The Untouchables

Chapter Four: Lynn

I woke up to a dull, aching, pain in my back. It was still extremely sore from being smashed the day prior, but it was still just enough where I could still use it as an excuse not to go and work.

Yes!

We only got a few days that we could take off if we were unable to work, and I could've gone. I would've survived the day, but I really didn't want to.

Somehow, Jayden had wiggled his way out of bed, without me waking up, leaving his half of the bed empty. I sighed, and flipped my head, to where it was facing our window, where the morning sunlight was already peaking through the curtains.

I slowly sat up, not wanting to further injure my back, and hobbled my way over to the window, and pushed it open. I leaned on the windowsill as the salty wind drifted into my face. The window didn't have a view of the harbor, but I did have a view of the neighboring homes. Each building was pressed up against one another, all reddish and yellowing in color, all lined up on the narrow, cobblestone, streets. Nearly every home had one of its arched windows open to let in the fresh morning air, and clotheslines hung from the windows, stretching across the alleyway, lined with the morning's laundry.

I watched the morning laundry dry in the wind, until three little bluebirds fluttered onto my windowsill, with their blue-capped heads and their orange-brown patches on their chests. I reached for the small pouch I kept by the window. I reached into the bag, and sprinkled some crumbs on the windowsill for them to eat, as they chirped, begging for a little morning treat.

Jayden and I loved to feed the bluebirds every morning. They would settle on the windowsill every morning, begging us to feed them. The bird's hyper-intelligence helped them recognize danger, and recognize non-threats. I scratched one of their little heads, took one last deep breath of the salty morning air, and hobbled over to the bathroom to inspect the damage done to my back for myself.

I dug through the bathroom drawer, until I found my handheld mirror. Then I found my towel, and carefully peeled off my tank top. I was very surprised to see that there was almost no more swelling, but instead there was a bright, red rash, covering most of the top half of my back, where the barrels had landed.

Well, that's definitely not what I expected.

I rummaged through the closet, until I found a bra, and a light sweater to put over my sore back, and settled back into bed with a book. Even though it was the middle of summer, it was the loosest item of clothing I had, and would be the most comfortable. I brushed through my hair, washed my face, brushed my teeth, grabbed a book from the shelf, and stiffly waddled back to bed.

A little while later in the middle of my reading, my Mother came into the room to check on me.

"How are you?" She asked when she pushed open the door. "Feeling any better?"

"A bit." I say, not looking up from my book. "Still sore."

I heard her sigh. "Then let's fix your pillows."

She adjusted my pillows to where it felt as if I was in a throne of plush and down. She even put pillows under my legs, and arms like if I was on a cloud.

After she was finished, she just sat on the foot of my bed, next to my legs.

"I'm really sorry about yesterday." Mother apologized. "I really am."

"Yeah, sure." I say shortly. She always said that after she tries to make me change my hair. I've heard that apology too many times.

She sighed longingly. "You just look so much like your Father."

Wait. What?

I must've had an extremely puzzled look on my face, because she kept going.

"You just look so much like him. Between your dark hair, to your eyes, face and personality. Everytime I look at you, I see him. You're a beautiful young woman, and don't deserve to be compared to him."