Elijah Brown trudged up the stairs to the institution in which he had gone to school for the past three years just as the sky broke open with rain. The drumming on the concrete hardly even processed through his distracted thoughts. He walked through the large double doors, open as if waiting for him. The paint of the dismal grey walls was chipped with generations of memories. Looking around, he searched for his usual lapdog, his 5’2, blonde girlfriend named Frankie. He thought back to the time they had met, sophomore year. After the bad divorce and the incident, his mum had shipped him off from his sheltered little town in the eastern village of Boston to live with his grandparents in the ‘Big City’. The decision was instant. It took one minute for everything to change. New York had been a shock to every nerve ending. The constant chatter, at first, made his ears ring. He’d lie awake at night and long for the stars that shone out of is window back in Boston. Frankie had been one of the first girls he had met. Her Eyes were a blue so light it could be mistaken as grey and twinkled like the comforting shine of his Boston stars. She had been as delicate as a child and as shy as him. They’d been inseparable ever since.
The sudden sharp shrill of the morning bell woke him from his reverie. He swayed solemnly in the entrance. Elijah, usually unnoticed by his peers that bumped, tripped and hit him up every day drew glances at every breath. The hallway was silent bar the whispers and gasps of horror that cracked through the tension like a whip. A thick, sickly sweet metallic smell sat in the back of his throat. His thoughts ran from each corner of his mind. His breath caught. It was as if someone had their hand over his heart and was pushing. His vision dotted with stars, memories lighting up behind his eyes like prophecies. He gasped in air as if he were being held underwater. His skin stuck to his clothes. It was only when he lifted his arm to push back the shaggy black hair that fell over his dark eyes that he saw it. The sticky scarlet liquid, like ink, that appeared to ooze from his pores. Then he remembered.
We were going to run away, me and Frankie, Frankie and me. We'd planed it out step by step, every detail and possible outcome thought out impeccably. Frankie had a less than satisfying home life. Her father, being the rampaging alcoholic that he was, left about a month back. Her mother remained in bed for the weeks that came after. I held her as she stood, eyes glassy with tears, chocking out that her dad had abandoned them.
"If you're trying to save me you can stop holding your breath" she had screamed at me. It wasn't the first time. I knew how to react when she got like that. I said nothing. Just looked at her. I pulled her into my arms, wanting to protect her from everything. She was so delicate. It killed me that she had to deal with what she did. She cried in my arms for hours, a few times trying to run away she'd claw at my skin, pushing at my chest. I'd calm her down and it would start again. She never knew what I was capable of.
Since that night it had been pretty cold. Clouds bellowed from all corners of the city. The almost nonexistent stars were out of sight and my baby's eyes shone with the tears she tried to hide. She was in so much pain. I just wanted to help.
Elijah ran from the emptying hallway. The world around him span. He fell to the ground, racked with waves of nausea. His eyes bled tears that ran down his face, mixing with the harsh rain pounding down. The grass under him curled through his fingertips. The dirt scraped into his nail, already embedded with powdered blood that had dried to his skin. The cold rain washed out the ache he felt in this veins. It was like a poison running through his body. Something toxic he couldn't escape. He fought off images invading his mind. Images of Frankie.
I remember one day. I smile at the thought. One day in which Frankie and I walked from the Upper East Side to the bridge at the Bronx. The one that the Hudson and the east river merged under. The water was grey-brown. We argued whether it looked so dismal from the reflection of the sky or simply because it was disgusting. Tourist stared as we yelled and laughed. That day, she buried her head in my neck and I told her that I loved her. I didn't mean to. God, I didn't even think before it jumped off my lips. She looked up at me, with those big blue eyes and i never regretted it.
