Saving the World - Awakening

Neon Eyes

Eliot woke up to a bucket of cold water.

"Wake up, you lazy little boy!" His mother yelled.

His mother loomed before him, an angry scowl on her face and a wooden spoon in her hand.  Her dirty red hair was frizzy and unkempt, she obviously just woke up and didn't look too happy about it.  Dark bags hung from under her eyes, and her face was covered with blemishes.  She was short and thin, Eliot bore no resemblance towards her.

"Don't make me use this!" she shouted threateningly at him, brandishing the wooden spoon.

Eliot quickly sat up and pushed the blankets from his legs.  His mother glared at him and exited the room.  Sopping wet, he changed into dry clothes.  He hung his wet clothes on a wire on the wall, designated specifically for these times.  He looked down at his watch and saw that it was 4:30.  He shook his head tiredly and continued to get ready for the day.

His eyes ached from weariness as he grabbed the handle of his door.  As he opened it, the door creaked painfully, so much that it felt like he was broadcasting his presence to the world.  He closed it after him and walked down the hallway.  As he walked, he saw his parents' door was open, and looked inside.  Inside, his mother was sleeping on the bed, and his father was on the other side.  Though his mother had just woken him, she was sound asleep, and so he proceeded to the kitchen to make himself breakfast.

One time, when he was younger, he had went back to sleep when he had found out his mother went back to sleep.  After a few extra hours of sleep, his mother woke to find him asleep and beat him, harder than both she and his father had ever beaten him before.  He walked away with not only a broken nose and bruises, but a lesson learned: when mother wakes you, go to work.

After a piece of bread and a glass of water, Eliot left the house for another day of work.  As he exited his apartment, he saw the man he stole from the night before, slumped against a wall.  The man was fast asleep, still cradling his broken arm.   He was mumbling in his sleep, and seemed to be in great pain.  He smirked at the broken, hungover man and continued down the stairs and out of the complex.

Walking down the streets of Islington, Eliot noticed how there weren't many people out yet.  The morning rush wasn't until 8:00, so the lack of crowds meant that he was out of work until they came. That meant he could spend his time how he pleased.

Islington was the criminal capital of England; it was fitting that it had a tavern known especially for the criminals that frequented it.  At the tavern, there was an unspoken hierarchy: the higher the reward for your arrest, the cheaper your drink was.  Once again, no authorities would ever interfere with this establishment, it would be like waging war on all the criminals in London.  Naturally, Eliot decided to pay his favorite place a visit.

The Heavenly Hell, as the tavern was named, was never busy in the mornings.  Alcohol wasn't very popular early in the day, so the bar was almost empty when Eliot strode in.  Today, there were a couple of men casually smoking at the bar and drinking beer directly to the left of the doorway. There were two women playing pool on the pool table to the right of the doorway.

The room was hazy from the smoke, but Eliot could see there was a quiet, casual poker game on one of the circular tables in the middle of the room.  There were a few loners scattered around the room, and there was one nervous looking man, sitting on the edge of his seat.  He looked to be waiting to either hire or be hired, and wasn't good about hiding it.

There was also a girl in the corner, she didn't look much younger than he.  She had a glass of what appeared to be wine in her hand, and looked to be enjoying a casual early morning.  Of course, no one ever came here to have a casual time, even the casual poker players played for money.  Eliot instantly grew suspicious of her, but decided to mind his own business.

Eliot strolled up to the bar, nodded to the two men next to him and went to order a drink, until the man next to him grabbed his arm, leaning in closer to his face.  The man's breath was tainted by years of smoking and drinking, made apparent by its nasty stench.  He looked to be elderly, but considering his lifestyle he could be any age.

"What are you doing here, so early in the morning?" the man said loudly.

He swept his foot beneath Eliot's legs and caused him to fall down.  As Eliot fell, his chin hit the bar and his teeth clapped together with a sickening CLOP!

Eliot caught himself before he fell completely to the ground.  His entire mouth burned with pain, and he could feel blood fill his mouth.  He tried to feel his teeth, but he couldn't even feel his tongue, the pain was so intense.  He realized he had almost bit the tip of his tongue off.  He groaned loudly and got up.  As he did so, he grabbed a handful of napkins and walked away from the bar, spitting blood behind at the man who had caused it.

He looked around and saw the girl in the corner.  She avoided eye contact, but Eliot could feel something about her that called to him, as if he needed to talk to her.  A napkin to his mouth, he walked over to her table and sat down across from her.  She looked Hispanic, her long, dark hair streaming down her shoulders.  Her tan skin was unblemished, with pure complexion.  She looked perfect.

The girl put her glass down and looked him in the eyes.  Eliot looked back, and almost gasped.  She had neon-teal colored eyes, and they seemed to penetrate him, seeing and hearing every one of his thoughts.  He couldn't take his gaze away.

"Why didn't you fight back?" She said to Eliot, still looking into his eyes.  She had a slight accent that confirmed her South American heritage.

Eliot felt like he was in a trance.  Had she drugged him somehow?  How was this happening?  He tried to close his eyes, but he couldn't even do that.  The girl finally looked away, and Eliot was able to relax.

"I asked you a question.  Why didn't you fight back?" The girl asked.

Eliot looked up, somewhat dazed.  His speech was impeded by his damaged tongue, "Ith you fight back, you die.  You obviouthly have never been here before."

The girl leaned forward, looking interested. "And you, how old are you?"

Eliot looked up, annoyed.  "I don't need a therapitht.  If you're gonna live in thith area, you're gonna have to think like it too.  Don't thay I never helpethd you."

He got up and walked away.  The girl just sat there, not knowing what to say.  He didn't have time to talk to girls about his life.  Soft girls like her didn't last long in Islington. For all he knew she was just playing him, like a cat with a mouse. He had work to do.  He walked over to the staircase and stopped right before going up and looked back.  The girl in the corner was smirking, drinking her wine and looking like she didn't have a care in the world.

"Whath your name?"

The men at the bar looked over in annoyance, and the poker players looked up, more in curiosity than anything.

The girl smiled. "Samantha."

Eliot nodded his head and hurried up the stairs, eager to go back to his normal routine.