Birds of a Feather

four

The next days ensued with a barrage of tests. Physical tests.
"Dylan, shoot fire!"
"Dylan, freeze this lake!"
"Dylan, make the ground move!"
And of course there were the obligatory chemical tests. I swear on my life that I still have chunks of my body missing. Samples of my skin. Samples of my hair. My bones. They especially liked to take painful extractions from my spine. I think I spat up enough of my own saliva to hold over an army of thirsty children.
And on top of that, the food sucked. I will never understand how hospitals feed the sick and dying piles of questionable muck. It seemed like everything was put through a processor so that at least you didn't have to chew your beef and broccoli, you could drink it with a straw! Not to mention the incessant presence of Dr. Frobisher who never seemed to care that I was a living, breathing human regardless of my abnormalities.
Speaking of humanity, I was also given a therapist. Her, I liked. She was the only doctor in that godforsaken hellhole that actually cared about me. As a person and not a test subject. We had worked through much of my issues about my mother, leaving me with coping mechanisms, and a constant battle to forgive her. The same requirements were asked of me when it came to Jack, and my ex-best friend Andrea. This was where my therapist -Dr. Lanelo- and I came to a bit of a disagreement.
"I know it would bring me closer to healing. But it's not in my freakin' body, doc. I physically cannot. I think of everything I did for both of them. How deeply I loved and trusted them. They both knew trust was always number one for me. And they were so selfish that they didn't care how their betrayal affected me. I can't forgive that. Maybe in the future. Possibly. But definitely not now. They don't deserve my kindness. The only thing keeping me sane right now is knowing that they might feel like shit for being horrible people,"
Dr. Lanelo was older. Possibly in her sixties. But she was, in every sense of the word, cool. She didn't mind when I cursed, as I often did, and sometimes she'd even curse back. But behind all of her exterior intrigue, she was intelligent. She understood the human psyche so well. I couldn't ever tell you honestly that her advice was never good, because it always was. She always knew exactly what I was thinking, what other people were thinking, and how to handle the toughest situations. Deep down I knew forgiveness would heal me. But I also knew it would come when I was ready. And right then I wasn't. Dr. Lanelo looked at me admonishingly.
"I can't force you to do anything. But it's the only thing that will help you start to put those toxic people in your rearview mirror. To keep them from haunting you, you have to let go of your anger,"
Her words were so spot on that I wanted to hit something. Or burn down the room with a flick of my wrist. But I didn't. Instead I said, "Maybe so. But right now it's physically not a possibility for me. I'm sorry. Can we move onto something else? Like my crippling anxiety?"
I knew Dr. Lanelo could sense my sarcastic deflection, but she made no remark and simply continued our daily session as per usual.
I'd been confined to the hospital for roughly a week since I'd come to. A week of mundane daily tests, therapy sessions, and food. And I was going stir crazy. Something about my near death experience gave me a fast forward on my healing time. Mentally at least. I wanted to go do things. I wanted to play more shows and write more music. I wanted to get back to school and finish my degree. I wanted to go have a movie night with my family. I wanted to go to a club, get wasted, and flirt with guys. When you almost lose everything, it gives you a renewed love of absolutely everything. Life.
Jack hadn't been allowed in to visit since my first day. Though I heard he desperately tried. He sent nurses, who pleaded me by saying he had something important to tell me. But I didn't care. After seeing him upon waking up, I knew how I felt about him. I knew who he was. Before that, I was deluded by my love for him. That maybe I had wronged him, and not the other way around. But those days were over. I had a moment of clarity when I realized it took me almost dying, getting kidnapped for two months, for him to care enough to check on me. And Jack Garrison would never speak to me again.
As for the details of my kidnapper, I had none. The police had none. I supposedly had been tossed from a moving vehicle in the Bronx. I was found naked and unconscious on the sidewalk. Must've been a shock for whoever found my naked winged body in their lawn. No one had seen the car or who was driving it. And no one had seen me during those two months in question. I had been hoping my memories would come back, but I had nothing. This infuriated me.
I had found myself walking towards the stairwell instead of my room. They would probably come looking for me, but I didn't care. I was very peeved. If only I could remember where I'd been taken, or what had been done to me I could find my assailant. Those huge arms... the frightening memory came rushing back. I dispelled it almost immediately. Before I knew it, I was standing on the topmost staircase facing the door to the roof. I tried to open it but it was locked.
On a whim, I raised my arm and aimed my open palm to the knob. I froze the beads of condensation within by a small twitch of my finger. I reached for the handle, and to my own dismay, the door opened. The air was cool, but not so much as it had been when I'd last been outside two months before. Time had passed, and this was yet another reminder. It felt amazing compared to the stifling and sterile air in the hospital. Half the time I felt like I was inhaling Clorox and the other half viruses unknown. Even the smoggy air of the city tasted sweet in comparison.
I took in my surroundings, never again able to fully be comfortable on my own. Always inventorying my surroundings. A possible exit, possible hiding places for foes. Hiding places for myself. I did a good rundown on the roof. There were a few giant box-like structures that were most likely generators and mushroom shaped air conditioning vents. When I confirmed I was alone, I sat down propped up against a generator. This left me with a beautiful view of the city at night. And I was still mesmerized. I wanted to walk in Times Square, see a show on Broadway, or even eat some amazing food at my favorite restaurant in Little Italy. My stomach grumbled at the idea of real food.
At the same moment, followed by a barely distinguishable woosh, a light thud came from the very generator I was leaning up against. The box shook slightly. My body reacted instantaneously. My hands sporadically spurted out a couple of sad flames in a moment of surprise. I was on my feet in no time, turning to see the source of the noise. Perched atop the box like a prehistoric bird of prey was a boy. Or a man. Whatever a guy was before he turned 21 but after he'd turned 17. His long dark hair whipped around his fair skin, and in the moonlight I could make out his five o clock shadow. He wore a sleeveless graphic tee to accentuate his toned and tattooed arms in the moonlight. His leather boots made a slight squeak as if to wake me from a reverie.

Iknew I should feel scared by this dark tattooed man who showed up on thehospital roof in the middle of the night. Instead I was in awe. Not so much byhis devilishly handsome features, but by the fact that he had just tucked his15-foot brown speckled wings into his back. This made me adjust my own wings,wondering if I looked that badass when my wings were stretched all the way out.
"You don't want burn me alive,Dylan. Trust me," his voice was sonorous yet gruff.
I laughed nervously. "Sorryman, I didn't mean to. Next time, don't sneak up on the last airbender," Ialways joked when I was uncomfortable.
The boy laughed. He flung hisfeet out over the edge of the generator and looked at me as if he'd known me mywhole life. I was absolutely baffled by his ease. After a moment of silence,where nothing but the wind made a noise, he jumped off the generator. He walkedaround me like some sort of predator stalking its prey. But I didn't sensedanger. Not in the slightest. Even though he knew my name, he had those samewings as I did. And I was intrigued by him. He stopped his procession behind myback, putting his hands on the dark feathers of my wings, stroking me like ananimal. I didn't complain because it felt nice.
"I bet you're wondering ifthese things really work," he teased me. "I'm sure the confines of thishospital are a great spot to test your aviation ability,"
I shrugged, pulling my wingfrom his hand. I didn't want him to stop, but my rationale told me I shouldkeep my head clear. "I mean, yeah..."
"Well I have great news Dylan.They work! And you and me are about to go for a test run," I looked at him witha clearly shocked expression. How could someone, a stranger, be so sensuouslybold? "The name's Kace,"
He stepped to the nearby ledgeof the roof, his toes hanging over the edge. The sight made me nauseous. Hishead was twisted to make eye contact with me, and he outstretched his hand. Awordless invitation.
Was this dude crazy? Justbecause I had wings, and so did he, did not mean I was going to jump off athirty story building with him to test them out. I didn't take his hand, andstood baffled.
"Okay, Kace. There is no way I am jumping off this building, let alonewith a random ass fellow-winged freak like yourself," I forced the words to soundtough as they usually would've. But something about Kace's presence made mynormal façade falter. He gave a gruff inward laugh.
"Hm, okay. She's funny," Iwould say he was speaking to himself, but it was clear he wanted me to hear. Heshrugged. "You can stay. But I'm going either way. Meet me same time tomorrowif you change your mind!"
He looked at me for anothermoment before understanding that I wouldn't be moving. He turned his face awayfrom me, out onto the bright light of the city that never sleeps. He put onefoot forward as if to take a step, and then he fell. He was gone from my sightalmost instantaneously. I ran to the edge to peek over, and as soon as I did,his dark hair whipped past me and then above me. Kace flew in a sort ofdeflated "O" shape a few times before hovering in midair to face me. His hugewings shielded my eyes from the city lights, and he looked slightly down uponme like an angel of some sort. He had a huge grin painted onto his face, oneeasily due to exhilaration.
"Well, I'll see ya tomorrow!"he had to shout over the loud sounds of furious wind, honking cars, and the humof the generator. He waved goodbye, and without another glance, he dive bombed20 feet before untucking his wings, and riding the updraft. His wings propelledhim easily, allowing him to maneuver through the tight turns of the countlessNew York businesses. I stood in envious awe. My hair had tangled itself in thewind, with some of it sitting in my slack-jawed mouth.
After a minute or so, I felt asurge of happiness spread through my body like fire. And I cackled like abanshee on the rooftop. I threw my hands in the air, opening my wings suddenly.I felt the breeze rustle through the feathers there, tickling me. Enticing meto make love to the sky. But that would have to wait until the next evening,wouldn't it?