Chapter Twenty-Four

Complicati rahat

My sister. If I’d known about her… Maybe I wouldn’t have felt so alone. If my father hadn’t been such a coward, I could’ve had a sibling. I rubbed my hand over my face, absent-mindedly, and took a look at Coral. Her mousy face and blond hair were achingly familiar. Her nose was our fathers. Her nose is my nose. Though she’s a lot smaller, now that I know what to look for, I can see the resemblance.

I search for the signs in my memory desperately, I didn’t know there was a girl. My father was careful. I wonder if he didn’t drink as much as I’d thought. Maybe he was visiting them. I feel dirty and small. I take a chance at glancing up, ignoring the obvious facial similarities this time. 

Coral looks strained and drunk. She probably doesn’t want another brother. Definitely not one like me. She didn’t grow up alone like I did, she had someone. An intense jealousy flood my body, she had a mother and siblings. I just had my dad.

I can’t stand looking at her anymore. So, I turn to the streets. Sending the thoughts to the back of my mind where they can rot.

The visions have been coming more often. More visions has always meant less memory, less time spent awake and more time seeing.

I know what they’re trying to tell me. I feel the incoming battle so deep in my bones it rattles them. I can’t imagine telling the others. Telling them probably wouldn’t stop anything anyway, my visions are mostly specific to me. I can save myself but I cannot save everyone.

It might be okay if I hadn’t gotten fonder of some of them. Coral is my sister. My god damned sister. Mark is alright, though the only true emotion I feel towards him is pity, living as Rippir’s play toy cannot be easy. And 

Phoenix, I’ve known her the longest. We’re not incredibly close but I like her.

Rippir isn’t even a question. I wouldn’t tell him even if it would save him. He’s fucked up.

But the idea that I could tell them is suffocating. The guilt sits in my gut, twisting and churning. And I know it will until this is over. When I save myself, but leave them to die unknowingly.

I find a bar. I don’t plan on drinking, but the dark atmosphere of the place calls me in. I take a seat on a stool and put my head into my arms.

“Are you even legal?” A high voice asks. I lift my head and stare at a pretty girl, she has short dark hair and green eyes.

I glower, “Of course I am.”

She hums, leaning towards me, “If that’s true, then…..” She runs her finger along my arm. A wave of nausea fills my stomach, I pull away on instinct.

“Hey!” She yells as I walk quickly from the bar. I keep my head down. I can’t even stand the thought of being with her, it’s disgusting. Intimacy. After long blanks in my memory, I’d wake up with the taste of alcohol and lipstick in my mouth. I can’t stand it. I keep walking until it turns into a jog, and then a run.

When my breathing slows down I look up from the ground. I’d gone farther than I thought, the houses around me are darker and the street lights are dimmer.

“S**t.” The whole place is empty, there isn’t even the usual sounds of cars driving nearby.

I have no idea where I am or where the others are. And I can’t speak French. For a second, I wonder what the f**k I’m going to do.

But then I realized I would rather sleep on the streets then with the 4 of them right now. There’s a moment when you spend so much time with certain people that it makes you claustrophobic, as if those people were walls slowly closing in on you.

I don’t want to be with them anymore. I didn’t want any of this. But that seems to be where my life is headed. Everywhere I don’t want it to be.

A phantom pain shoots up my leg, I glare down at the rude ligament. Ever since I got injured my leg has been acting up, I don’t know how I’ll fight the next time something happens.

I sit down on the edge of the street. I don’t even remember getting hurt, I just remember the flaming pain when I woke up.

Ever since that day I’ve had a gun on me. I’ve realized that my telekinesis is weak, I need to work on it.

I pull the small hand gun from the holster on my side, hidden by my jacket, and point it at a crumbled wall. The house isn’t really a house anymore. I don’t see how I could make it any worse.

I can see one small portion to the left of the wall with a crack in it. I aim and shoot.

I shoot and shoot and every time I curve the bullet into a different part of the wall. Precision work is the hardest.

By the time I’m finished my hair is sticking to my forehead with sweat. I flop back down to the ground and take long deep breaths. This is why I needed practice. I’m so weak.

“What’s wrong with you?” A familiar voice drawls. I stiffen instinctively.

“Go away.” I turn to glare at the intruder. I don’t know how he found me, in fact, I’m a little creeped out.

Rippir sighs. It’s only then that I notice the blood on his clothing. It’s dried, but it certainly doesn’t look old.

I stand up, startled, “Why is there f*****g blood on your clothes?”

He looks up boyishly, clutching his shirt with mock-innocence in his eyes, “What, this?”

God this kid is weird. The loud clothes had hidden the darkness of the blood, but the light illuminated the stains. I knew he was doing illegal s**t, but I never let myself think it went as far as random night strolls filled with murder.

I stare at him a little longer; unsure. But he just smiles slightly.

“Blaze sent me to find you, didn’t want you to get lost, or something,” He waves his hand around as though it couldn’t be less important, “But I got distracted.” His eyes shine with the look of someone enjoying a memory, he laughs slightly to himself.

I nod, giving him a piercing look, “Fine. Give me the name of the motel and I’ll find my way there.”

I only agreed because I don’t want to spend any more time talking with this guy. And maybe, I can talk to Coral. It’s not ideal, but maybe we can go more in-depth about our dad. I watch Rippir leave with a variety of looks on my face. None of them are hope.