Chapter Three - Nicolas

Chapter Three

Nicolas

I hadn't thought about her for three weeks.

That's was my mantra. I hadn't let myself think of her in three weeks. But did constantly thinking that you're not thinking about her count as thinking about her?

What I had hoped had been a one time thing, a passing fancy, had turned into an obsession. I dreamed about her. When I blinked I saw her smiling, which was ridiculous because I had never seen her smile. I had only seen her for thirty seconds! What was wrong with me?

I ran on, drenched in sweat and focusing on the bare wooden wall right in front of me. The only sound I heard was the thump, thump, thump of my feet as they rose and slammed back down onto the belt of my treadmill. I had been running for two hours straight, and this was just an afternoon session. I had run just about as long this morning and I didn't intend to stop anytime soon. My legs burned and I was having difficulty breathing, which was exactly what I was going for. It took my mind off of her a little better.

On the upside I was in the best shape of my life, not that I hadn't been in good shape before. Surely I would get over this crap soon? I hadn't let myself so much as do a web search for her and for the last two Mondays I had avoided my television completely to evade temptation.

A bang on my door snapped me out of my head and I jumped off of the treadmill, turning it off and grabbing a towell. I rubbed my face with it and walked over to answer the door, taking in deep breaths. Opening the door revealed my mother, arms crossed over her sweater and a worried expression on her face.

"Nicolas? Are you alright? You've been on that thing so much lately."

I rolled my eyes and nodded. "Just staying fit, Mom. I'm fine. You interupted my run for that?"

"I just don't like you being locked up in your room alone all day, every day, Honey," she said, pursing her lips.

"Well, I'm not too big a fan of the concept either. But what else am I going to do?"

"You could go outside to run, it would be good for you to get some fresh air now and then."

"Yeah, dodging trees and jumping logs while it pours down rain. That'd be a great way to spend my days."

She shook her head and turned, walking back downstairs to complain to my father no doubt.

I closed the door a little harder than was absolutely nescessary and threw my towell onto my bed, walking over to the window and gritting my teeth loudly. This was no way to live. I felt like I was going to explode if I didn't scream, but I couldn't scream. Not here. I imagined what that would be like, one long primal roar. I could keep it up for hours, just emptying my lungs like a man posessed. How incredibly pathetic was it that I didn't even feel comfortable enough in my own house to scream? This place was more of a prison than a real prison, made up of my own insecurities and fear of... What, exactly? Not like my parents could ground me if I acted out. What would they do, lock me in my room? I laughed bitterly and sat on the window sill, burying my face in my hands.

I wasn't acting out because of some self-inflicted fear. Fear of what, I didn't know. I felt trapped in my own body, an itching, aching sensation that made me want to rip my skin off to free myself. My heart sped again as I was gripped in panic and I growled angrily at myself, standing and kicking at the wall.

I'm not staying in tonight, I thought to myself grimly. I had no clue where I would go, but I wasn't going to just sit in my room all night yet again, playing video games and thinking of her. I hated her. The b***h had clawed her way into my mind and made an already unbearable life so much worse.

I closed my eyes and tried to convince myself of that, to blame her. But it didn't stick. I kicked the wall again and pulled my shirt off, tossing it next to my bed and walking into my bathroom. I peeled off my sweat-drenched shorts and almost threw them in the corner defiantly, but rolled my eyes and dunked them into the hamper. I slouched over the sink and looked down at the faucet sullenly. The rage was gone, replaced by that ever-present despair. Joy.

I straightened and examined myself in the mirror. Well, at least I looked decent. My chest and arms were noticably bigger than they had been three weeks before and my abs were more defined. My black hair was pasted to my head and glistened wetly. I could only imagine how I smelled right now. I snorted and removed my boxers, stepping into the shower and turning it on.

The cool water felt good as it washed over me. I concentrated on each drop as it struck my face, pretending that I was in the middle of a forest, a storm raging. I could almost hear the thunder, smell the wet grass. I clenched my eyes closed more tightly and made it more real, adding more detail to the mental image. The wind picked up and got louder and louder, the trees around me whipping back and forth violently. I began running, heading for the break in the trees.

I came to a clearing and squinted through the rain, looking over the treetops. A funnel whirled in the distance, growing in size as it drew nearer at an alarming rate. Everything was pulled into it, everything was consumed by it. The trees near it were uprooted and pulled into it's black depths. The rain was dragged to it from miles around, no longer falling vertically, but horizontally. The drops slapped me in the back of my head as I stared the spectacle it in awe. As it came closer and closer I found myself drawn to it. Against all reason I walked forward slowly, my eyes locked on the tornado as it's form shifted, a face appearing from the black mass. Her face. She smiled at me and a flash of lightning forked out of her eyes, followed by a deafening boom that shook me from my vision and had me clutching at the shower wall.

Whoa. That had been intense. I wiped my face and spat out water from the shower. I took in a deep breath and steadied myself, grabbing the soap.

I stepped out of the shower a few minutes later and dried myself off, wrapping the towell around my waist and walking into my bedroom. I stopped in the doorway for a moment, immediately noting that my shirt was no longer on my bed. I turned and looked at the hamper just inside the bathroom door and saw it laying on top. So much for bounderies. 

I jumped as my room lit up in a bluish light and a boom rolled over me. I looked outside and saw the rain pounding against the window violently. Ah. That explained the vivid 'vision'. I hadn't realized the storm had gotten that bad. Well, that put a damper on my plans for the evening. It wouldn't stop me though. I needed out, a little rain wasn't going to stop me. Besides, maybe I would get lucky and get struck by lightning.

I was dressed in a flash and looked at my watch. Seven o' clock. My parents would be heading to bed about now. They wouldn't bother to say good-night, I ignored them when they did lately and they had all but given up. And even if they did discover I was gone that might not be so bad a thing. I could use a little excitement. 

I went to my closet and opened it, scanning my limited selection of clothing, all of it a bit hard to make out in the dim light. It was all black after all. I grabbed a hoodie and slipped it on, then strode over to my window and pushed it open. The wind blew large drops of rain into my face, the cool liquid instantly drenching me. I smiled and hopped over the sill, landing quietly on the roof and closing my window behind me. 

I pulled the hood over my head and carefully walked to the edge of the roof. I set my knees firmly on the gutter and looked over the edge. My parents were in the kitchen, upside down and talking over cups of de-caf coffee. I pulled myself upight again and stood, then leapt forward off of the roof, landing in a roll and coming to my feet on the lawn below. I had mastered that ten years before, much to my parent's dismay. I looked back at the house. They still sat and hadn't noticed me. I laughed, the small victory filling me with a positive energy I hadn't felt in a long time. I gave them both a small salute, then turned and ran off into the pouring rain towards the road.

I pushed myself to my limits, speeding through the storm much faster than I would normally run. I would tire quickly, but I didn't care. The roar of the wind and the rain smacking into me was deafening and the lightning that flashed all around me, miles away in every direction, gave me a shot of adrenaline every time.

It was fifteen miles to 'town'. The town consisted of a gas station, a tavern and a police station, and they were all housed in two adjoining buildings. That was it. Still, it beat my room. I ran on, gasping for breath after the first mile at my breakneck pace, inhaling water. I eventually slowed my pace to a fast walk, speeding to a jog once I had caught my breath. The rain died down after an hour but the wind still blew at my back, which increased my pace nicely. Another hour later and the tavern came into sight. I slowed again, not wanting to be out of breath when I entered.

It was raining again when I pushed open the door, but it was much lighter than it had been, not the torrential downpour that it had been. I pulled the hood from my face and closed the door behind me, running my hand through my wet hair and inhaling. The place smelled of hamburgers and stale beer and country music blared from the old fashioned juke box in the corner. It was filled with a dozen local boys, most donning cowboy hats and boots, their jeans worn and faded. 

Every set of eyes was on me the moment I stepped inside and I felt very out of place in my black hoodie, black jeans and black shoes. I didn't consider myself a Goth, I didn't have the demeanor for it. I just liked black. But to these country bumpkins that's exactly what I was, and it wouldn't help that they all knew every detail of my life, despite my seclusion. I knew everyone here by name from my childhood, and knew that my family was the talk of the town, the hermits who chose to avoid everyone unless it was absolutely required to do otherwise. 

I stood straighter and looked everyone I passed in the eye, nodding at them firmly. I reached the bar and smiled at George Carpenter, the bartender and owner of the tavern. "Hi, George."

He smiled back and nodded in return. "'Lo, Nic. How's the family?"

"Good. Quiet."

He chuckled at that. "Not much changes 'round here. What can I getcha?"

"Beer would be nice," I said, sucking on my cheek thoughtfully.

He pursed his lips and eyed me doubtfully, then looked over at the tap and shrugged. "Why not." He grabbed a mug and filled it, then slapped it down in front of me. "But you'd better be able to pay, bud." He winked at me and walked over to the sink to wash some dishes.

"Thanks, George." I took a draw on the beer and looked around the tavern, checking to see if everyone was still staring. Most had returned to their pool games or conversations, but a rowdy group on the other side of the room still elbowed one another enthusiastically, pointing in my direction and guffawing. 

I shook my head and took another drink, looking up at the television over the bar. I choked on the amber fluid, coughing until my eyes teared up. You have got to be kidding me! I got control of myself and glared back up at the screen. She smiled back at me, just as I had imagined her to, each tooth gleaming like a sun. Her green eyes shone, drawing me into their depths. I closed my eyes and clenched my teeth.

"Drink a little strong there, Avery?"

I groaned inwardly and opened my eyes. To my right, far too close, was Brady Mitchell. I didn't know anyone quite well enough to have 'enemies', but if I did he would be at the top of the list. He was the typical bully type, so confident and full of himself when he had his crew at his back. I turned and looked behind him at his four friends, all of them leaning on their pool cues eagerly.

"Well, you gonna answer me, Avery?"

"No, it's not too strong for me, Brady."

"You ain't my friend, Avery. Only my friends call me Brady." He leanded forward and poked me in the chest hard to accentuate his point, his rank breath wafting over me as he slurred out the words. Anger flared in me and I stared him in the eye coldly. "Ooh, got a bit of attitude in you, huh?"

"Not in the mood, Brady." I knew I was goading him, but it was obvious he wanted a fight anyway. I wasn't getting out of this without a fight, I might as well make it interesting.

He laughed loudly, sounding like a wounded hog and grabbing at his hat. "Aw, poor thing. Your freak family having some troubles?"

"At least my parents aren't related," I said conversationally, taking a deep drink from my beer.

His eyebrows knitted together. "They ain't related."

"Your mother is Janie Mitchell-Mitchell. Her maiden name is the same as her married name. In a town this small I'd say the odds are stacked in my favor on that one, Brady."

"They ain't related," he repeated, more angry than confused now.

"At least he had the decency of marrying her once he knocked her up though," I continued, shifting my weight. "Damn good of him."

He launched himself at me awkwardly and I dipped back, avoiding the blow easily and grabbing him by the back of his neck. I slammed his face down into the bar with a satisfying thunk and backed away as he slumped to the floor. That had been easier than I had thought. UnfortuNicly I had four to go, and they hadn't looked as drunk as he had been.

I turned and saw his friends staring at me in disbelief. I unzipped my hoodie and slipped out of it, slinging it over my barstool as they got their wits about them and advanced cautiously, glancing at eachother to make sure that they weren't alone.

"Aw, damn it..." I heard George mutter behind me.

I walked forward slowly as they advanced. Complete silence fell over the bar save the juke box as everyone watched the four men surround me menacingly, pool cues now held like spears. I had never been in a fight before, never had the opportunity. I would have to use my strength to my advantage here, they definitely had more skill. My heart should have been pounding in fear, but all I felt was excitement. A way to vent my pain had just arisen.

The man in front of me looked behind me suddenly and I took that as a warning, stepping to the side quickly. I had guessed correctly and the pool cue slapped into the floor to my left. I grabbed it and spun, ripping it from the mans' hand and flipping it over, thrusting it into his stomach hard and following through with a left hook to his jaw. He fell to the floor wheezing, but the other three men were moving now, coming at me together.

I took a hit to my temple and another to my side that had me staggering, but I kept my wits about me enough to jump back over the fallen man and away from my three opponents, keeping them in front of me so they couldn't surround me again. I shook off the hit to my head and squinted around the room, looking for something to use to my advantage. I didn't have time though, one of the men rushing forward, cue held high. I blocked the blow with my own cue and retaliated with a kick to his chest, sending him back into another of his friends. Maybe these guys didn't have much skill after all.

The remaining man tossed his cue at me like a javelin and I dodged to the side, but it clipped me in the elbow and sent numbing waves down my arm, my own cue clattering down to the floor. He ran at me and I ducked a punch, only to be kneed in the jaw. The room spun and I landed hard on my back, the breath knocked out of me. He looked down at me, a stupid grin on his face and pulled his leg back to kick me, but I kicked first. He clutched his privates in agony but I kicked again, breaking a finger or two and hitting my target through his hands again. I scooted back and pushed myself to my feet as he sank to the floor.

I ran over and punched him hard in the face once, then again, sending him all the way to the floor. His two friends had untangled themselves from one another now and they were right on top of me, though. I was hit with a flying tackle and was suddenly on my back again, the cowboy on top of me, looking down smugly as he drew back a fist. I felt the first three punches, but after that there was just a ringing. My vision was tiny pinpoints after the fourth punch and by the fifth I couldn't see anything at all.

The next thing I knew I was standing, my posistion reversed. I looked down at the mans' bloody face in shock and was then on my side next to him as his friend landed a kick to my ribs, knocking me away. I jumped to my feet again and blinked over and over, blood dripping into my eyes. I could barely see, and I couldn't hear a thing. I registered a blow to my right cheek, but didn't feel it. I swing blindly, connecting with something. Whether or not it was him I had no idea, but I swung again and again, kicking and punching wildly, most of my strikes missing their target. I tasted a fresh wave of blood as a huge impact landed on my face and on some level I knew that it was the floor. 

As I faded away I saw her face right in front of me, laying in the darkness and smiling sadly. She reached out to me and everything disappeared.

"Nicolas... Nicolas... Nicolas! Please..."

I pried my eyes open and my vision swam. I looked around blearily and coughed, blood spilling from my swollen mouth. I looked around the room unwillingly, my head lolling around randomly. "Uhhng?" I asked.

"Honey, are you awake?" a womans voice asked urgently.

I tried to concentrate, focusing hard on turning my head. It hurt like hell but I managed to face the person who had spoken. I groaned in dismay. My mother. Great.

"'wake...?" I muttered, following up with a wheezing cough that sent more blood spraying from my mouth. I turned my head again, wincing against the pain and pushed myself into a sitting posistion. The room spun from the effort but I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath. Damn it, even breathing hurt!

I opened my eyes again and looked over at the other side of the room. I was still in the tavern, sitting up against the wall right next to the now-silent juke box. Brady sat at the bar, an ice pack on his face as he rocked slowly forward and back. His friends all lay on the floor around the center of the bar, chairs and tables knocked over randomly. I blinked slowly and shook my head.

"I won?" I asked wetly, flinching as my split lips moved.

"I would hardly say you 'won' anything," my mother said coldly. "What were you thinking?"

I laughed humorlessly, then whimpered. "For once in my life I wasn't," I replied. I took in a shuddering breath and pulled myself to my feet, leaning heavily on the juke box.

"You shouldn't stand yet," my mother said, panicked.

"I'm fine," I assured her weakly.

"Doctor Mendelson!" she shouted. I looked over curiously to see the town doctor leaning over the man I had kicked in the balls, seeing if he was conscious. He looked up quickly and hurried over when he saw me.

"Nicolas, you need to sit down," he told me, his long white hair flying every which way.

"Really rather stand, Doc." I shook my head again. It was painful but it seemed to help me focus a bit. One of the four men on the floor stirred and I spat out a mouthfull of blood. "He's moving," I informed him.

The doctor took one last look at me, ensuring that I wasn't going to keel over, and turned to check on the man.

I looked past my mother and saw my father talking to Sheriff Clark and George near the entry of the tavern. I laughed again, wheezing in agony as I did. This was getting better and better. I noticed for the first time that I could barely see out of my right eye. I touched it carefully and winced. It was swollen shut, apparently.

"Why would you come to a bar, Nicolas?" my mother asked in her best how-could-you-do-this-to-me tone.

"Fancied some night life," I replied, straightening and checking my balance. I had none. I gripped at the juke box as if it were a life raft.

"This is no time to mouth off!" she exclaimed. My father looked over at us, concerned. He excused himself from the Sheriff, who began questioning George, and walked over.

"You alive?" he asked drily.

"Still breathing," I nodded. "Sort of."

He shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. "What were you doing here?"

"Wanted out of the house."

"And it had to be at night?"

"Yeah."

He narrowed his eyes. "I get it. You've never acted out, and now you're almost eighteen. You're testing the waters. Well, you'll find those waters to be pretty damned cold. You're not leaving that room of yours for a month."

I couldn't help it, I laughed. I laughed long and hard, so hard that I felt as if my battered lungs would rip. I slid down to the floor, my arms too weak to hold me upright. "You... You really think... I give a s**t?" I asked, gasping for air as I grinned up at him. I could only imagine how I must have looked, most of my teeth loose, maybe even chipped and all of them covered in blood, my face swollen and looking like a Frankenstein' monster mask. "I already spend my life in that room. That's the whole point of this."

His expression turned from anger to complete shock at my reaction and my mother covered her mouth with her hands. He opened and closed his mouth, searching for something to say. He settled on "We'll discuss this later."

The Sheriff approached us and looked down at me dubiously. "Nicolas. How you feelin'?"

"Aces." I pulled myself to my feet again, leaning heavily on the juke box.

"Mmm. Well, I've got the statements of Brady, George and what few patrons stuck around after the fight broke out. Seems you started up quite a tussel in here."

"Brady tried to hit me. I reacted."

"Yeah, pretty much what George said." He looked over at the four men on the floor, his expression almost amused. "Quite a tussel," he repeated.

I grinned at him and he took a step back, confirming my assessment of my appearence.

"Yeah... Right, well," Sheriff Clark said, clearing his throat and looking down at his pad. "Brady and his friends will be paying for the damages, and spending a night in lockup. As for you... I've got three cells and six bunks. I don't particularly want to put you in the same cell as one of them." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "So, I guess you get to go home and recover. You look like you need it."

"Could do with a nap or two," I agreed.

"I bet. Doc says you didn't get so much as a broken rib, though. Amazing considering you took out five of these boys."

"I didn't chip a tooth, did I?" I asked. I bared my teeth at him and his face scrunched up.

"Ah... Not that I can tell, but it's a little... Bloody, to tell."

"Mmm..." I ran my tongue over my aching teeth and blinked, my eyelids suddenly very heavy. "Think I need to go now..." I breathed. I lost my grip on the juke box and began to slip to the floor, but my father caught me and slung my arm over his shoulder. I grunted in pain at that but appreciated the help. I nodded in farewell to the Sheriff and limped out of the tavern. 

As I passed the bar I blinked and stared at her in shock. She sat on the end stool and smiled at me as I passed. I closed my eyes and let my father guide me out, wondering just how crazy I was going to get.

Reviews

[crazysox]

I'm really looking forward to reading the next chapter! Great work!