Chapter Twenty-Six: Silent Running

          "Has anyone heard from her?"

          His face was solemn, and he couldn't bear to speak the words. Manny was gone, it had been nearly a week. She knew that, but still, she asked.

          Finally, he mustered the strength. "No."

          Though he thought she couldn't look any sadder, Emma's face reached a new stage of crestfallen. "Why are we just sitting here? We should be looking for her!" she cried.

          "We have school, Em. We can't just leave. Not like…"

          "Like she did," Emma finished. JT nodded, slowly. "I just wish…I wish she had come to us sooner. Instead of running around with…them…instead of letting herself fall so hard. I wish she would have talked to me, you, someone."

          "But she didn't. We can't change that."

          Emma sighed. "I know. I just wish we knew where she was. If she's okay."

          "We just can't know. She's changed so much, so fast. We don't know what she's capable of anymore."

          "I think she's a survivor," Emma said. Her voice grew firmer, "She has to be."

          "Could be wishful thinking."

          "Don't say that! I can't…I can't hear that!"

          "We have to face reality, Emma. Manny is gone. She may never be back. She may be…she may be dead. We can't help her anymore. Maybe we never could."

          "So you think the reason she didn't talk to anyone is that no one could have saved her?"

          "No one can save someone like that, Emma. She doesn't need a savior, she needs a friend. But she seemed to think we weren't good enough to be her friends."

          Emma stared at JT, a little shocked he could be so callous. "We were—are—her friends."

          "No, Emma. You were right the first time. We were her friends. But we weren't who she needed."

          The words stung Emma. She didn't want to face the reality that when all was said and done, Manny never thought to come to her. That Manny couldn't trust her, not after how Emma reacted, not after everything they had been through. Manny did trust her, she knew that. She trusted her enough to tell her the truth, but Emma wasn't one hundred percent with her, and that made Emma obsolete in Manny's book.

          "We should look for her," Emma said again.

          "What good would it do? She has a week's head start."

          "That doesn't mean we should just give up! She's been having problems; she went a little…a little crazy. But that doesn't mean we should give up on her altogether! It doesn't mean we shouldn't try to find her, to tell her…to tell her…" Emma felt herself crying, and she tried to hold it in, to no avail, "to tell her we love her, no matter what she does or feels, how she acts."

          "It's a waste of time," JT said.

          "Don't be such a jerk," Emma growled.

          "Hey! I lost her, too. Don't take your emotions out on me!"

          "I'm sorry," Emma whispered. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

          JT knew she wasn't talking to him anymore.

          Manny stumbled through the streets, trying to find a good hiding place. The sun was so bright it burned her retinas, the shine on the streets unbearable. She wondered how the world could go on, be so lively, when she was so dead inside. She knew if the world stopped every time she had a bad day, or anyone else had a bad day, it would spin out of orbit, but the change felt so overwhelming she thought it was unfair it didn't change a little bit. Everything was different inside of her, but everything was the same with the world. She didn't like it. She thought this more and more each day, but it never changed the way the world worked.

          Putting one hand above her eyes in a futile attempt to at least partially block out the sun, Manny looked around her, wistfully. She had been traveling at least a week now, maybe a little less. She lost track of the days and had nowhere to cross them off so she knew what had passed. They all blurred together, memories felt like upcoming events, things that happened a moment before seemed like eternity. She was so lost inside herself, inside the world. She had nowhere to go, nothing to her name, and had no idea how much longer she could survive.

          She was hungry, so hungry. Sometimes she managed to get some change off of kindly strangers—always the ones who looked like they needed to be asking themselves, never the ones who could afford it. She had to find parks to drink water from fountains, and sometimes it was so gross she wondered if she was going to get some infectious disease. It felt like she had been away for years.

          She had woken up on someone's lawn just as day was breaking. Her mind raced to figure out where she was, why she was there. Memories came flashing back to her, and she knew she couldn't return home, at least not for a while. So she started to walk, and walk, and walk until she reached some sort of city. It was small as cities go, but at least big enough so that there were plenty of people to hide behind if need be.

          Surprised her parents hadn't found her sleeping, more surprised she managed to escape without any sort of trouble; Manny decided it meant no one was looking for her. Everyone was happy she was gone. She was a mess that no one wanted to clean up anymore.

          Manny sat on the sidewalk, contemplating her next move. At the rate she was going, she'd never get off the streets. She was too young to be hired for most places, too damaged for anyone to pay for her. She was surprised at herself, surprised that she could even think of resorting to prostitution. The word itself sounded cold and hollow. A mean word for a mean world for a mean working environment. Manny didn't know what to do. Some disturbing old men may want her for sadomasochism, but she wasn't going down that road. Not yet. She still had a chance, a small chance, of something else working out. Secretly, Manny wanted to be saved.

          She sighed and stared into a puddle from last night's rain. It was drying up, would be gone soon. I'm like that puddle, she thought. She smiled into it. God, that was pathetic.

          "I feel responsible," Craig said.

          Ashley was next to him snuggled under his arm. School had ended half an hour ago and they were sitting in Joey's garage.

          "Why?" Ashley asked. She didn't have to ask what he felt responsible for; Manny had been the only topic of discussion at Degrassi for a while now. Even Paige felt bad, though she'd never admit it in public.

          "I…I messed with her head. Did stuff to her."

          "You mean the locker thing? Craig, I don't think that was a pivotal point—"

          "Ash, listen! Firstly, yeah, what I said was pretty cruel. 'It's not the locker I don't like, it's you'? God, that was—"

          "Craig, the girl obviously has other problems—"

          "Yeah but—"

          "You went out with her once. One whole date. That—"

          "But I—"

          "Once, Crai—"

          "Ash! You don't—"

          "One time does not mean—"

          "I slept with her!" Craig bellowed.

          Ashley stopped, their train of interruption had not only gone off the tracks, but it had exploded into flames as well. Her face paled, and she stared into his eyes. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, she whispered, "You slept with her?"

          "Yes," he replied, his voice hoarsening.

          "Craig, how could you? When? Why?"

          "Paige's surprise party…the night we fought…Manny came after me. I thought we were broken up, I swear," he stammered.

          "That doesn't excuse it," Ashley said coldly.

          "Ashley, I—"

          "No, Craig! No! I can't believe you would…and with that little slut…oh, god, how can I say that about her now?" Ashley held her hand to her face. "God."

          "Ash—"

          Ashley stood up suddenly. "Stay away from me, Craig."

          "Ash!" he cried, beginning to lift himself off the couch.

          She held out her hand. "Away!"

          Ashley rushed out of the garage, leaving Craig alone. His eyes watered as he watched her go.

          Dad was right. I am a screw up.

          Craig began to cry.

          Manny jumped into a puddle, the weight on her shoulders a little lighter. Water splashed all over the jeans and turtleneck she had been wearing for over a week now. She smelled disgusting but no longer cared about such trivialities. She had tried to wash the bloodstains off of the inside of her shirt with puddles, but it hadn't worked very well, so she had a very stiff patch over her abdomen. The neck had felt like it was strangling her, suffocating her. One night she had found a park bathroom and took off the shirt. She managed to rip off the neck with just her hands and had been able to breathe easier ever since.

          Manny tied her hair back with a rubber band she had found on the street. Her mother's selected fashion for her didn't work when she didn't have a brush, a mirror, and all the time in the world to style it to death. But she was tired of the staring. Her rope burn was disappearing, her arms covered, her hair tied back to hide the bald patches. She looked and felt awful, but at least her world and her appearance matched her nearly perpetual mood.

          A few times she had heard sirens, had been chased away by bright spotlights. She didn't know if they were looking for her, though if her parents or anyone cared anymore there may be an all points bulletin out for her, but she didn't want to take the risk. Happiness was more attainable outside her childhood home.

          She still had problems finding food, water, and shelter. She was still terrified to sleep in a dark alleyway, fearful that someone would kidnap her, rape her, kill her, or some well-meaning stranger would call Children's Aide, or anything of the sort. Solitude was working for her, however gradually.

          She thought of Theresa now and again and her world came crashing down. All her work to be happier would shatter at her name. She was glad that of all the names she heard on the street, Theresa was not one of them. There was the occasional "Lizzie" or some other variant, but sometimes she didn't associate her once-love's middle name with that bone-crushing heart-stomping ache inside of her.

          "You got a smoke I can have?" Manny asked a woman inhaling a Marlboro Light. Definitely not her favorite pick, but Manny was learning to take what she could get.

          The woman nodded and handed her one. Manny smiled. "Got a light?"

          It had been three days, and Emma was still on slightly bad terms with JT. They talked sometimes, but Emma refused to let him see inside her heart anymore. She was afraid he'd crush it with his impassive viewpoint on the Manny situation. 'Manny situation', she mused bitterly. Like she's some sort of inconvenience.

          Emma regretted every harsh word she had ever said to Manny. Everything she said seemed to be the wrong thing, and now she was gone. Driven away by Emma, Craig, Theresa, Sully, Paige, whomever. Emma didn't know Manny's whole story, and at this rate, never would.

          There was tension between Emma and Craig. Two days ago he had lost Ashley for good, which Emma secretly thought he deserved, because he admitted what he and Manny had done. Emma no longer went to SITE meetings, so she didn't see Ashley very often, except in hallways. Nothing seemed as important as Manny, and she just couldn't bring herself to dig up that passionate fervor she had always had for the environment. She knew it was important, and she knew she should care, but everything seemed so trivial. She was becoming slightly obsessive with the concept of Manny. Constantly checking her e-mail, living by the phone, waiting for hours by the mailbox—with the portable phone, of course. They weren't even supposed to be friends anymore, but that was ridiculous. Emma would always, always, have a place in her heart for Manny. They had been friends for longer than Emma had memories, had so much history together. Everything around her could remind her of Manny. The smallest lyric in a song, the sound of birds chirping. Everything brought her a sensory overload.

          But Manny hadn't contacted her, and Emma doubted she ever would. She knew Mr. and Mrs. Santos had contacted the police about Manny's disappearance, knew they themselves had searched high and low all night for their renegade daughter, but it all seemed so pointless. Manny won't be found until she wants to be, Emma thought futilely, and that day may never come.          

          Terror gripped every part of Manny. She was running, always running. But this time she knew she was being chased. He was calling after her. Demanding she come back.

          She had nowhere to run to. The shops were closed and there were only random apartment buildings. She didn't even know if anyone would be home.

          The pounding of his footsteps grew closer and closer. Manny felt a shriek claw its way up her throat, and he tackled her.

          "No!" she cried. He covered her mouth and ripped at her shirt from the collar, where it was already ripping from her removal of the neck.

          "Shut up!" he demanded.

          "No!" Manny struggled. He covered her mouth and pulled her up. He started dragging her away. Manny kicked at him, but stumbled. She hadn't the right footing.

          She bit his hand. He cried out, "Ow!" and smacked her on the head.

          She saw lights turn on in several apartments above her, and felt the slightest bit of relief. They would save her. They had to save her.

          She bit his hand again, and this time he let go of her long enough for her to scream, "Help m—" before he hit her again.

          Manny sat in a police station, a blanket wrapped around her. Her left eye was deeply bruised. Her viewpoint of humanity had reached a new low.

          She had escaped her attacker, this was true. When she realized people were looking but no one was making a move to help her, no one was making a move to even get to their phones and call the police, she found a new strength inside of herself and fended him off. She even had a chance to knee him in the groin. When he was down, she fled. She wanted to slaughter him with her bare hands for what he tried to do to her, but she didn't want to waste her time. The people probably would have been as impassive as they were to what was happening to her, but with the luck she had been having, they would have taken that moment to intervene.

          She had read before about how people react strangely to violent crimes outside their homes. How in the 1960s a woman was murdered as thirty-eight people watched from the apartments, all assuming someone else would call. It took him maybe half an hour to kill her, and the man who finally submitted and called the police first called his friend to ask what he should do. She knew it happened, but she didn't think it did anymore. At least never to her.

          People are so fucked, she thought bitterly. He had tried stumbling after her when Manny was almost run down by a police car. She didn't know if it was a chance occurrence or if someone finally decided to call them, but there were no sirens, so she was betting on the latter. Or maybe they were trying to be sneaky, she thought. But she doubted it.

          "So tell me again what happened?"

          Manny sighed and stared at the policewoman in front of her. She knew she looked like a mess. And not just from the attack, but overall. She knew this woman would have the best intentions, the ones that meant they'd send her back to her home. She told them her name was Meghan Winters.

          "I told you. I was walking down the street, trying to get back to my house, when I saw him. I tried walking past him, but he began to follow me, really close."

          "And that's when you turned around?"

          "Yeah. I asked him what he wanted."
          "And what did he say?"

          "I told you. He didn't say anything. He stared at me for maybe a minute, and then he walked by me."

          "And what did you do after that…Meghan?" the woman asked, just oozing fake sympathy. Manny caught the hesitation the officer had before her pseudonym. Something was up.

          "Well, I really wanted to get home, y'know? So I waited for a couple minutes, crossed the street, and started walking. I walked for a couple minutes when my back felt tingly. I looked, and there he was, right behind me again."

          "So you ran."

          "Yeah. I ran. Look, can I go now?"

          "Wait. Tell me what happened, and I'll send you off in a squad car. How's that sound?"

          Manny sighed, beginning to feel nervous. Why are they keeping me here? She wasn't sure how she was going to get out of this situation. If she rode with a police officer, surely they would want to see her go inside, or maybe come in. She had already told them her parents were out of town—which was true, anyway—so she wasn't sure what was going on. "Great," she said, wasting a fake smile on the officer. "Well, we got to this neighborhood, when he tackled me. He covered my mouth, but I bit him. So he hit me. I bit him again, and screamed for help. I saw some lights come on, but no one came down, and there wasn't a police car in sight. So I got away from him, on my own."

          She nodded. "A woman called the police. I believe they were trying to sneak up on him so he wouldn't get away."

          "Bully for them. Their little sneak tactic could have gotten me killed," Manny snarled. "You ever think sirens would have, oh, I don't know…driven him away?"

          She sighed. "I'm sorry, Meg—"

          "Manuela!" a familiar voice called from behind her. Manny's eyes widened. Her face paled, and she turned slowly, as if time were going to stop, and hopefully let her go.

          "No," she whispered. "Oh, fuck."

          Amada and Javier stood in the doorway of the police station. She was caught.