Chapter Thirteen: Beacon

I'm bolted upright by an intense, sharp, searing pain in my right side. It feels like I've been torn open and set on fire! The core of it sits just below my tight, right ribcage. I take in my dingy, shadow shrouded surroundings. As I unsteadily rise to my feet, my emaciated left hand covers the wound protectively. The second I realize I'm in some unknown's house, I feel something beneath my rough fingers. Is that, six lines of medical-grade tape over mounds of layered gauze? I peer down and see that my assumption is correct. No wonder I had trouble expanding my chest! Apparently, I've been mended, but by who?

"Good morning."

I jump, causing myself more intense pain, and whirl around at the feminine voice. On the stairs, leading up to the second floor, I lock eyes with a gorgeous woman who is in two words, a bombshell. She's holding two lanterns in her hands and seems relieved to see me conscious.

This mysterious beauty is around my height and curvy in all the right places, her fair skin standing out a tad from her clothes. Under her loosely tied pastel purple robe, she's wearing a mint green babydoll dress with black, stretchy shorts beneath it and what looks to be a pair of light pink house slippers.

She makes her way to me and offers me a lantern, I take it, not wanting to be rude. Instantly the heat from the fire warms me up and I feel less tense.

"Good morning." She says again, that same bubbly tone coming through.

Before I can say anything, she eases me backward and I'm gently made to sit onto the couch behind us. It looks like it's been clawed to hell by a stray cat, the real, black leather scratchy on our exposed skin and feeling like Braille all over.

"It's not morning." I say, sounding a mix of grumpy and still groggy, but really I'm just utterly miserable.

"It is, coming up three o'clock now. The Witching Hour as some call it."

"Oh." Then my mind races. "How long was I out for?!"

She smiles at me and says, "A good two full days. It's Sunday. You were found last week, Thursday night if I'm remembering right."

"By you?"

"Yes."

My expression must be priceless because she laughs out loud, though it's quiet it still rings with life. Ok, I have to admit, that laugh is really cute. Add in the posh English accent and I'm enthralled.

After a minute she shyly clears her throat and says, "Sorry."

I shrug my shoulders, "Don't be. Laughing is good for you." I pause, and then add, "So, care to fill me in? It's a little fuzzy in the head department."

I'm not sure why but she's easier to talk to than most girls. Maybe it's just the adrenaline pumping that's got me acting this way.

"Let's see... I found you in the park sprawled out on the walkway. You were bleeding pretty bad. I patched you up as best I could and took you here, to my place."

I nod in response. "That adds up. I got robbed, stabbed for good measure."

She gives me a sympathetic look and soon I watch her leave and go into the kitchen. Damn, even the back of her is nice to ogle. Within minutes, my nameless, cape-less hero returns and I'm handed some steaming coffee in a big mug.

"It's no traditional English breakfast but it'll do 'til my Nan wakes."

"In the United Kingdom, where are you from?" I ask, taking a sip. This is some good stuff.

"Cornwall, England. Used to live on a horse ranch in the countryside until two years ago. You could tell I'm not from around here, yeah?"

My eyebrows move up to my hairline before setting back down. "Yeah. Don't meet very many good foreigners here so it's nice when I do."

"What's your name? I'm-"

She sneakily swipes the dirty pen from my pants pocket and writes her name in katakana on the palm of my left hand サイネード and I read it aloud.

"Shi-nayd?"

I look at her, silently asking for clarification. Smiling brightly, she gives it.

Tucking a long, mocha brown strand of hair behind her small ears, she says, "Yes. Sinéad. Though there's no line over the e when you write it."

"Sinead?" I carefully repeat it back to her.

"Yes."

"Pretty."

"... Thanks." She says, her bright aquamarine eyes beaming with delight and subtle hints of pride.

I smile at her, for some reason feeling less guarded than I usually do.

"Back to you." She says, both of us seeming unsure of what move to make next.

For a second I wonder how long we've been sitting here but then I realize I don't care. I give her a wider grin and say, "My name is, Gou."

"Go-ooh?"

The strength of my smile lessens and I nod at that, confirming her pronunciation.

"Gou, what?"

I scowl, and morosely answer, "It's complicated."

"Oo, mystery man. Mind if I call you that?"

I smirk at her flirty teasing, "I do. Just Gou, for now."

"Alright, Gou."

"What's your last name?" I ask, though I don't feel I should.

"Stephen."

"Sinead Stephen? That's, how's the phrase said over there? Uh, it's bloody brilliant."

As she laughs, blushing all the while at my stupid, not-too-funny, goofiness, I can't stop the smile that stretches my face further.

Suddenly, our blissful bubble is popped and I'm pulled along by my arm, out to the backyard. My shirt and sweater are given to me and I put them on immediately, shivering. Staying out of sight I hear what sounds like a male's voice asking what she's doing up so early but I don't pick up on her full response because of how soft her voice is. She says that she's happy he's home from the police station, and though it's odd sounding I don't think much of it.

Moments later, she comes out and tells me that it's best if I leave. She seems sad, reluctant to see me go, but I listen and depart, my heart aching. All the while, my insides grow cold. I don't want to leave her back there. Somehow, while still in the bawls of Hell, I found an angel. Or at least something good, akin to the term. Although, judging from her environment, it seems her wings have been clipped.

Later that same day, around eight o'clock in the morning, I spot her sprinting around town. I'm in the park and she's across the street from me. She's wearing the same sort of skintight ensemble. But this time, the shirt is a plain black cardigan with 3/4 quarter inch sleeves, along with lightly colored bluejeans and ankle-high boots. I notice that over the ankle, there's a ring-like mound of matching fake fur, around that is laces that look to be tied into a bow and some fuzzy balls are hanging from the ends. Watching her some more I notice that she's frantic. Is, is she running away?

Speedily splashing some of the water from a fountain on my face to hopefully wash it, I run up to her, using the adjoining crosswalk as a direct pathway.

"Hey."

Stopping, she looks at me and I finally get to take her in. I wasn't dreaming, she is gorgeous but I can't rate her on a scale for you, nor would I. How is she not a model of some sort? Wavy and layered, mocha brown hair with bright eyes and a style all her own, she's got the full package it seems. She doesn't appear comfortable in that tight clothing though. She uses her hip-length tresses to shield herself more, mainly her top front. I take a step back as to not scare her away. Ignoring the voice in my head that reminds me of how cold it is, I remove my sweater and hold it out to her. While holding herself, arms tight, she gives me a confused look.

"You seem cold." I lie.

She takes it, openly thankful, knowing what I truly mean, and puts it on. It's two sizes too big but she looks good in it. Instantly, she relaxes and I feel better. I stuff my hands in my pockets and shrug it off.

"Purple suits you." I say, for a moment feeling a bit more like old myself.

While she looks at her feet and shyly tucks some more hair behind her ears, I notice streaks of gold highlights raining throughout the thick, nicely maintained mass. I'm not a huge fan of blonde, but, is there nothing this girl can't pull off?

"Are you hungry?" She asks me, doing her best to keep eye contact.

Just then, my stomach loudly answers for me and I feel hot, no doubt my face is red. She laughs and proceeds to lightly pull me along to a nearby restaurant. Her skin is super soft and I can't help but observe how well her hand fits in mine.

When we walk inside, she goes off to find someone to lead us in. While waiting, I decide to let my eyes roam around. It's not too ritzy but not too plain either. It seems within the realm of affordable, which is right up my alley but looks can be deceiving, so, well, we'll see. I dig around for my wallet but my stomach freezes over and drops like a rock the moment I realize that it's gone, most likely stolen too. Ok, no driver's license, keys, and no money. I should've known, but what rotten luck.

I scoff with a hard eye roll, and mutter, "Figures."

Hearing two sets of footsteps inch toward me I look to my right and am in shock to see Olivander coming up to me and my company walking with him.

"Sorry, Gou, took me a bit to find someone."

I glare at Olivander who only shrinks timidly under my harsh eyes, his small shoulders going up into his girlish ears. His figure really is feminine when compared to everyone else's. What's that all about? Whatever's going on, I'm not buying that scaredy-cat act for a minute and neither should she. The only lady among us sees the animosity I hold and decides to just say what we'd like. The moment we're led to a table and alone, she unloads on me.

"What was that all about?" She snaps, "He's a nice guy."

"He's a bully." I counter in the same tone, not liking that I'm under the same roof as one of them.

"And? People can change."

"Ha, not him. If he wanted to change that badly then he would've stopped his friends from tormenting me."

"He, doesn't hang out with them, anymore." She says, her voice growing quieter while her gaze lowers to her lap. She appears to be embarrassed and that makes my mind wonder why she would be defending him but I don't ask it. Instead, I shift the conversation somewhere else.

"Who was the guy you were talking to this morning?"

That seems to make her even more uncomfortable and before I can retcon the situation, Olivander comes up to us and takes our orders. I don't like the idea, but I guess this is on her dime.

When we are about to leave, after some minutes of awkward eating, Olivander shyly asks to speak with me in private. I'm hesitant to but I turn back and follow him to a corner booth some feet away. Sinead's still in our sights, sitting on a bench out in the now crowded front, but not in earshot. My instincts tell me that's what he intended.

"What, do, you, want?" I snip, openly conveying that I'd prefer to be anywhere else.

Olivander shrinks into himself and that makes me lose it.

"I pleaded for you to make it stop, but one little threat changed all that! If you really wanted to change you would've done it then."

"You have no idea how powerful Randle is. He has a lot of pull."

"In the drug circuit maybe, but that's only because of his dad's money. Cut him off, and he has nothing. He's just a sniveling coward. That's why he picks on me. And just like everyone else, you sit there and watch. Now you wanna say you've changed, say that you feel bad, is that it? Do you seriously expect me to believe that? People like you don't change. At least not easily."

At my frigid tone, Olivander sinks into himself more. He looks at me, sincere remorse written all over his ambiguous features.

"Whether or not you accept an apology is up to you, but know that I am truly sorry and I wish I could take it all back. I just wanted to tell you that Randle is in jail. I'm sure you can guess why."

I nod, knowing exactly why. "Why aren't you in jail? Every one of you all were involved with the substance."

"Oh, everyone else is. My father bailed me out though. But, I have to pay him back every cent. That's why I'm working here, in one of his lower-end restaurants."

I smirk, "Damn. Who knew your flamboyant father could actually parent?"

Olivander scowls at me but I'm not fazed. "You know what I mean. I'm just glad it's finally sinking in."

"Thanks to Lionel it is. Once he realized Randle was the one that robbed and hurt you, he beat him up and called the cops. Punched us too. We went with him because you know, 'guilty by association' and all that."

The memories replay like a film in my head and, again, I'm far from surprised. I can't believe I got robbed in my sleep though, even with using the bag as a makeshift pillow. I woke up once I got stabbed. I chased him through the streets, but passed back out from the pain, and most likely the blood loss as well.

"I'm glad you're doing better by the way. The three of us were worried sick. Randle was always a hotheaded, jerky kind of guy but we never dreamed how much having a huge wad of cash would change him. Needless to say, the others and I have learned our lessons and we're done with him. Lionel's in jail too, for assault mainly, but dad said he's working on getting him out. Mr. Ray Kon says he'll work here with me until his debts are cleared and he's clean."

"I see. Thanks for the info-dump."

Olivander nods, seeming lighter and genuinely happy. Ok, maybe he does care about more than himself. Only time will tell I guess.

Seeing that our conversation is done, I politely excuse myself and get up to leave, but Olivander stops me by grabbing my hand. He then holds something out to me. Turning back to him, a wave of relief washes over me. I smile gleefully, taking my wallet from his hands.

"I swiped it from under the warden's nose."

"Ohhh, I could hug you, you cheeky bastard." I say, tucking my wallet safely away.

"I know it's not much, but I hope this is a step in the right direction."

Looking at him, thank you stamped all over me, I add, "Are you kidding me? It's an excellent start and I'm grateful as fuck. Thanks."

"Anytime. Now go treat that gorgeous gal to something nice. Randle emptied it, but I reimbursed you, and so did dad."

Not allowing my jaw to fall off my face, I nod, racing back out to the front. I'm so elated I could kiss someone!

Within an hour, Sinead and I are in a clothing store. My idea, not hers. While looking around at more clothes, I ask if she wants a dress. She declines, seeming embarrassed about it. Does she not shave her legs or something? Confused, I just shrug it off and she seems fine with that. But what lady doesn't want a nice dress to wear? Maybe I'll learn why later, but for now, I just want the two of us to enjoy the day.

When we finally arrive to her place, a tubby and pale skinned, freckled redhead of a middle-aged woman rushes out to us and hugs Sinead tightly. She's wearing modern, but still conservative, clothes meant for early winter and seems outright panicked.

"Must you runaway, babe? I was worried to ill. Your father's gone out again, thank goodness." She glances at me and cheerfully adds, "Come on, inside, the lot of ya. Can't have ya bein' dozy and makin' Sleeping Beauty look alert."

Sinead laughs loudly as we're ushered into the living room. Meanwhile, I'm confused. What did she just say? That Welsh accent is thick. When she's gone to get us something to eat and warm to drink, I sit on the other end of the couch away from Sinead. Her grandmother, or Nan as she called her earlier, seems old fashioned so if I want to impress her I better play my cards right.

"What did she say?" I ask, seeing that Sinead isn't upset with me sitting away from her.

"She doesn't want us to be sick."

"Oh. Well why didn't she just say that instead of the whole dozy, Sleeping Beauty alert thing? No one talks like that anymore."

Sinead smiles, "That's just her, how she was raised. Don't fret it too much. I'll translate if you need it."

"Right. Thanks." I pause, "So, I'm guessing that guy from this morning was your dad?"

Sinead nods, "Yeah, hardly see him though." Her features go dark, "And I'm fine with that, honestly."

"Why?" I ask, perplexed.

She doesn't get the chance to say anything because her grandmother comes back into the room, a serving tray in her delicate, slightly wrinkly hands. While we eat away at some kind of sweet pudding and cookies, I see that she spots the shopping bags and she proceeds to carry them upstairs to what I can guess is Sinead's bedroom.

She comes back downstairs and asks me to step outside with her. Sinead and I exchange nervous glances but her nan assures us that we've done nothing wrong. I'm tossed my sweater and follow her out to the back of the abode. She begins our talk by hugging me. Well, more like squeezing the life out of me. I can't breathe! I pat her back with one hand and she let's go, releasing me. I haven't had a hug like that in what feels like forever, and it feels like home.

I'm informed that the bags have been tucked away where only she and Sinead will be able to find them. I'm also told that her dad, Alfred Stephen, a.k.a. my school's janitor, has a controlling temper and likes her to dress in certain ways when he's around. I make a disgusted face at that, knowing what she means. Geez, can no one escape from him?

"Right. I promise she picked out her own clothes."

I'm given a knowing grin in return and then told that I'm welcome here anytime. I return the smile and upon seeing a truck pull into the driveway, I silently go, reluctantly leaving Sinead behind. There's nothing I can do really. I mean, I could turn around and murder the pedophile, but what justice would that bring?

Some hours later, I'm sat back in the park after wandering about the town and thinking about what my next move should be. I've thought about going to see Papa at the hospital but sneaking in without authorization could result in attention I don't want. I'm overthinking everything now and I'm not sure why. Could it be withdrawals, fear of messing up, or fear of the unknown? Probably an amalgamation of all those things. Either way, I'm a huge mess. But then, Sinead comes into my mind again, and somehow I feel a great deal better. I get up and take another walk around the area, and somehow I run into Olivander who's waiting for a green light at an intersection.

"What's up? No car?" I ask, approaching him.

"Not yet. Savin' up for it."

I whistle, surprised, "He's really making you work from the bottom up."

"Yeah. He's showing me how privileged I am. What I can do on a whim because of how well-off we are, most can only dream of. He just wants me to see that he won't be there to bail me out of everything. Sometimes you gotta get yourself out of trouble."

My gaze goes from the ground to him before finally deciding to settle on something. "... Are they, taking on any more staff?"

Olivander looks at me, wide-eyed, "Are you asking me for a job?"

"No, I'm asking for, for a way out." I say, my heart pounding so loud I can hear it.

Olivander leads me up the road and back into the restaurant that I learn thanks to a hanging sign is called, Friends. How fitting, and how did I not notice that before? Oh yeah, I was entranced. I'm not sure how this will turn out, but I'm hoping this will be a great step, one toward a brighter life.

This, uh, this certainly went somewhere. I hope you guys like this update and as you can probably tell, none of this was planned. XD Please let me know what you think. And thank you for all the reviews thus far! Stay safe and sound you guys! ^^