Original Fiction
So, to all my friends out there, I'm trying really hard to get some original fiction completed rather than just writing fanfiction. As much as I love fanfic, it's not going to pay the bills and make things happen, I don't think. I need some originals under my belt. So, this is a Dark Angel one-shot, that I've tried to revamp. I really loved the fanfic that I started with and thought that I could make a cool short story out of it. Please read it and let me know what you think. It would mean a lot to me. Even negative feedback is a blessing. Thanks.
I freeze the second I walk into the bar. I know something is off. Something is not right in the atmosphere. The air feels too predatory. I look around cautiously and move slowly up to the bar. I repeatedly glance over my shoulder and scan the room peripherally. My senses all go on alert, honed to react this way instinctively because of long years on hostile streets.
The girl behind the bar approaches silently, but slowly and the movement attracts my eye. I look up at her and lock gazes with her for a long moment. Something about her eyes. Something familiar, but more than that. Her eyes are so dead and yet so filled with pain. I look down, unable to handle the eye contact for too long.
“What can I get you?” she asks.
“How about a beer?” I respond.
“Sure thing.” she says and spins on her heel.
Her long brown hair whirls after her. Something about the way she walks is strange. So quiet. I don’t know many people who can walk that silently.
She returns with my beer and plunks it down in front of me.
“What brings you here, stranger?” she asks.
“Meeting an old friend of mine.” I say, turning my back to her and looking around the bar to see if this friend might be here already.
I only leave my back to her for a second. I feel too threatened to leave my back to her. There’s something about her...
“Haven’t seen a tall guy with real messy blonde hair wandering around here tonight, have you? Probably wearing a long, black coat with the collar popped.”
“Can’t say I have.” she says, looking down at the bar and wiping it carefully with a small white rag.
I can’t tell if she’s lying nor do I know why I would even think that. Why would she lie? Maybe I’m getting paranoid. I shrug, chug the rest of my beer, and decide to go look for a more relaxed atmosphere and meet up with John later. I leave five dollars on the bar. She says nothing and does nothing to stop me as I leave the bar and head out the door. But I can feel her eyes follow me, feel them piercing through me and it makes my skin crawl. What is it about that girl?
***
Chris is here. But why? I haven’t seen Chris since the Escape. I don’t think he recognizes me, which kind of hurts. But I recognized him. How could I not? His image is burned into my brain, refusing to be drowned in the dark oblivion. He’s older now, but his eyes are the same.
He really never should have turned his back to me. He never should have let his guard down like that, dismissing me like I’m not something to be wary of. He should know better.
I excuse myself from the bar. They’re used to me going in and out and don’t ask any questions. Everyone learned quickly not to ask questions. I don’t like questions.
I weave my way out of the bar and the simple-minded drunks shy away from me without even knowing that they are. I find the simple natural instincts of people to be highly amusing. They sense a predator with their instinct, but their minds do not even register it.
The night is dark. The way I like it. My eyes adjust immediately, even before the door behind me completely shuts to cut off the noises of the bar. I drop the facade of being normal and streak away into the night, following my own instincts.
I’m glad Chris is here. I can’t stand it anymore. I can’t stand being forced to act like a pathetic little girl when I can do so much more, I am so much more. I hate repressing what I am. But finally, finally I get the chance to stretch my legs again. I’m a hunter. And finally I’ve found qualified prey.
***
I know I’m being followed. I know I’m not safe. I try not to let on, but my skin is crawling. Every nerve I have is on edge. Bells are ringing in my head, warning me.
I stick my hands in my jacket pockets, hunching my shoulders against the chill of the night. The sky is threatening rain, the inky clouds blocking out most of the moon and the stars, casting an even darker shadow across the city.
I try to shake whoever it is, turning down various side streets, but it’s useless. Someone is following me and I can’t lose them. So, I stop and wait in the circle of the sickly yellow glow from a street light in the deserted alleyway.
A figure draws closer, slowly materializing from the shadows as if she’s made of them. It’s the girl from the bar. I knew there was something wrong about her.
“Who are you?” I demand.
“Come now, Chris? Don’t you remember me?” she replies with a sneer.
There’s a dangerous glint to her eye and she’s circling me. I think I know her, but I can’t place who she is. The way she’s looking at me, though, makes me think that she’s about to do something violent. She doesn’t look sane.
“Let’s talk.” I offer, holding up my hands, showing her I’m not going to try anything, trying to placate her.
“Let’s not.” she replies, “Come on, Chris. Is that all you’ve got? Just talk?”
She darts in and shoves me hard against a building, then backs off and waits for me to counterattack. I just stare at her. What the hell is her problem?
“What the hell? How do you know my name?”
“Doesn’t matter. Let’s play.” she replies, darting in again and whipping around to land a kick across my face.
I spit out blood, frankly stunned that she actually attacked me. Looking at her, I think that I have to do something or I’m sure she’ll just keep this up forever. I push away from the wall and she smiles a feral smile at me.
“Here, kitty kitty.” she taunts.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” I hesitate.
“Too bad. I do.” she says, darting in for another attack.
I dodge and grab her from behind, pinning her arms down to her side.
“Stop this.” I command.
She stops struggling and carefully I let my arms go slack. A mistake. She elbows me in the nose and pain explodes. I stumble back. She smiles and tosses her hair over her shoulder.
“Sorry, Chris. We play by my rules.”
***
Chris didn’t want to fight. He still doesn’t remember who I am. He didn’t want to fight me, but he will. He will because on some level he has to know that if he doesn’t, I will kill him. I’m not above killing my little brother. Not if he can’t defend himself like he should. Chris is better than that. He has to be.
“Don’t disappoint me, Chris.” I say, gesturing at him to attack me.
Chris wipes blood off his face with the back of his hand. His teeth are stained red. My tongue moves in my mouth as I think of the coppery taste of blood in my mouth.
“What do you want from me?” he demands, still confused.
“I just want to play.” I say, “Don’t you want to play?”
“Not like this. Please. Don’t do this.” he pleads.
My smile twists into a disgusted sneer. He’s begging me not to fight him. How pathetic! Completely unacceptable.
“It has to be this way, Chris.” I say stiffly.
“Why?”
“Because you told me that everything would be alright!” I spit out, “You told me that night that everything would be fine. You said it would be so much better. That we would be free. You promised me. You lied to me.”
His eyes flash with recognition.
“Jenny?” he asks in disbelief.
He looks sad and surprised. He looks like he pities me. Why would he pity me? He’s the pathetic one!
“You lied to me, Chris.” I growl, “It’s no better out here than it was in that hell. No, I think it’s worse.”
“Oh, Jenny.” Chris shakes his head, “What happened to you?”
“I don’t want to talk! I want to fight!” I scream and rush him.
My fists fly out and connect with his face twice before he starts blocking my punches. I whip out a swift kick and shatter his kneecap. He collapses slightly on that side with an anguished cry of pain. I punch him in the stomach, but he grabs my arms and we both fall on the pavement. I twist his arm and he releases with a gasp of agony. I straddle his chest and lean down in his face.
“Pathetic, Chris.” I hiss, “Pathetic.”
***
Jenny was always tough. She rough-housed and fought with the boys and usually came out on top. She hasn’t lost her edge. In fact, if anything she’s gotten even tougher. I can’t walk. I’m beginning to think she’ll kill me.
The night of the Escape, Zack called us all together, the whole gang. Jenny and I and a few others of the younger initiates had decided then that we wanted out, decided that we couldn’t handle the gang anymore and what it made us do. Jenny was terrified of being alone in the outside world. She’d never really had a family and neither had I. Even though the place we were in was hell, it was all we’d ever known. The abusive older members who waited until the lights were out to hurt you, the leaders who didn’t give a shit about you, but expected you to contribute to the gang instead of just leeching off of it. For those of us in that place, the orphans with nowhere else to go because no foster homes would take us, the problem children who were only one step away from a juvenile detention center, it had been a sort of sick and twisted home. That is, until Zack had decided that he’d had enough of us, that we needed to really prove our commitment, that we should seal our fates forever with the blood of rival initiates. That night, after the meeting, she came to me with her fear. I consoled her. I promised her a good life out there where she would be free to be herself. No one telling her what she must do down to the last breath of air she took. I thought that was what it would be like. I couldn’t know what life out here would do to her. I couldn’t know that it would get to her like this or that, maybe, she was already too far gone.
“Well, Chris?” she demands.
“Well what, Jenny? If you’re going to kill me, just do it!” I yell at her.
“Kill you? I never wanted to kill you. It’s your own fault that you forgot everything we were taught. We were warriors, remember? Now, you’re just a hideous excuse for one.” she replies.
“Then, what the hell do you want?”
She doesn’t reply. She doesn’t do anything but stare blankly past me at the pavement where blood is pooling. All mine.
“I heard about Ben.” she says suddenly.
My eyes darken and I watch her carefully. Ben was another one of the kids that ran. I never really understood how he got involved in all that crap in the first place. He wasn’t a street urchin like most of us. He was just this little kid who showed up one day with his overactive imagination, looking for shelter from the storm. Of course, as long as he was willing to pay for everything he received in whatever currency the gang demanded, he was welcomed with open arms. They’d broken that kid’s mind like a twig. He ran with us, but was never the same. I caught word of him a couple years prior. They’d flashed a picture on the news. Headline had read something like ‘Serial Killer Finally Caught By Police.’ By “caught” they meant gunned down. Apparently, the innocent stories he’d told all the rest of us kids late at night to distract us from our pain and our fear had twisted in his mind into something dark and sinister, something he’d been acting out with murderous results until he was stopped.
“Even ran into him once.” she continues, “I tagged along with him for awhile. He was exciting. He was every ounce the warrior. But his mind wasn’t in the game. He was still obsessed with his little fairytale. I couldn’t accept that. But he at least understood me. I miss him.”
“What about Sarah?” I ask cautiously, grasping at straws, “Do you miss her?”
Sarah and Jenny had been inseparable until the Escape. Two broken girls with nowhere else to go, they’d been like sisters until we’d all lost each other in the desperate attempt to get free of the gang.
“Sarah.” she whispers, “Yes, I miss Sarah. Have you seen her, Chris?”
“Yes.” I nod, “She was the one who killed Ben.”
Jenny’s gaze snaps back to mine, eyes blazing with intensity.
“Are you lying to me, Chris?” she asked, her voice dangerous.
“No.” I say.
Her hand is at my throat, squeezing.
“Are you lying to me?” she demands again.
“No!” I choke out.
She releases my throat.
“She wouldn’t like what you’re doing, Jenny.” I say, careful of my wording, the tense of my verbs, and hoping that I can get through to her, “Sarah loves the outside world so much. All she wants is to live like a normal girl. Hell, she’s even a cop now, protecting people.”
“Sarah...” Jenny whispers, looking slightly confused.
“Yeah. She has a boyfriend. She has friends. Her boss is a jerk. She lives in a crappy apartment. Owns a black motorcycle that she loves more than anything.”
I stop there. I can’t tell her that for all I know Sarah is dead. I can’t tell her that it might have even been Zack who did it. I can’t tell her that. I know she won’t be able to accept it.
Jenny gets off me and I slowly sit up. She looks at me and I see the pain she’s in. A single tear has managed to fall down her cheek, but that’s all she can cry. She never learned how to cry. Carefully, I move to hold her. She clutches my shirt and buries her face in it. Her whole body shakes even though she can’t shed tears.
“It’s okay, Jenny. I’m sorry.” I tell her, stroking her hair.
She pushes away from me slowly, looking into my eyes.
“No, Chris. I’m sorry.” she says.
Jenny’s fist appears in my face. Then, I feel my head being slammed into the pavement. The pain overwhelms me and I lose consciousness.
***
Chris’s body goes slack and I step away, rising to my feet. He’s not dead. No, but he will remember me now. Next time, he won’t be so stupid.
I think it’s time to move on to a new city. I’ve worn out my welcome here.
I freeze the second I walk into the bar. I know something is off. Something is not right in the atmosphere. The air feels too predatory. I look around cautiously and move slowly up to the bar. I repeatedly glance over my shoulder and scan the room peripherally. My senses all go on alert, honed to react this way instinctively because of long years on hostile streets.
The girl behind the bar approaches silently, but slowly and the movement attracts my eye. I look up at her and lock gazes with her for a long moment. Something about her eyes. Something familiar, but more than that. Her eyes are so dead and yet so filled with pain. I look down, unable to handle the eye contact for too long.
“What can I get you?” she asks.
“How about a beer?” I respond.
“Sure thing.” she says and spins on her heel.
Her long brown hair whirls after her. Something about the way she walks is strange. So quiet. I don’t know many people who can walk that silently.
She returns with my beer and plunks it down in front of me.
“What brings you here, stranger?” she asks.
“Meeting an old friend of mine.” I say, turning my back to her and looking around the bar to see if this friend might be here already.
I only leave my back to her for a second. I feel too threatened to leave my back to her. There’s something about her...
“Haven’t seen a tall guy with real messy blonde hair wandering around here tonight, have you? Probably wearing a long, black coat with the collar popped.”
“Can’t say I have.” she says, looking down at the bar and wiping it carefully with a small white rag.
I can’t tell if she’s lying nor do I know why I would even think that. Why would she lie? Maybe I’m getting paranoid. I shrug, chug the rest of my beer, and decide to go look for a more relaxed atmosphere and meet up with John later. I leave five dollars on the bar. She says nothing and does nothing to stop me as I leave the bar and head out the door. But I can feel her eyes follow me, feel them piercing through me and it makes my skin crawl. What is it about that girl?
***
Chris is here. But why? I haven’t seen Chris since the Escape. I don’t think he recognizes me, which kind of hurts. But I recognized him. How could I not? His image is burned into my brain, refusing to be drowned in the dark oblivion. He’s older now, but his eyes are the same.
He really never should have turned his back to me. He never should have let his guard down like that, dismissing me like I’m not something to be wary of. He should know better.
I excuse myself from the bar. They’re used to me going in and out and don’t ask any questions. Everyone learned quickly not to ask questions. I don’t like questions.
I weave my way out of the bar and the simple-minded drunks shy away from me without even knowing that they are. I find the simple natural instincts of people to be highly amusing. They sense a predator with their instinct, but their minds do not even register it.
The night is dark. The way I like it. My eyes adjust immediately, even before the door behind me completely shuts to cut off the noises of the bar. I drop the facade of being normal and streak away into the night, following my own instincts.
I’m glad Chris is here. I can’t stand it anymore. I can’t stand being forced to act like a pathetic little girl when I can do so much more, I am so much more. I hate repressing what I am. But finally, finally I get the chance to stretch my legs again. I’m a hunter. And finally I’ve found qualified prey.
***
I know I’m being followed. I know I’m not safe. I try not to let on, but my skin is crawling. Every nerve I have is on edge. Bells are ringing in my head, warning me.
I stick my hands in my jacket pockets, hunching my shoulders against the chill of the night. The sky is threatening rain, the inky clouds blocking out most of the moon and the stars, casting an even darker shadow across the city.
I try to shake whoever it is, turning down various side streets, but it’s useless. Someone is following me and I can’t lose them. So, I stop and wait in the circle of the sickly yellow glow from a street light in the deserted alleyway.
A figure draws closer, slowly materializing from the shadows as if she’s made of them. It’s the girl from the bar. I knew there was something wrong about her.
“Who are you?” I demand.
“Come now, Chris? Don’t you remember me?” she replies with a sneer.
There’s a dangerous glint to her eye and she’s circling me. I think I know her, but I can’t place who she is. The way she’s looking at me, though, makes me think that she’s about to do something violent. She doesn’t look sane.
“Let’s talk.” I offer, holding up my hands, showing her I’m not going to try anything, trying to placate her.
“Let’s not.” she replies, “Come on, Chris. Is that all you’ve got? Just talk?”
She darts in and shoves me hard against a building, then backs off and waits for me to counterattack. I just stare at her. What the hell is her problem?
“What the hell? How do you know my name?”
“Doesn’t matter. Let’s play.” she replies, darting in again and whipping around to land a kick across my face.
I spit out blood, frankly stunned that she actually attacked me. Looking at her, I think that I have to do something or I’m sure she’ll just keep this up forever. I push away from the wall and she smiles a feral smile at me.
“Here, kitty kitty.” she taunts.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” I hesitate.
“Too bad. I do.” she says, darting in for another attack.
I dodge and grab her from behind, pinning her arms down to her side.
“Stop this.” I command.
She stops struggling and carefully I let my arms go slack. A mistake. She elbows me in the nose and pain explodes. I stumble back. She smiles and tosses her hair over her shoulder.
“Sorry, Chris. We play by my rules.”
***
Chris didn’t want to fight. He still doesn’t remember who I am. He didn’t want to fight me, but he will. He will because on some level he has to know that if he doesn’t, I will kill him. I’m not above killing my little brother. Not if he can’t defend himself like he should. Chris is better than that. He has to be.
“Don’t disappoint me, Chris.” I say, gesturing at him to attack me.
Chris wipes blood off his face with the back of his hand. His teeth are stained red. My tongue moves in my mouth as I think of the coppery taste of blood in my mouth.
“What do you want from me?” he demands, still confused.
“I just want to play.” I say, “Don’t you want to play?”
“Not like this. Please. Don’t do this.” he pleads.
My smile twists into a disgusted sneer. He’s begging me not to fight him. How pathetic! Completely unacceptable.
“It has to be this way, Chris.” I say stiffly.
“Why?”
“Because you told me that everything would be alright!” I spit out, “You told me that night that everything would be fine. You said it would be so much better. That we would be free. You promised me. You lied to me.”
His eyes flash with recognition.
“Jenny?” he asks in disbelief.
He looks sad and surprised. He looks like he pities me. Why would he pity me? He’s the pathetic one!
“You lied to me, Chris.” I growl, “It’s no better out here than it was in that hell. No, I think it’s worse.”
“Oh, Jenny.” Chris shakes his head, “What happened to you?”
“I don’t want to talk! I want to fight!” I scream and rush him.
My fists fly out and connect with his face twice before he starts blocking my punches. I whip out a swift kick and shatter his kneecap. He collapses slightly on that side with an anguished cry of pain. I punch him in the stomach, but he grabs my arms and we both fall on the pavement. I twist his arm and he releases with a gasp of agony. I straddle his chest and lean down in his face.
“Pathetic, Chris.” I hiss, “Pathetic.”
***
Jenny was always tough. She rough-housed and fought with the boys and usually came out on top. She hasn’t lost her edge. In fact, if anything she’s gotten even tougher. I can’t walk. I’m beginning to think she’ll kill me.
The night of the Escape, Zack called us all together, the whole gang. Jenny and I and a few others of the younger initiates had decided then that we wanted out, decided that we couldn’t handle the gang anymore and what it made us do. Jenny was terrified of being alone in the outside world. She’d never really had a family and neither had I. Even though the place we were in was hell, it was all we’d ever known. The abusive older members who waited until the lights were out to hurt you, the leaders who didn’t give a shit about you, but expected you to contribute to the gang instead of just leeching off of it. For those of us in that place, the orphans with nowhere else to go because no foster homes would take us, the problem children who were only one step away from a juvenile detention center, it had been a sort of sick and twisted home. That is, until Zack had decided that he’d had enough of us, that we needed to really prove our commitment, that we should seal our fates forever with the blood of rival initiates. That night, after the meeting, she came to me with her fear. I consoled her. I promised her a good life out there where she would be free to be herself. No one telling her what she must do down to the last breath of air she took. I thought that was what it would be like. I couldn’t know what life out here would do to her. I couldn’t know that it would get to her like this or that, maybe, she was already too far gone.
“Well, Chris?” she demands.
“Well what, Jenny? If you’re going to kill me, just do it!” I yell at her.
“Kill you? I never wanted to kill you. It’s your own fault that you forgot everything we were taught. We were warriors, remember? Now, you’re just a hideous excuse for one.” she replies.
“Then, what the hell do you want?”
She doesn’t reply. She doesn’t do anything but stare blankly past me at the pavement where blood is pooling. All mine.
“I heard about Ben.” she says suddenly.
My eyes darken and I watch her carefully. Ben was another one of the kids that ran. I never really understood how he got involved in all that crap in the first place. He wasn’t a street urchin like most of us. He was just this little kid who showed up one day with his overactive imagination, looking for shelter from the storm. Of course, as long as he was willing to pay for everything he received in whatever currency the gang demanded, he was welcomed with open arms. They’d broken that kid’s mind like a twig. He ran with us, but was never the same. I caught word of him a couple years prior. They’d flashed a picture on the news. Headline had read something like ‘Serial Killer Finally Caught By Police.’ By “caught” they meant gunned down. Apparently, the innocent stories he’d told all the rest of us kids late at night to distract us from our pain and our fear had twisted in his mind into something dark and sinister, something he’d been acting out with murderous results until he was stopped.
“Even ran into him once.” she continues, “I tagged along with him for awhile. He was exciting. He was every ounce the warrior. But his mind wasn’t in the game. He was still obsessed with his little fairytale. I couldn’t accept that. But he at least understood me. I miss him.”
“What about Sarah?” I ask cautiously, grasping at straws, “Do you miss her?”
Sarah and Jenny had been inseparable until the Escape. Two broken girls with nowhere else to go, they’d been like sisters until we’d all lost each other in the desperate attempt to get free of the gang.
“Sarah.” she whispers, “Yes, I miss Sarah. Have you seen her, Chris?”
“Yes.” I nod, “She was the one who killed Ben.”
Jenny’s gaze snaps back to mine, eyes blazing with intensity.
“Are you lying to me, Chris?” she asked, her voice dangerous.
“No.” I say.
Her hand is at my throat, squeezing.
“Are you lying to me?” she demands again.
“No!” I choke out.
She releases my throat.
“She wouldn’t like what you’re doing, Jenny.” I say, careful of my wording, the tense of my verbs, and hoping that I can get through to her, “Sarah loves the outside world so much. All she wants is to live like a normal girl. Hell, she’s even a cop now, protecting people.”
“Sarah...” Jenny whispers, looking slightly confused.
“Yeah. She has a boyfriend. She has friends. Her boss is a jerk. She lives in a crappy apartment. Owns a black motorcycle that she loves more than anything.”
I stop there. I can’t tell her that for all I know Sarah is dead. I can’t tell her that it might have even been Zack who did it. I can’t tell her that. I know she won’t be able to accept it.
Jenny gets off me and I slowly sit up. She looks at me and I see the pain she’s in. A single tear has managed to fall down her cheek, but that’s all she can cry. She never learned how to cry. Carefully, I move to hold her. She clutches my shirt and buries her face in it. Her whole body shakes even though she can’t shed tears.
“It’s okay, Jenny. I’m sorry.” I tell her, stroking her hair.
She pushes away from me slowly, looking into my eyes.
“No, Chris. I’m sorry.” she says.
Jenny’s fist appears in my face. Then, I feel my head being slammed into the pavement. The pain overwhelms me and I lose consciousness.
***
Chris’s body goes slack and I step away, rising to my feet. He’s not dead. No, but he will remember me now. Next time, he won’t be so stupid.
I think it’s time to move on to a new city. I’ve worn out my welcome here.