by Karin Dahan
Then there’s a rush of air next to me and a thud as feet hits the ground. I spin around, scared to death of who might stand next to me. If it’s one of the Scullys I know I won’t survive to see the sunrise. Instead of a cruel face and a missing eye I come face to face with the handsome
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stranger with the recognizable smirk.
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Chapter 8
“Are you actively trying to get the Scullys’ attention or are you just a bit slow?” A crooked grin covers his face and his turquoise eyes dance with curiosity. He looks a bit younger now when he isn’t fighting to save me from the Scullys. I’m guessing he is only a couple years older than me. I still don’t know why he did that. Did he have other intentions than saving me? Selflessness and dangerous acts are rare in Hope. I take a step backwards, the rock that lays underneath the window might be a good weapon.
“Are you jumping down from all buildings randomly or are you stalking me?” I put my chin up a bit in defiance. I will not show myself weak or incapable. That’s a dangerous combination.
A low chuckle escapes him as his eyes roam my body; not in a threatening way but more to try to figure out my deal. “You are one interesting lady. First, I find you, or maybe I should say, save you, from the Scully’s…which by the way, I didn’t even get a thank you for. Then, here you are again, making noise the whole block can hear, alerting the Scully gang that you’re back in town.”
I bite my lower lip, throwing the rock that hard had been a bit of
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a desperate and impulsive decision. “I wasn’t trying to get their attention, I’m not stupid.”
“No, you’re trying to break into that shack, by throwing a rock at an unbreakable window. Is this your first time trying your hand at burglary?” he says as he casually leans against the building wall. Something about his relaxed and casual attitude makes my blood boil.
“I’m not a burglar. My friends own this place. I forgot something the last time I was here. I don’t know why I’m even telling you. I don’t need to explain myself to you!”
“True; just trying to give you some friendly advice. It’s nothing of value in there to steal, even if there were, I would not recommend it. The owners of this place don’t take kindly to theft. The whole town knows that.”
“Are you deaf. I’m not trying to rob them.”
His smirk is back, and I can tell he doesn’t believe me. But I don’t get a chance to explain myself any further as footsteps and loud voices boom in the distance.
“Looks like your friends the Scully’s are here.” He turns around and climbs up on the rooftop, the same way he came down. “Say hello to your imaginary friends for me,” he says over his shoulder.
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Is he going to leave me here for the Scullys to find? I look around to see if there is a place for me to hide but I come up short. “Wait!” I run after my only chance at safety.
He’s already pulling himself up onto the roof but stops to look back at me. I’m guessing he can hear the desperation in my voice. “Yes?”
“Can I come with you?” I say as I grit my teeth together. I hate asking for help from this stranger, and the way he smirks at me makes it twice as hard. But, what other options do I have right now?
“I work alone.” He runs his hand through his curly black hair as he seems to be thinking it over. “I guess maybe I can make an exception for you, if you tell me why you wanted to break into that place, and no lies this time.”
Panic mixed with a tiny bit of rage makes me talk before I can think. “I don’t have anywhere else to go, okay?! I know Rufus and Gilbert and I was hoping they would be here tonight. Like you said, staying outside on the streets at night is not a safe option.”
He seems content with my answers and reaches down a hand to help me up. I cling to it like the lifeline I know it is. When I get to the roof, his eyes have grown serious and he puts a finger in front of his
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mouth to tell me to be quiet. I don’t argue or question him. Instead, I try to sink lower onto the roof, wanting to be invisible. I wince from the tiny rocks that dig into my hands and knees. My savior besides me doesn’t even seem to notice the rough and uncomfortable surface, or if he does, he’s well trained to it. I hold my breath as I see the figures below, they’re barely visible because of the lack of light now. Just from the way they are walking like they own the street I know that they must be part of the Scully gang. The three broad figures turn into the alleyway below us.
“It was just a cat. There is nothing here,” the smallest of the men below says with a deep voice.
“No no, it was too loud to be a cat.” One of the men replies while his eye is scanning the street.
“I’m going back to the clubhouse. I’d rather be in a warm bed with a friendly whore and a drink in my hand than out here in the freezing cold chasing ghosts,” the deep voice says with annoyance.
“I’m with you on that Jeck. Let’s go. If Brut wants to stay out, let him.”
Two of the men turn around and walk with fast steps away from us, eager to get where they are going. The third one takes one look
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around before letting out a huffing noise and turning around to follow his friends. As they disappear, I finally let out my breath. I don’t know if it’s the cold wind that makes me shiver or the realization that if this stranger hadn’t helped me up onto the roof I would have been in the hands of the Scully’s again. Who is this person?
We sit still for a long time, even though all we see now is empty streets. But you can’t be too careful. With the glow from the sunset long gone, the streets below are illuminated only by the small lights that find its way out from the houses.
“Who are you?” I have to ask; I can’t sit still not knowing any longer.
“You mean, ‘thank you’.” The moonlight isn’t enough for me to see his face clearly, but I can tell by the tone of his voice that he must be smirking again. I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to say the words. I guess by saying thank you I’m admitting to myself that I was in real danger, incapable of saving myself. He doesn’t wait for me to answer and instead walks along the roof, jumping with ease over to the next one. He moves with elegance and speed, making a minimal sound as he lands on the wooden rooftop.
I follow, careful where I put my feet. Luckily for me, the
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distance between the buildings aren’t that great. All the small houses are packed close together for protection against weather and other external forces. I don’t know how he knows what roofs are strong enough to hold our weight, but he must know because he zigzags back and forth. It looks like he’s graciously dancing on the roofs.
“Wait…” I can’t seem to copy his steps, instead I’m more like a fish out of water. If this was a tree I would be balancing and moving with ease but climbing on top of houses are foreign to me. He’s getting further away now, he must be extremely stubborn since he’s giving me no other choice then to swallow my pride.
“Fine … I’m extremely thankful for what you did. Ok, you saved me once again. There, can you stop now?”
“Is that the best you can do?” he says as he stops at the edge of a metal roof.
“Oh my god, what do you want from me? I said thank you.” I take my chance to catch up to him now that he’s not moving.
“You know you don’t have to follow me if you don’t want to be around me. I seem to be making you angry for some reason.” He’s standing right in front of me now.
I take a deep breath and try to release some frustration as I
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breathe out. I have to stop this. This person saved my life, twice, and he may be extremely cocky and infuriating but it’s not like I have anywhere else to go. Or anyone else to help me.
“Look, I’m sorry. Can we start over? Thank you for saving me.”
“There you go, that wasn’t that hard. You are welcome.” He turns around and jumps over to the next
rooftop.
“Where are you going?” I jump after, nearly missing the roof. He steadies me with a firm grip on my arm.
“To my place.” He turns around without another word and keeps moving across the roofs, slower this time so that it’s easier for me to follow.
After several more rooftops he finally comes to a stop. “Here we are, welcome to my casa.”
I don’t know what to say. In front of us, on top of a one-story brick building, there’s a small construction of some sort. On second glance I see that its’ more like a larger tent. I’m not sure what I was expecting but it sure wasn’t this. He holds the fabric open and I duck my head to get in. Warm air embraces me as I enter, and I notice that the round tent is strategically placed around the chimney of the house below. Smart way to piggyback on someone else’s fire. In one of the
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corners is a small fridge and an electrical stove top, on the other side is a mattress covered with pillows. Several different colored rugs line the floor, creating a homey feel. My savior walks past me and goes to warm his hands by the chimney.
“Make sure you take of your shoes. Getting the dirt from the streets off these rugs is a pain.”
“What’s your name?” I do as he says and go and stand next to him. I have been too busy not falling off roof that I hadn’t noticed how cold it had gotten outside.
“Morrick. And you?”
“Eh, Jen. It’s Jen.” He might have saved me twice already but something in me tells me to be cautious.
“Ok Eh Jen, you need to stop with the lying if you are going to hang here. What’s your real name?” He turns his head and I his intense turquoise eyes lands on me. It’s like he can see into my soul and all my secrets.
“Fine … it’s Eddie. And how could you tell that I was lying?”
“You are terrible at it. You have all the giveaways.”
“Like what?”
“And why would I tell you that? If I do you will stop doing them
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and I won’t be able to tell when you are lying,” he says with a smirk.
“How do you live here?” I say as I look around again, more thoroughly this time. I notice the lack of freezers for food storage during the winter, “Where do you get your food? Or do you have a job?” It doesn’t make sense living like this.
“I live here just fine, and no I don’t have a job and yes I don’t have problems getting food. Any other questions while we’re at it?” He walks over to a pile of pillows and sits down. My checks burn from his gaze. “Sorry, I’m only trying to make sense of this, I haven’t been in a home like yours before.”
Morrick looks around, “I guess it’s a bit unconventional. Even for a place like Hope. But it’s all I know.” He gets up from his seat, the conversation seems to unnerve him. “My mother came to the village as a young girl, not young enough to go to the orphanage or get adopted by a kind family and not old enough to build a house for herself, so she was left in one of the refugees’ tents. Once the refugee center was dismantled, she was smart enough to find a good place for it. She learned fast that it was much better to stay hidden if you wanted to keep your food or your belongings.” He goes over to his stovetop and puts a tea kettle on. “Do you want some?”
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“Sure, that would be nice.” I walk over to the small homemade bookshelf on the corner and find a single framed photo of a young beautiful woman. “Is this your mom?”
“Yeah” Morrick doesn’t even look over at my direction, he knows there’s only one photo in his tent.
“She’s beautiful. Does she still live her with you?” He doesn’t answer me and instead the silence fills the air like a heavy blanket. It’s then I notice the absence of a woman presence. It’s only one bed in the corner, one pair of shoes except mine by the entrance. No other clothes then a few garments lazily thrown in a corner. Everything here belongs to Morrick. After what feels like an eternity he walks over to where I stand, “She died when I was eight. She was too good for this type of world, had a heart of gold, you know. Even when bad things happened to her she still trusted in people without a doubt. Always believed everyone were genuinely good inside.” He hands me the cup with the steaming liquid, the sweet smell of spices fills the air around us.
“How did you survive? Did your father take care of you?”
“I don’t have a father. I took care of myself. Learned to take what I could from the people that didn’t need it as much as I did. But I never had a choice. I saw what it did to her to be noble.” He returns to
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take a seat in the pillows again, this time with a bowl in his hand, I guess he only had one teacup.
“What do you mean?” I say as I go over to sit next to him. The soft pillows surrounding me along with the warm tea gives me a sense of safety.
“She was raped when she first came to Hope and then she had me. Now she had two mouths to feed. She was always a great mother. I never went hungry and we were safe here in the tent. It wasn’t until later I realized how she made a living. She didn’t have any specific skills, so she couldn’t get a job. And she would never consider stealing food from someone else, didn’t have a bad bone in her body. Being a thief meant you took food from someone else in need. What else could she do? The only thing she had was her beauty,” he takes a small sip of his tea and the next words are a mere whisper, “she sold her body, to anyone that would pay her.”
I’m left speechless, all of my questions have died from Morrick’s story and the way his face seem stuck in memories of the past. He continues without looking up from his bowl of tea, “She would help out at the orphanage when she could. But they couldn’t hire her or keep her from the streets, they could barely feed the kids that they have.
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And when the chickenpox spread to all the children she was there helping, making sure the kids were ok. I remember I got it too, still have a scar here on my cheek from one of the bumps.” He runs his finger over the small indent in his skin below his eye, “but mom had never had the disease herself, so of course she got it. And her already frail body couldn’t handle it.”
“But couldn’t anyone help?” The sadness in Morrick’s eyes is hard to handle. I’m so used to my own ghosts from the pasts that dealing with someone else’s is new to me.
“No, antibiotics are rare to come by. The government doesn’t care for the people, there are fewer protests if we’re hungry and poor. I was so naive back then, painted by my mother’s kindness and belief in people. I even went to my biological father to ask for help. The same one who raped my mom.” Something that sounds like a chuckle escapes him and he looks up at me.
“He didn’t help you?” I already know the answer to my questions, but I ask it anyway.
“No, he laughed at me. Told me my mother was a whore and not worth saving. I tried to fight him then, I was only eight, but I had fast hands, I managed to pull a gun from his friend before they knocked me
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cold. When I woke up, he offered me a job, impressed by my guts. Said I must have gotten it from him and not my mother.”
“He sounds like a monster.”
“He is. He’s the leader of the Scullys’.”
He searches my face for a reaction, maybe he’s expecting me to jump up and run for the doors or to start crying from his horrible childhood. I do neither. Too much has happened in the last week that it’s hard for me to react. “Well you must have gotten all of the good qualities your mom had. You saved me not only once but twice. Thank you.”
“Don’t worry about it. Any reason to deprive the Scully’s from their twisted sense of amusement is always a win.” The twinkle in his eyes is back and I’m surprised at how fast the sadness disappeared. “Are you hungry?”
I haven’t thought about food today but at the mention of it I feel starving. “A little, but I don’t want to take your food. I can manage until tomorrow.” I glance at the small fridge by the corner, it can’t hold much. He follow
s my eyes, “Oh, you don’t have to worry. I have food. I just don’t keep all of it up here.” He must see the skepticism in my eyes, “I’m a good hunter. What I don’t eat I sell. And if I stumble onto
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someone with wealth that don’t deserve it, I tend to help even out the distribution a bit. I’m still fast with my hands.” He winks at me as he says the last sentence and I don’t know why but my cheeks burn with fire.
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Chapter 9
I wake up from someone gently shaking my shoulder. I open my eyes and at first, I’m disoriented; I expect to be back at my treehouse, seeing my parents’ old chairs to the left of my bed or their queen size bed to the right. But instead of looking at the familiar furniture in my home I’m met with a blue canvas. It takes me a second to realize I’m facing the tent wall. I turn my head and see Morrick kneeling beside the mattress, his hand still on my shoulder. My new reality comes crashing in on me and the realization that I’ll never wake up in my old bed again sinks in. I want nothing more than to pull the blanket over my head and go back to my blissfully unaware sleep, but Morrick gives my shoulder a squeeze and suddenly my mind shifts to how his hand feels. I can’t help it, but a slow blush creeps up on my cheeks and I look away to focus on something else. Morrick must have notice my discomfort because a small smirk now plays on his face.
