My Funny Valyntine: Book One - The Pull

Chapter Five - Like a Straw in the Wind

i.

Blood flows as Valyntine stares. It can't have happened. All she did was open the door. Tunisia can't be dead. She can't be. This crumpled, lifeless heap of wet clothes and flesh lying across her feet can't be the same woman trying to help her.

The door swings, in and out, banging against the wall while wind and rain find their way into the shop. Valyntine shifts her gaze out into the blackness. Not knowing what to do next, her eyes move without conscious thought, scanning the room as rain tinks and tanks on the metal pipes and bins outside. The driving rain sends the mass of workers leaving the first shift pressing forward with heads bowed, hunched over. Figures cross in front of the door, but no one looks in.

Valyntine's head swims with panic. Pulling her legs from beneath Tunisia's body, she brings her knees up to her chin, wrapping her arms around them. Rocking back and forth, she continues staring at Tunisia's body. A gust of wind blows a smattering of rain in through the door, and across her face. The cold rivulets of water run down her chest and neck. She hears words echoing somewhere in a far corner, words sounding like instructions or directions. She is supposed to go somewhere.

Which way did she say to go? Was it a right or a left?

Valyntine's eyes cross over low shelving, stacks of dust-covered paper bundles, a spider's web, and a rat's nest beneath a broken table. Something about the nest holds her attention, a memory waiting behind the corner. She snaps out of her daze.

The Robin's Nest. Need to get to The Robin's Nest.

Her mind forms simple, short, pointed thoughts. She needs to get to The Robin's Nest.

The Robin's Nest on Green Dolphin Street. Out the door, turn right, head down the alley. She hears the words guiding her through the streets of the West Borough, repeated three times with Tunisia. Valyntine goes over the instructions two more times in her head, committing them to permanent memory before the information flits beneath the depths.

Looking at Tunisia Night's face one last time, she moves a strand of hair from her smooth, soft cheek. Waves of guilt force Valyntine's eyes shut with regret and blame. Part of her wants to stay here with the woman who saved her life. But why? The Traveler is real, waiting out there in the black, if not already within feet of this room. She can do no more for Tunisia except getting to The Robin's Nest and telling Mrs. Jones what happened. She has to make it there. Staying low, Valyntine crawls to the edge of the door's threshold.

Peering out the door, she considers waiting for someone to walk close enough to the abandoned shop; she might be able to use them for cover. Dismissing the thought at once, she feels disgusted for considering it. Someone already gave their life for her. She notices the black, closed brella beneath one of Tunisia's prone legs. Valyntine looks at her own and comes up with a plan.

Bending at the waist to pick up the brella beneath Tunisia's leg, the rush of blood makes her balance falter. Lightheaded, still losing blood from the wound on the back of her head, she goes down, landing on top of Tunisia's body. Reaching for the brella again, another shattering branch of lightning ignites the sky. The flash reflects on something in Tunisia's hand - the timepiece.

Valyntine's hand moves past the brella, up to Tunisia's half-bent fingers, and removes the watch. Heavier than it looks, she holds it tight for a few moments before sliding it into her pocket. She then grabs the other brella, gives Tunisia one last apology, and makes her way to the side of the door.

One,
Out the door and to the right.
Two,
Down the alley and out the other side.
Three,
Fuck!