Chapter 7: Living Dead Girl
Lightning awoke the next day, unsteady and shaking. She got up, and took her ragged blanket with her to make the coffee and use the toilet. Then she cooked some more of her heroin and shot up, just enough to still the shakes. She threw the blanket back onto her bed, which was just a ragged mattress on the floor in her room. Then she showered and dressed, and then sat at her table and drank her coffee. She grimaced; like she would if it had been liquor- she always made overly strong coffee. One of the perks of living alone, she reflected as she poured another mug, was that no one else drank the coffee, and thus never bitched about it.
She hated her life, and she hated her fear of ending it. So, she persisted, addicted to heroin and afraid of any and all human contact. Working ten hours a week at a K-Mart kept her in this shithole apartment, and with just enough heroin to keep her from breaking down and facing her past. She was a woman on the run. Who could blame her?
She finished her coffee and left the building, walking the street to find… Well, she didn't know what she was trying to find. Just that it was elusive.
It was a hot summer day, yet Lightning wore a thin, pink sweater with three-quarter sleeves. She was self-conscious about her track marks. To counter-act the heat she knew she was holding in, she wore a short denim skirt above a cheap pair of flip-flops.
She passed a group of men unloading a truck. They were huffing as they hefted large wooden crates into an empty store. Walking past, she heard a whistle, and then laughs followed by a deep voice exclaiming that he wanted something with a little meat on its bones. She quickened her pace until she turned the corner. 'Bastards.' She thought to herself. The streets were moderately busy, and she found her eyes downcast as she avoided every set of eyes. People asked questions, and that was a whole can of worms to be avoided.
It was midafternoon when she stopped to sit on a bench outside of a bar named The Hole. She was sleepy, and it was warm on the bench, as the sun happened to be caressing the wood of said bench. The Hole didn't seem to be terribly busy this time of day, but Claire had a feeling that that would change as soon as the sun set.
"Claire?" Lightning hadn't heard her birth name in years, since she had left the House of Secrets in a torrent of blood and flame. She didn't even realize that the speaker was talking to her until she felt her shoulder get shaken by a warm hand. Her eyes popped up and peered into a pair of haunted green eyes in a familiar tanned face framed by wild hair.
"Fang?" Lightning stood, uncertain. The tanned woman took a drag off of her cigarette, then nodded. Lightning took a moment to look her old friend over. She wore blue jeans over black shoes and a black tank top.
"Gods, girl. You look like hell. You smoke?" Lightning shrugged, then mumbled,
"Sometimes. I thought... I thought you hadn't made it." Fang laughed as she held out her open pack of Newport reds.
"Pleasant surprise? Go ahead, love." Fang said, nodded at the pack of smokes. "Got a light here somewhere, too. " She searched her pockets, and produced a black Bic with the safety removed. Lightning thanked her and put the smoke between her lips, then tried to still her shaking hands enough to light it. Fang watched for a few seconds before taking back the lighter and sparking the cigarette for her. She pocketed her light and Lightning mumbled her thanks again.
"Wait here. I'll be back." Fang threw her cigarette to the side as she pushed into the bar. Wild music came out for the few seconds the door was open. Lightning remained standing by the bench, alarmed. Fang was the last person she had expected to see. Like, ever. Moments later Fang returned and lit up another cigarette. "You got anything to do today? My boss wants to meet you. I'll buy you a beer, too, if you want."
"M-me? Why?"
"Because she adores me. And because I owe you so much. And because I don't want to lose you... again." Fang said, looking straight into Lightning's eyes.
"I didn't… Owe me? What makes you-"
"Shh, we'll talk inside, love. Trust me." The two shared a quiet moment in the sun, looking over each other. Fang pulled a cheap pair of shades from the top of her head and nestled them over her eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm very hungover. I had a long night. Mixing all kinds of stupid shit. Not one of my better plans."
Lightning smiled. Fang didn't seem to have changed too much, as she was still outspoken and overly honest. She was taller and well fed now. Lightning had a sudden urge to cling to the girl and sob into her chest. To scream, even. Instead, she said:
"I'm glad to see you're ok. Or, well... As ok as we could be." Lightning looked down, suddenly fascinated at the ground. She didn't notice Fang step closer.
"Hey, we're as ok as we let ourselves be. That's why I went to talk to my boss. You are going to be ok. I promise." She set her hand on Lightning's left wrist. Lightning took a drag off of the bummed smoke and looked at the pulsian. The urge to clutch her came again, and again she crushed it within her. Rather, she dropped her eyes to the ground and puffed on the smoke, burning it down to the filter before she cast it away.