Flightless Bird

Migraines and Memories

I woke up Saturday morning with a massive migraine, nauseated by the throbbing in my skull which out-weighed the other pains in my body. Samuel was relentless in his tirade last night, and the blows to my head were slowly killing me. I cannot imagine how many brain cells I must have lost to this man and his violence, but I feared the possibility of degradation to my mental capabilities, especially when blinded by white hot brain pain.

I laid on the cold floor for several hours before I could find the strength to seek the aid of painkillers, tears of agony flowing freely as he slept peacefully in bed across the apartment. The tile of the bathroom soothed my aching temples, and by mid morning I found I could finally sit up with relief.

I didn't want to stick around and get hurt again, so I quickly changed into a sweater and jeans, washing my face in the icy water and tying my hair into a pony tail before slipping into my old beat up chucks. I strolled out of the apartment with nothing by my phone and my keys, knowing full well I had no money for food today and what was left in the apartment was for Samuel alone.

Things would change soon; Sunday was pay day.

I would finally be able to pay my debts, at least a little more than previously. In two weeks I should be able to cover the rest, but my first paycheck I decided should include an investment into a few new clothes for work, as my one white shirt is ruined and I cannot keep wearing the same two skirts and singular shirt forever. People at the office were beginning to give odd looks, even after one week, at my never changing attire, and it was time to switch it up.

My personal possessions were few and far between, but I know that for the time being I could not afford to spend money on myself.

Absentmindedly, I walked to the park, my head cluttered with shadowed memories and reflections on work.

To begin with, I could not understand my boss's ever-changing demeanor— one moment he was sincere, and the next he was stern and cold hearted. It was clear he was caught up on something, though I could hardly give myself much credit as to being the cause of this. He barely knew me!

I was sitting on a swing contemplating Thalia's joy regarding Ryan when a shadow passed in front of me and halted. My head snapped up, only to meet the two dark eyes I wondered over just moments before.

Mr. Knightly.

He stood in front of me in a thin parka and dark washed jeans, and despite the expensive tennis shoes on his feet, he looked more casual then I had ever seen him. It was so bizarre to see him so laid back, though I knew even CEO material people such as himself need a weekend off every now and then too.

"Hello," he started, looking down at me as I sat on the swing, shocked out of words. I stared, unsure of what to say but a small 'hello' in return. He sat on the swing next to me, and after a moments pause began to speak again as I stared at my feet, cheeks warm with surprise and embarrassment at my shabby attire in comparison.

"I was just passing through the area...looking for less populated places to take my morning jog, actually. Manhattan is too busy and full of tourists and paparazzi for me," he stated, as if to clear up any confusion regarding his sudden presence in the park. His air of friendliness confused me; it was almost like he was compensating for his curt behavior in the office.

Maybe he didn't like to be so angry as work made him to be...maybe he was trying, through menial conversation, to build acquaintance? I wonder if he had anyone to talk to for himself, or if he was like me, completely and utterly alone in the world.

I suppose I couldn't quite say that anymore, as Watson was kind enough and Thalia was apt to befriend me. They didn't know who I was behind the mask, though; our relationships were merely of friendly coworkers, not actual friendships.

Whatever the case, I couldn't help but think at this point that his frustration at work might be purely stress-related. He has so much pressure riding on his performance, so it was a perfectly reasonable assumption.

Mr. Knightly continued to speak, explaining swiftly that he had seen me here and figured he should say hello. He then inquired about what I was doing today, to which I responded that I had no plans today but tomorrow was thus engaged.

"May I ask what you will be doing?" He inquired, genuine curiosity behind his small smirk. He needs to get out more, if he is so interested in his workers personal lives, trivial as they are. Then again, the same could go for myself. Without much thought, I told him of my plans to go shopping for new work clothes once my paycheck comes through.

I blushed to realize I had mentioned the money I was to receive, as I did not want to appear the 'gold-digger' he had prescribed me to be in his anger on Thursday. His expression changed into a thoughtful gander, and I shifted as he looked me up and down for a moment before surprising me once again by his sudden geniality.

"Come with me," he said abruptly, standing up and daring me to reject.

"I-I'm sorry?" Was all I could splutter out before he pulled me off the swing gently by the wrist. I stumbled behind him as he tugged me to a parking lot near by.

"Where are we going?" I forced out as I struggled to match pace, trying as best as I could not to whimper while he unknowingly pressed on my bruises.

He stopped when we reached what I assumed was his car, a very expensive looking one, I might add, before he shocked me again out of words.

"We're going shopping."