Faces

It was dark in the tunnel, so dark in fact that with the door shut behind him the tunnel became completely void of light and leaning backwards against the solid metal frame Dylan was unable to see anything beyond his eyelids. It was more than just dark though, it was as if the light had been drained purposely from the tunnel and as he pushed off from the door and into the vast empty space ahead it became more and more apparent to Dylan that his eyes weren’t going to adjust, forcing him to feel his way through the tunnel with his hands pressed against the chalky stone of the wall. Quickly stepping through the hollow passageway, his feet kicked up water from the small puddles gathered in the middle and sent splashes of the cold brown water up his leg and soaking his jeans. 

He trekked on for a good while through the empty passage; it seemed to go on forever without any turns, not even slight twist, and walking for as long as he did Dylan wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d turned up on the other side of town but when he finally found a ladder into the sewers and up onto the surface, he was surprised to find he had only gone as far as Vincent street; not far from where he lived but it was still near the centre of town and the suspicious looks drawn to him as he emerged from the manhole cover made him feel uneasy. The unease then rapidly turned to horror, he’d already spoken to one cop who’d gotten a clear look at him, and if the one he’d trapped on the roof was able to make him, he’d be in cuffs before the s**t could even contemplate hitting the fan. 

Moving to the protective aura of the shadows basked at the edge of the tall stone wall, he slipped into an empty side street and made his way back to the alley where he’d dumped his bike an hour before, constantly referring to the map in his head; circling around a maze if brick, stone and wood until he reached it, hidden in the darkness opposite the media frenzy. Getting comfortable in the seat, he slid his left foot into the pedal and pushed forward hard through the resistance and onto the sunlit road; coasting along the pavement past the frenzy on the grass. As he was turning off the road he took a quick look back at the library, and unexpected tears began to blur his vision making it a barely distinct image; through what remained of his sight he could just make out the outline of a figure on the roof high above the festering crowd, and the black silhouette growing behind him.

Over the next week, things got difficult. The police investigation into Hayley’s death didn’t lead anywhere and after a few days the coroner’s report came back and it was ruled as just another ‘tragic teen suicide’. With the marks along her arms and no other explanation, what else were they going to say? He tried talking to Hayley’s mother but there was nothing, not even the scorn he had come to know so well. It was bleakness inside her that he was very familiar with, because he saw the same impossible emptiness every time he looked at his own father. It was the toll of losing the person who meant everything to you taking effect, torn between memory and reality without the willpower to choose between either. And if Dylan had taken the time to glance into a mirror for even a second, to look into his own eyes at what lurked underneath, he would have seen it inside himself too.  

School was the same as ever really. The only person who’d ever given him eight seconds was lying in a funeral directors fridge and now it was just him, even before they had known people stared at them both; they were usually too wrapped up in something to give a damn but now it was just him and he was becoming more aware of the school grapevine. And he was the latest hot topic.  When they thought his back was turned he could hear what they were saying, everything you’d expect really about Hayley, about him, and how ‘close’ they both were. Those were the ones he set straight quickly but after a few days the inevitable happened and he was assigned to see a psychiatrist, Mr Tal.

It was Friday morning and the early rays of the morning sun were creeping in through the slits in the blinds and slowly illuminating the dark interior of Dylan’s bedroom. As the thin beams ran across his pillow Dylan began to stir from his sleep, finally waking after a restless night. The day he had waited to and dreaded facing all week long had arrived at last. He had spent the last week dodging the pitied gazes and sorrowful eyes of the kids at school, and now he was to stand in a crowd full of them. Hayley’s funeral was in four hours and in four hours he would say his last goodbye to her, and to everyone.

Stumbling weary eyed into the shower, he washed and dressed quickly trying to get out of the house as fast as he could not bear to face his newly rejuvenated father whom had resurfaced for the time being; school sympathisers he could work with but a man he hadn’t been able to cajole ten words out of in six years, he would have no idea how to talk to. He stepped onto the empty street bathed in the dark and looked into the sky above and behind the wasteland across the road, at the storm clouds spreading over Defiance threatening a downpour. 

“Typical” Dylan muttered, and pulled up the useless but warm thick cotton hood of his leather jacket and stepped out of his front garden. He felt strangely proud of his Victorian era house; it stood pretty well considering the years of neglect and harsh treatment by the last century and a half.  On the far corner of the street he saw his neighbour Mr Apprih kneeling at one of the memorial reefs that had been littered across town, and promptly changed direction; he wanted to avoid this and people in general for as long as possible and was now forcing himself roughly through the wooden door. It was as he was a fair distance into the overgrown jungle that he felt a twinge in his stomach that spun him around and found himself staring at his own bedroom window, and it dawned on him that where he was stood was where he had last seen her still alive.

Through this land of tragedy I try to find my way,

And in this town of misery,

I search for you

Now we walk away to the last of the days;

 And in this world

There were only memories

Of how we could get through

There was just no way to see

Now we lost our way in the land of the day;

And in this life

How will they remember me?

Will they see the truth?

Will they just lose everything?

Now it fades away to the land of the day

With a single step he passed through the iron bar gates. Speeding up he felt his feet pound against the gravel path and then grass as he made his way over to the freshly dug hole in the ground and the small crowd of semi-familiar faces stood around it in a sea of black, skirting around the weathered gravestones and the space in front out of a superstitious fear and respect. Stopping at the edge of the crowd, he pulled the earphones and was plunged back into reality. 

He had arrived, and with a sigh he forced himself forward.