Have you ever been through an image of you're being in an apocalyptic travel with some zombies and this kinda think of and did you have an imagination or a dream that you're fighting your way through to find a cure out of it and make your own story...
A couple of days later, after most of the commotion from the factory riot has settled down, I'm sitting on the back steps when suddenly my eyes go wide at something I'd nearly forgotten. Something important. The plant. I stand up and, as calmly as possible, to divert Ofelia's attention, walk in the house to my room and then, when I'm entirely alone, throw open the closet door and dive into the deepest, farthest crevice possible. It's still there. But it's not the same. It's different. The way it droops...and the color; it's not as green any more but sort of brown. As if someone had taken a vacuum and sucked the color out of it a tiny bit. At first I'm confused and then I become frantic. What have I done? Is it dead? I gave it water and I don't know if it needs food but I sprinkled a few bread crumbs and scrambled egg pieces around the top. It looks awful really, now that I think about it. I don't know why I feel such an urge to keep it alive. I don't truly know if it's living or dead but if it's going to grow, well...maybe it will hatch into something. The leaves will open up and something will pop out...do plants do that? I wonder sometimes where the squirrels and birds come from... Stupid. What a brainless girl! Of course nothing's going to be 'born' from it. Most likely it's a tree. A little tree and keeping it in a pot is containing it's root growth and that's why it's wilting. Duh. Still... Okay! Time to get out of the house. I shove the plant back into my closet and shut the doors decidedly. I will not be bothered by this. I've got more important things to worry about. I sigh. Like finding wanted runaways. Right. That's much easier than trying to feed and hatch a tree. After I slip on something grey (naturally) and warm I head to the kitchen for some breakfast, which by the way usually is noodles but Ofelia's decided I'm not to eat them anymore. "Why not?" I ask upon entering the room. I glance over the counter and see Ofelia in her usual spot upon the couch eating what looks like shredded bark. "Besides, it's cheap. Probably been around forever. Everyone eats noodles. Everyone plus the puritans." "Well, they might've ate it but look what happened to them." "So that's what happened to you!" I grin crookedly. Ofelia laughs. She likes her witchy reputation. "Oh, and by the way...what are you eating today? Decided to forget your liquid poison and eat bark instead?" "It's rather tasty...want some?" She holds out a spoonful and it's soggy, dripping with milk and I almost gag. So much for bark. It looks more like... I spin around to the fridge. "Did you use all the milk on...that?" "Yep." "Are there any eggs?" "Went rotten." "What? They usually last a few months! What's with that?" "They were different this time." I don't even ask. "You know what," I say, "I'm not so hungry anymore. I think I'll go to town for a bit." "To see Griffin?" Ofelia questions through a mouth full. Blast. I didn't even tell her. I can't. "Yeah, maybe. He's been kinda busy lately." How ironic. "I'll probably check on him tomorrow. You know, so I don't bother him to soon since I saw him last." "Good idea. How's his mother?" Dear heavens above. His mother! "Good. I've gotta go...see you soon. I grab my canvas bag and give Ofelia a quick peck on the cheek before heading outside. I run. I run and run until I've reached town. I run to the apartment building on 5th street. I run up the stairs and I run to the door. I know my legs are burning because of how far I've come but I don't feel them. I'm too worried, to mortified that I've been so careless to forget... I shake the door handle. Fool! It's locked. I want to hit something...oh, you know about that already. I think, this is all my fault. If I hadn't agreed to help Griffin break into the warehouse he wouldn't have gone and wouldn't have got thrown in jail. Of course this is my entire fault. But I'm not done. I have one idea left. I descend the stairs to the small lobby where the same scruffy looking man sits asleep at the same minuscule office desk. I remember again that his name is Bob and I realize that it's going to come in handy. I clear my throat. He doesn't move. I cough and say, "Excuse me...Mr. Bob?" He still doesn't move. "BOB!" He doesn't flinch but I see him open one eye and it's enough for me to start spilling the words. "I need a key to room 129 because well Griffin, he lives there, his mother's inside and well, Griffin's gone and I know him and I need the key to get inside and it's important because...Griffin's gone and I need the key...I –" "I can't give room key's to anyone who isn't a registered inhabitant. I'm sorry." Bob's about to close his eyes but I slap a hand down on his desk and his feet go askew so that now both eyes are open, slightly irritated, but listening. "I need the key. Griffin can't come with his copy and the mother's inside." "Did you knock on the door?" "Well, no..." I feel slightly perturbed by his sharpness but he has a point. Although I have one too, and an idea. "Well, thank you anyway." I step back from his desk and head to the door, but right as I open it I turn my head back and ask, "Mr. Bob...how do you feel about the mentally insane?" I see his head look up and his arms go down from behind his head. "They are a disturbance to this world, Miss." My, my. 'Miss'. I've never been called that before. I walk back to his desk and place both hands on it, lean forward and stare into his face. "Mr. Bob, if you don't give me a key, the mentally insane woman you have boarded in the room will burn this place to the ground and that will be that."
I walk away with a key.
*
Climbing back to the six floor is at first exuberant, my resolve set and my head nice and big from my accomplishment of getting the key. However, by the time I reach Griffin's door, I'm terrified. 'Why haven't I thought of this sooner?' is all I can think. I take the key out of my back pocket and slowly push it into the lock. I take a breath and turn the latch. The door swings open gently and I here it hit the table directly behind it on the wall. "I forgot about that table," I say aloud. After stepping in a couple steps I carefully shut the door and right the picture frame that had fallen over. Setting it upright I see it's of all of them, Griffin, Feira and their mother. I wonder if I was the one who knocked it over or if it was already like that. It seems too painful to be left out, besides. I notice first it's quiet and wonder if Mrs. Wells is sleeping. Then I'm nervous, wondering if she's hiding. "Mrs. Wells?" I call out, though it doesn't come out much louder than a whisper. "It's Adler, you remember me? I've come to tell you something. Something about Griffin." There's no reply, not at first but I hear a door open with a squeak somewhere in the small apartment and I tense up, wondering if she's going to sneak up on me. I turn a full three hundred and sixty degrees but I don't see anyone. I find myself by the kitchen door and push it open only to be greeted by the smell of rotten food. I gag and hurriedly cover my mouth and nose with the long sleeve of my sweater but still find myself gagging as I look around. There's a whole basket of produce lying on the table, fruit flies swarming here and there. Boxes of odds and ends lie about, too, full of half eaten meals, broken crackers and stale bread. I don't even dare open the fridge. But what's even more unsettling about this picture before me is what's trying to be hidden behind a roll of paper towels and a toaster; bottle and bottles of medicine. There are sleep aids and pain killers and special prescriptions from the doctor. All in paper boxes with hand written identifications or in intimidating looking orange cylinders. I notice they all have the same thing written on them, too; signed for Cecily Wells, by Griffin Wells. Are these her...her 'mind' drugs? I feel stupid I don't know what they're properly called. I'm about to leave when I stop and see a different looking box hidden carefully behind all the others. It's only slightly different - the reason I even noticed it – in a different hue of orange than the others. I pull it out and can clearly see the pills inside; white cones with a blue stripe down the middle, the size of a small bead. I turn the box around and drop it, the contents spilling across the floor with the sound of a hundred pins. "Take six am/pm daily: administered 9/12 to Griffin Wells" I feel sick. "What are you doing here? Where's my son?" For a moment I feel a pit of dread in my stomach that Griffin's caught me and a turn around expecting to see his glaring face when I am startled, and brought back to reality, that it's Mrs. Wells in front of me and Griffin's still in jail. "Those aren't mine," she says. "I'm, sorry," I bend down and start picking up the pills and dumping them back in the bottle. "I just thought...I wondered..." I stare at her face and wonder if she's seeing me as I am, as herself, or if she's... "Griffin's in jail," I blurt out before I can hide the fact from myself. "He's accused of...thing's he hasn't done." She is quiescent to my words, as if I never spoke them and then she falls into a chair by her side soundlessly. "They're Griffin's, aren't they?" I venture to ask, gesturing at the pills in my hand. "Yes, they are. He didn't want you to know." "Know what?" I stare at her and feel my hands tremble. Secrets aren't something I'm good with; keeping or hearing. Especially with Griffin and I – we don't keep secrets from each other, or so I thought until now. Mrs. Wells doesn't speak but looks at me sadly and motions for me to sit at the cluttered table. I have to remove a few crumbs and a wadded up napkin before I sit, but I find my legs are wobbling so sitting sounds like a swell idea. "Would you like some tea?" she asks me and I consent with a nod. I watch her stand up and slowly fill the kettle with water, chest rising and falling with each small sigh. If I don't tell her about what Griffin and I did now, I'll never get it out. "Mrs. Wells, there's something I need to tell you about Griffin... and myself." She's reaching up for the teacups, standing on tiptoe and I realize in a flash moment, as she's turning her head to look at me, she isn't going to make it past the open cupboard. Her head and the door collide with a bang. Jumping up I catch her as she crumples to the floor, the teacups smashing on the tile and sending sparks of it into my leg. I wince but am occupied by the blood trickling down Mrs. Wells forehead rather than all the glass. "Are you alright?" I ask dumbly. "Let me get a rag and wash it." Grabbing a cloth from the sink, wetting it down with the water, not very cold, I turn back to Mrs. Wells only to see her standing in front of me, eyes clouded...suddenly changed. "Mrs. Wells?" "You..." she lifts a shaking finger. "You're that girl, that girl who came here with that man who locks me up! Get out of here! Get out!" She throws a saucer at my head and I only just manage to dodge it, hearing it crash into the wall on my left. I grab book lying on the counter and hold it up before the next cup comes crashing in my face too. I feel pieces of it spray the side of my face and squint my eyes, praying none gets into them. I don't wait any longer but run out of the kitchen and towards the door. "I won't be locked up!" I hear her scream after me. "I'll kill you both if I ever lay my eyes on you again." I throw the door open and slide into the hallway. I grab the doorknob and fling it shut, fumbling around in my pocket for the key. My heart's pounding with anxiety and I can barely manage to get the key in the hole and turn it. I'm not content after that to stay, so I make my way down the steps, tripping on most of them before flying out into the street. I stand there willing my heart to slow down and when it manages to stay racing I find that not only is it beating a hundred miles per hour but that I have salty tears streaming down my face. What right did I ever have to yell at Griffin for locking his mother up? If that's what he see everyday, the fear of be attacked every time he opened the door...no wonder he was mad at me. And her threats, of killing either of us if she sees us again? That was enough for me. I'm going to dies soon anyway, I don't need an outside force speeding up the process. I wipe my tears blindly away, turning to head home when I smack into something hard and smooth. I take a few steps backwards and look up, my vision blurred but I vaguely can guess that it's the outline of a person. I manage to clear my sight and find a pair of unyielding eyes staring into mine. He's young maybe twenty and wearing a guard's uniform. He reaches out a quick hand and grasps my elbow, lifting it and shoving it into my face. I smell the dirt and see the brown covering my sleeve. I hadn't thought of changing my clothes since this morning. Idiot. "Well, well," he says with a smirk. "What have we here?"
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Well, that's all for it for today's chapter story and I hope you guys all like it... and if you did, don't forget to smash that Vote Button at the top right corner right there. Leave some comments down below and let me see of what you think about the story and also this chapter... but, thank you all guys for reading and as always what I said, oh bye there...
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