Shameless Chapter Eight

My frozen fingers clumsily fold open the crinkled note with the address code hidden on it. I look up and squint past the flickering street light above me. I need to find Kerewood Road. The streets are abandoned and nothing stands out in the emptiness of this forgotten town. The streetlight beside me flickers on and off. The last sign of life here. A gust of wind slaps my hair into my face and eyes, and I pull my black leather jacket around me tighter.

Sneaking away from the Switched House caretakers wasn't easy, but i convinced them I was visiting a friend.

Shows how well they know me.

I walk on the crusted sidewalk, my cheeks two blocks of reddened ice, my eyes practically dry besides the small watery tears I get when i'm standing in the cold. Kerewood Road where are you?

Suddenly the hairs on the back of my neck prickle to life. Something is here. Ice fingers dig into the inside of my skull and I'm attacked with a wave of images that make me double over in pain.

Alleys. Dark. Me. Screaming. Tears. Knifes. Notes. Hoods. Dumpsters. Roof. Voices.

Suddenly it stops, and I'm left kneeling there with one leg bent in doubled over, and my left arm cradled around my aching stomach. Turn back, Clare. It's not safe, my internal voice says. Sadly, my internal voice doesn't seem to get that I am stubborn, and I ignore it as usual.

I turn a blind corner, my eyes scanning for anything array. My muscles tense and I stop in my tracks.

Another wave of images hits me. Worse this time. I fall to the ground and moan, clawing at my head.

Dog whistles. Blood. My mother. War. Death. Murder. Screams. Whispers. Labs. Syringes. Lab coats. Soldiers. Planes. Children. Trees. Bushes. Blood. Running. Crying.

The images stop, and I'm left with my own thoughts and images, as I cough and drink up air.

My phone begins to buzz at my pocket. I flip it open. "Hello?" I rasp. "Clarabelle? Are you alright? Are you getting sick? Are you-" "I'm fine, Mr. Finnly. What is it?" "I just wanted to remind you that your mother is " taking you home tomorrow night."

My blood runs cold. I forgot. "Mr. Finnly-" I begin. "I'm sorry, Clara. She already signed the papers, there is nothing more I can do." "But I-" The line is cut, and I know he hung up.

On wobbly legs, I stand up, wipe the blood off my hands, and head to the Switched House.

This note can wait. I've got bigger fish to fry.

prev chapter