In The Dead of the Night

04 | perfectly abnormal

"Camila."

My eyes snapped open. Pushing myself up by my hands, I frantically looked around myself at the nearly black room, my panicked breathing reflecting the fearful buzz of my mind.

"It's just me." Shawn sat on the bed next to me. He was just a dark shadow, a painting on the canvas that was this empty concrete building, but his faint, soft smile made him look slightly brighter. "We're going to the city." 

I tossed the blankets off me and smiled widely. We were going back to the city, I thought with an elated tone to even the voice inside my mind. The place, though, wasn't what I was looking forward to most. I wanted to get back on that motorcycle, to feel the wind rushing past my body, to feel the breath being pressed right out of my lungs, to feel free and exhilarated and absolutely limitless. 

Glancing at the clock, I realized I must've been running off less than 4 hours of sleep, but I could care less about getting a good night's sleep at this stage of my life. I pulled myself off the bed and straightened the loose fitting clothes before jumping to my feet. 

"You must have liked it last time we went," Shawn noted with a small chuckle. He walked to the corner with the light switch, turning them off one by one until the room was just as pitch black as it was last night. I rushed to the door as soon as he opened it, hoping to see a hint of a golden sun to offer something to my light-deprived self, but all I saw was a sky as dark as it had been when we went inside for sleep just hours ago, the moon blocked by thick clouds that seemed to gather specifically around its pearly glow. 

The motorcycle reflected the little light off its polished coat of paint. Shawn stood it up and beckoned for me to come over. I shifted behind him on the seat, putting my arms around his torso and leaning my head back to breathe in the air that would soon be torn from my lungs in the most pleasurable way. This time, with my thoughts mostly gathering around the fact that I would get to ride this thing again, I didn't even mind how close I was to him. If anything, the little warmth that made its way through his jacket was comforting in the bitter cold that was the time before the sun rose. 

Something about this was calming, this little moment before the adrenaline hit. Chilly but gentle winds blowing silently, dark and unmoving skies watching me from above, tender creatures sleeping in whichever places they decided to lurk, everything calmed my mind and body in a way that made the thrill of taking off down the cracked road even more thrilling. I never got to feel this way back at any of the places we used to stay at. Any house or apartment or hotel we stayed at was constantly filled with the sounds of tense conversations, punches on walls, and screams over the phone. I was almost grateful my mother left before these things started becoming an everyday thing; she would've hated them. I hated them as well, most likely the reason why my favorite pastime was to go into the city and watch the sunrise from the tallest rooftop I could sneak onto. It was silent that early in the morning, no city folk could bother themselves to wake up that early, leaving just me, the rising sun, and the slowly fading moon. 

Over here, it wasn't just me, and it wasn't even close to sunrise, but something about the way the atmosphere seemed to collectively still made it just as calming as those mornings on the rooftop. 

"Are you ready?" Shawn asked. His wrist twisted back and forth and his fingers danced silently through air, as if twirling a knife. 

"Yeah," I whispered back, softly nodding my head behind me. 

He pressed a few buttons and locked a few levers into place just as he had done yesterday, before taking a hold of both handlebars and leaning forward. Within a second, the motorcycle snapped into top speed and darted away. 

My head leaned back, automatically. I breathed as many of the fresh scents as I could before they were whipped away from me and clenched my mouth shut to avoid letting out a laugh, not one of humor, but one of joy. I bet I could ride this thing a hundred times over and still never be bored of this feeling.