Flightless Bird

Gathering Strength

I woke up in the alley. Of course, no one had bothered to touch me despite the fact it had been hours that I lay in the street.

No one cared.

I pushed myself up with more strength than I had before. Every minuscule movement throbbed, even sitting still. There was no relief.

My head pounded, the scabbed cuts burned, and my lower half was throbbing with fire. I forced myself up, figuring I'd been sleeping long enough, and made my way clumsily back inside.

Tripping over myself, I crawled up the stairs of the fire escape, stumbling into the apartment and almost losing consciousness again as I took in the mess left behind.

Dried blood covered the cracked linoleum floors, splattered from the whips. Flashbacks—his face, those hands, that belt—flooded my vision and I sunk to the ground to catch my breath. I shook silently with sobs as I remembered.

Across the room, my phone was going off.

I slowly stood again, and made my way to retrieve it, only to catch it right as it went to voicemail.

16 missed calls

8 missed texts

All from Mr. Knightly.

I hardly had time to think before my phone began going off again.

I cleared my throat and wiped my eyes, preparing to begin my acting career.

"Hello?" I asked as I picked up on the third ring.

"Oh Scarlett, thank God! I was just about to go to the police and file a missing person's report! I've been calling since yesterday and when I went to your house to see if you were okay some random old lady turned me away saying she never heard of you. I think she must've been confused." Mr. Knightly rushed out. I chuckled softly.

"No I'm quite alright, I just misplaced my phone. That was my Aunt Adeline you met...she has dementia," I lied quickly and smoothly. Or so I thought.

"I see. And do you actually live with this Aunt Adeline? Because I think I can remember her clearly telling me her name was June," he replied skeptically.

I froze.

He knows.

I wanted to hang up right then and there. How do I talk myself out of this one?

"Scarlett?"

"Hello, yes I'm here...it's just, well, you see-"

"Please don't try to talk yourself out of this one. I want to know why you lied," he said calmly. I pondered this, before telling him only what was necessary.

"Okay...I don't live at the house on the corner. The truth...well, the truth is I live down the street. I was embarrassed." I said.

He was quite for a moment before he sighed.

"I hope it's not where I'm thinking. With your salary I'd have hoped you'd live somewhere better than that." He sounded upset, for some reason I could not understand.

"I'm sorry." Was all I could say. Another sigh in response.

How strange it was to have a casual conversation in what looked like a war zone, both myself and the room coated in iron-colored blood. It was almost funny, but maybe that was just how Alexander made me feel. That was dangerous.

A sudden pain made me lean against the counter for support, my stomach throbbing. I gasped for air with the phone away from my face, before hearing him ask if I was still there.

"Yes, I'm here," I managed through gritted teeth. Just as he was asking me if I could meet, the front door opened.

In walked my worst nightmare.

"Sir, I have to go now, but I'll see you at work tomorrow morning." I ended the call hastily, not giving him a chance to reply.

"So you went to the hospital?"