I own nothing!

We arrived at an inn, and checked in. I slept in another room. It took me a bit to go to sleep, wishing I had finished my device, just so I could use it, and everything would be okay again. The city noises were louder there, and I wished they wouldn't be so noisy. It sounded like there was a train in the basement of the building.

Chapter 17: Jetlag

If anyone ever thought that jetlag wasn't bad, they were wrong. For us, who'd crossed into New York from California, it could be described in one word: awful. There were other words, ones that Jazz might have been thinking, or even Mom, big words I didn't bother myself about, even though I knew them. Why should I? Anyway, to the point. Jazz, Mom, and I woke up at 7:00 in the morning because of the light beginning to pour through our window. The exhaustion produced from that experience made Mom go back to sleep, Jazz rapidly following her example.

Maybe it was because of the fact that I was dead, but I didn't feel quite so bad as they did. I wandered around the hotel room for a bit. Our hotel was a bit on the shabby side, because we'd been too tired to find another one. It was big, though. I'd give it that. I finally left a note on the door, and walked straight through it. The sensation was a little painful, as I was rapidly discovering. When I didn't focus enough, and this was most of the time, my phasing hurt. I grimaced, and followed my nose down to the kitchen, wondering if anything was worth eating.

I stepped towards a large plate of scrambled eggs, only to be stopped by a low growl. It turns out there was a vicious-looking dog in the corner. My automatic reaction used to consist of jumping. Now, the surprise made me hit the ceiling, and I barely came down before the owner of the establishment walked in. He was a fat, elderly man, with a red face, and the build an older Dash might have achieved. He was muscular.

"What're you doing? That's my dog's food." He rudely announced.

I half-wondered why he was so grumpy. "I thought we signed in at a bed-n-breakfast inn. I was hoping there was some food for me."

"Tough, kid. You don't pay the extra price for a breakfast, you don't get it. Yer folks only paid for the bed part. Got it?" the sharp voiced male quickly corrected my assumption.

"Yes, sir." I started to turn around, before asking, "Where's a good food joint around here?"

"You c'n always pay a bit more and get the breakfast."

"No, thank you."

"There's a restaurant down the street, two blocks. Mcdonalds." The man was probably upset because he didn't get any more of our money. However, he did point me in a sort of east-ish direction.

"Thanks." I walked back to our room, left a note on the door, and began the walk to the restaurant, slowly. I noticed as I walked that the outside of the building was pretty bad looking, and remembered the funny look our taxi driver gave us when we announced where we were going. I guessed that in the dark, we hadn't noticed the state of disrepair, and to our tired eyes, just about anything looked great. I continued down the street, letting my eyes scan the area around me, and looking at the lines hung across the street with clothes attached, strongly resembling giant bats. I noticed the filthy streets, and had to step carefully to avoid huge mud puddles. I finally reached the end of that block, but had one more to go.

When I was going down that one, it was more of the same, and I developed doubts that I would go to the McDonalds. Sure enough, the McDonalds the owner directed me to had obvious cleanliness issues. I decided to keep walking. After all, it wasn't likely I'd get lost.

At the end of an hour, I had to admit it. I was lost. I was very lost. An hour of taking random turns, and losing tangibility several times, the latest of which had just occurred, leaving me in an abandoned subway station, I was fighting a wave of worry, and trying to see in the dark. It took me five disorienting minutes. Have you ever been in darkness so intense that you don't really even know if you're right-side up? Think of it like that.

Suddenly, I stepped into clean air. Actually, for all I knew at that moment, I could be intangibly sinking to the center of the earth. But I wasn't. A few seconds later, I hit the bottom with a bone-jarring thud. I heard something snap, and ignored the rush of pain as well as I could, unable to keep back a soft scream. I stayed very still for several seconds, wondering what I'd broken. I finally wiggled my toes, instantly locating the source of pain. My ankle. I think I broke it. I wearily reflected, jetlag finally hitting me. I struggled to sit up, and started to reach for my phone, abruptly realizing I'd left it in my suitcase. I let out a sigh. Of course.

Was it wrong to let loose a stream of less-than-complimentary words spill out? Let me assure you, you would have done the same. Even Sam's mom probably would have. I finally summoned up enough energy to do something. I don't really know what I did. One moment it was dark, and the next I could see in the same crisp detail the way I'd normally see things in daylight. I studied my ankle, noting the dark bruising already forming. I lay back down, and contemplated never rising again. About five more minutes and I gave up on that plan.

Slowly, I forced my body back into a sitting position. My ankle panged a little. Slowly, I tried to remember any information related to setting broken bones. I finally remembered something, and began to feel around my ankle for bones in the wrong place. Then, I carefully bound it, and stayed still for a few minutes longer. When I got to my feet, I wasn't fully prepared for the burst of pain that hit me, so I sunk back onto the ground, nearly blacking out.

The next time, I waited for the pain to subside. Then, I stumbled up, staying in one position for several seconds before continuing. I'd like to say each step was easier than the one before it. But that would be lying. I found, with a bit of work, the hole I'd fallen down. Then I focused on the freezer-like sensation in my chest, one of the only temperatures I could feel. For the first time, I willingly transformed. I shot up through the hole as fast as I could, which was very slow to me. When I got out, I sank onto the edge of it, and listened to my stomach growl. I looked at the time, and realized it was already 8:00 in the morning. I thought for a moment, and finally limped to a corner, ignoring the part of me that told me I was being unwise, choosing instead to curl up in the corner, and sleep.

When I woke up, I felt better. I moved a little, and realized my ankle didn't hurt so much. I got up, now able to ascend through the ground with minimal pain. When I got to street level, nobody was around. Thank goodness, I thought. I moved back to Human Form, and checked the time. It was 12:00 and I still hadn't eaten.

I found a restaurant quickly after that, one that actually looked good, and spent five dollars on a small bag of chicken. Prices in New York were officially outrageous. But by the time I managed to find my way back to our inn, it was late. When I arrived, I was met by the sight of a pacing Mom, Jazz trying to calm her down and provide reasons for me taking so long. The second I entered, I was enveloped in an awkward (on my part) hug, and treated to a lecture on responsibility.

My provided excuse consisted of, "I went to the library after I ate, and they had some good books on outer space! And I fell asleep. I can take care of myself!" I added a pout after that last bit, hoping she'd give in. Mentally, I was adding, I proved that so well when I killed her son…

I was finally let off the hook with a warning to not go through New York without a phone again. After that, we went hunting. It was almost too late to find a better hotel, but we did. It was even much closer than our hotel. When we got there, we ate supper, and sunk into bed, bodies exhausted from the time change. Well, everyone except myself. I carefully unwrapped my rough bandage-work in the bathroom, because my ankle had stopped hurting. A shocking sight met my eyes. The bruising and expected swelling was gone. I wiggled my foot, and, despite an aching sensation, my ankle was fine.

I grimaced, a brief wave of anger and hatred shooting through me. Stupid death, stupid healing, stupid, stupid me. I grit my teeth together, and slowly used my fingernails to scratch my skin as deeply as I could, just until it bled a little. Red seeped out, and I watched the tiny mark heal in disgusted fascination. I did it again, watching it happen several times, not fighting any of the sensations. Loathing hit me hard. I was a monster, and the only thing I was good for was dying. My hands flexed. Monster. I shuddered, pushing back the thoughts. I slinked into our room, and tried to go to sleep. Sleep came quickly, and the nightmares accompanying it came just as fast.

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-MiaulinK