Title: Sombra de la Tormenta, Part Three: One Down
Author: Alanna diAblo
Summery: See Prolouge
Rating: R
* * * *
"You're looking for Abby?" The woman at the soup kitchen asked me. "About five, five brown hair and brown eyes?"
I nodded and she gave me directions to a corner downtown.
As I drove down the highway, the headlights of cars turned on, flickering like early morning stars. It was still light out, but just barely. The sky was fading from salmon pink to a deep purple. A gentle breeze rusted through the air, rushing out the hot weather of a Chicago summer.
I flipped my blinker on, and slowed down as I entered a shady part of town. I tried to keep my eyes on the road as I drove past the dealers and the gangs-a group of boys playing with knifes like they were toys. Groups of homeless people congregated around park benches, ignoring the people who rushed were trying to get behind locked doors before dark.
The liquor store had been assaulted by graffiti long ago, and was missing a few letters. The drug store had bars on the windows, along with almost every other building in the district. I slowed down even more, despite the beeping of the car behind me; the base beat of the music comming from it was increasing the pounding in my heart.
A dark form was crouched down by a wall. I didn't know what to make of it at first, but then I saw the pale skin, and those eyes, and I just knew.
I pulled over, and the car behind me sped away down the street, the passengers were screaming something back to me that I couldn't hear. Which was probably a good thing, I had thought as I slammed my car door shut.
The noise caused her to glance up, but once she saw me approaching her gaze held to give me a cold stare. It was devoid or anything showing she was human, and I felt my heart drop to my feet.
She was as high as a kite but some part of her knew that I wasn't a stranger, though she had tensed up as I came closer.
It's not like I could blame the fear on her.
I reached down to her, to pull her up from the misery of the life that lie before her. Abby stared up at me with eyes that screamed vacancy. Regardless, she took my hand. I pulled her up, and hugged her to me with one arm.
"Abby," I whispered. "I'm going to help you." She was too worn out to bother fighting me off or to stand on her own.
I lifted her into the car, and she slumped against the window as the door shut. She was like a puppet, and I had the strings. It scared me to see her like this: so weak, so unlike Abby. It was then it had hit me that I might never get the same old Abby back. Ever. If I let this continue.
We drove through the night, Abby asleep against the cold window. Soft murmurs and notes drifted from the radio that I didn't have the energy to turn off. The traffic got quieter as we neared the outskirts of the city. The moon was only a sliver in the sky, God's Thumbnail, as Abby liked to call it.
I glanced over at her; shallow and even breaths hit the window, making steam. I longed to reach out for her, to touch her once more, but I resisted.
I drove for a long time. I drove into early the next morning, stopping only once to get gas and a bite to eat. Through it all, Abby slept. As I watched her, eating my gas-station sandwich, I thought about every thing.
Am I the butterfly or tornado?
Tornado, defiantly the tornado. You've proved that to me on more than one occasion, Abby.
A tree falls in Zimbabwe and Abby's a heroin addict. Life is so cruel.
Now that the damage was done, I didn't want chaos to continue it's reign. There was only one thing left to try and rebuild the ruins of her life.
With one last look at the sleeping woman in the seat beside me, I drove back to where I should have taken her in the first place.I checked her into rehab. It felt like it was the right thing to do. I couldn't help her through this, but I could help her later on.
After filling out a couple of forms I'd left as quickly as possible.
I don't know if she even remembered that night, or if she did if she hated me for it. There were too many emotions to work through, and now they've been waiting in the corners for their chance to pull us down again. I was ready and waiting to resist or serve.
* * * *
"I hungered for a grasp of the framework of contemporary living, for a knowledge of the forms of life about me, for eyes to see the bony structures of personality, for theories to light up the shadows of conduct."
--Richard Wright, Black Boy
* * * *
I'm free from that place, but not from myself. I was discharged this morning, and now I don't know what to do with my body. I don't know where I fit in, where I belong. It's as if I've been dropped in the middle of the world without knowing how to get by. Everything has to be relearned and regained. I'm alone and, I'll admit it, I'm scared.
As I walk through the streets of Chicago, I pass by familiar stores. It's like de ja vu. It's like everyone is watching me, and no one wants to help. They can see me, but they can't know me or do anything about it. I'm on a reality show, and everyone else is the camera.
I know that I have my old house back, Dr. Marcek told me Carter had been paying rent and would continue to do so for as long as I needed the support. Which wouldn't be long, I told myself, because I would be applying for jobs the next morning. At the moment, I just need to walk. I don't want to go home because it would make this weird feeling even worse. Carter is probably there too. I don't want to face him yet. There's too much to say and I don't feel like talking.
The wind blows hard, and I clutch the cheap jacket, tighter. It's freezing, I'd forgotten how cold Chicago winters were. Rounding the corner of the sidewalk, I see a brightly lit restaurant covered in Christmas lights. I drift closer towards it, drawn by the familiarity.
Inside, people are laughing and eating. It's crowded and smoke filled, but the atmosphere is cozy. I look up to read the sign and realize it's Doc Magoo's. I'm across the street from County. Your feet always do take you home.
Taking a look over at the ambulance bay I spy Susan Lewis smoking a cigarette.
Since when does Susan smoke?
I turn cheek as she stares over in my direction, and then I take a sidelong glance. She's caught sight of me all right. Her full attention is facing my direction at the moment, and I feel like a bug under a microscope.
I turn heal and walk back in the direction I came in. I hope she figures it was just someone who looked like me. At the moment, I'd rather face my old home and the possibility of Carter, instead the entire ER staff.
One person is waiting for me, and I already have enough explaining to do. A whole hospital might take a year, and lots of patience that I don't have.
* * * *
I've been waiting on her couch for an entire day. I forgot how she would have probably figured out I would be here on her first day home, and would most-likely want to be alone. I disregarded those facts as soon as they came to mind. Abby's doctor said that I should let her know I'm there for her, insist on it even. Waiting up for her is a step in the right direction.
The heat in her house is really high because the thermostat is busted. I've called the landlord, but he can't fix it until tomorrow. I'm already striped down to a tee shirt and slacks; all of the windows are open as well. I can't take it anymore, so I head outside.
I sit on the steps watching my breath in the frosty air. We used to sit here together at night, Abby smoking a cigarette, and myself keeping her company. We'd talk, there was supposed to be no hiding. There wasn't, until this. It was scary how dependant on each other we became. I had needed her as much as she needed me. Perhaps that's what drove her to drug use.
I sigh and lean on my elbows, benchwarmer position. I've put my brain on autopilot, not wanting the millions of negative thoughts to get me down. I've gone numb, not wanting to overwhelm Abby her first day back. I have to be like ice. There's someone watching me, I can sense a presence.
I look up.
She stands in front of me, her coat flapping in the stung December winds, her arms dropped to her side. She's clean, she's home, and she's safe. I stand up, my mouth agape. Her features have hardened and she looks much older than her thirty-two years. The one thing that reassures me is the slight smile gracing her face. At least she seems to be at peace with herself. Still, I don't know what to expect.
Another gust of wind hits the street hard, and her hair flies in front of her face, strands getting caught in between her lips. She takes a step towards me. Time stands still as a million questions race through my mind.
Before I know it, Abby is in my arms with her body pressed against mine and her head tucks into my chest. I squeeze her to myself, never wanting to let her go. The wind blows against us, howling in our ears. I'm still in a tee shirt, but the cold doesn't bother me. I'm content enough to know that I can hold her again.
Amidst it all, she just grasps me like she'll blow away if either of us lets go. In this iron grasp of hers I remember what it was like between us.
Eventually the wind dies down, and we relax into each other.
"I'm sorry." I say, causing her to look up. Abby pulls away but still keeps her arms around my waist. She smiles a bittersweet smile that sends a pang into my stomach. I'm literally aching for her as she shakes her head. Abby embraces me once more, her hands running up my back, then down to rest again.
My ache has subsided. She knows.
One down. Thousands to go.
* * * *
End, Sombra de la Tormenta, Part Three: One Down
Part Four coming soon.
Author's Note:
Okay, everyone when they see Sara beter give her a **BIG** cyber hug, cause without her this whole thing wouldn't have been possible. Everyones is so busy, and I feel honored she took the time to beta this for me. THANKS SARA!!! I'm forever your groupie.
I'm guessing there will be at least five chapters and an epilouge. FYI, Part Four is in the works, so if you have sujestions please get them to me and I'll try my best to incorrporate them.
If no one had reviewed and given sujestions on how I can improve my work, I wouldn't bother posting online. So to all who have given great feedback and even an "I enjoy your work" I really appreciate it. Thanks.
And for all who are looking for some good Abby angst, my reccomendation is Vivi Dahlin's 'The Boy Next Door.' Seriously, this almost made me cry, and I can't say that for much of anything I've read these days.
Until next time, adios.
Always a pleasure to write~ Alanna diAblo
Author: Alanna diAblo
Summery: See Prolouge
Rating: R
* * * *
"You're looking for Abby?" The woman at the soup kitchen asked me. "About five, five brown hair and brown eyes?"
I nodded and she gave me directions to a corner downtown.
As I drove down the highway, the headlights of cars turned on, flickering like early morning stars. It was still light out, but just barely. The sky was fading from salmon pink to a deep purple. A gentle breeze rusted through the air, rushing out the hot weather of a Chicago summer.
I flipped my blinker on, and slowed down as I entered a shady part of town. I tried to keep my eyes on the road as I drove past the dealers and the gangs-a group of boys playing with knifes like they were toys. Groups of homeless people congregated around park benches, ignoring the people who rushed were trying to get behind locked doors before dark.
The liquor store had been assaulted by graffiti long ago, and was missing a few letters. The drug store had bars on the windows, along with almost every other building in the district. I slowed down even more, despite the beeping of the car behind me; the base beat of the music comming from it was increasing the pounding in my heart.
A dark form was crouched down by a wall. I didn't know what to make of it at first, but then I saw the pale skin, and those eyes, and I just knew.
I pulled over, and the car behind me sped away down the street, the passengers were screaming something back to me that I couldn't hear. Which was probably a good thing, I had thought as I slammed my car door shut.
The noise caused her to glance up, but once she saw me approaching her gaze held to give me a cold stare. It was devoid or anything showing she was human, and I felt my heart drop to my feet.
She was as high as a kite but some part of her knew that I wasn't a stranger, though she had tensed up as I came closer.
It's not like I could blame the fear on her.
I reached down to her, to pull her up from the misery of the life that lie before her. Abby stared up at me with eyes that screamed vacancy. Regardless, she took my hand. I pulled her up, and hugged her to me with one arm.
"Abby," I whispered. "I'm going to help you." She was too worn out to bother fighting me off or to stand on her own.
I lifted her into the car, and she slumped against the window as the door shut. She was like a puppet, and I had the strings. It scared me to see her like this: so weak, so unlike Abby. It was then it had hit me that I might never get the same old Abby back. Ever. If I let this continue.
We drove through the night, Abby asleep against the cold window. Soft murmurs and notes drifted from the radio that I didn't have the energy to turn off. The traffic got quieter as we neared the outskirts of the city. The moon was only a sliver in the sky, God's Thumbnail, as Abby liked to call it.
I glanced over at her; shallow and even breaths hit the window, making steam. I longed to reach out for her, to touch her once more, but I resisted.
I drove for a long time. I drove into early the next morning, stopping only once to get gas and a bite to eat. Through it all, Abby slept. As I watched her, eating my gas-station sandwich, I thought about every thing.
Am I the butterfly or tornado?
Tornado, defiantly the tornado. You've proved that to me on more than one occasion, Abby.
A tree falls in Zimbabwe and Abby's a heroin addict. Life is so cruel.
Now that the damage was done, I didn't want chaos to continue it's reign. There was only one thing left to try and rebuild the ruins of her life.
With one last look at the sleeping woman in the seat beside me, I drove back to where I should have taken her in the first place.I checked her into rehab. It felt like it was the right thing to do. I couldn't help her through this, but I could help her later on.
After filling out a couple of forms I'd left as quickly as possible.
I don't know if she even remembered that night, or if she did if she hated me for it. There were too many emotions to work through, and now they've been waiting in the corners for their chance to pull us down again. I was ready and waiting to resist or serve.
* * * *
"I hungered for a grasp of the framework of contemporary living, for a knowledge of the forms of life about me, for eyes to see the bony structures of personality, for theories to light up the shadows of conduct."
--Richard Wright, Black Boy
* * * *
I'm free from that place, but not from myself. I was discharged this morning, and now I don't know what to do with my body. I don't know where I fit in, where I belong. It's as if I've been dropped in the middle of the world without knowing how to get by. Everything has to be relearned and regained. I'm alone and, I'll admit it, I'm scared.
As I walk through the streets of Chicago, I pass by familiar stores. It's like de ja vu. It's like everyone is watching me, and no one wants to help. They can see me, but they can't know me or do anything about it. I'm on a reality show, and everyone else is the camera.
I know that I have my old house back, Dr. Marcek told me Carter had been paying rent and would continue to do so for as long as I needed the support. Which wouldn't be long, I told myself, because I would be applying for jobs the next morning. At the moment, I just need to walk. I don't want to go home because it would make this weird feeling even worse. Carter is probably there too. I don't want to face him yet. There's too much to say and I don't feel like talking.
The wind blows hard, and I clutch the cheap jacket, tighter. It's freezing, I'd forgotten how cold Chicago winters were. Rounding the corner of the sidewalk, I see a brightly lit restaurant covered in Christmas lights. I drift closer towards it, drawn by the familiarity.
Inside, people are laughing and eating. It's crowded and smoke filled, but the atmosphere is cozy. I look up to read the sign and realize it's Doc Magoo's. I'm across the street from County. Your feet always do take you home.
Taking a look over at the ambulance bay I spy Susan Lewis smoking a cigarette.
Since when does Susan smoke?
I turn cheek as she stares over in my direction, and then I take a sidelong glance. She's caught sight of me all right. Her full attention is facing my direction at the moment, and I feel like a bug under a microscope.
I turn heal and walk back in the direction I came in. I hope she figures it was just someone who looked like me. At the moment, I'd rather face my old home and the possibility of Carter, instead the entire ER staff.
One person is waiting for me, and I already have enough explaining to do. A whole hospital might take a year, and lots of patience that I don't have.
* * * *
I've been waiting on her couch for an entire day. I forgot how she would have probably figured out I would be here on her first day home, and would most-likely want to be alone. I disregarded those facts as soon as they came to mind. Abby's doctor said that I should let her know I'm there for her, insist on it even. Waiting up for her is a step in the right direction.
The heat in her house is really high because the thermostat is busted. I've called the landlord, but he can't fix it until tomorrow. I'm already striped down to a tee shirt and slacks; all of the windows are open as well. I can't take it anymore, so I head outside.
I sit on the steps watching my breath in the frosty air. We used to sit here together at night, Abby smoking a cigarette, and myself keeping her company. We'd talk, there was supposed to be no hiding. There wasn't, until this. It was scary how dependant on each other we became. I had needed her as much as she needed me. Perhaps that's what drove her to drug use.
I sigh and lean on my elbows, benchwarmer position. I've put my brain on autopilot, not wanting the millions of negative thoughts to get me down. I've gone numb, not wanting to overwhelm Abby her first day back. I have to be like ice. There's someone watching me, I can sense a presence.
I look up.
She stands in front of me, her coat flapping in the stung December winds, her arms dropped to her side. She's clean, she's home, and she's safe. I stand up, my mouth agape. Her features have hardened and she looks much older than her thirty-two years. The one thing that reassures me is the slight smile gracing her face. At least she seems to be at peace with herself. Still, I don't know what to expect.
Another gust of wind hits the street hard, and her hair flies in front of her face, strands getting caught in between her lips. She takes a step towards me. Time stands still as a million questions race through my mind.
Before I know it, Abby is in my arms with her body pressed against mine and her head tucks into my chest. I squeeze her to myself, never wanting to let her go. The wind blows against us, howling in our ears. I'm still in a tee shirt, but the cold doesn't bother me. I'm content enough to know that I can hold her again.
Amidst it all, she just grasps me like she'll blow away if either of us lets go. In this iron grasp of hers I remember what it was like between us.
Eventually the wind dies down, and we relax into each other.
"I'm sorry." I say, causing her to look up. Abby pulls away but still keeps her arms around my waist. She smiles a bittersweet smile that sends a pang into my stomach. I'm literally aching for her as she shakes her head. Abby embraces me once more, her hands running up my back, then down to rest again.
My ache has subsided. She knows.
One down. Thousands to go.
* * * *
End, Sombra de la Tormenta, Part Three: One Down
Part Four coming soon.
Author's Note:
Okay, everyone when they see Sara beter give her a **BIG** cyber hug, cause without her this whole thing wouldn't have been possible. Everyones is so busy, and I feel honored she took the time to beta this for me. THANKS SARA!!! I'm forever your groupie.
I'm guessing there will be at least five chapters and an epilouge. FYI, Part Four is in the works, so if you have sujestions please get them to me and I'll try my best to incorrporate them.
If no one had reviewed and given sujestions on how I can improve my work, I wouldn't bother posting online. So to all who have given great feedback and even an "I enjoy your work" I really appreciate it. Thanks.
And for all who are looking for some good Abby angst, my reccomendation is Vivi Dahlin's 'The Boy Next Door.' Seriously, this almost made me cry, and I can't say that for much of anything I've read these days.
Until next time, adios.
Always a pleasure to write~ Alanna diAblo