IT WAS DIFFICULT NOT TO SCREAM. Every part of my body burned with the instinct to get up, but I felt like I couldn't move. Yet again a warmth—stronger than the last—engulfed me completely. It flared out from my chest, fueling me with an incredible desperation.
The warmth spread out over the knife in my stomach. As it passed the blade, it cooled the wound with a touch of ice, soothing it until the pain ceased in a matter of seconds.
I could no longer feel it as a numbness washed over me, giving me a plight of lightheadedness. My hand trembled as I reached for the handle of the knife. I gripped it tightly with my fingers, my own blood visible on my hands, and I pulled.
The knife came free with a hollow sound, and I did not feel a single inch of its departure. With a quick glance up at the people left on the roof, I could see the four intruders were busy at the back of the roof. I saw my opportunity.
There was no way of knowing if Dick was dead, or Hank was dead, or if Rachel would soon be dead—I could only feel the inescapable, desperate need to get to Dawn. Somehow, with a foreign strength, I pushed myself up into a sitting position.
My body trembled but I did not feel any pain. I continued, pressing further by getting to my knees. If I was going to get to her before anyone noticed, I needed to move quickly. It was my mind's only concerned. The need had consumed me.
It got me to my feet, however unstable they were, and got me moving toward the fire escape. The metal stair case was just a few feet away. I climbed over the side of the roof, smearing blood on the brick, and dropped onto the stairs.
Now out of sight of the people above, I could move just slightly less panicked. Though, I was still hastened in my movements, climbing down the flights of stairs to the ground fairly quickly.
What happened, happened in blurs, in snapshots of memory. I know I made it to Dawn. She laid on her back on the pavement amongst the wood of the dove cage. Blood drained from the side of her mouth but she was still breathing—however difficult it was.
I'd made it to her, clattering to my knees on the pavement beside her. "D-Dawn? Hey, look at me," it smeared blood against her skin, but I touched my hand to her cheek to gain her attention. Her eyes were wide, full of panic and pain. "You're not going to die, alright? You're going to be fine-"
"Savannah?"
I heard the faint echo of a male voice from above and twisted to look up at the roof. Just as I did, Dick's head appeared over the edge of the roof. I would've felt relief had I been able to control what I'd felt at all.
Even from the ground I could tell his eyes were widening at the sight of Dawn. "Savannah?" Dick asked again, this time with a different purpose. I knew what he was really asking—will she die?
"No!" I shouted back, however weak my voice.
Even with my answer, Dick was quick to get to the fire escape. I returned my eyes to Dawn's face. She was sputtering on the blood in her mouth, trying to speak. My hand instinctively found hers and I held tightly, leaning in closer to her.
Shaking my head, I stopped her, "Don't do that. You're going to just fine, Dawn. I promise."
Her eyes did not calm until her hand squeezed mine. And, even then, her eyes were relaxing due to incoming unconsciousness. "Dawn!" Dick shouted, seconds before he appeared knelt at my side.
He immediately moved to her other side and started chest compressions upon seeing her state. "Come on, Dawn!" he shouted, desperately. "Dawn! Dawn!"
That was all I heard. His desperate calls. The heat filling my body, the cold numbing my pain, eased its way out of my body through way of my toes. And as it left, the pain returned. My head was struck with a sudden dizziness.
It was as though my eyes had been crossed. My vision was doubling along with the throbbing in my skull. Though, the wound in my side remained numb. I took a disorienting look down at it, placing my hand against the red staining my hoodie, feeling the warmth—but no pain.
Now my body trembled violently as I lifted my head, swaying in my knelt position. Dick was doubled, tripled, quadrupled until I'd stopped counting. And that was the last I saw.
Instead the scene before me was replaced with a tiled, florescently lit wall. My ears honed in on the rhythmic beeping and humming of machines as my vision began to clear up through the slits of my eyelids.
I could feel objects in my right forearm, nubbins from the oxygen tubes in my nose. It was obvious I was in a hospital. But that was not what my mind was desperate to tell me. Instead, it was convinced I was in my room at Arkham.
That dank room wreaking of antiseptic and puke. With the state of my vision, the walls almost looked exactly the same. A sudden pressure at my neck caused me to inhale sharply, adrenaline forcing me to breathe harder as a low voice shushed me.
It was low and quiet, close to my ears. I could feel a weight on the length of my body along with something tightly closed around my throat.
What I saw, what I felt, only lasted but a minute. Though it was enough to startle me into full consciousness. My eyelids broke open with a gasp, subjecting my tired orbs to the harsh hospital light. Almost immediately I could feel a presence.
Given what I'd hallucinated seconds prior, I was beyond wary as I shift my gaze to the right, but my body flooded with warm relief upon seeing Dick sitting beside my bed. He was leaning forward in his chair, reaching for my hand.
"Hey, hey, hey- you're okay," he spoke calmly, softly, though I could tell he was overwhelmed with a million different emotions. "You're okay, Anna. We're in a hospital—you lost a lot of blood."
"Dawn—where is she?" I questioned, squinting against the light.
"She's out of surgery. They put her in a room just down the hall."
Dick scooted his chair closer to the bed before reaching up his free hand, sliding his fingers back through my hair in a calming motion. I relaxed back against the pillow behind me, tightening my right hand's grip on his, as I let my eyes close again.
It was an utter relief to know I was truly correct—Dawn wasn't going to die. Lifting my eyelids, my eyes met Dick's. "How is Hank?" I asked, weakly.
Dick exhaled through his nostrils, "He's not talking. But he's with Dawn."
"And Rachel?"
"Rachel's missing," he answered, dread lacing his voice. "Those people on the roof—they took her."
I had assumed as much would happen but, in the moment, I was not allowed to worry about anything else. My body would not have allowed me to use my strength and lack of pain to help Rachel instead. I supposed that was meant to comfort me.
It was meant to make me feel content with what I'd done. But it did no such thing. All it did was cause my lungs to lock up and my eyes to burn, an overwhelming sense of guilt crashing atop my head with the weight of many bricks.
The burning of my eyes forced me to close them, pushing water out of the corners. "Anna, you did what you could," Dick was quick to reassure me, continuing the calming action of his hand in my hair.
"No, I didn't," I shook my head, opening my eyes to yet more water. "I had the strength to but I didn't protect her. Now those psychos have her- she's probably so scared, Dick-"
"Shh- hey, hey, no. No. None of this is on you, understand? We will get her back, Anna, I promise," he leaned in closer, quieting his soft yet determined voice.
Though inside I did not truly believe his words, I nodded a little. Dick pressed his lips to the side of my head, putting his left arm around me to take the place of the pillow, and rested the side of his face against my forehead.
It was comforting, being cradled in his arms. A small part of me didn't want to be comforted. It wanted to get up, it wanted to get out—it wanted to find Rachel. She was so far away the warmth I felt in my chest was a ghost.
And it was the most uncomfortable feeling I had ever felt. It felt wrong. After a moment of quiet, once my emotions had calmed down, I spoke up. "You should check on Dawn," I said, my voice a little crackled. "Hank, too. He's a giant asshole but he shouldn't be alone right now."
"I don't want to leave you here all alone," Dick leaned back to reply.
I tipped my head back in the space it provided, looking up at his face, "I'll be fine. I might even get some more sleep—who knows? Go. I'm not going anywhere."
His face was colored with a quiet indecision but, ultimately, he nodded. He untangled himself from me and stood, pulling on his jacket before walking toward the door. "I'll be just down the hall if you need me," he said, as he reached the door. "It'll just be a minute."
"Take your time, don't let Hank push you out."
He tilted his head momentarily in an expression, "Yeah, we'll see."
With a small smile, he turned and exited the small hospital room. My eyes followed him as he walked the hall, through the glass wall. I only began moving once he'd disappeared. Fingers wrapping around the IV in my arm, my other hand pulling the nubbins from my nose.
This wasn't the most pathetic thing I had ever done, but it ranked fairly high on the list. Though, I couldn't tell myself no. I couldn't stop myself. The flicker of warmth I felt in my chest was too much to ignore so easily.
I freed myself from the chords and tubes of the machines and got to my feet. The sudden change caused an instant dizziness, a lightheadedness, and a bit of nausea. But I could not let such trivial things stop me.
So I pushed through it—shuffling to the bench against the wall where a pile of clothes lay. Upon sifting through them, I found that they were in fact mine. A pair of black pants and a red and black, long-sleeved shirt from my duffel.
My shoes from last night were beside the pile. Immediately, I dressed, taking care not to anger the bandaged wound on the right side of my abdomen. It was a small window to do what I needed to do. There was no room for error.
Once dressed, I shuffled to the room door. I carefully slid the glass door open and poked my head out through the doorway. Far down the hall to the left, Dick and Hank were talking just outside another hospital room.
Most likely Dawn's. A part of me felt guilty for not staying, for not being there for Hank. But the guilt I'd felt for my responsibility in last night's attack outweighed the guilt of leaving. So I slipped out of the room and traveled to the right.
The hospital staff, nurses and the like, buzzed by with clipboards—some even helping patients along—and no one stopped me. As I walked as quickly as I could manage through the halls to the nearest exit, I broke the white band around my wrist.
I tossed it in the trash can in front of the hospital. Hospitals were not a good place for me to be anyway. They could easily find out who I was. My guess was that they hadn't already because Dick kept a watchful eye.
But if I'd gone in alone, for some random accident or injury, I would've been discovered and immediately put in cuffs, given security watch and sent back to Arkham the moment I was well enough to travel.
After all these years I was still known as a threat. I'd seen it on the news—broadcasters speculating if I was responsible for random deaths in different cities near Gotham. They had whole theories worked up as to how I could've done it.
It was all bullshit. Though, I couldn't help thinking of my friends back home that had to hear it. I could picture Barbara watching those lunatics spew their theories on live television. Her utter disgust would be burned into her features.
I went back to the apartment on foot. Dick's Porsche wasn't parked out front, but my Mustang was. The plan was to get into the apartment, grab my duffel and my keys, then drive to wherever my body would have me go.
The apartment door was locked when I got up to the third floor, but a twist of my wrist broke the lock fairly easily. I walked inside and went straight for my duffel by the couch. It wasn't in my memory, putting the bag there.
Dick must have left it there when he got the clothes I now wore. My keys were inside the front pouch of the bag. I got them out and pulled the bag strap up onto my left shoulder, keeping the weight off my right side, then I exited the apartment.
When I got in behind the wheel of the Mustang, I checked my cell phone. It was out of battery. Sighing, I tossed the dead electronic on top of the duffel in the passenger seat and started the engine of the Mustang.
At this point, I was not operating on my own consciousness. Every move I made was instinctual. My energy, my mental clarity, was fueled by the strengthening warmth in my chest.
It was only a brief concern, the thought of Dick coming to find me. One planted so deep in the back of my mind I barely noticed its existence. Even if he did come to find me, he would have a very hard time keeping up with me.
I was already so far ahead, and he had no idea where I was going. It was good that my cell phone was off. But I needed to check the messages in case Victor called with an update on the mess in Gotham. So I ruefully plugged the device into the cigarette lighter.
It charged while I followed the highway out of D.C., out of Washington. My gut instinct was Ohio. Therefore, I was going to Ohio. Where in Ohio, I did not know—but it didn't matter just yet.
GOTHAM
12 YEARS AGO
I didn't know why. But I felt an incredible urge to go for a walk. The fresh night air was nice, it always calmed my nerves. Daddy had gotten me prescribed an anxiety medication. It was probably a good idea, but I didn't like how it made me feel.
I felt off, just a little wrong. Just enough to notice the difference. Usually on my late night walks I would go down by the river and walk its edge, then head back through the side streets until i'd reached my house.
Tonight I decided to walk the main roads through the center of Gotham. There were more street lights and people around. The night life in this city never ceased to amaze me with its vibrancy. I was just across the bridge when I felt a vibration at my side.
It was my cell phone—I knew that before I'd dug it out of my purse. The screen alerted me to a new text message from Dick. A smile curved the edges of my mouth as I opened the message.
DICK: Why are you out so late?
ME: Felt like going for a walk.
DICK: You okay?
ME: Yeah, I just needed some air.
Dick knew more than anyone just how much I disliked taking the medication. But he was an advocate for it in the hopes it would give me some semblance of normalcy. With the voices, the visions, the nightmares—it felt like I was losing my mind.
And maybe I was? What with how these walks usually turned out, it would not surprise me anymore. Typically when I was out walking and Dick texted me, he was out, too. His outings were a little more good natured compared to mine.
They had better intentions, better outcomes. I walked peacefully under the streetlights knowing he was out there, on a rooftop somewhere, watching. It made the paranoia a little less prominent.
DICK: When did you get that jacket?
ME: When I went shopping with Barbara yesterday.
DICK: It looks good on you.
ME: Don't you have a super villain to catch?
DICK: Are you trying to get rid of me?
ME: I feel bad taking your time.
DICK: It's okay, nothing's happening right now.
Walking while texting was an art form I had mastered in the last few weeks. But something caused me to lift my head in a jolt to watch where I was going, like there might be something in front of me. There was nothing. Nothing at all.
Then I felt it again. My feet halted, just past a streetlight, and my rounded eyes roamed across the street and over the nearby buildings. There was something here—I just couldn't see it. My phone was vibrating in my hands, but I ignored it.
I couldn't make myself answer it. It was like my mind was only allowed one task, and it was currently stuck on figuring out just what it was I was sensing. With a quick glance either way, I crossed the street and started up the road on the other side.
There was no way of knowing just why I needed to walk on the other side, why that was a requirement of this feeling in my gut. It just was.
My heart took a sudden leap in my chest, right up into my throat, and I found myself walking much faster than before. It felt urgent, as though I was desperately trying to find it—whatever it was. The need not being met caused an anxious pain in my chest.
Before I knew it, I was running. I was running faster than I needed to. It didn't last long before I was suddenly stopped at a side street off Main. My body stopped before my feet had, almost as if something was pulling me to a stop.
I followed the growing anxiety in me into the secluded darkness of the side street without hesitation. "Alina?" I called out the name, one I'd never heard before. It spilled from my lips instinctively, absentmindedly.
But there was a strong emotional attachment to each letter. I could feel it in my bones. And I needed to find her—quickly. My feet moved fast as my eyes desperately scanned the street. "Alina!"
Just as the word finished flying from my mouth, I found what I'd been looking for. My feet skidded to a sudden halt, and my mouth fell open with a sharp gasp, eyes wide with shock and fear.
Alina was dead.
Her body lay face first on the pavement, next to the trash adjacent a dumpster—as if she, too, were trash. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat but my heart was breaking. "No..." the word came out as a whimper. I took steps toward her, kneeling beside her with watered eyes. "I'm so sorry."
I spoke softly to the remainder of her, to whatever piece of her soul might still be lingering. Blood coated the pavement beneath my shoes. There were stab wounds covering the slope of her back, leaving tears in her floral dress, staining the pink fabric with dark crimson.
"Savannah!"
A familiar voice pierced the bubble of trance surrounding me, but I didn't move. I couldn't. I could only sit there, crying silently beside the body, mourning the sudden loss of someone I never knew. The only thing familiar about her was her dress.
I could've sworn I'd seen it somewhere before, but that was most likely just in a store. A presence was felt at my left side just moments before boots shuffled into my peripheral. It was Dick—more specifically, Robin.
"Holy..." his voice was filled with horror-stricken shock. "Anna, did you know her?"
I shook my head a little, "No."
"Then how'd you know her name?"
I opened my mouth to speak but anything I wanted to say was stuck in my throat, a strangled sob coming out instead. Sitting beside her was a mistake. But I couldn't move.
It all came to me—her abduction, her torture, and ultimately her murder. The scenes of it all played out in my mind in quick flashes, all three points in time being chopped up and blurred together in one single montage of pain and terror.
My stomach was sour, the crying not so silent anymore. It put an empty feeling of sadness in my gut to see it all. I bent over as a sudden pain ripped its way up my spine, flaring out in waves of heat through the rest of my back, my fingers digging at my scalp as I braced my elbows on my knees.
There was too much pain to cry. And that was what Alina felt just before death finally took her. I could see it play against my eyelids as if the memory was implanted in my brain like a projector.
I felt something touch my left shoulder blade, then grip the side of my shoulder tightly. "Anna! Can you hear me?" Dick urgently questioned me. "Talk to me—what's happening?"
"It hurts- it hurts so much," I forced the words through tears and clenched teeth.
"What hurts? Were you injured?"
"No!" I hit my hand against the side of my head in a desperate attempt to make it understandable as I added my next words. "My head. It's her."
"She needs to get away from the body," another, deeper voice spoke not far behind me. "It's triggering the hallucination."
Dick immediately wrapped his arms around me and stood, pulling me up to stand with him. My head was throbbing as the scenes continued to flash against my tightly shut eyelids. The sudden movement sent another sharp pain up my spine and I cried out, grabbing Dick's arm to brace myself against it.
Even with this outward reaction, he dragged me further away from the dumpster Alina's body lay next to, quickly to make it all stop. I knew because I could feel the movement, and I could feel the pain lessening.
It was working. But it didn't stop completely until I'd been far enough way from her for long enough. I was breathing rather heavily when it finally stopped completely and I could peel open my eyelids. The whole event took much energy from me.
Suddenly I felt like all my muscles were forcibly drained. I slumped back against Dick's chest, trying to slow my breathing. "Did it stop?" Dick asked, cupping my cheek with a gloved hand to turn my face toward his.
I nodded slowly, "Yes...I think it's over."
"Take her home. I'll make sure GCPD finds the body," the second voice spoke again.
I'd had a hunch, but it was confirmed when I turned to look. It was Batman. I had so many questions. But the one that really mattered right then slipped through my lips before I could stop it. "How did you know that would make it stop?" I inquired.
He looked at me plainly as he answered, "Educated guess."
COVINGTON, OHIO
NOW
I pulled into a parking space in the lot in front of a roller skating rink, ironically named Scooter's. By the time I'd gotten here, my phone was charged enough to read any messages, but I waited until I was parked.
My fingers tugged out the chord from the cigarette lighter and then unlocked my cell phone. There were no texts, but there were several missed calls and multiple voicemail messages. The majority of them both were from Dick.
I ignored those. There was only one voicemail from Victor. I quickly clicked to listen to the message, then held the phone to my ear. "Hey, Red. Some weird shit's been going down lately—just checking in. Give me a call when you're done babysitting, alright? We need to talk."
There wasn't time to call Victor right at the moment, so I saved the message and turned off my phone. I brought the device with me as I climbed out of the Mustang, shoving the door closed behind me. This place seemed to be popular.
You could hear the music from inside just in front of the door through a speaker. It was hard not to think of the days when I would think it fun to go to a place like this. My father was too busy working to police his daughter, so I could go if I pleased.
I'd forced Dick and Barbara to go ice skating with me—after hours, of course. That's what made it such a fun idea. They, too, ended up enjoying themselves, so it wasn't all bad when we got caught by Barbara's dad.
I pulled open the glass door to the building and stepped inside. It was definitely warmer in than out, but the heat in my chest was not from an outside temperature. It was Rachel—I could see her sitting at a booth across the building.
The moment I recognized the streaks of her hair, her head twisted quickly, eyes landing on mine almost immediately. "Savannah?" I couldn't hear her, but I could read her lips. "Oh my God!"
She began to push out of the booth and I hastened my steps toward her. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you?" I questioned, worriedly, as she approached rapidly.
Rachel's body collided with mine, her arms wrapping tightly around my middle. A pain shot up my spine, my right side burning, but I gritted my teeth to stifle it as I returned her hug. "I'm okay," she nodded quickly, before pulling away from me. "How did you find me?"
"Who the hell are you?"
The foreign female voice drew my eyes up from Rachel, over her shoulder to a dark-skinned woman standing not three feet from us. She was eyeing me warily, gaze flickering between Rachel and I. "This is Savannah—I told you about her," Rachel told the woman.
"It's Beverly, actually," I corrected, returning the woman's wary stare.
She was the most peculiar sight. A skin-tight dress in vibrant purple, a plethora of magenta curls resting on her shoulders, knee-high boots, and a large fur coat. "Beverly?" Rachel questioned, turning to me again. "What do you-?"
"Why don't we sit? Sounds like there's a lot to talk about," the woman interrupted, however cautious her voice may be.
I nodded a little, though I kept an eye on her. There was something off, something wrong—I could feel it. Her vibrations were different. They were unexplainably warm and loud. We sat down at the booth they'd previously occupied.
The woman sat on the side facing the exit while I sat on the opposite side with Rachel, Rachel being on the outside. She offered me her basket of half eaten fries, but I declined. "I'm alright, thanks," I shook my head a little. Then, I looked up at the woman, "Who are you, exactly?"
"Kory. And is it Savannah or Beverly? I'm confused," she replied.
There was something subtly flippant, something sarcastic. It was cautious still. Given who had been hunting Rachel, I supposed it was for good reason. "It's Beverly," I answered, neutrally.
"Rachel says you're one of the good ones," Kory said, leaning back a little in her side of the booth. "I'm not so convinced. Why does one girl need two names?"
I sighed, "Why does one girl need such a big coat?"
"Did you bring Dick with you?" Rachel suddenly turned to me, her eyes wide. Her mouth was full of fries, muffling her words, making her appear even more youthful than she normally looked.
"No, he's...in D.C., I think. He doesn't know I'm here," I shook my head. "I needed to find you, so I split. He'll catch up eventually, though."
Rachel's face dropped, "Is Dawn okay?"
"She won't die—as for any permanent damage, i'm not sure."
"Who's Dawn?" Kory asked.
I turned my head straight forward to look at her before replying, "A friend of mine."
Kory's eyes regarded me differently. It seemed she understood that I was not going to give her in depth, detailed answers for every question she asked. Something she wasn't used to, it seemed. Suddenly the atmosphere changed along with the song blasting out overhead.
Exhaling, she sat up in her side of the booth. "I'm going to change this music before my head explodes," she announced.
"Well, I need change for the arcade," Rachel told her.
Kory smiled and dug into her pocket, before pulling out a single bill. She reached across the table and slapped it in Rachel's open palm. Then, it was clear what it was—a crisp hundred dollar bill.
Rachel's eyebrows popped, "Seriously?"
"All I got," Kory nodded, as she stood. She paused before departing from the table, giving me a serious look, "Keep an eye on her."
My only response was a nod. Then Kory ventured off to change the music. Rachel stuffed another fry in her mouth before turning to me. "Wanna go to the arcade with me?" she asked.
She was in much brighter spirits now than she had ever been while in the hands of Dick and I. It was too much of a stark difference for me to say no. That, and I could watch her if I was nearer to her than sitting across the room.
So I accepted. We made change from the hundred dollar bill and then found our way to a pinball machine at the back. Rachel put in her money and began to play, while I stood at the right side.
I could see Rachel, and I could see the door—all the while keeping an eye out for the other patrons, in case one of them decided to be evil today. It was the ideal place to stand and surveil without looking suspicious.
Rachel racketed the ball around the inside of the machine, making random expressions of concentration that were vaguely humorous. "So, what happened to you on the roof? I didn't really see it," she asked, suddenly piping up.
I inhaled sharply, "We got our asses kicked. Dick and Dawn, off the roof. Hank in the back of the head with a bat. I was stabbed with my own knife."
"Oh my God, you were stabbed?!" Rachel asked, voice risen with worry.
Her eyes shot from the game to mine. Immediately I turned more toward her, lowering my voice. "Keep your voice down, alright?" I said. "Focus on your game—don't react."
It was obvious she wasn't at all put at ease. Her worry did not change, but she did as told and racketed the ball some more, glancing between the game and me. "Are you okay? Shouldn't you, like, be in a hospital or something?" she questioned, quieter than before.
I nodded, "Yes."
"To which question?"
"Both."
"You're crazy," Rachel shook her head, scoffing at my response. As she spoke, movement over her shoulder caught my eye. A young looking boy with green, spiky hair was slowly approaching us at the pinball machine.
He looked nervous, unsure. Most likely your stereotypical antisocial teenager trying to branch out. That wasn't exactly hard to read. His eyes were scattered between the game, Rachel, and me. When his eyes flickered toward me, I plastered on a closed-mouthed smile.
It was a gestured he returned, though his smile had teeth. He nodded a little with an airy chuckle as he stepped up at the other side of the machine. "Hitchhiker Lane. Nice," he smiled, watching Rachel play. "Uh...go for the camera sinkhole."
I didn't say anything. I just watched. It felt like I was the older sister chaperoning the younger one on a night out. The idea of it made me wary. "I'm Gar," the boy said.
Simultaneously, Rachel said, "I'm Rachel."
They smiled at each other, however brief it was—Rachel had to keep her eyes on the game. The boy glanced at me almost expectantly, as though he was waiting for me to give my name. "Beverly," I answered his inaudible question.
Gar bobbed his head, smiling, "Cool. Are you two sisters?"
"No," Rachel and I spoke at the same time.
She glanced up from the game at me and I gave her a look. Gar bounced between his feet a little, eyes shifting between us curiously. Then he looked at Rachel, "Your hair is cool."
Again at the same time, Rachel said, "I like your hair."
Despite the terrible few days I'd had, the left corner of my lips cracked up in the beginnings of a genuine smile as my eyes shifted between the two teens. Something deep inside of me wondered, ever so briefly, if that's how Dick and I looked at some point.
Young and nervous and rosy-cheeked. Wanting to say something but not knowing if saying it would get you anywhere good, rather than a lifetime of embarrassment. "Look out!" Gar shouted, pointing at the game.
The ball shot around and the game spoke, "Jackpot!"
Both Gar and Rachel suddenly burst with shock and excitement, shrieking, "Multiball!" as Rachel bounced against the front of the machine. I couldn't help but chuckle. The two together radiated a positivity that was sorely lacking in most areas of my life.
Seeing Rachel so happy was a rarity I wanted to protect. I wanted to keep her that way—young, and innocent, and happy. But my smile melted through my shoes as a familiar vibration tickled my bones. Dick was here. Instinctively, I glanced around the room.
My eyes swept far and wide, finally stopping on him as he was walking in the main area from the door. He went straight over to Kory at the Jukebox. "Shit," I hissed, under my breath.
"What's wrong?"
Rachel's voice pulled me back to the teens at the pinball machine. She looked curious and concerned. I sighed, but shook my head. Gar glanced between us both with a nervous shift of his weight, but he didn't say anything to either of us.
At least, not until my body decided to have the worst possible timing in my entire life. "Are you bleeding?" he suddenly asked me, eyes flickering between my face and my abdomen.
"What? No," I shook my head, feigning confusion.
"I'm sorry, it's just...uh, your shirt is darker there and, uh, it-"
The second I looked down at my shirt, I stopped hearing what was said. Sure enough there was a darker spot, right over my bandaged wound. I gently touched my fingers to the material a second before pulling them away to look.
My fingers were smeared with blood. It wasn't much, only a light covering, but it was enough to draw attention obviously. "Hey, come on, we're leaving—both of you," Dick's voice came from behind, causing me to lift my head to look.
He looked displeased, standing a foot behind and to the left of me. "What are you doing here?" Rachel questioned him, her face suddenly soured.
Dick answered, "Now's not the time, okay?"
"Why are you here?" Rachel pressed.
"Can we talk about this somewhere else? Let's go," Dick replied, curtly, before turning to leave. He glanced back to give me a pointed look—it was clear that he was, for all intents and purposes, pissed.
After I ditched him the way I did, I couldn't blame him. In fact I was the first to follow him. That could be blamed on my guilt. Kory and Rachel reluctantly followed along after a moment. "Rachel, we're getting you somewhere safe," Dick said, over his shoulder as he walked.
He lead the way toward the exit, the three of us women just behind him. I walked a little faster to get up beside him before speaking. "How the hell did you find us?" I asked him. "It was the computer, wasn't it?"
"I don't even know where to start with you," Dick hissed at me.
I sighed heavily, "Look, i'm sorry. But I needed to find Rachel."
"We, Anna. We needed to find her," he corrected, pushing through the door of the building. The cold air of outside did not hit me quite as hard as the tone of his voice. He lowered it, leaning toward me, "We're a team—you can't just fucking ditch me and run off!"
We reached the parking lot. The group of us was collectively heading for the Porsche, parked two spaces from my Mustang. "Hey, maybe people would respond better if you watched your mouth," Kory commented, from behind me.
"Both of you are wanted by the police," Dick said, coming to an abrupt halt in the middle of the parking lot. It caused all of us to stop as well. "They think Rachel killed her parents. And you're wanted for kidnapping, assault, arson."
Shrugging a little, I exhaled, "Well-"
"I don't wanna hear it," Dick interrupted, his head turning toward me with hardened features. My head recoiled, caught completely off guard by his sudden snap. I understood why he was angry. But I had not expected such an outburst.
Then again, we'd had our fair share of arguments that began with a random outburst from him. He took a step toward me and spoke with a hushed voice, his eyes softening amongst the stone of his other features.
"For all I knew, you could've made it down the block and bled out in an alley after ripping your stitches," he told me, the hurt in his eyes radiating through his voice.
My head tilted in a guilt-ridden expression, desperately grasping for something to hold onto. Desperate for something to lessen the explosion aimed right at me, "Dick, I'm sorry."
"We can't all tell when people are going to die!" he threw his arms out at his sides, exasperatedly raising his voice.
"Okay, i'm not even going to pretend to know what the hell is going on here," Kory said, crossing her arms as she sighed.
"Don't yell at her," Rachel glared at the back of Dick's head.
A throbbing faded in at the back of my head, and I reached up to rub my temple with the pads of my fingers, letting my eyes close. This was a mess. A mess I'd created, and now could not control.
I'd seen it coming, but the need to find Rachel outweighed any rational thoughts of reason or empathy. Regret and guilt and hurt pooled in my stomach. The very look of pain in his eyes was enough to water my eyes.
It was too much to reason I could leave without saying anything and be able to make it okay. He'd been left by a lot of people. Now I was one of them. Dick and Rachel were arguing over whether or not Kory actually kidnapped her when I rejoined reality.
The headache did not go away, but I was able to force myself to focus for a moment. Rachel was getting more agitated and therefore the warmth in my chest was becoming painful. "Stop pissing her off," I spoke up, aiming the words at Dick.
Dick turned, pointing a finger at me, "You don't get a speaking part."
"Is anyone even listening to me?!" Rachel shouted, throwing her arms out at her sides. It brought everyone's eyes to her face. She then thrusted a hand toward me, unwavering in her frustration, "She's still bleeding! Kory didn't kidnap me! No one wants you here!"
She aimed her hand at each person necessary to make her point. The last person she took aim at was Dick. His face only seemed to harden with her final words. But, in a heartbeat, he blinked as he turned to look at me quickly.
His voice rose an octave in panic, "You're bleeding?"
"Oh my god," Kory leaned her forehead into her palm beside me. I'd forgotten about the blood slowly seeping through my bandage for a moment. The mention of it only drew my eyes back down to the dark spot on my shirt.
The discoloration now trailed further down, into the top of my black pants. Dick was immediately thrust into action. He unzipped his jacket and pulled it from his shoulders, taking steps toward me. "We need to get you out of here," he said, tugging the jacket around my shoulders.
"I'm not leaving the Mustang," I shook my head. I dug into my pocket and unearthed the keys, then held them out to Kory. "You can drive, right?"
She took them, a little hesitantly, "Yeah, I got it."
Dick wrapped his arms around me and started walking, guided me along beside him. Considering we were only walking to the Porsche I saw no reason to fight it. "I've got a first aid kit—we can fix you up," he spoke reassuringly, yet worriedly.
We made it to the passenger side of the Porsche, and Dick reached ahead to open the door so I didn't have to raise my arm. He held it open while I eased myself onto the passenger seat. Once I was in, he shut the door.
Words were exchanged between Dick and Kory and Rachel, but they were muffled through the walls of the vehicle. It was a quick exchange. Only a moment passed before Dick climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine.