Part IV: Damaged

Life in the riches can be cruel, but life on the streets will be your undoing.

THE WICKEDLY

By

Louis M. Warde

Part IV: Damaged

         Rive stood silent and confused. The bustling sounds of the sales woman and customers shuffling about did little to distract the boy from trying to draw some vague idea of what could possibly have startled his new friend so terribly.

         “Did you tell your friend about the jo--” A woman stepping out from the back room said to the boy. Strands of blonde hair peeked from beneath a batter coated cap. “Rive? Where did your friend go?”

         “He... ran off, but I'm not sure why. I'm gonna go look for him.”

“Alright, well, be safe I suppose. I hope he's alright”

         Rive wandered the streets in search of his seemingly ever stranger cohort. In every building, down every alley he searched, but turned no trace of poor Victor Coyle. It was as if, in his unusual fright, he'd simply vanished. Still, he searched on, certain that he would find him somewhere, and perhaps, find a small inkling into who Victor truly was.

         He'd long since lost count of the citizens he'd spoken to, describing to each in great detail of his attire and physical appearance. Tall and slender, dressed in refined clothing, though torn from a scuffle. Tightly curled brown hair clung to well shaped and pampered cheeks. No one he'd talked to could give good news, none could say they had seen him. He'd nearly resigned to give up for the day when, from behind an apartment building he heard a woman crying out profanities. Curiosity struck him. As he approached, he could hear the familiar voice of his friend. He found him.

         “Tell me what it is you know!” Victor demanded “You'll tell me right this instant or so help me you will rue the day!”

         “Get your greasy hands off of me, slimy cad. Like I need to remind you!” She shouted back.

         Rive approached slowly, carefully. Focusing too hard though on the words spoken, he managed to stumble over a pile of unusable wood and other junk, attracting the attention of Victor and the woman.

         “Rive, I--”

         “Let me go, damn you!” The woman wriggled free from Victor, who had been holding her by the arm and collar. Kicking his shin, she reared back and spat with much enthusiasm on the now aching Victor before sprinting away, around the corner, and out of sight.

         “What's going on?” Rive asked, his mind suddenly confused as to whom it seemed was the victim and the villain.

         “That woman was the only clue that I had to what happened the other night, Rive. When she saw me, she recognized me and fled the building. I didn't intend to leave you so abruptly, but if I'm to clear my name, I'll need to know what really happened that night first.” Victor spoke the gritted teeth as he rubbed a pulsing pain in his shin

         “Then why were you holding her against the wall like that?” The young boy was not yet convinced of the innocent intentions of individual before him.

         “When I had caught up to her, she proved to be so intent on fleeing me that she was quite feisty and violent. Had I not restrained her like that, I'm afraid that there would have been no chance to get the information I needed from her. She certainly wasn't willing to have a sit down conversation with me.”

         “Did you manage to find anything out?”

         “Only that she'd seen me that night, at the theater. It seemed clear to me that she knew more than simply that, for her to be surprised to see me I mean.” Victor shook his leg and shoved his clutched fists deep into his pockets. Pursing his lips, the gentleman was clearly distraught. “Let us return to your friend, I'm sure she's awfully worried about you since you came to find me, and I do still need work.”

         Rive wanted to doubt Victor as much as he wanted to believe him, but without any further insight into the matter, he would simply have to take the man at his word. So they returned to the cake shop in relative silence. Neither of them seemed very interested in striking conversation. Once there, Rive disappeared to the back once more and returned with the young woman from the last time.

Victor's skills were few, a fact he could do little to hide. None-the-less, the woman was desperate for the extra workers. Thrilled to have work, he rushed off to find a home, the young boy by his side.

         Their walk lasted only a few short minutes from his new occupation. They stood now before a half dilapidated structure on the corner of a busy street. The constant clatter of hooves on cobble personified the bustling life here. People shuffling around, mumbling to one another about trivial tasks, news headlines, politics, and the craziest new inventions. This was where Victor wanted to stay, in the midst of the chaos that resembled the orderly upbringing of his life before the recent change.

         “Why here?” Asked the boy

         “It could only be here dear boy.” Was all that Victor said. His eyes fixed on a window several stories above them. His gaze seemed to cast out beyond the world into a place deep in his mind. Pursing his lips once more, He went inside.

         Rive watched the gentleman enter the building, reluctant to follow, but he had a bargain with the man. If he was to be at last free from the streets, he would need to trust him. He noticed though as Victor disappeared through the doorway that his right hand seemed clutched in a strange way. As if he were restraining his hand from shaking. Had he been that worked up? Thought the boy. He hadn't noticed before now since Victors hands were in his pockets, but perhaps that was the reason they were planted there so tightly in the first place. The boys mind was swirling with thoughts as he entered the building after his cohort.

         Things seemed to die down after that. A month went by with Victor working and the two of them staying in a shabby apartment overlooking many of the buildings in the area. Rive was beginning to think that it may perhaps be a lost cause. The lack of progress made by Victor to clear his name and help him find a home seemed to crawl beneath his skin, frustrating him greatly. He noticed though, a strangeness in Victor's behavior. As the days went by, the gentleman would return from work, and eat his dinner in a chair next to a window where he would stare for hours upon seemingly endless hours. Fixed in the almost compulsive act to gaze outward, for what, Rive could only speculate. It was the man's staring alone that prevented the boy from confronting him about the lack of forward momentum.

         More and more, Rive saw in Victor something that didn't seem to fit. Constantly he would sit clutching his right hand with his left in a deadly grip. He feared that his friends obsession to return to his riches was sending him slowly to the depths of madness, but he knew too little of Victor to rightly make such a judgment.

         More days drifted from them, and still no further did the boy feel, no closer to being free himself. Victor sat next to his window, like a lifeless marionette he gazed with nearly listless eyes.

        “Well, I think I'll be going now.” Said the boy.

         Victor jumped. The sudden break of silence startled him out of his trance and he turned and gazed at Rive.

         “You're going, but to where?” Asked Victor, almost confused.

         “Well, for starts, I'm hungry,” He said bluntly, “and it doesn't look like you're doin much sittin' by your window all the whi--”

         “Don't leave, you mustn’t!” Shouted Victor sharply His eyes glancing back and forth between the window and the boy. “Rive, come here for a moment, I've a favor to ask that may shed some light on what has happened.”

         Curious, Rive stepped forward and listened to the man before him ramble on about a girl outside the theater across the street, Victor pleaded for Rive to talk to her for him.

         “Make up some excuse, you're a clever boy, I need to know what she remembers!” He told the boy all he could remember of the night of the incident, waking up with that girl draped over him wearing several articles of his clothing.

         Reluctantly, he agreed to do so. It was the only clue he had, the only chance to move forward. He had no other choice but to take it. So he left the apartment, and made his way out the building. The strange look in Victor's eyes haunted him as he stepped into the streets.

If you liked this writing, please look for the next installment on August 4th, 2013