A Sea of Darkness

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Rating: PG

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A/N: Sorry it took so long, I sort of put off the writing for a little while. I had no ideas.  So this chapter sort of sucks.

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Chapter five: Thicker than Water

 "You are such an idiot!" I yell.

Eric just looks at me. The summer sun is so hot. We're walking down the street, or rather, the sidewalk. A bus just drove by. The fumes are making me choke. I coughed so much, I think I'm going to faint. Plus, I'm yelling. Loud. I don't really care who hears me.

Eric waits until I stop dieing before he talks. Then he only asks one question: "Why'd she go?"

The thing is, I have no answer for that. I always have answers. So it bugs me that I don't have one this time. I just look at him and yelp as my injured foot hits the ground.

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Eric's POV

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 She has that look on her face again. That uncertain glance and then she casts her eyes forward. She always does that when she doesn't know what to do. She did it the night the plate broke. She did it the night Dad left. She thinks that I don't remember that, but I do. I remember that she was there when they fought. I don't remember him. But I remember that she stayed with me through that awful night.

She's my mentor. She's five years older than me, but she seems way older than that. I'll never catch up to all the stuff she's seen and heard. I'm so inexperienced at this life. She's not.

When she doesn't know something, I get scared. But I guess I don't need to. I know that no matter what, she will fix everything.

But something's wrong with her foot. She won't answer me when I ask her about it. She either rolls her eyes or pretends not to hear me or she changes the subject. It's because she stepped on the glass. And she stepped on it because she was trying to help me. I can't help but feel a little guilty. A lot, actually. I feel bad that she had nobody to go to when times were bad. I feel bad that sometimes I get into trouble. Sometimes, I'm really bad. She puts up with me though.

Today, I went on the roof of the school. I didn't want to be trouble, but I'm confused and so, I acted without thinking. Of course, Abby came to get me. But then she said she was leaving. I knew she wasn't, but at the same time, I was scared. So, I ran down to catch up to her.

If she left, things would be horrible.

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Abby's POV

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The city sucks. It's so hot. The air is so thick, it's like I can't breathe. There's crime. It's scary.

We always pass these alleyways when we go home. I know to stay away from them. They're dark, and things hide in the shadows.

I like to walk quickly by them. But this time, we didn't. Because Eric heard something. I told him he was imagining it and to hurry up. He just ran into the alleyway. So of course, I have t follow him. Into the dark. Without an adult. Just a girl and a younger brother. Does anybody besides me see a problem here?

At least it's cool in the shade. I'm looking around. The coast looks clear. But then, something growls at me. Oh my God, there's a monster in this alley!

Hang on.

How old am I? There's no monster. It must be a dog. Which is worse. I've heard of all the stories of dog bites. I've seen all the mean dogs. I live with a neighbor (the vampire) that has a big monster dog. I swear, it's an elephant. Its name is Jaws. It eats everybody's newspapers. He's a big pain. But, a big pain with sharp teeth and enough drool to fill a bathtub. So, we pretend we're overjoyed to read a soggy newspaper with teeth marks in it. Gah. 

I look for a weapon. I like the looks of the rusty pipe in the corner, but I'm not going near the corner. I wish I had a machine gun. That would be useful. Nobody would bug me at school if I had a gun. Nobody would try to get to us. I've never used a gun, but I know my aim is perfect. I am the champion of darts.

A dart gun would be useful too. But maybe me, the angry 13 year old girl, should not have a gun. There are those stories of someone in school bringing a gun and going on a shooting rampage. Most people freak out, and get mad at the gunman, but I know how they feel. Like life sucks, it's never ever getting better, and there's nothing to live for anyway. So, why not take it out on some other people? I can't count the times I wish I could shoot some of the people I know. This scares me. I don't want to end up like those people. Like Mom. I don't want to be crazy, be panicked, be confused, and have to take medication. I know the disease is genetic. I just don't know if I have it. I can't tell. I wish I had a parent who would look out for me. But, oh look, they're both gone.

Suddenly, I jump back because yellow eyes are staring at me through the darkness. Eric wanders over.

"Lets go. Now."

"Abby, wait."

"What?"

"It's a cat." Eric points at the shadow beast. I've been freaking out over a cat.  A cat.

"Meow." The cat tells me.

It still won't move. 

We wait.

"Meow." It calls from the shadows. It hides in a box.

I don't want to go into a box. The cat might have rabies.

"Meow?" It asks. Maybe it needs help. So I move the box. Oh my God, it's the cat from Hell.

It just sits there. But its fur is all bloody. Its ear is torn. And I know why the cat can't move. One of its legs is, poor cat, missing! If I were that cat, I would have jumped in front of a truck long ago. It probably got attacked by a dog. That's what happens. I'm prepared to turn my back on it. It won't survive now. Will it?

But then it whimpers, a sad sort of 'mrrow', and I know I'm not leaving without it.

I take off my sweater. That's right, I was wearing a sweater. That's why I'm baking in the sun. Eric and I pretend I don't have gauze taped on my arm. I like pretending. I pretend I'm somewhere else, being somebody else, doing something else. I know I'm a little old for that, but when it's three in the morning and you're locked in a closet, and it's dark and stuffy, the only thing you can do is pretend.

I go into doctor-mode. Like I did the other night. I don't know why I do it. I've never thought about the future, or a job, or anything. I just deal with the present. But, I seem to know what to do when somebody's injured. Maybe I could be a …doctor? A nurse? Nah. I would never make it through school to be one of those. I'm going to end up being a waitress or something. That's depressing.

Man, am I negative.

"Here kitty kitty." I call the cat.

"Come on." Eric calls the cat.

The cat won't respond to me, but it responds to Eric. Stupid cat. That's why I never had a cat or dog. They don't listen to me.

But still, this cat's cute. Even if it is dirty and gross.

It can actually walk pretty well when it wants to. I gingerly wrap it in my sweater. Tightly. Because it might turn mean on me. Don't ask. I won't answer.

Eric gets to hold the cat.  

I get to watch him hold the cat. We're still walking along the sidewalk. The cat looks happy.

"We should name it." Eric suggests.

"Why?"

"Because it needs a name."

"No it doesn't."

"Yes it does. Everything needs a name."

He's using his little 'Life Lessons from the book for Fruits' again. Everything needs a name. And pink flowers look especially pretty with sparkles.

"It doesn't need a name. We're not keeping it."

"Why not?"

"Because." Uh, I don't have a reason. Really. I'm bitter to all living things, but I'd like to keep the cat. It's just…it might belong to somebody. It's not like it's stopped you before, a voice in my head tells me. Great. I'm hearing voices. And they're telling me to keep the three-legged feline.

"It needs a vet. We can't pay for it. Sorry."

"Why did you put it in your sweater then?" Damn, he's smart.

"Because, we're just…going to feed it once. That's it. Then it leaves." I try and sound like I mean what I say.

"Thanks Abby." Eric tells me.

That's how Leila joined our little 'family'. The name means 'Night Beauty.' I found that out in grade five when we did a project on names. I love names and they're meanings. My name, Abigail (but don't call me that!) means 'father's joy'

I don't know if my name stands up to its meaning.

Eric means 'Complete Ruler.' He's the king. Hmm.

The cat, believe it or not, was black. I'm not suspicious. I don't believe in ghosts or magic (Although, I do believe that something lives behind our fridge)

I've heard in England, that black cats are good luck.

Leila is good luck. She's really only a kitten. I'm not sure what happened to her, but she was a mess.

I got to wash her. Her nails were sharp.

She really was pretty when all the blood and dirt was gone. She had big yellow eyes and midnight soft fur. She trots around on three legs like she's happy and doesn't care how different she looks. I wish we could all feel like that. People can learn from animals.

She gives us distraction from the neighbors across the hall fighting. Or the nights darkness. She's a comfort cat.

We were taking her upstairs when we were confronted by Jaws. He lies across the stairs so we have to jump over him. He just stays asleep. Until now. The scent of blood woke him up, and he came over to us, growling like an idiot.

"Bad dog. Go home!" I yell at him.

He just growls and looks at the cat, who was peering out from under my sweater.

The cat was brave. She reached out and scratched Jaws across the muzzle. And Jaws, being the tough guy that he is, ran away yelping.

Leila proved herself worthy of being our cat, that's for sure.

We took her to the apartment and cleaned her off. We gave her some water. We didn't have milk. She didn't care. Then she played with Eric. She was smart, and played fetch like a dog. Even though she only had three legs. I swear, she was grinning. She was smiling like she was happy that we found her. It occurred to me that maybe somebody dumped her. If I ever found out whom, I would shoot them dead. Poor kitty, just needs a family and a little love. Even if she is different.

"She's a kitten, right Abby?"

"Right."

"Where's her family?"

"I don't know."

"Where's her mom?"

"I don't know."

"She's like us then."

"Huh?"

"She doesn't have a mom or dad. But she's happy."

"Yeah. I guess."

"Are you happy?"

"I guess. Are you?"

"Yes."

I'm not happy, I'm just… apathetic. I'm living because I have to, not because I want to.

"Why is she alone?" Eric asked.

"I don't know."

"Did her mom abandon her?"

"I don't know."

"I bet she hates her mom, then." Eric said. Leila didn't appear to look hateful at the moment.

"Blood is thicker than water." I state, picking up Leila. It's my turn to hold her. I sit down because my foot feels bruised and sore.

"What's that mean?"

"It means." I stroke Leila, "That family comes first. No matter what." Then I realize what I'm saying. It doesn't apply to me. Does it?

"So, Leila shouldn't be mad at her mom?"

I realize what I'm talking about. A cat and her mother cat. This is getting weird.

"No." I don't think Leila has the intelligence to even be mad.

"Okay." Eric leaves the room. Leila hobbles behind him. And I'm left to stare into the darkening room and think about what I said. I have to stay loyal to Mom, even if she is a complete screw-up. Even if she cut my arm with a knife, or ran away with someone. Even if she never showed that she cared about my well being, I have to stay loyal.

Blood is thicker than water.  

A/N: I have no clue what was up there. I like the name Leila though.

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