Disclaimer: I own Daenerys Aerilyn Ramsey, Jared Russel, Derrik Kingsley, Margret Grosse and Mimzy. I do NOT own Matt, Steve, Andrew from the film Chronicle or any other character introduced from this point forward unless otherwise mentioned, nor do I own anything else. If I did own the rights to anything other than what I've specifically mentioned, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction. I'd be published and filthy rich, assuming people would buy my books. Enjoy.

Chapter 4

I walked into the law offices of Rickels and Madd looking every bit as pitiful as I felt. I wasn't quite sure how to pitch this half-cocked plan I had in my head but I was going to see if I could figure it out as I went. I gave a little half smile to the receptionist when she looked up. With more confidence than I was really feeling, I said, "I'd like to see either Mr. Rickels or Mr. Madd, please."

"Do you have an appointment?" the woman asked with a slightly snide tone.

"No, I don't."

"Neither of the counselors are meeting with anyone without appointments today. I can set an appointment for you but it looks like you'll have to wait until…" she paused, looking two calendar books, "Next month."

"Next month?!" I wondered to myself how the hell I was supposed to make it for one month without a driver's license, a phone, a car, a place to live…. Mimzy? How the hell am I going to make it without that grey fur ball? My chest ached from the thought of her being alone.

"Yes, next month. Friday, October 19th work for you? I have 4:00 open, the last appointment of the day."

"I suppose I have no choice, do I? Set it, please."

"Name?"

"Daenerys Ramsey."

"Phone number?"

"I don't have one." She raised an eyebrow at me.

"You don't have one?"

"No, I don't. If I have one, I don't remember it. I don't remember much from before last night. Just my name and the rest is kind of vague."

The woman looked bored with my answer, as though she'd heard it before. If that was the case, then I'd have to rethink my strategies. She handed me a business card for Counselor Colm Rickels with my appointment date and time written on the back.

"Be back here at the appointed date fifteen minutes before your appointment time or you will forfeit your appointment. Thank you."

It was obvious that I was dismissed and I felt that this woman was just about one of the rudest people I'd ever met. I nearly walked out with a huff but kept my childish outburst barely in check. As I stalked down the street, I couldn't help but keep wondering what the hell was going on. What the hell happened to me? That pendant, that weird cloth… what did it do to me? Leaning against a wall along the sidewalk, I gently banged my head against the brick. I couldn't have been sucked into a black hole. That's an impossibility of physics and science. Black holes are not something you can survive; I would have been torn apart at the atomic level.

I started back down the street, my right hand rubbing over the cast on my left arm. I was just a little cool and since I didn't have any money, I couldn't just duck into a shop and warm up with some coffee. The pain in my arm was starting to grow, so I pulled out one of my stolen pill bottles and popped a pain killer. Where should I go? I wondered. I hadn't looked up homeless shelters in the area. I was beginning to feel a deep, terrifying pit in my stomach. I'd never been homeless before. I'd always had some kind of net to fall back into, whether it was my parents or my friends, someone was always there to catch me. Hopelessness began to overcome me. I'd been away from home for a day and everything was falling apart.

I was starting to get hungry and without any money, I knew that I wasn't going to last long if I didn't find a soup kitchen in the next day or so. Walking around in my snug jeans, camisole and sweater that I couldn't wear properly due to the cast, I felt a shiver run through me. It was September and I realized that Seattle was colder this time of year than Indiana. At least the temperatures would stay in the sixties for the most part during this time. Today, it had to be at least the low fifties. My clothes weren't nearly warm enough for this.

I was about to turn and ask a passing woman where the nearest shelter was when I spied something green and rectangular on the ground. I picked it up and was delighted at the $50 bill in my hands. I carefully examined it and was satisfied that it was legitimate before I found a cheap coffee shop and bought a small coffee and the cheapest bread item on the menu. I ate slowly, trying to savor each bite and each sip. I had $46 left to my name and I needed to make it stretch. I spent about an hour in the shop, just staring out the window before I stood up and walked out into the chilly air again.


It took several hours of looking and asking random people on the street before I found the homeless shelter in an area of Seattle that was trying to get better but failing miserably. It was dirty on the exterior of the building, probably because of the bum that was urinating on the side of it, and the trash littering the ground was swirling around in small little tornadoes with the wind. It was nearly as ghetto as some areas of Detroit I'd visited when I last went to see my Aunt Millie.

Aunt Millie lived two blocks over from some burnt out houses and at least one crack den but refused to move. Walking down the street to the store was a heart pounding experience for a nine year old girl, whose head had been filled with all sorts of scary stories by Mom about how dangerous Detroit neighborhoods could be, even with Aunt Millie packing her own heat. I swallowed my pride and strode up to the doors… and then turned right back around in fright when I heard a noise behind it. I made a snap decision at that point to go and find another place to sleep for the night.

It was starting to get dark and I was getting colder. I found nothing with which I could bring myself warmth in the trash cans and no light aside from those that lit the streets. My best bet, I realized, was to keep walking for now. My legs were burning from being up and about so much more often than I was entirely used to. My sides ached from forcing myself to stay in a standing position for so many hours and I dared not take one of my stolen pain killers. There were eyes in the dark watching me from the shadows. I figured that if they knew I was the new meat in the area, they'd be looking for a single drop of blood to hit the water and they'd frenzy over everything I had. I had to prove to these sharks that I wasn't chum, I was the big fish they were supposed to be afraid of. Even so, I was exhausted. I hadn't slept for at least twenty-four hours. I was already acting out of character, even for me.

I was in withdrawal from my Adderall, so I was already a little too twitchy. When this one rather disgusting looking man started to get too close, I gave him a glare as a warning. He didn't seem to mind it as he came even closer. I could see one of his hands getting ready to grab at my pocket and in response, I actually growled at him. I gave a cry of indignation as he grabbed my rear instead. I slapped him as hard as I could with my right hand and felt satisfied when his nose bled. That's when someone hit me over the head and everything went dark.


I felt groggy and my head hurt like crazy as I opened my eyes. I felt someone's hands in my pockets and I used my casted arm to smash their fingers. The disgusting old man I'd slapped pulled his hands out quickly with a surprised yelp. "Get the HELL off me, you pervert!" I screamed as I slapped away the hands of other greedy, toothless bastards groping me. I felt horribly violated by being touched by these sickos but was grateful I'd thought to hid the cash I'd found in my shoes. Some of these people scurried around like cockroaches as I started maneuvering to get my heavy body off the ground. I groaned, and touched my fingers to the back of my head where a lump and a wet spot had formed. I saw the blood and glared at the dirty men.

"You all are sick bastards, you know that?!" I screamed as I stalked away. I didn't know how long I'd been out but it couldn't have been long. I still had my shoes and the money I'd hidden in them. I only had my false bravado and a little bit of pride left in me as I stumbled back towards the main roads. It was getting dark and I was getting colder. Walking along the streets allowed me to get warm in the short term but I needed a long-term solution. I found an all-night diner and stepped inside, getting a dirty look from the waitress at first. Being hit upside the head must have given me a really dirty appearance.

I got myself to the bathroom and got to see just how nasty I looked. My face had grime on it from when I'd fallen in the street and there were smudges of dirt all over my sweater. I did my best to wash my face with my one good hand and to brush the dirt off my clothes before returning to the main restaurant and taking a seat in one of the booths. The waitress with the stink eye immediately came over to give me the, "You can't stay unless you buy something," speech without even bothering to ask if I wanted anything.

"Look, I was just nearly mugged and killed. Thank you very much for asking if I was okay before you treated me like a piece of crap," I snarled at her and slapped a $10 I'd taken from my shoe onto the table. True surprise showed on her face and she actually backed up a step. "Are you going to take my order or are you going to give me another nasty speech about how I need to buy something, because I obviously have some money on the table."

"You can't talk to me like that!" she responded with obvious contempt. "I'm getting the manager!"

"You go right ahead, lady. I'll be sure to tell them that you decided I was trash before I even walked in the door."

"Jacob will think the same thing," she sneered as she walked through the 'employees only' door. I shook my head in disgust. If Jacob was the manager and he did think the same thing, I would be sure to write a crappy restaurant review. She came back through the door just a moment later followed by an older man with mocha skin and greying hair. "There she is. This homeless woman was extremely rude to me, Jacob. I told her she has to leave if she isn't getting anything but she gave me some lip."

I was exhausted as I looked at this man and he stared at me with a measured gaze. He took in my dirty clothes, freshly washed face and the bill on the table. I could see that he was seriously considering the image before him and after a moment, turned to the woman I was forever going to call Stink Eye. "Arleen? She has money and it looks like she's going to get something. Are you telling me that you're refusing to serve her?"

"Damn right, Jacob. I don't have to take that kind of bad attitude from her. She gave me some line about being mugged, you know, but she still had money on her. What kind of mugger leaves money on his victim?" Stink Eye replied with a disgusted look in my direction.

"I said that I was nearly mugged, you simpleton. You didn't even ask if I wanted anything when I walked in, you just gave me dirty looks and told me I had to scram unless I had money. I put money on the table and you get offended!" I replied with indignation.

"Is that right?" Jacob mused out loud as he looked between Stink Eye and myself before coming to some kind of decision. "Arleen, if you could please clock out and leave your name tag and apron with me, I'd be very appreciative."

"Jake?" She looked confused.

"I'd like you to clock out and leave. I'm firing you." Now my eyebrows were raised. I'd never gotten someone fired before.

"What, because of her?" she cried.

"I've gotten other complaints about you and the fact that you're demanding I throw out a customer who has money to pay just because you don't like her or she isn't up to your standards of how someone should look in your mind is just the final nail in the coffin. I can't keep an employee that drives the customers away with her prejudices and nasty attitude. So, please go. Now."

Stink Eye stared at me with a contemptuous sneer as she took the apron and nametag and threw them on the floor. She stomped away towards a computer nearby and probably punched in her numbers harder than was really necessary before going to the back and grabbing her purse. The phrase, "If looks could kill…" ran through my mind as she continued to give me a murderous glare on her way out of the diner. I turned to Jacob and didn't have the strength to smile.

"So you were nearly mugged?" he asked. I nodded.

"A couple of bums a few streets over. Someone hit me over the head and next thing I know, I've got these perverts' hands in my pockets and some of them were trying to get into more than that. I don't think I was out too long, so they weren't able to do much to me. I'm still a little freaked about it," I replied. No sense in telling this guy where I hid my money, in case someone was listening.

"I see. You on the street now?"

"Yeah. I…" I hesitated. He's been kind to me… Should I lie? Should I tell him the truth? Hmm… I'll just tell him the fabrication I made up for the lawyers. "I don't know how long I've been on the street. I think something happened to me, like an accident or something. I don't remember much before yesterday. I think I know my name but I don't really know much else about myself."

"You don't know yourself?" He asked incredulously. He started to walk away when my hand shot out and grabbed his.

"Please! I really don't know myself," I insisted and then a far-off look covered my face as I finally told at least one piece of truth, "I don't know anything anymore. It's all gone."


Jacob had been a little kinder to me after that statement. He got me a burger and fries, on the house for Stink Eye's bad behavior and even though he was short a waitress, he spent a considerable amount of time just talking to me like a human being. It was the first time since Steve had helped me that anyone had been so generous. Jacob was very forthcoming. He was an older man and his family had lived in Seattle since the 1960's. Before that, they were from the deep south of Alabama where his ancestors had been slaves on a huge plantation before the Civil War.

While I ate, he talked about how he had a 10 year old daughter named Emma and his wife had passed away of cancer the year before. I found out that he often would use his free lunch to bring a meal to the homeless on his way home. He tried asking me questions about myself and I found myself answering with a little honesty. I told him that I thought I knew where my family was but when I called the numbers I had for them, they were all wrong. I'd used social networks to locate them but it was like they didn't exist.

Then came the little lies I needed to school myself into remembering. If everything I know is wrong after having a head injury, who am I really? Where is my family? We talked into the wee hours of the morning. I told him that if he was looking for a new waitress, I could take on that job for him. The only problem was he would have to pay me under the table; I don't have any of the proper paperwork to get a job otherwise. He seemed to mull that over while he stirred his second cup of coffee.

"I own this diner, you know. My father opened it in 1967. He would give jobs to all sorts of people passing through. In the sixties, there really were all sorts passing through. He didn't always document the people here either. I could let you work here under the table but where are you going to live?" he asked. I shrugged. I had no idea.

"I guess until I make enough to get an apartment, I'll be roughing it in the cold. I'll just have to find a thrift store around here that'll sell me a coat and boots for less than $20 and I could have a chance at making it. I think."

"You know, there's living quarters in the upstairs? My father used to have at least one person who would work here live in that little apartment to keep an eye on the place. I sleep there sometimes when I get snowed in. My wife's parents watch Emma for me, so she isn't alone when that happens. If you want, you can live there for now. I won't charge you rent or for your meals; you need to be able to get back on your feet quickly at this point, right?"

I was stunned by Jacob's kindness. He was taking on all the risk on himself with his offer. He had no idea if I was a good person or if I was just looking for a free ride but he was offering what he could anyway. For the first time since things had gone downhill for me, my eyes welled with tears. I nodded, got up and hugged this generous man. He patted me on the back and showed me to the upstairs apartment.

There was a bed with pillows and sheets on it, a small couch and an old tube TV, the kind that used bunny ears to catch a signal. The kitchen was tiny and had an oven, stove and microwave with an old-fashioned fridge. Jacob pulled all the sheets and pillow cases from the bed and walked over to a closet that revealed a stacked washer/dryer combo unit and threw everything inside to wash. In the closet next to that, he grabbed fresh linens for the bed and placed them on the bed. He showed me the bathroom, which only had a stall for a shower, and showed me where the clean towels were. I was humbled that he would put such automatic trust in me and then felt guilty for having lied at all. No one would believe that some magical pendant and cloth had put me in this predicament, I justified to myself.

He told me that the next day I could work wearing a short-sleeved shirt he'd get for me tomorrow in my size. He promised that he'd have a name tag and a clean apron ready for me. I thanked him and we both said good night. The apartment was tiny but I was just grateful to have shelter. There was a dirty clock on the wall that ticked away at the time and I realized that it was now 9:30 in the morning.

Not wanting to sully the clean sheets that had been laid out for me, I headed to the bathroom and stripped off everything I'd been wearing. Either I'd stretched those new pants out by wearing them continuously for a couple days, or I'd lost some weight again because with just a little push, they fell right off my hips. I turned to the side and noticed an old bathroom scale that probably hadn't been used since the early 80's. I pulled it out and took a step on it to see if the rotating numbers still worked. Satisfied, I put all my weight on it and watched patiently as the number crept closer to the 300 lb mark… and came up short. I had lost some weight. 12 pounds in just three days, it looked like. I supposed that walking and starving were a good way for that to happen. I was now at 290 lbs.

I used my foot to push the scale away as I stepped towards the shower and turned on the spray. Everything in the bathroom and the apartment was in good repair. Jacob wasn't one to let things go bad if he could avoid it, I thought. As the water got hotter, I adjusted it to the perfect setting for me and then went to the kitchen. After looking in several cabinets, I found trash bags and a first aid kit. The first thing I did was pull out the stolen pills from the hospital. I'd hidden them in my shirt beneath my breasts, where they were less likely to be found. I popped one for pain and one antibiotic. I'd been sparing on both since I didn't want people to see I had them and think I had more than that.

I pulled the bandage off of my right index finger and stared at the wound there. It had gotten dirty and would need cleaning. I laid out all of the things I'd need for that on the counter and then turned to the trash bags. Pulling one out of the roll, I wrapped my left arm in it carefully and then found some duct tape to seal it. I knew from previous experience that I couldn't get a cast wet if I wanted it to keep my arm and wrist steady. I headed to the shower and sighed as the hot spray pelted my abused body. I carefully used my right hand to probe the lump I'd gotten from the homeless attack and I saw a little blood swirl in the water at my feet as it went down the drain. They'd gotten me good. As all of my hair got soaked, I tried to use my fingers to comb through the long mess. There wasn't much I could do without a hairbrush, conditioner and a good deal of time but I did my best.

When I was clean, I went to the linen closet and got myself a towel that barely wrapped around me half way. One of the downsides of being obese – regular towels just don't cut it for modesty's sake. I toweled my body dry and then my hair with my index finger pointed straight out the whole time. The ragged cut was pretty gnarly to look at but at least my spending time in the shower had cleared out most of the dirt that had been clinging to it. I pulled out a cotton swab and soaked it with some alcohol, bracing myself for the pain I'd feel in just a second. I let out a silent scream as the pain seared through my hand. I then put an antibiotic ointment on the wound and used the medical gauze and tape to cover it again. I braided my hair and walked over to the bed to make it up.

I collapsed into the sheets as soon as they were on the mattress and the case was on the pillow in some semblance of order. I don't remember falling asleep, but I must have. When I next opened my eyes, it was dark out the single window and my head was pounding.