The Life I'm Running From

Prologue

A scream ripped loose of my throat. I was free-falling through open air, unattached and unanchored. A scary freeness had enveloped me, and threatened to break me on the hard concrete below. When I said I wanted freedom, this was not what I meant.

Apartments zipped by, and in a desperate attempt I tried to grab hold of their balconies. My fingers grazed something metal, and then my wrist slammed the railing of the next apartment. It exploded in pain. If I hadn't been preoccupied with my impending doom, I would've guessed it was broken.

This was such a stupid way to die. A very painful, stupid, and pathetic way to die. I closed my eyes, bracing myself for impact. But suddenly my trajectory changed. I wasn't falling anymore. Two arms were holding me, and we were swinging sideways. I could only stare at the costumed-stranger who had saved my life.

I wasn't able to comprehend our mode of travel because soon we were getting dangerously close to the brick apartment building. Involuntarily, my breath hitched. But before we were flattened on the wall, he shot a strange white substance from his wrist that attached onto a building on the opposite side of the alley. We were yanked the way of the white stuff. He continued to do this, and we climbed higher and higher, until we were pulled towards a railing. In one fluid motion he hopped over, me in tow.

"Are you okay?" he asked in a boyish voice. He couldn't have been older than eighteen.

I nodded. Somewhere in mid-air my arms had wound around his neck. I drew them back, and dropped to my feet. That was a big mistake. My legs gave out, my knees crashing to the ground. My wrist felt like it was on fire. I unwillingly groaned in pain.

He knelt in front of me, and as I was gathering my thoughts I noticed a symbol resembling a spider on his chest. I pushed my blonde hair out of my face, and took a few deep breaths. In, out. He reached a hand out to touch me, but seemed to rethink it and let his arm fall.

"Do you need an ambulance? I can call for help," he offered.

I shook my head, and blew out through my mouth. "No. I'm fine. Thank you though." I looked up to meet his eyes. Well, the black shapes that kind of looked like eyes. "Who are you?"

He stood up proudly. "I'm Spider-Man."

Then he hopped up onto the railing, shot more of the white stuff—which I guess were supposed to be spider webs—and disappeared into the New York City night. I wondered if I would ever see him again.

Those thoughts soon became irrelevant as I fully registered the burning pain in my wrist. I looked down at my hand. What I saw drove any thought of Spider-Man far from my mind.

Dark red and thick, blood was covering my wrist. The source was a large gash underneath the palm of my hand. My mouth dropped in horror as I saw my bracelet dangling from my wrist, only attached to my skin by two hooks.

I've never run faster in my life. (Well, that was a lie. But I ran pretty darn fast.) In mere minutes I was down the fire escape stairs and sprinting to my street. I took the stairs inside my apartment building two at a time, waking up most of my neighbours in the process.

I scrambled to unlock my apartment. When I finally swung open the door, the searing pain in my wrist had become unbearable. Danny was sitting on the couch inside. I ran past her into the kitchen, and started throwing open drawers with wild abandon.

"You've been out for awhile," she commented, not looking up from her latest project.

I barely heard her. Racking my brain to remember where I put it, I cursed myself for being disorganized. I yanked open the last unopened drawer so fast it almost came off its hinges. The only things inside was a box of safety pins, scissors, one of my many stress balls, and a pencil. I cried out in frustration.

Danny looked over. "McKinnley? What's going—" She stopped short when she saw the white band hanging from my wrist and blood coating my sleeve.

"I fell," I said quietly. Tears threatened to fall from my eyes, so I grabbed my stress ball with my good hand and started to squeeze it.

Danny—a medic just like her father—immediately came over and examined my hand. "You fell? From what, an airplane?" She looked around at all the drawers I had opened. "We need the—"

"I can't find it." I aggressively squeezed my stress ball. The pain was getting worse by the minute, and my shirt was stained crimson. "I can't remember where I put it."

Danny bit her lip. "We need nectar then. Except—nectar doesn't work on you."

"It should now," I said impatiently. "Please go get it."

She didn't move. "Are you sure? If it doesn't you'll—you'll burn up, McKinnley."

"Just go!" I yelled. I didn't care about risks. I wanted the pain gone.

She must've heard the agony in my voice because she opened the fridge and grabbed the jug of nectar. As I watched her fill up a cup, my vision started to get blurry. I sunk to my knees, because standing felt like too much effort. Danny handed me the glass of nectar. My wrist stung with so much venom it felt like poison was eating away at my skin. I downed the cup in seconds, letting the nectar wash away my pain. It tasted like strawberry cheesecake.

I leaned my head back against the cupboards I was slumped against, my breathing starting to steady. Danny reached out with a teaspoon of nectar to dribble on my wrist, but I quickly withdrew my hand. "Don't." I cradled my injured hand close my chest. "That will close the wound."

Danny looked at me dubiously. "Are you sure? If you change your mind later, I don't think I can remove that band myself."

I shook my head, and used my uninjured hand to push myself into a more straightened sitting position. "I'm keeping it on. I made this choice, and I'm sticking to it."

"I'll go get the emergency kit then. Don't stand up," Danny ordered. She dumped the teaspoon full of nectar back into the jug, and then left the room. I couldn't tell how she felt about my decision.

My shoulders relaxed as the nectar eased my pain. I could see properly now.

She re-entered the kitchen, and handed me a wet cloth to mop up my blood with. I gingerly cleaned my wound as she grabbed the supplies needed to fix my bracelet. Danny opened the black case and pulled out several metal hooks, identical to the ones currently attaching the band to my wrist. I watched with increased nervousness as she sanitized them. Being careful to not disturb my injury, she pulled the old bloody hooks from the part of my bracelet that had been separated from my wrist and replaced them with new ones.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

I nodded, extending my wrist out to her. The pain had subsided, just in time for triple the agony.

"Okay," Danny said in her calming voice, "three, two, one." She bolted the white band back into my wrist swiftly. Not swiftly enough, unfortunately. I screamed, and the sound tore apart the usual silence of our apartment. She could've dunked my wrist in acid and it would've hurt less. Red spots clouded my vision. Luckily I was still sitting, because I definitely would've fallen.

Danny sighed sympathetically, and rubbed my shoulders. She wanted to help me. I knew she did. But there's not much to do when someone's voluntarily put themselves through pain like this.

"I'll make popcorn," Danny said. "And when you feel better, we can eat and you can tell me all about what happened."

Author's Note:
Hello! Thanks for reading the prologue of my story, and I hope you stay for the ride.
A new chapter is published every Monday!
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XOXO Miss Music Jem XOXO