Bottle Green Daffodil

Chapter 2: Outcasts

I
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head).
The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and the world drops dead.
-Sylvia Plath

II
"...fifty-five, fifty-six, fifty-seven. Stop!"

Fifty-seven seconds. It took Israel fifty-seven seconds to flag a cab as she made her escape. The night air kissed her bare legs, half of it clad in shorts, sending shivers down her body.

"Where to?" the plump cabbie asked.

She scuttled inside. "Uni Street, please."

"Hmph," he muttered. "Students Shack, eh?"

The engine gave a low hum. A minute later it whisked Israel away from the building she had emerged.

Would they notice she had gone away? And if it happened when would it be? Tonight? Or perhaps tomorrow during breakfast? May be Sheba would call her and apologize for ruining the night. Ruining their night.

For a minute, during which she passed a line of stores with 'Closed' signs hanging forlornly on the door, the thought appeased her mind, turbulent as it was.

It was short-lived because the rational part of her psyche, a bit too sadist, slammed down the cold truth. The truth which was currently unfolding in her sister's bedroom. The truth whose denial was making Israel run away from it, literally.

She wondered what had trigged her fleeing impulse, an act so bereft of courage even cowards thought twice before acting on it.

It must have been the laughter, floating through the darkness and closed doors, as it reached Israel's ear and woke her up. But oh, it was not the laughter. She didn't run then. It was what happened after.

Silence was draped all over the flat and it seemed to amplify the muffled voices in her sister's room. They ceased for a while only to conceive moans, whose sounds the walls could not very well cover. Yes, that had been the catalyst. Cheeks reddening over the realization of occurence in the other room, Israel had bolted from the alien bed and knocked her foot on the bed post, desperate hands searching for the light switch.

Judging by the sounds now, Sheba and Alexander were not merely sleeping. They were two adults, sickingly in love with each other, and this was expected. So why was she, Israel, feeling so... angry? The need to run away had then become intense, vital.

The laces of her trainers were tied haphazardly, phone and purse tucked in the safety of her jumper pocket. The room, with its neatly furnished look, was given one last disapproving look before Israel tiptoed outside. This was all Alexander's doing.

As the lift made its descent, she remembered she had nowhere to go her. Her anger turned to panic in a nanosecond. Then a single name piereced through her haze of despondency, rapidly multiplying like cancer cells.

Israel dug out her phone, scrolled through her contact list and hit the call button when the desired name popped up. The phone rang for a very long time. Feelings of foolishness began gobbling her when it became clear that the call was not going to be received.

"Hello?" Shepley answered on the last ring.

"Shep!" Israel's voice squeaked with relief. It bounced off the steely walls of the lift. "I need a favour from you." Static filled the other end of line.

"Sorry, Rae. I gave up weed long time ago."

"What?" Understanding arrived at a much gentler pace and Israel started laughing at their private joke, the knot in her chest slowly being untied. "No. Not that kind of favour. Although, I admit it would be very welcoming at this moment. Listen. Can I crash at your place?"