Fragments - Book One of the Missing

Chapter 5 - Rowan

Rowan couldn't sleep. She read until she finished the book. When it was over, she felt like she had lost her tether to sanity. She tossed and turned, haunted by her own guilt. The guilt wove its way into her blood stream until that is all there was. There was nothing to be done about it. The damage was irreparable.

At dawn, she drew herself from bed knowing all hope had been lost for sleep. And though exhaustion should have claimed her, the shame fueled her with enough energy to carry on. She dragged herself out of the apartment, and up the next ten flights of stairs to the roof. Light was just starting to spill over the city, but in her black mood she cared nothing for the beauty.

From the roof, the building overlooked the Nines, Glenbrooke and Kenneywood, just more abandoned neighborhoods. The first two were destroyed in the riots, but Kenneywood was more recently abandoned. In fact, some of the new residents of their building had just moved from there only months previously. The city looked empty from here, but at the moment that was all she wanted. She needed to be alone with her thoughts.

Regardless of the season or the weather, this roof was the only place she could be alone. Being up here was her release from the feelings that held her captive. If only for a moment of freedom, she escaped there nearly every morning to take her anger out on the bag she had built and stuffed herself. She could punch the bag over and over again, throwing out her own self-hatred.

And the damage punching did to her hands was an added bonus. No one could see the cuts and bruises over her already ruined hands, but she could feel them under the gloves. Her own condemnation of what she had done. The constant reminder of the pain she had inflicted on others.

Today the anger was so great that she kicked and punched until she had nothing left to give. She fell into the bag, tears sneaking past her lashes. The tears fell freely, but she only felt release. As the guilt quieted down, she was left to feel more alone than anything else. The weariness finally took hold.

She wiped her eyes with the back of the glove and stood up to get a few more punches in for good measure before heading down stairs. This time she focused more on technique than aggression, thinking about how the knuckles connected with the bag on every punch. Rowan was so lost in the drill that she didn't hear the door to the roof open.

"Why do you push Dad so far?"

Rowan groaned. It was too early to deal with Margeaux. "What do you mean? I didn't do anything."

"You didn't have to buy the cake, you know. Or the present. Or the necklace you bought yourself."

Rowan touched the small pendant around her neck. "I paid for it. And the gift and cake were for Mom. Our Mom. And it made Olive happy." She rolled her shoulders back to relieve the tension building there. "Can you just leave me alone? This is the only thing I do for me."

Margeaux nodded as if she understood what Rowan was saying. Her arms were crossed across her chest.

Rowan stopped punching and turned to face her, really taking her in. Her blue eyes were framed by her long fringe. Her blonde hair fell in curls around her face, and she had the same dusting of freckles as Rosie. Today her expression didn't seem as pinched as usual. She almost looked relaxed.

"What do you want, Margeaux?" She snapped.

Margeaux flinched, and Rowan instantly regretted being so harsh with her. "I'm sorry. I had a rough night."

She nodded again. They let the silence lengthen in between them, waiting for the other to break the tension.

"Would you teach me?"