Occultum

Just the beginning of a short story I've been working on, would rally appreciate some opinions..

      Occultum

 

As I stare at the border line, I realize I'm not standing only between two countries, but standing between two lives. Behind me, is the life that used to belong to me; full of disappointment and grief from everyone I grew up with. Ahead of me lies what could be my new life, welcoming me to my new identity. If I turn around now, it would be a death wish. If I continue forward, I don't know what I could get myself into, or if he'll find me. I can still hear his cries in my head. I keep moving forward. It's dark, maybe about midnight. I inch up to the security booth, as the officer steps out he eyes me curiously.

"Where are you heading tonight miss?" he asks with his eyebrow raised.

"Visiting A friend in The United states” I try to seem as calm as I can, even though I actually don't know where I’m heading, just into the united states. As long as he lets me pass through, I don't care.

"May I see your passport?" he says without looking up. My hands shake as I open the glove department and grab my passport. The gun in my waist pinches my skin as I lean forward. I hand him the passport, realizing he's staring at my hands shake. I try to steady them, but it makes me more nervous. He continuously looks from the passport to me for a few minutes.

"Says here your 18, you don't look a day over 12" he says with a smirk on his face. Thanks officer, what a warm welcome.

“I am 18" I say nervously.

"I don't have time to play games tonight; I’m going to let you pass. But just make sure your careful." he walks away, disappearing into his booth. Whistling a song as he moves further and further away.

             I put my foot on the gas and easily make my way out of there, trying to look as mature as I can.  My muscles start to relax even though my mind is just about over the edge. I pull over in an abandoned gas station parking lot. I lay my head on the steering wheel and try to figure out where I’m going. Maybe I shouldn't have left. Maybe having him control me would have been better than fending for myself. I'm so stupid, just like he told me. No, he wasn't right. I can do this, and I can cure myself. The farther I get away the less power he has on me. I take the car out of park and I drive. I know where I’m going.

 

*                   *                     *

 

Soon enough I’m on the highway heading towards Boston.  If there’s one person who would help me they’d be with the lucky ones, the one’s that escaped his reign. No one could have predicted it. It must have taken years of careful planning, and keeping up with a thousand different lies. I don’t know exactly where these people stay, or who they are, or if they even exist. I heard him talking about them once to his favorites. I always wondered if they knew all along what he was planning. Or if they had just ended up in a bad situation. He wouldn’t let you get away no matter how hard you tried. Once he marked you, he owned you. My escape was a miracle. To be honest I have no idea how I escaped, I just know I’m lucky. Which makes me one of them, one of the lucky ones? Driving into the city brings to me realization. I have no idea where to find these people. I decide to stop at a hotel and call it quits for the night, maybe just in general call it quits. The first hotel I see is a small one for being surrounded by such nice buildings. It kind of looks like a little cottage, which excites me. I have no bag or anything really. I have some cash, and some credit cards. The credit cards are a waste though because they can track the transactions. Maybe I will drive a few miles away and take cash out? I’ll need it soon. I walk up to the front desk of a hotel and go through the motions. The lady looks at me differently; I can’t tell whether it’s pity or disgust.

“Do you need help with your bags?” she says half smirking. She’s not feeling pity.

“No thank you” I say almost growling. I make my way to down the hall looking for my room.

12. 13. 14. 15, my room. I walk in the room and immediately relax. This room is perfect. A small bed with ugly hotel bedding, a basic cable television, a tiny bathroom that I don’t mind and a cute little fire place by the window. The room is probably the size of a typical living room. I flop down on the bed and I stare at the ceiling. I am safe, for now. I need to make a plan. I need to find these people. I need to get rid of him, avenge every life he took. Or ruined. I close my eyes for just a brief second. I remember the first time I met him. He was like a mysterious, and usually stayed out of the way. Only A couple weeks after he had started making appearances was when my life started to suck. He was maybe 17 at the time. I was only 8; I don’t understand what he wanted from me. About a month later, my parents miraculously died in a car crash, in which I was saved. The night of the crash was the first night I met actually met him. I remember waking up in the woods. No wounds, but a throbbing on the right side of my stomach. I looked down to see a marking I wasn’t familiar with. A grouping of black circles, that looked almost like cartoon wind,  imprinted on my abdomen. What I have come to know as the occultum markings. I open my eyes, Every time I think about it the marking warms my body.

As the warming sensation goes away, my stomach starts to growl. Unfortunately this hotel doesn’t have any room service, or tiny restaurants or something. So I grab some money, and a sweater and I decide to go find a small dinner. A few miles down the road I end up finding just what I’m looking for. Probably A family owned restaurant guessing from the name “Joe’s diner.” I walked in and for the first time since I stepped foot in the United States, no one was staring at me. I walk towards a booth in the corner. And I pick up the menu and start to read. My mouth waters as I start to think about the things I could order. I happen to look up as a man walks into the dinner. He looks about my age, tall, pretty muscular, a bit chubby but you wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at him. He’s wearing a black leather jacket and a plain white shirt underneath to go along with his dark jeans and cliché boots. The way he’s dressed, he looks pretty intimidating. But when I catch a glimpse of his eyes, they’re green but not too bright. You could almost mistake them for hazel eyes. I can tell by his eyes that he’s nothing to worry about. He has the eyes of an orphan when he feels unwanted. As he walks past me my stomach warms, like it does when I think of that night. I don’t know why but I can’t take my eyes off of his. He walks by me with a smirk on his face, our eyes still locked on each other. The closer he gets the farther the warmth spreads. I’ve never felt this before, and I don’t know why it’s happening. Then all of a sudden he sits opposite to me in the booth, without me even inviting him.

“Are you new to town?” he says while taking his jacket off. Now I can clearly see how big his muscles are, not crazy big. But big enough to be intimidating. This close I can also see how his dark black hair makes his eyes look less like an orphan, and more confident and almost, cocky. There’s a faint hair line where his side burns should be, he must not keep up on that. Under his bottom lip and besides his nose he has two little beauty marks. He doesn’t have a picture perfect smile, yet in its own way it’s perfect. I can’t help but focus on the mark under his lip as he talks to me.

“Kinda sorta” I reply. Technically yes I am new to town, but I’m not sure how long I’ll be here.

“Well you must be because I would have remembered such a beautiful face.” He answered. I assume that’s his attempt at flirting. How cliché... Everything about him is cliché and makes me squirm.

“Just visiting actually, but thanks for the warm welcoming.”  I can’t complicate my life with a boy. I’m trying to keep myself from being killed, I don’t have time for a petty crush. He doesn’t respond, he just stares at me for a second, which makes me very uncomfortable. I get up and just when I’m about to walks out he grabs my arm. It reminds me of how he grabbed me when I tried to defy him. He used to leave bruises on my wrists and up my arms.