Casted

Chapter 19

Get away, get away... have to get away.

The heels of my shoes clicked loudly on the cement. My breath was sharp and rushed. The urge to flee made my heart pound like a drum. I had to get away- from Meena, from Gabriel, from that horrible reflection staring back at me in the glass. It was all so wrong, and there was only one way I could think of to get away from it- run.

Well not literally of course. I almost broke my ankle trying to run in those four inch pumps. I had to settle for a speed walk.

I'm not sure how far I walked. Far enough for the sound of screeching tires to be lost behind me. Far enough for the club lights to fade away. Far enough for me to look back at the massive city, breathe into the space between it and I, and not feel the sticky heat of it breathing back at me. Although it still lingered, the stench of gasoline was buried under the more prominent scent of cigarette smoke. Once I came to my senses, I was able to get a good look at my surroundings.

The houses here were short- only one story- and long, as if someone had stretched them out. Dim lights flickered inside, but the windows were all shielded by thin curtains. The residents obviously didn't want pedestrians snooping around. The sidewalks and streets became cracked and worn from years of neglect. Cars became scare, and the few that did pass me rolled by a little too slow. Their headlights were always turned off and their windows were always tinted. It sent chills down my back every time. I didn't know what time it was or if I could find a taxi to take me back to my house, but I did know one thing for sure- I'd discovered the slums of Class 2.

Don't get me wrong, these were some pretty high-class slums compared to the worst areas of Class 5, but it still surprised me. How could there be poverty here, in a place where riches should have been a guarantee? How had these people sunk to this level?

A voice caught me off guard, talking low and threateningly. But it wasn't speaking to me.

"What're you up to? Huh?" it asked. "Sneaking around here like you got something to hide."

I quickly ducked into the shadows of alley, pressing my back against the cold wood of a nearby house.

"I ain't hiding nothin'," another voice answered- an older male by the sound of it. He spoke calmly and quietly, but his tone was equal to that of the first speaker.

"Oh really?" the first voice countered. It was a female. Her voice was husky and rough like sandpaper- the voice of someone who was used to shouting orders. "Then what's this?" Her question was followed by the sharp crinkle of paper.

"That's mine," the older man told her, a bit more urgently than before.

There was thump. I felt the vibrations through the wood and couldn't help but imagine the woman shoving him against the side of the house.

"I'm in charge here," the woman growled. "If I say it's mine, then it's mine."

There was tense silence. I listened for the sound of footsteps, afraid that she had seen my shadow on the sidewalk or heard me shift nervously in the darkness.

"Come on, Mabel, stop giving him a hard time. He didn't do anything wrong. Give him back his liquor and let's go."

I froze, head swimming for a few stunned seconds. Then I let out the lungful of air that I'd been holding in. I knew that voice. That was the voice of the last person who'd been genuinely kind to me. That day seemed like a lifetime ago, but even with the alcohol swirling in my system I still remembered his name.

Without thinking, I stepped out of the shadows and into the flickering orange light of a streetlamp. "Joseph?" I called.

Three pairs of eyes turned to me. The man against the wall took the moment of the Stormer's distraction as an opportunity to slip away down another alleyway. The Stormers let him go- maybe they were so shocked that I knew one of their names that they didn't care about the man and his liquor anymore.