Torn Pages | A Zodiac Story

2. ÊTRE DÉPAYSÉ

ÊTRE DÉPAYASÉ . French — to be lost in unfamiliar surroundings

— O Death! rocke me asleep;

Bringe me to quiet reste;

let pass my weary, guiltles ghost

out of my carefull brest. —

   When 20 year old Carmen Díaz had told the random crackhead on the street that she would help her, she wasn't expecting her to come back with an entire entourage. Honestly, she'd said it just to be nice, since the girl had looked so, so sad.

   She also wasn't expecting to be dealing with more of her kind.

   All she knew was that his name was Aaron, he was only 18 yet half a foot taller than her (which wasn't saying a lot- Carmen was only 4,10) and sported a mop of dark hair, a series of moles and freckles sprinkled across his body. He walked with a noticeable limp. But most importantly, he was absolutely devastated that he was still alive, whatever that was supposed to imply. And by God, he wouldn't shut up about it. It was 8:45 am on a Tuesday, for God's sake.

  "You have no knives sitting anywhere?" he frowned, following her down the street, tall boots marching loud against the concrete sidewalk. "It'd be real quick! Or a horse, mayhaps? My cousin Patience was run over by a stallion, the beast crushed her skull. Brutal sight, it was. Or a musket! Have you any musket?" Carmen put her headphones on.

   Like this they walked for another few minutes, the boy stubbornly refusing to leave her alone. She was about to call the police- at the very least, he needed a homeless welfare check. Or a drug rehab facility. As a mediocre pre-veterinary medicine major, she didn't think she was the best person to help him with this predicament. Curiously, she lifted her headphones from her ears to see if he was still jabbering.

   He was.

   "Really, it's remarkable, and I told him that, right? But apparently that's incredibly rude to say, and my mother was not pleased-"

   Resisting the urge to put her headphones back on, Carmen ran a tired hand through her dark kinky hair, frowning.

   "Do you have nowhere else to be?" She asked incredulously, putting a hand on her hip and interrupting his tangent. Aaron blinked, confused, simply shaking his head. Huffing, he leaned against the wall of the closest building, out of breath and holding his left leg- the leg with the limp- high up, as if it was paining him. That wouldn't have happened if you hadn't been following me, Carmen wanted to snark. "What now?" she asked instead, tiredly rubbing her palms over her eyes.

   "Ah, nothing, just still healing from the gunshot wound," was the simple reply. "Hit by a Brown Bess, of all things! Oh, don't look like that- it was an accident, you know. Although I thought your pain was supposed to cease after death- you will help me finish that, won't you? It'll be so quick, I promise." He looked at her as if she was his last hope.

   If she were a better person, this would be the point where Carmen would sit down with him and talk. (Or at this point, maybe call the suicide hotline...)

   Instead, she took the opportunity to bolt, smacking her headphones back onto her ears to drown out the cries of "No, please! I don't know where I am, I need help, please-" Glancing down at her phone, she cursed under her breath upon seeing that she was running late to work. Her manager had used to sell weed in the back of Spencer's- surely he would understand her being confronted by a bunch of druggies. Grumbling, she pulled up her text messages, preparing to write the ever-dreaded "I'm going to be late" message.