One.....the note

Craning her neck to peer up at the skies above, she noticed the distinct lack of clouds and the distant, uninspiring sun doing little for the below freezing temperatures. It wouldn’t snow, for a couple of days at most, but the cold was far from easing from off, it was all she could expect in January, but hard to get used to after a fortnight in Columbia.

The regular 10 minute journey was taking too long, or maybe the discomfort made it feel that way, but she couldn’t move any faster in the deadly, hazardous slush, her paces agonizingly slow. She was only a couple of blocks away now, and she would have to endure the iciness no longer, just the final stretch.

Still, it was moments like this that made her want to shoot David in the eye. With a bow and arrow. Fury boiled within as she thought of him, most likely asleep in his warm bed because he was too lazy to drop her off on a five minute drive. Did he want her to slip on ice, break her neck, and subsequently die? Yes, she concluded, yes he did wish her death; nobody who cares about you lets you walk to your demise in minus twenty degree temp-

An ear-splitting shatter resounded throughout the relatively quiet neighbourhood, breaking through the silence painfully. Genny Norwood’s head instinctively shot up to the source of the sound, glass shattering from one of the apartment buildings above. The shards rained down in sparkling cascades, decorating the glittering snow. She would’ve thought it a dazzling sight if not for the body that followed less than a moment later, gravity plunging her 14 stories towards the ground.

Winded by the momentum of the torso plummeting into her, Genny fell backwards, her neck snapping back and head hitting the road with an incredible force. Almost blacking out, she barely heard the screams.

Her hands clawed the ground around her frantically, searching for her glasses, without them she was as good as blind. Feeling them in the snow she shoved them back onto her face.

Genny almost instantly realised the agony in her legs and chest, and a particularly painful extra pang shot through upper body with every laboured breath she attempted to breathe. The body " a girl, no older than herself, dressed only in flannel shorts and a tank top " was crushing her, or rather, resting on broken bones.

Just about recovering her breath, Genny rolled the girl off her and attempted to sit up, before realising the upper body pain she felt was just too unbearable to fight. Looking over at the girl, unconscious and laying beside her, Genny gasped, before her face crumpled in anguish. The girl’s face had absorbed most of the impact from the ground; it looked broken and contorted and, smeared with blood, almost unrecognisable as human.

Her skin was covered with bruises and cuts, going a darkening shade of scarlet making her look as though she had previously been someone’s punching bag. The blood " hers or the poor girl’s, she wasn’t sure " was pooling around them dying the snow a thick, gruesomely dark red hue, it spread across the white canvas that was the sidewalk like venom.

On the top of her left shoulder, Genny registered the tattoo, a black sun, though partially covered in blood, it seemed to jump out at her.

Then Genny realised the tears, streaming down her cheeks and blurring her already imperfect vision. The pain from breathing, seeing that girl " watching her die, it was all too much for her. Reaching over, she took the girl’s hand, hoping to discover a heartbeat, when a piece of paper fluttered free of the unconscious one’s grasp. Genny grabbed it before its message was completed consumed in red, it was merely a scrap, so she couldn’t help seeing what it said. It was one simple word; Argent. Her name.

Seeing the body of the girl being pulled away from her brought her back to reality. The once quiet neighbourhood was increasing in volume and people were swarming. There was a lady by her side, saying soothing things and resting something " a jacket or blanket " beneath her head. How long had she been there?

Genny couldn’t take her eyes off the broken mangled body, the man who had pulled her away clearly seemed to have some sort of first aid skills, or knew how to fake them.

“I can’t find a pulse,” she heard him say, but almost as if she were behind a thick glass wall and he was talking from the other side, it was muffled and she felt completed disconnected from the outside world.

At that moment a boy came rushing out of the building, and pushed his way through the massing crowd " where were all these people coming from? She barely saw him, only noticing his golden brown skin and hair. His voice seemed to shatter the glass around her, breaking through with a clear, powerful cry, “Ivory!”

Before anyone had a chance to do or say anything, he picked the other girl up from where the man sat on his knees next to her, and ran her away. In less than a few seconds Genny could hear a car tear away a top speed, and guessed what it meant.

She shoved the paper down into the nearest pocket " only so that she could look at it later and prove to herself that that was what it had really said " and let herself sink under a wave of darkness, at the edge of her consciousness she thought she heard sirens.

 

***

 

The walls were a depressing shade of grey, and a putrid smell hung in the air, though mild, it was putrid nonetheless. Hospitals made Genny uncomfortable, so full of sick sad people, ultimately trying to delay death a while longer. Somehow she always felt the weight of the hundreds of deaths that had happened there over the years. It crushed her and made the air thinner, made it harder to breathe.

Natalia sat on a worn hospital chair, one long leg dangling over the other, flicking through the pages of The Notebook. Though intensely draw in, her brown eyes would flick up every now and again to check on Genny, or whenever the curtain surrounding them rustled even slightly.

Genny’s phone buzzed to her pleasure and she hit the keypad expertly before returning to a state of forceful boredom and discomfort.

Two ambulances had arrived, but the other was sent back as the other casualty was evidently gone. It was just Genny alone, awaiting the result of her x-ray and tests.

At that moment two uniformed police officers passed through the curtains, Natalia rising from her seat instantaneously.

“Miss Argent Norwood?” one of them asked, her voice was relatively husky, that of a long-term smoker’s.

“That’s me,” she replied, swallowing. She knew she hadn’t done anything wrong, but being questioned still made her nervous.

“And you’re her mother?” the other officer said, regarding Natalia. This one was burlier than the other and rather short too.

Natalia shook his hand, and the other’s, “Natalia Marino, I’m her aunt and legal guardian,”

“I’m Officer Blackwell and this is Officer Phillips,” the burlier one said, indicating his partner .

“We have a few questions for Argent; do you feel well enough to give us a statement?” Officer Phillips said, turning from Natalia to Genny.

“Sure,” she said, she didn’t feel unwell at all, probably because of the pain medication. she just wanted to leave, “and it’s Genny,” she corrected her.

Blackwell began to close the curtains entirely, giving the remote illusion of privacy. Natalia stood protectively by her side.

“Okay Genny,” the female began, “So could you please tell us what happened, in your own words,”

“Okay,” she agreed, who else’s words was I going to use? “I was walking down 18^th street and a girl comes flying out of a window and lands on top of me, after a moment someone pulls her off me and starts checking her and stuff, you know, like first aid. Then a boy comes and picks her up and shoves her into a car, and they drive off,”

“Do you remember what this girl was wearing? Could you describe her,” Phillips asked.

So they hadn’t found her yet. Genny felt a wave of disappointment at not being able to ask her about the note, and a wave of guilt followed. She knew she should be worried about the girl’s safety, whether she lived or died " or even if someone was trying to kill her " but all she could think about was her name on that piece of paper. Maybe she just heard it somewhere and like it so much she wrote it down. Genny tried to rationalise, but it just seemed too much of a coincidence to be just that. Her name was unique to her, and few people knew her as Argent at all.

“She had on shorts and a tank top, like something you wear to bed,” I replied

“Denim shorts? What colour top? Any design?” Blackwell asked.

Who wears denim shorts to bed? She thought to herself but didn’t voice this, “They were flannel shorts, and I don’t know what colour, or anything, eventually they all turned, turned red,”

“Can you describe her?” Blackwell said

“Not really, her face looked... broken, like disfigured,” she thought harder, “Her hair was long and brown, chestnut brown, and past her shoulders,” she added before he asked.

Phillips was scribbling away on her notepad, “The boy who drove off with her, where did he come from? Can you give a description of him?”

“He might have come out of the building, but I can’t be sure. His hair was golden brown, he was wearing a white t shirt, with blood on it, and jeans. He freaked out as soon as he saw her,” She was trying to make him sound like he wasn’t the bad guy, just because he didn’t seem like it, but what makes you so sure? A voice at the back of her head said, “He called her Ivory,”

They continued with the questions and Genny answered as honestly as she could, though struggling to make up her mind about telling them about the note, before deciding she’d investigate this one on her own. What difference could it really make?

Jorge passed through the curtains at that moment, holding two cups of coffee in his hands, he stopped short at the police officers and then went to stand by Natalia, handing her her coffee.

“This is my husband, Jorge Marino,” Natalia said to them.

Both officers introduced themselves, shaking Jorge’s hand.

“Is everything alright officers?” he asked.

“Everything is fine Mr Marino, We were just taking Argent’s witness statement,” Officer Blackwell explained.

“Genny,” I corrected him instantaneously. I was Genny, really I didn’t even know who Argent was, “It’s Genny,”

“My apologies,” Blackwell said without remorse, “Well I think we’re done with the questions, unless there’s anything else you can remember about the incident, or about the girl,”

“A black sun tattoo,” she replied, “very top of her left arm,”

Phillips quickly scribbled it down, “Well thank you Miss Norwood, we’ll be in touch if we need anything else from you,”

Both the officers nodded goodbye to her parents and excused themselves.

Jorge put his arm on her shoulder, “Are you okay mija?” he asked with fatherly concern.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” was Genny’s response, she didn’t mean it in a mean way, she just thought that she wasn’t a victim, just collateral damage, and completely unaffected " well that was to be confirmed. Still his face fell with worry, “I’m fine,” she smiled, “Just can’t wait to get out of here,”

The feeling of death suffocated her still, and as few people texted her back, she waited another half-hour lying motionless in the bed. Jorge had to leave and pick up Alma and Marta from his sister’s, Natalia stayed until the doctor returned with the results. He told Natalia how surprised he was that she sustained no injuries from the impact, not even a single fracture, only puncture wounds from the glass which were healing rapidly. After being discharged Natalia drove them home.

 

Argent. Genny stared at the bloody piece of a paper in her hand. What it said was clear. And at the same time, the most confusing thing she’d ever laid eyes on.

 She wondered whether withholding this piece of information was really the right thing to do, it really could change things. Was it really a coincidence that she had this in her hand when she fell on her? Coincidence is non-existent.

“Genny, you coming or not?” David called up to her.

Shoving the paper into her bag, she hurtled downstairs apparently having made a full recovery.

 

David’s BMW reeked of boy-stink. Natalia forced David to cut a deal with Genny, because he didn’t drive her to Eden’s the day before, when he so easily could have, it was now his duty to drive her to school for an indefinite amount of time. Though she wasn’t sure having to breathe in his car was worth it, it couldn’t be healthy.

Glancing quickly into the rear view mirror she checked her hair " it was as tame as she could get it (i.e. not tame at all) in her signature lose ponytail draped over her right shoulder " after adjusting her glasses she stepped out of David’s car. Her hand landed lightly on the pendant at her collarbone " a necklace that her mother gave to her " reassuring herself it was there. She wasted no more time getting out of the old BMW

A girl in a leotard pointed out Genny to her friend, though fairly discreetly, she still saw it. Another pair of guys whispered ‘that’s her’ as she walked past. More and more people were staring, just watching her as she walked by. In a place where she was usually invisible, it was alien being seen. Unless you were rich, beautiful or frighteningly talented " an accomplishment in a school that admits only the talented " you fell into the background with the rest of the decor.

What had happened had been all over the news and she’d had been flooded with texts that day, texts she was happy to have while she was in the hospital to curb her boredom, but later, texts she despised because they were from people who barely even spoke to her, and kept waking her up in the middle of the night. Eventually she had to turn her phone off and face the bombardment in the morning.

Striding less than confidently into the main building, she thought over and over in her head, ‘they’ll move on, they always move on’

 

CAA was much less the same as before the holidays, though now the new kid label had thankfully dropped. The smell of gossip was rife in the air, as the first day buzz hummed through the halls. Though it was all very natural, Genny knew, it didn’t make it any less irritating.

“Genny!” a voice called from behind.

“Eden, Paige,” Genny smiled on turning.

Paige, the tall brunette with shockingly big, brown eyes, held Genny by the shoulders and sized her up for a moment. Genny threw a questioning glance at Eden, the shortest of the pair with bright red " dyed red " curls bouncing around her shoulders; she looked back at Genny incredulously.

“Paige?” Genny said after a silent moment.

“Not a scratch on you,” Paige replied, letting go, “fascinating,”

These girls were the only two she’d told about the note, and every other detail of that day.

“No, well she landed lower down,” Genny said.

“No broken ribs? No leg fractures? Surely you’d have a punctured lung if she landed on your chest and the pain you said you were in, yet you suffered no internal bleeding?” she continued.

“The doctor was a bit confused too; the impact was absorbed by the snow or something. Now can we just drop it? Tell me about your holidays, I haven’t seen you guys in ages,”

 

Chicago Arts Academy, Genny had never worked so hard for anything in her life, and when her scholarship application was denied for freshman year, she tried again the next year with increased acting classes and a singing tutor 3 times a week, all while maintaining a high GPA. To keep her scholarship she rarely stopped training, rarely stopped working because what she wanted to achieve was everything.

“Now, you say you’re lonely, you cried the long night through,” she sang, extending the last word with the music, “Well you can cry me a river, cry me a river... I cried a river over you,”

Slowly, she paced around the room, casting her slender shadow across the floor as she walked. Her fingers traced meaningless circles and shapes over the mahogany piano while she stopped to peer out the window behind it, the sun setting over the horizon. It was moments like this when she felt truly at ease, herself and nothing less.

This was one of many evenings she spent doing some extra training she couldn’t do in her house. Her iPod, filled with backing tracks and instrumentals she kept on one playlist, was plugged into the speakers, bringing life to the room which would be otherwise dead without her.

“Now, you say you’re sorry, for being so untrue,” extending the last word again she continued, “Well you can cry me a river, cry me a-”

The door swung open, and Genny’s head shot up to the boy standing in the doorway, in designer jeans and converses and an SLR around his neck, his features were dark and angular and his eyes were electric blue. He was one of the fabled Davenport twins; Will.

“Oh, it’s you. Sorry, just wanted to see who was murdering Ella Fitzgerald,” he said to her.

Her jaw dropped and she grew suddenly self-conscious and flushed. She knew she was rusty having taken a fortnight off but she couldn’t really have been that bad.

Looking at him, her vision was no longer in focus and she vaguely noticed the music was growing muffled and distant, as if she were underwater.

She raised her hand to her forehead, feeling the sudden clamminess while the room seemed to swirl around her. She was in a tunnel, tinted warm autumn shades of orange and brown, and it was closing in on her while dark formless blobs began to blot out sections of her vision.

Will said something, she was sure of it, but she could no longer see him let alone respond. Instead she tried to make sense of the shapes shifting before her. Is that a wall, or is a chair, it could be a hill, or is it writing, I can’t read it...

            Just as Genny felt her legs start to give way, the warm coloured world began to disintegrate before her eyes and all faded to black.

Author's Note

First chapters are very important in writing and reading to me, honest opinions please.