Ghetto

by M L Sparrow

  Answering my unspoken plea, he promised solemnly, “I won’t let you get hurt.” And I believed him.

  My faith is a little less steadfast, however, several seconds later as I hang suspended in the darkness, blind and panicked, arms stretched taunt above my head, held only by Sin’s tight grip on my forearms.

  “I can’t lower you anymore,” he calls down in a whisper that sounded obscenely loud in this blackness, where time seems to stand still, holding its’ breath, “I’m lettin’ go.” My heart stops mid-beat, then resumes pounding ten to the dozen.

  “What?” my voice is a high pitched shriek. From above I can hear Sin shushing me, but it barely registers. “No! You can’t do that. I’ll fall. Break my neck. I’ll die. Please, please don’t. You said you wouldn’t let me get hurt.”

  “Shut up and listen,” his voice hissed down to me, irritated and impatient, “you’re not far from the floor, but you’ll be landin’ on the stairs so try to grab holda the rail.” So there was actually a good chance that I might fall and break my neck…

  Sin doesn’t give me time to obsess over this possibility though, nor does he allow me time to prepare, he simply lets go. My scream is no more than a terrified squeak; my feet hit the floor before I can suck in enough breath for a proper scream. The hard floor stings the soles of my bare feet and shockwaves race up my legs. My teeth snap together violently upon impact. I wobble, realize my toes are hanging over thin air – I’m teetering on the edge of a step. One arm cartwheels to help keep my balance, the other flung out in search of the banister, my fingers curling around cool, grimy metal.

  “You okay?” Sin’s voice echoes around me and I glance up to see his face framed in the square of pale, silvery moonlight above my head.

  “I can’t believe you just dropped me like that. You could have at least counted to three.”

  “If I had counted would you have let go?”

  Probably not. “Yes.”

  His answering snort is as derisive as they come, but all he says is, “Move outa the way.”

  Instead of going down, I move up a couple of steps, my eyes already beginning to adjust to the darkness all around me. It really wasn’t a very big drop, I realize now; if I go up a few more steps and reach up my arms I could probably touch the underbelly of the street above. Still unsteady, I clutch the banister tightly with both hands as I watch Sin’s legs dangle down. Half-starved though he is, he has trouble getting his torso through the small gap and I’m once more plunged into total, unnerving darkness as his shoulders plug the hole. For several moments I can hear him cursing and then a sliver of moonlight appears as he manages to free himself. He’s tall, his feet almost touch the steps as he hangs by his arms, swaying ever so slightly, but instead of dropping down beside me, he heaves himself up just far enough to stick an arm out of the hole and drag the flagstone back over the opening. It makes a horrible grating sound as it scrapes along the ground and, in the brief seconds before it falls into place, obliterating any natural light, I can see that Sin is pulling it along by a crude metal handle hammered into the underside. As soon as the light is blacked, out my breath begins to saw painfully in and out of my lungs once more. I don’t like this, not at all. My heavy breathing and pounding heart are the only sounds for long seconds, but then there’s the slap of rubber on concrete as Sin lands. A grunt, a curse, several thumps, more swearing, then silence.

  “Sin?” I call after a moment.

  “Yeah,” his voice is strained and distant.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No.” The tightness in that single word belies his answer and I wince in sympathy.

  “Do you need help?”

  “Just stay put while I find the damn torch.” That snappy reply assures me that the only thing he’s really hurt is his pride.

  “Okay,” I agree readily; I have absolutely no intention of moving from this exact spot until I can see where I am going, since I’m not at all keen on the idea of stumbling in the dark, missing a step and consequently falling to my death.

  It takes a few minutes, along with a lot of stumbling and cursing, for Sin to locate the torch, but when he does I’m a little disappointed because the tool is practically useless. The weak pin-prick of light barely penetrates the heavy veil surrounding us. His footsteps echo as he climbs the steps towards me and hands me the screwed up clothes he had flung down.

  Taking the trousers, I grimace as my fingers encounter something wet and sticky clinging to the material, complaining, “They’re all dirty now.”

  Sin snorts and I can see the shadow of his head shaking in the faint glow, “Ain’t you realized by now, nothin’s ever clean ‘round here. Still wanna stay, Princess?” Snatching the remaining item of clothing from his hand, a shirt, I turn away, refusing to give him the reaction he’s waiting for, despite the anger welling inside of me. Does he really think I’m so fickle? Maybe I had been once, but I’d changed in the past couple of months, couldn’t he see that? The thought of him still thinking of me as the pampered socialite I had once been stung more than I could say.

  “Turn around,” I order in a tight, pinched voice, the urge to yell at him clawing at my throat.

  “Why? Not like I can see anythin’.” He waves the torch as if to demonstrate its uselessness.

  Without thinking, I shoot a glare his way, before realizing he can’t see it. That thought is freeing. So I stick my tongue out at him and make a couple of rude hand gestures that I have never before used in my life, mostly because he gets on my nerves in a way that nobody else ever has and it makes me uncomfortable.

  “I know what you’re doin’,” he says dryly after a minute, which stops me in my tracks.

  “No you don’t, you can’t see anything with that pathetic excuse for a torch,” I retort waspishly, sticking my tongue out again. Though childish it makes me feel better.

  “I can imagin’ though.”

  I shrug; now that it’s done I don’t really care if he saw me or not. “Can you turn around now, please?”

  “Since you asked so nicely…” There’s the shuffle of feet as he turns on the narrow step, giving me his back, “But for the record you ain’t got nothin’ I ain’t seen before.” That comment makes a combination of anger and jealousy shoot through me. I want to throw something at his head, but instead I grit my teeth, press my lips into a tight line to prevent any words from escaping and yank the nightshirt off over my head.

  A short while later, once we have descended the stairs into the belly of what had once been a subway station, I wish I had remembered to take my shoes from Kit. Beneath my bare feet the ground is damp and grimy and God only knows what I can feel oozing up between my toes. Looters had long since made away with the metal and other materials that made up the tracks, but I continually stub and graze my toes on the debris they left behind. Yet I refuse to be carried, though Sin offers more than once; I still have a few shreds of pride left. However, I do use his arm to steady myself every time I trip and, in the end, I simply stop letting go between stumbles, gluing myself to his side and trusting him to lead me safely through the impenetrable darkness, with only the tiny speck of light that the torch affords us to follow. It feels like we’ve been walking for hours, but in reality I doubt it’s been more than thirty minutes. Every time I ask, Sin assures me that it’s not much further and eventually I hear voices up ahead, echoing off the damp walls. I glance up at Sin. Sensing my hesitation, he reaches over to give my hand a squeeze, accidentally bumping me with the torch at the same time.

  “Don’t worry,” he says, his voice loud after so much silence, “they’re our guys. The meetin’ point’s just ‘round the bend.” Up until that point I hadn’t even been aware there was a bend up ahead, but as we get closer the curve becomes obvious. We follow it around and are greeted by raucous voices and the flickering glow of a fire someone had erected in the centre of the crowded platform.

  A hush falls as we approach and only then do I realize that I’m still clutching Sin’s arm l
ike a lifeline. Blushing beneath the curious regard of the eyes watching us, I let go as if I’d been burned. He lets me pull away without argument, but when we reach the platform he lifts me up without a word, or even a look in my direction, leaving me feeling strangely bereft as I stand watching him hoist himself up beside me, before walking away without a backwards glance. I open my mouth to call after him, though I’m not sure if the words will come, but suddenly Maya is in my face, her large eyes full of earnest excitement.

  “What just happened?” she demands.

  “Er… there was a raid,” I answer slowly, “so everyone’s retreated down here.”

  “No, no, no,” she waves away that explanation impatiently, “what were you doing hanging all over the big, bad boss man?”

  My ears burn and I can feel my whole face turning red, clashing with my hair as I defend, “I was not hanging all over him.”

  “Whatever you say,” Maya smirks knowingly, “so are you two, like, a thing now?”

  “No!” I explode in outrage and she has the gall to laugh right in my face. Scowling, I plant my hands on my hips, asking peevishly, “Why are you here anyway?”

  “Apparently lots of people know I help the guys from time to time, so they brought me down into their creepy hidey-hole just in case. Ben came and got me…” she trails off with a dreamy sigh, twirling a strand of dark hair around her index finger.

  “Earth to Maya,” I almost laugh at her faraway expression, waving a hand in front of her face, “please tell me you’re not fantasising about Ben. He’s such a… a bear.”

  “Whereas Sin’s a lion,” she grins wickedly, waggling her eyebrows, “a beautiful golden lion.”

  Again she sighs, before holding up a hand, adding, “Don’t worry, I don’t fancy him anymore, he’s all yours, but I can still appreciate male beauty.”

  “Men aren’t beautiful, men are handsome,” Kit says, suddenly appearing beside me, making me jump. “Who are you talkin’ about?”

  “Nobody,” I answer immediately.

  At the same time, Maya says, “Sin.”

  For a moment Kit looks confused and then crestfallen as he glances at me, “Oh.” I feel bad for the kid.

  Totally oblivious, Maya continues happily, “Sunny loves Sin!”

  “I do not love Sin,” I exclaim, throwing up my hands in frustration, “to be completely honest, I don’t even particularly like him. He’s high-handed, arrogant and…” As I flounder for a third adjective I become aware of the quiet that has fallen around us. I become aware of how loudly I’m speaking. My mouth falls open, useless, and my eyes go wide. As one, the crowd of rebels turn to regard their leader. Anyone else would have looked angry, or embarrassed, however, Sin simply stands leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, staring back at me impassively. The mask that he has donned to hide his emotions makes my guilt ten times worse.

  I have no friends, I hear his voice whisper in my head.

  Chapter 11

  For breakfast someone roasts a cat, or it may even have been a small dog, over the campfire. It is tough and wiry and undercooked, since todays chef didn’t have the patience to leave it hanging over the flames longer. Trying not to think about the poor animal that was, presumably, still alive until a few hours ago, I take a bite, grimacing as blood explodes from the raw meat onto my tongue, and hand my small portion over to Kit, who has already devoured his own.

  “I’m going to have a wonder around,” I tell Kit as I push to my feet, dusting off the seat of my jeans, “I need to stretch my legs a bit.”

  A trickle of blood creeps out of the corner of his mouth as he nods at me and dashes it away with the back of his hand, speaking with his mouth full, “‘Kay, but don’t go too far, it’s real easy to get lost.” I nod absently in acknowledgment, but I’m not really listening, because across the platform I catch a glimpse of blonde hair flashing gold in the flickering firelight.

  Weaving through the crowd, most of whom are sitting in groups chatting, or sprawled on the hard floor trying to catch a few winks of sleep, I hurry towards where I last saw Sin, intent on apologising for my hasty, hurtful words earlier. However, when I reach the site where I’d thought I’d seen him, Sin is nowhere in sight. As I peer around, studying each face in case I had somehow overlooked him, I catch movement in my peripheral vision and turn my head to see a shadow jumping down from the platform and disappearing into the tunnel. It could have been any number of people, it could just have been my imagination, but my mind convinces itself that the figure is Sin attempting to avoid me, so, naturally, I follow.

  Getting down from the platform is hard, since I’m so ridiculously short, and when I land hard on a rock I’m thankful that Kit returned my shoes to me, though it still hurts. The figure has disappeared into the blackness, leaving me with no trail to follow, but still I step into the tunnel, shivering as the darkness folds itself around me. Once I turn the corner, the firelight is blotted out entirely and each step forward takes me further and further from the comforting sound of voices and laughter. Pretty soon I’m alone with only my thoughts for company. That and the damp echo of my footsteps.

  Several times I tell myself to turn back, but each time a voice in my head murmurs ‘Just a little further’ and as I venture deeper into the tunnels apprehension twists and knots in the pit of my stomach. That sickly sense of paranoia intensifies a split second before a hand reaches out of the darkness and grabs me. I let out a bloodcurdling scream as I’m thrown to the floor, flinging out my arms to catch myself. I’m practically blind and the foot comes out of nowhere to smash into my ribs. Doubled over in pain, I try to scramble away. Fingers digging into the ground, I somehow manage to haul myself up, only to be slapped hard across the face. I see stars. Back on the ground, I twist to face my attacker. Something cuts across my palm, but that’s not my biggest problem; I can barely make out the figure standing over me, but I can tell that he’s not much taller than me and in one hand he brandishes some kind of weapon. It’s shaped like a knife, but it’s too dark for me to be sure. Immediately, I start backing away, dragging myself over the uneven ground.

  “You an’ your boyfriend humiliated me in front of everyone,” the figure hisses down at me, “did you think I’d just let that go?” Recognition strikes the moment the words slither past his lips. A cold sweat breaks out across my brow. “Not so high an’ mighty now, are ya? Without your groupies here to protect ya.” Ely continues, advancing on me as I back away, “Where is our mighty leader now, eh? Leader.” He snorts a derogatory laugh, “What a crock o’ bull! I could lead better than that jumped up little twerp…” My seeking fingers encounter something hard. They curl around it and tug. It comes loose. Without stopping to think, I hurl the lump of rock at his head, but my aim is off and it hits his shoulder instead with a solid thunk.

  Reeling back, he curses violently at me, spittle flying from his mouth along with the vile words, before he lunges forwards. I’m ready for him this time though. Rolling to the side, I shove to my feet and he sails past me to sprawl in the dirt, our places reversed. Vicious rage shoots through me and my foot lashes out. He grunts in pain and I feel a brief sense of victory, before he grabs my ankle, yanking my foot out from under me. Landing on my back, the air’s knocked out of me. He laughs. Managing to drag in a breath, I strike out with my captured foot, nailing him in the face. That stops his laughter, yet he still doesn’t release me. If anything his grip tightens.

  “Let me go!” I shriek, twisting in his grasp, fighting to escape. With my next kick I feel something break and it’s his turn to cry out in agony, his fingers falling away. I don’t waste any time looking over my shoulder to see the extent of the damage I’ve inflicted, I simply pick myself up once again and run.

  In my terror, I hadn’t noticed the speck of light up ahead, but I notice now and bolt towards it. Though it looks like it should be far off in the distance, it’s actually only a few steps away and I go careening straight into the crowd of people behind it.r />
  “Sunny!” Maya’s voice calls out, but it’s so dark that and there are too many people for me to locate my friend. A sense of claustrophobia seizes me as I search the faces appearing out of the gloom; I’m surrounded by strangers. Someone has pinched my throat closed and I can feel my face heating as oxygen eludes me, my thoughts growing hazy. There are hands touching me, rubbing my arms, grazing my back, and though the logical part of my brain reassures me that they’re just trying to help, to bring comfort, it only increases my panic. I just want them to get away from me. I want them to stop touching me. I want to be left alone. But I can’t release the words, all that comes out is a garbled chocking sound. Leave me alone, I scream inwardly. I feel like I’m drowning. But suddenly my prayers are answered.

  Someone pushes through the crowd. A deep voice, though I can’t make out what it says. A familiar face appears before me, eye to eye. Large, warm hands cup my face and this time his words register.

  “Breath for me, darlin’.” One hand drops from my cheek, flattening itself over my ribcage, a reassuring pressure that anchors me as I watch his lips curl around each word, “In and out. Come on, it’s not hard, you been doin’ it since you were a baby. In and out. There you go, you got it. Good girl.” We stand in silence for several long minutes, with me concentrating on dragging in one breath and expelling another, him watching me struggle with expressionless eyes.