animals before we get your things."
She watches as his eyes cut to the sky and he takes a deep breath. He shrugs. "I can't guarantee I'll be any help, but I don't see why not, given the charming welcome you've given me." His voice is smooth and sweet. She does her best not to notice it.
The blonde gives him a sheepish smile. "Sorry," she mutters, "A little jumpy 'round new folk, I guess."
He shrugs again. "Probably shouldn't have touched you," he admits, "But aint the blades just a little overkill?"
Scars and scars of overkill.
"Nah," she says, "You coulda been some deadly smack for all I knew. Don't pay to take chances in Havoc."
Beck falls silent at that, so she lets him. They're at her barn before he breaks the quiet. "Just how did you make that shot?" he wonders.
She grins and offers him a wink in reply, shouldering the doors open and shouting out to the house that she's home. She leads her healer to the pile of straw that Kas is sleeping in, his little vixen paws twitching.
The brunette drops to the ground and holds out one hand for Kas to sniff sleepily. After that, the boy does the routine check-up that Carrie can no longer afford from Havoc doctors. Once in a while Beck stops and rubs at his eyes. In those instants, she becomes aware of just how tired he looks.
He stands up and brushes off his hands. "Well, I'm sorry on a few accounts. Mostly that I'm not good with critter-folk at all, but I've done the best I can to be certain the little fella is up and workin'. Next I'm right proper sorry I can't hand you the medicine I think he needs, 'cause there's human-folk that need that stuff firstly."
She goes from human into husk.
"But," he continues, stretching, "I can show you how to make the things Kas needs. After you take me to where my medicine is waitin', though. I got folk countin' on me, and I'm 'fraid I can't spend too much time here just wanderin' 'bout gettin' my neck slashed at by some blonde girl."
"Thank you," she breathes, holding her arms tight against her body, "Thank you so much, Beckett. I… I don't know what…"
He holds up his hands. "If you're fixin' to pay me, you best do yourself a payment and never call me Beckett again. That should end this contract 'bout fairly."
She scoops up her little ball of fur, feeling the heave of his tiny ribcage. Holds him close and starts walking, wondering how exactly she's supposed to thank someone for holding together her heart.
=={down}==
By the time they make it to the Heights, Deeter has had to shut Rence up exactly forty-six times and has had to hold her back thrice. She's pouting now, practically sulking. "Let's just do this," she mutters at him, "Heights people are crumbly at the best."
Deeter leads her to a hair salon where they stand in line before being separated because of their gender. A woman pulls her away and for a second she looks back and their eyes meet. She lifts one hand as if to reach for him, but drops it before it gets anywhere.
They take Deeter into the boy's side and sit him down in a chair. The woman smiles at him and shows him the scissor choice. He hates his haircuts probably less than Rence does because she doesn't really understand the necessary banter of the shops.
"Happy train to you," the woman smiles, taking out a ruler and holding against his head, "You're exactly two and a half centimeters from regulation."
He stiffens. He had no idea his hair was getting so long. "May the Father forgive me," he states, "I will do my best to correct this situation."
"We all do our best," she beams. She wants to die. He can see it in her eyes.
"We do," he murmurs, stares at himself, thinks of Rence, "We do."
=={oh the streets}==
Nikka wakes up and her stomach is so empty that she retches. The insides of her feel scraped clean. She drags herself to her feet and tries to judge the time, but in the streets that's nearly impossible. Her mouth tastes terrible, but at least she still has her things.
She puts one hand out against the wall, more to steady herself than to find her way. Her head is swimming. She gags and leans over, the hunger cramps knitting into her sides. She holds out one shaky hand and examines her fingers. Her nails are turning blue. She can see the sharp bones of her skeleton jutting against her skin.
The girl starts walking and thinks maybe if she dies here, her daddy will remember he has a daughter.
=={are falling down}==
"Ugh," says Bree, flopping onto her back, "Ugh."
Zyon looks at her over the bolt of teal cloth he's pulled from the streets. He's pulling it taunt, looking for flaws.
She heaves a sigh. "I mean, ugh," she repeats. One arm goes up over her eyes. "Really, really, ugh."
He takes the bait. "What's wrong, Bree?" He finds a stain and marks it for later.
The blonde flips over onto her side, propping herself up on an elbow. "Well," she begins, but then her entire body tenses. He recognizes the reaction and starts listening.
Echoing down the tight hallways of the streets, there are voices. Twenty people, at the least. Younger than Bree and Zyon, from what it sounds like, but twenty people was still more than either of them could handle.
He cuts off as much fabric as he can and shoves it into his bag without a word. He stashes the rest in a pile, but he doubts it's going to be there when he gets back. Bree's already on her feet, hands on her bag, ready to run. They creep down to the ground, flinching every time their movement sends things skittering.
As soon as his feet are on more even turf, Zyon feels better. It doesn't stop them from running, but it makes him less positive he's about to be dead. They bolt in the opposite direction of the noises, running as quietly as they can away from the certain death behind them.
After a while, they're both out of breath but alive. Bree sends him a relieved look and turns a corner, and this is how she runs into the boy who is waiting for her.
"Hello," he says, looming over her, "I'm Craig. Now, I don't want things to get dis-civil here, so let's all just do the right smart thing and hand over your stuff afore I hand you over to the next train."
Bree tries to run, but when she turns, they're surrounded. She puts her back against Zyon's and absently reaches for his hand. He squeezes it and she sends the gang around them a bright smile. "Rightly I would," she sings, "But I aint got nothin'. My bag's empty as the fog." She puts one hand against the wall of the tunnel and Zyon puts one hand against her. She skims the debris idly. "Why don't you young things just let us go and we'll call it shiny?"
The first boy leans back on his heels. "I told you," he says, "I didn't want things all dis-civil. Now I gotta beat you up. That's my time and my effort. So mind you, this is gonna hurt me more than it's gonna kill you."
"Probably," Zyon agrees, and punches Craig in the face. The boy goes down, but the minute it's happened, the tension breaks and they're swarmed.
Bree rips a lamp out from the rubble and cracks the stained-glass lampshade over someone's head. She wraps the cord around a boy's neck and swings the blunt end right into a girl's face.
"Let's go," Zyon growls. He shakes a pair of teeth off of him and starts working towards the end of the passageway.
The blonde agrees. but then someone lands a hit on her and the air escapes her lungs. Another finds her jaw and she starts seeing black tinge her vision. From the sounds behind her, Zyon's not doing too well, either. There's too many of them. A fist finds her throat. She chokes and takes someone down with a blind swing, but she can't breathe and she's knocked off balance and everything is just anger and rage and pain and she hears Zyon breathe "I promised Rose," and then everything goes white.
=={don't}==
When Dill drops off the bag and gets their payment, she happens to glance down at her fingers.
They're covered in blood and black.
She just wipes them off on her pants and thinks of vowels.
=={tell}==
"Rence," he tries, seeing the look on her face. "It's ok."
She plays with her newly shortened hair and doesn't look at him. He can feel her anxiety rolling off her shoulders.
"We'll get our rations and go. You don't need to stay here much longer, I promise."
Her hazel eyes cut to him. "Now you're talkin' like 'em," she hisses, "I hate their fancy talk."
It's like she is actually trying to die. His eyes widen and he grabs her hand without thinking, tugging her towards the rations building. She yanks it from his grasp, anger writing across her face.
"Deeter," she growls, "Don't you ever –" Rence stops herself and straightens her spine. He sees her take all that rage and just shove it into some dark space. She just stalks into the building and nods at the girl behind the counter. "I'm Florence Louise Grey, here to pick up my rations?"
The girl's blue eyes catch Rence's. Judging from the look, she recognizes the slight street accent that Rence has never been able to run away from. "I'm Stephanie," the black-haired teen says, "Would you prefer to look by yourself or shall I do it for you?"
"By myself is rightly fine," Rence grins, hearing the same hidden street lilt, "If it pleases you."
Deeter signs in too and they head up the stairs and Rence scans the long aisles for the box she's looking for. They pass a tiny frail Heights girl with no meat on her bones and Deeter's smile goes unreturned.
"Look," he says when they're alone, "I'm sorry I pulled you. I know you hate that."
She doesn't look at him. She ignores him as she holds up her grey rations card against boxes, trying to match the colors.
He sends his eyes to the ceiling. "It's not like I meant to hurt you, Rence."
Her eyes cut to him and her mouth opens. Her jaw works. She's doing her very best not to make a scene, so she doesn't say anything, just keeps walking.
Deeter groans and trails after her. "Father, Rence, I –"
Sirens. Louder than they'd even been in the street. Rence blindly reaches for him, pulls him close against her body, for an instant just wraps her fingers into the front of his shirt, terrified. Something clicks and he can see her lips form the word Harper before she's sprinting out of the store.
She makes it as far as the girl Stephanie before the world explodes. The teens fall to the ground as the ground lurches. Glass and wood rain from the sky. Deeter crouches next to Rence, covering her body as much as possible with his own. He can't think. He can't move. He feels her trembling and holds her tighter.
Heat, heat and desolation and it just goes on and on and on.
=={Father.}==
Sammy takes the little girl's clothing and makes a shine to her. He carves her name into his skin, right above the others.
He kneels down and puts his hands to his lips and prays please let this be the last please let this be the last.
Does not cry.
XXXXXXXX
A.N:Sorry this is late, darlings. My computer restarted and deleted half of it and then continued to shut down mid-scene, so this is actually Chapter Four, version six-and-a-half, give or take.
Rigby and Dill are the creation of my dear Hitoshura-ha.
I am sorry I cannot spell Rigby's name correctly. I have been watching too many episodes of the Mentalist and for some reason I just assume everyone's name is Rigsby. ):
I've been asked this about nine times, so officially: yes, you may send more than one person, just ask me first so I know it's coming :)
Thank you so much to those who review! Honestly I can't stress enough how much it means to me that you support me. I get pretty anxious about my writing, so knowing that I don't suck/this story isn't too off the rails is a good feeling. So go ahead and tell me what to name that Growlithe (seriously please I can't think of anything I'm dying), tell me how crazy I am for writing a story based off my dreams, tell me your secrets. And again, those who do review... I love you all so much.
Alright cool cats. I am away this weekend, so I'll see you guys two Fridays from now. I hope you all have a wonderful and safe Halloween, and I'll see you in November :)
Take Care.