Chapter Two - Wanderings

A boy scaled the side of a house with inhumane ease, a black tail swishing at the chilled air to keep his balance. Two jet cat ears poked through a shaggy mop of hair, flicking back and forth with every sound the quiet night spoke. Once he made it to the roof, he dropped to his knees, clutching his side in pain, panting in low, rasping gasps. His eyes gathered the light and shone metallic green and silver. He caught his breath, decided his wound hadn't reopened, and straightened cautiously. The roof tops around him were dark shapes, even with his unnatural night vision, all empty.

 Crawling to a more secure spot on this roof, he sighed, reaching under his shirt to feel at the ragged scabs that were barely holding him together. He knew he was going to have to stop his hunt for a little while and heal, but it was not an easy thing to accept. He was so close to finding what he had been searching for and he would be able to relax once he was safe. The boy let his head fall back against the chimney behind him, legs spread across the shingles loosely and shivering in the autumn cold. He was about to try and doze for a little when a noise caused every nerve of his to stand on end. Ever since the attack, he had been wired and alert to a fault. Sitting bolt upright, his cat-slit bluish green eyes fixed on the source of the sound. 

A window was opening on the house adjacent to the one he was commandeering, and a small, lithe figure slipped out. Even from his distance he could see hands that deftly found hand holds in an old ivy fence that ran up the side of the house. The figure quickly scaled the building, much as he had done, and seemed to stagger over to the chimney. Copying his current position almost exactly, the person curled up, shaking visibly. The boy's nose twitched as he tried to get a scent, but it was impossible; the wind was blowing the wrong way, and he was sporting a cold. He was afraid it might have been worse than a cold, the way it got worse and worse. He considered going to get a closer look, but the scrapes along his side were throbbing deeply and he felt hot and feverish. So, shivering, he too curled up and put his head down, hoping to at least drift a little before he had to set off again.

“I just have to find her before they do,” he muttered hoarsely, wincing at the pain in his throat. He knew not who 'her' was, nor 'they', but he did know it was important.

Lynn had snuck back into her room some time early the next morning. Face hidden in a giant plush bear, she woke up on her bed at nearly eleven A.M. Knowing full well she had missed her morning classes, she got out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen. The mess from the night before was still there, now smelling putrid. Spraying oven cleaner thickly in the oven and sponging the black soot off the door took care of the visible mess, but the room still stank of char and smoke. Lynn threw the windows open, shivering at the crisp afternoon air that blew in. She sat down, dizzy from lack of food.

It was only the third week of her new college courses, and she knew missing days would reflect poorly on her conduct, but she didn't have the energy to go out in public. She was awkward around other people at the best of times, and in her current condition, she would likely burst into hysterical tears and get herself kicked out. Not to mention she had already missed two classes. Lynn stared glumly at her hands, covered in little nicks from picking up the broken plate. If she did get kicked out, she knew her father would be beyond reasoning with. Usually courteous and fatherly when her mother was around, Jared Andari was and always had been rather cold towards Lynn. It was something she was used to by now, and since her mother was gone... Lynn covered her eyes with the sleeves of her long shirt, moaning softly.

After her bout of sobbing passed, she quietly stood and went to the fridge. There was really no food in there, since she had used the rest of the leftover ingredients to make that casserole, so she fetched peanut butter and bread from the pantry and sat down, glaring at the butter knife she used to spread in her hand. She forced herself to take a big bite out of the peanut butter bread but regretted it when it stuck in her throat. It wasn't just a matter of being too big or too dry; it was like her body was rejecting it, constricting and forcing it out. Coughing, she went to the trash can to spit the obstruction back out. Wiping her mouth, she chucked the knife into the sink with a clang and stormed out of the kitchen, tears of frustrated misery once more streaming down her cheeks. The thought of food made her feel sick.

“I just want to sleep.” she spoke aloud to the empty house, wavering when the staircase before her seemed to swim. Regaining her equilibrium, she threw herself onto her bed and squeezed the giant plush bear. Absently wiping her tears away, she stared at the wall, blue green eyes red-rimmed and lined with purple crescents. Everything felt so unreal, like Bridget would come walking in and ask her what the matter was. A big part of her knew that wouldn't happen, and the division there hurt more than anything else. I can't decide if I'm dreaming or not. This would be a nightmare... but I fell asleep, and I hurt myself, and the oven was still a mess, so it had to be real.. right? She covered her face with a moan and sighed, hiccuping. How am I supposed to live with my only family being a neglectful, coldhearted b*****d?

Lynn woke again a few hours later, red-brown hair sticking up in the back of her head. She tried again with the peanut butter, half-heartedly delighted when the food went down without making her sick. Scrubbing her hands through her hair, she folded a peanut butter slathered slice of bread in half and stomped into her winter boots, ignoring the way the bottom of her sweatpants bunched. Nibbling on the bread, she went outside, oversized shirt hanging off her shoulders. It was cold and the sun was going down, casting a scarlet blaze through the sky. She began to walk along the sidewalk, not paying attention to where she was going, lost in thought. Her mother was gone. She knew that Jared would be the one to take care of the funeral and the police work (he had said the police were dealing with her death already). She wondered how it had happened. If the police had really been involved, then was it a murder, or an unresolved accident? Had her car crashed? Probably not, or her father would have just said that instead of the other things. Maybe a patient had killed her? That sounded unlikely, considering she worked in hospice and half the patients didn't have the strength to go to the bathroom alone, let alone hurt someone. She didn't know when Jared was supposed to be home and she didn't want to call him, not after hanging up on him the night before. 

Author's Note

My apologies again =w=