Fallen Stars - H.S

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

MY BODY IS thrown horizontally across my bed, feet and head hanging off either side after a restless day of working. The house is silent with Wilson, Niall, Danae, Mira and her parents gone to dinner. I ran into Niall on the way here and informed him I wouldn't be joining them, and it took some time to convince him I can skip one meal and be fine but he finally let me go with the news that Wilson would was released from the hospital. He's still bruised, and his wound hasn't completely healed, but they said he'd be allowed to leave if he wouldn't go on runs until he's okay.

I rub the backs of my hands against my eyelids, knowing I can't sleep right now like I want to. If I let fatigue take over, I'll be up early tomorrow morning with nothing to do without waking the other occupants.

I contemplate showering and washing the grime of the day away, but the hot water only lasts for so long, and Danae and Mira are usually the first ones in the bathroom to clean up. I sit up, peeling my jacket off and lay it at the foot of my bed. The warm orange of the sun seeps through the window, lighting the room naturally. I decide to reach between my mattresses, feeling for the slip of paper that's been there for years. Once it's in my grip, my heave myself off the bed, ambling over to the window.

My fingers work against the locks on the window, safety precautions that are in every building in Hull. The glass is soon up and I swing my leg over the side, ducking my head through and then arms, grabbing the top of the wood that juts out of the vinyl. I balance myself on the ledge, going up on the tips of my toes and find purchase on the roof that grown there from my trips to the top of the house. Using all my upper body strength, I hull myself up and let my legs dangle as I push. I jerk my knee to find ground on the shingles, steadying myself before standing again.

I hike to the peak of the roof, inviting the cool air against my sticky skin. With the letter still in my hand, I lie down on the bumpy surface, facing the sun as it begins to fall in the sky, and through a thin wooded area, the harbour that leads to the North Sea. It's the most serene view I've seen in all my life—given I haven't seen much more.

This is the place I came to when I first learned about my parents, and I now I come here if I ever need a clear head or gather coherent thoughts after a long day. Today, that's exactly my reason. Harry got me thinking about my parents, and the more I thought on it, the more I found that I want to know more about them, but I have no way of obtaining that information. I only know that their surname is Benson, and they died nineteen years ago from a plague that was meant to help the world.

And though they died unheroically, they did have more to their life.

So I open the only memento of my parents I have, wishing somehow the words would be different, and offer insight into their life before me—before this world. How did they meet? What did they do before and after they met? Where did they live when they were married? Is that the same place I lived for my short time with them? Did I have any other family? Are they dead too? If they had time to write scribbles about my name, wouldn't they have time to explain some other things?

I rub the weathering edges between my index and thumb. I told myself a long time ago that it would be unrealistic to create my own version of my parent in my head. That it'd only end up feeding me lies, and I've willed myself throughout the years to not do exactly that. It's one of the few aspects of my life I'm able to control.

I'm not sure how long it's been since I climbed up here, but the sun has touched the horizon to my right. The soft chatter of passing residences heading home for the night sound behind me. There's one particular noise of a shutting door that rattles the frame of the house, signalling someone's home. I ignore it, focusing on the wind and warmth on my face.