Chapter 3.40

“This is Beth,” I said. I didn’t want to have a conversation on the doorstep, so I pressed forwards. Danni turned aside to let us through, keeping one arm outstretched, holding the door open. I had to turn sideways to pass, dragging Beth behind me.

The door closed with a mechanical click of locks. With a few inches of steel between us and the outside world I could relax.

“Beth, this is Danni.”

“I thought…” Danni frowned. I waited a moment for her head to sort through the info-dump I’d given her over the last few days. “Oh! Well, nice to meet you.”

Danni clasped Beth’s hand in her own and gave it a firm shake. It didn’t look like Beth returned it so much as let it happen.

“You had me worried then,” Danni said to me, but her eyes flicked back to Beth. “Don’t want you bringing anybody back here.”

“Yeah, I get it.” I said. “But this-”

“It’s fine, girl. Mike had a peek at the cameras, said it was fine.” She gave me an elbow in the ribs. I jerked, smacking my shoulder into the other side of the narrow corridor. A disproportionate response, but one that seemed to go unnoticed. “Just give us a little warning next time, okay?

“Will do.” She was right, of course. I should have… phoned? I had a phone. She, presumably, had a phone. I need to start communicating properly. A skill I’d never needed before.

She followed as I led Beth to the corner I usually slept. Mike didn’t descend from his room to greet us, and I assumed the lack of Jack bouncing around the place meant he was out. I was happy with that. I doubted Beth wanted company.

I’d commandeered one of the small store rooms as my own space, but hadn’t put much thought into it beyond a mattress. With three people squished into the tiny room I felt compelled to shove a few of the large crates of whatever the hell Mike’s father stored here to one side to clear more floor space.

Beth fell onto the mattress without care. The journey had taken it out of her. It had taken the best part of an hour. I had to be careful not to push us to go faster. She got out of breath with anything more taxing than a slow walk.

“I’ll go get some blankets.” Danni said. Good idea. I was glad someone was thinking.

“Who is that?” Beth whispered, once she was out of earshot.

“Danni? She helped me out, when things were really bad trying to get Tom out-”

“Tom?”

“Oh, yeah. Jack’s friend. I met this kid called Jack-”

“How old?”

“Uh,” The seemingly irrelevance of the question caught me off guard. It took me a second to switch from trying to organise the mess I’d found myself into an easily explainable narrative. “I’m not sure exactly. Maybe twelve?”

“Oh.” I waited for any other pressing enquiries, but she must have been satisfied enough.

I continued, “They got into some trouble,” I struggled to repress the shiver that ran down my spine at the memory of the quick but brutal fight at the incinerator. “It was kind of my fault.”

“Here,” Danni had returned, passing me a blanket that I immediately threw over Beth’s shoulders. No response, she was tired, overwhelmed. Maybe.

I watched in silence, not wanting to disturb her but eager to get her anything she needed.

“Alex,” Danni whispered after a minute. She jerked her head sideways to the doorway.

I followed her into the hall.

“She okay?”

“I think so.” I pressed my eyes with the heel of my palms, it seemed to give a moment of pleasant relief from the sharp, stabbing headache I’d been trying my hardest to ignore, while it seemed so keen to be noticed. “Just tired.”

You okay?” Before I could react she had her hand on my upper arm, just above the elbow.

A sharp shot of adrenaline got me awake, and my mind racing. I pushed back against my natural reaction to pull away, or worse, to strike forwards. Fight-or-flight. A million years of evolution.

With a slow, deliberate breath, I very carefully forced myself to do neither. Regardless, I couldn’t do much against the tension. All my muscles taut, opposing each other in an ineffectual battle to do nothing at all.

She let go, with a quiet sigh.

“Come find me if you need anything. I’ll, leave you two alone.”

I was left, standing in the doorway, looking at Beth in my bed. Silence. As safe as we were ever going to get. For the first time in weeks, I felt some of the tension wash out of me. I had some time to sit and let everything sink in, just to exist, me and Beth. Was she asleep? I couldn’t see if her eyes were open or closed in the gloom as I stood, bathed in the hall light.

“I missed my Birthday.” Awake.

I immediately felt like a total idiot, standing just looking at her. I entered, pushing the door closed behind me and plunging us into the safety of near total darkness. I couldn’t look stupid in the dark.

“I wasn’t sure when it was,” I said. She’d mentioned it was soon, before. I’d kicked myself for not asking the date. “I never got you a present.”

“Seems so stupid, now.” I couldn’t see the walls in the darkness, but I knew the layout well enough to find my way to her in the dark. “He kept buying me all this crap, because he could never make it home.”

What could I say? I couldn’t relate to what she was going through in any measurable way. I had no family, no father, and no mother I’d ever like to see again.

In the darkness I reached out towards the bed. My fingertips struck blanket about where you’d expect to meet someone lying down

“I never asked for any of it, just for him to be home.” I could feel her breathing, the expanding and contracting of her ribs. I pulled back, hesitant that she might feel my touch – but wanting her to know I was here. If only I wasn’t so fucking awkward. Danni would have given her a hug by now. I couldn’t even put my hand on her side without this primal fear she’d notice. “He promised he’d be there, this time.”

“He was,” I said. He’d spent every day at that hospital. I had no doubt of that.

“Yeah,” her voice sharp. “He was, just I wasn’t. And now I’ll never see him again.”

There was movement. Vague shapes shifting in the gloom. She pushed herself to a sitting position, her hands were pulling me towards her.

Hug time. She wanted a hug. I could do that. The immense relief of being able to do something that might, even in the slightest, offer some kind of solace to her overrode my building panic.

Physical contact, not my strong point. There was something wrong with me. Hugs, the universal symbol of comfort, seemed to exist just to make me feel all the more broken. I was pretty sure you weren’t supposed to feel so nauseous. Your stomach shouldn’t be doing little backflips. This was supposed to be nice.

I could put up with it for Beth though. I couldn’t run away.

I could hear her breathing, right next to my ear. Loud, like the whole world had a breath. It tickled, disturbing a stray hair against my neck. I stared at the wall. In the dark, with a lack of light to distract my eyes, my vision filled with the flashes and flickers of colour. Inconsistencies, noise, on my retina that the brain focused into far too much due to a lack of stimulus. You never really see black.

“I’m so glad I have you, Alex.” A whisper, louder than any shout so close to my ear.

I closed my eyes and forced myself to regulate my breathing. Slow. Nothing to fight here. Don’t need so much oxygen.

Finally, she pulled back from the embrace, but she was still close enough to sense. I could hear the faint slip of clothing against skin with every movement, the soft whistle of her nose as she inhaled.

Something touched my face. Beth. Her hand, my cheek. I hoped she didn’t notice me tense. Tense wasn’t good. Tense wouldn’t help. I was tense anyway.

Her thumb brushed against the cruel scar beneath my eye. I couldn’t help but wince at the memory, the reminder of broken glass slicing into my skin, of a vision overlaid with an eye filled with red.

“Sorry.” She jerked her hand back, “Does it still hurt?”

“No!” It didn’t. She noticed. Crap. “No, not like that. It’s just…”

“You shouldn’t worry about it,” she said, almost too quiet to hear, “It’s not really that noticeable.”

“Huh?” My mind drew a blank. Too much Beth to properly process the speech that was slightly askew from my train of thought.

“I think it suits you, really,” I sensed her move a second before her hand was back. This time I was successful in subduing my overwrought instincts screaming at me to pull away. “It’s pretty cool, and, you know… I still think you’re pretty.”

“Oh…” She was thinking I was worried about my face, that I was more concerned about destroying my stunning natural beauty. I guess it had crossed my mind, on the rare occasion I’d looked in a mirror. But it was flesh. I had my eye, it was in no way debilitating. The real scar was the memory, the I-don’t-care-if-you-kill-me desperation that I felt the moment I taunted someone to murder me as a valid alternative to being brutally tortured.

But… I could deal with being called pretty.

“Oh?” She repeated back at me. What else could I say? She needed a response. ‘Oh’ wasn’t good enough. But I couldn’t agree with her. Why did Beth suddenly feel the need to console me with stuff like this? I mean, I wasn’t the kind of girl that cared about that stuff. She knew that.

She was the kind of girl that cared about that. She could pull off bit of charm wrapped in a pile of blankets after a long stint of coma.

“Alex…” Still so close, her face felt like it was a hair’s breadth from touching my own. The air was filled with the dry, sweet smell of her sweat. I wasn’t sure where she was going with this. She wanted something from me, I was sure of it. I’d give it to her. Whatever she wanted, I just needed her to be happy.

Except I didn’t have a fucking clue what to do.

“I…” Okay. Out of depth. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything.”

Her-

I felt the soft bump of her cheek on mine. She fell forwards. Her lips hit my own. Dry. Slightly parted.

We kissed.

Beth, and me.

The tip of her nose was cold.

*Vote on top web fiction*

 

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Book 3. Bookmark the permalink.

27 Responses to Chapter 3.40

  1. taulsn says:

    Something of a double post. But damn to I keep wanting more.

  2. agreyworld says:

    Double post? Doesn’t seem to have on my end. (Or do you mean it’s quite similar?)

    • Eric says:

      Unless I am missing some sort of memory loop cleverness, you copy and pasted the entry twice. I am assuming you wrote it out in word or something, then pasted it into the website.

      Unless I am missing some sort of memory loop cleverness, you copy and pasted the entry twice. I am assuming you wrote it out in word or something, then pasted it into the website.

      Sorry could not help myself.

  3. Geezer says:

    Yeah – double post here as well.

  4. You are really good at this, you know that? This minimalistic stuff reminds me of something Mark Twain said to a critic who was insulting his vocabulary, and he said, “Poor fool fool. You think big emotions come from big words?”

    • taulsn says:

      I just want them to have a happy ending. Somehow I don’t think it will be so, and that makes me sad.

      • Tom says:

        Yeah I’m seeing like… zero chance of that. Happy endings seem to be out of fashion these days, especially w/ self published/independent stuff. It’s like crushing your reader’s spirits automatically gets you some kind of legitimacy or something, or at least the authors think it does. I guess they think it injects some brutal realism or something, which is kinda funny in the world of scifi and fantasy novels. Honestly though while that kind of stuff is nice once in a while as a break from regular stories, now that it seems to be the norm I just don’t get the point. Why even tell the stories about miserable failure or pyhrric (I feel certain I misspelled that) victories, when people are reading to escape from reality? I mean, that’s what the real world is all about, how no matter how good you are, how skilled or powerful or heroic or whatever, the world is still shit and will destroy you in the end. I, personally, read to escape from that. It’s frustrating that now ever single story I read tends to run towards that sort of depressing ‘you can never really win’ realism. I wish I could just collectively shake authors and tell them that that doesn’t cover up for bad writing or characterization or plotting, that it doesn’t set them apart when EVERY SINGLE STORY is dark and brooding, and that everyone who’s read more than a couple books this decade is tired of that shit by now.
        Honestly. I just got done reading some children’s book series called Skullduggery Pleasant recently that I picked up because it seemed like it would be light-hearted and witty. By the last book (second to last in the series, last last book is still unreleased)(spoiler, BTW) the protagonist had been transformed against her will into a psychopathic killer, and all her friends had turned against her and replaced her with a WILLINGLY psychopathic self-righteous killer who had stolen her life and tried to murder her. It’s seriously like the writers just sit there and say to themselves, “Now how can I shit on my readers today?” They took the style of grindhouse horror films, of infinitely cheesy gore fests for visual shock value, and applied it to emotional shock value and depression.
        This does not make a good book. It’s even more pathetic and hackish than the stories where everything goes right for the hero.
        That said I’m still loving Grey World, but honestly that’s because I’m expecting a payout at the end for all the bad stuff despite experience telling me the author’s not going anywhere with this but to more dissapointment and abuse of the protag.

      • agreyworld says:

        Everyone seems to be dreading the awful things I’m going to do…

        I wouldn’t worry so much. I’m kind of soppy at heart. I’m not sure I’d have it in me to write an ending so depressing as worm’s… I’m one of those people who likes happy endings.

  5. Ski Hemulen says:

    Did I mention I love your story? :)

    I love the way both we as readers and Alex can’t quite differentiate her fight or flight instincts to plain-ol’ butterflies-in-the-stomach. Can’t wait for next week to know more about what Alex is feeling.

    Some typos:

    Its fine, girl – It’s fine, girl.

    I’d kicked myself for not knowing asking date. – I kicked myself for not knowing or asking for the date.

    nauseas – nauseous

    The end of her nose – perhaps “The tip of her nose”?

  6. mbwakalione says:

    Romance in a book is rainbows and starshine and puppy dog tails. In reallife its akward and clumsy, teeth mashing lips and random thoughts about cold noses. Honestly i think i perfer your version. But i just know some thing awfull is guna happen soon…

  7. AWWWWWWWWWW
    Finally.

  8. bassofthe says:

    Kissies =^^=

  9. Vyl says:

    …….keep going. No need to stop halfway Alex.

  10. Dudeman says:

    Am I right in assuming her second to last thought, “And me.” is nonsensical because she can’t think properly, rather than it being a typo of some sort?

    • agreyworld says:

      Was supposed to be:

      “We kissed.

      Beth

      And me.

      The tip of her nose was cold.”

      Don’t know how that line was missed out! It’s in my word doc, must have spliced it when editing.

      Changed to:

      “We kissed.

      Beth, and me.

      The tip of her nose was cold.”

      Don’t want to overdo the broken-sentences nonsensical due to bad narrator thinking.

  11. Dudeman says:

    I have to wonder whether Haley knew what would happen when she told her father about Beth waking up… I’m assuming not, because even if she’s sadistic and pissed at Beth I doubt she wanted Beth to be kidnapped and possibly tortured. I kind of want to see her face when she finds out what happened.

    I also wonder what would have happened had Haley not come with Emma, or if Beth had woken up after Haley left. Even if he’d escaped and fortified his home, I doubt Boyd could’ve held off the Specials for long. Maybe he knew of some sort of sanctuary from the Specials… perhaps a military base?

    • agreyworld says:

      I was thinking he’d go into a life of obscurity. Maybe he knows someone who could get him some documentation, hijack someone else’s social security etc. He packed expecting to have to move out of town, be it very lightly.

      • Dudeman says:

        Oh, I assumed that since he said he was telling the truth to Emma that he was actually going home, but I guess the “truth” was that he was packing to leave. Makes sense.

    • agreyworld says:

      Oh, and congratulations on catching up! It was nice reading your comments over the last few days. Hope you’ve enjoyed reading.

  12. Visasque says:

    Twue wove

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s