The Knife Thrower

Chapter 23

I wake from my nightmare with a start, my scream lodged in my throat and my heart hammering. Sweat covers my face and my hair is tangled from constant tossing and turning. I quickly take in my surroundings, eyes alert for the attacker in my dreams. But my bedroom is empty, peaceful. Though the haunting image sticks in my mind. It was last night all over again. I was standing in the street and in front of me was that man. But he wasn't holding the little girl, he was holding Izzy. And I was frozen. I couldn't move. I couldn't save her.

She died a thousand times over and over, right in front of my eyes. And I could only stand there. Like some invisible force was holding me back and no matter how hard I would fight it, I couldn't win.

I choke back the tears of anger threatening to be unleashed and stare at the ceiling. No more Rats came the rest of the night. I'm not sure if they went to other neighbourhoods, but I'm sure of one thing. They will be back.

I get out of bed and get dressed in the dark, soaking up the quiet morning. Judging by the sunlight peeking through the curtains, it is probably about seven o'clock. Another early morning. Sighing, I walk down the hallway to find Izzy and Jay. They are sitting in the kitchen, eating their porridge in silence.

"Good morning." I say and grab a bowl, so hungry I should be able to choke down the sluggish stuff without gagging. They look up and give a sleepily reply back. Last night really affected all of us.

I am half way through gorging down the bowl of what is called porridge when a knock on the back door sounds. Instantly we are all wide awake. Izzy hands over one of my knives. I went back later last night to collect the ones I had thrown and wash the one with the blood on it. That one was my favourite.

I have just enough time to tuck it into my boot when the door flies open. I leap out of my chair and rush forward, ready to intersect the intruder. I bash into my next door neighbour instead. Fanny's cheeks are flushed from excitement and her small frame is bouncing.

"Why did you just brake into my house?" I exclaim, not sure what to do with the fifthteen year old.

"I knocked. You didn't open fast enough so I let myself in!" Fanny is a slightly pump, naturally pink girl who gets excited about anything. She moves past me and sits down on one of the chairs. Great, she is making herself at home.

"What do you want Fanny?" She pouts at me in a sarcastic sort of way, scrunching her face up and pushing her bottom lip out so far her top lip dissapears. I look at her impatiently and resist the urge to roll my eyes.

"No need to be so cran-ky!" Now I do roll my eyes, "I known you hate talking to people and wish the world would leave you alone, but this is important. So if you can just stop being so crabby, I can tell you the exciting news!"

"So..." I gesture for her to contine talking in her rapid fire way.

"Okay. Well, I didn't see you outside last night so I thought I'd come tell you what happened just in case you don't know! Well, we were like totally saved by some really hot dude in a mysterious black cape!! He like saved us from being like, kidnapped!" She gushes, words flying from her mouth in such a speed it takes me two seconds to process what she is saying.

"How do you know it's a male?" I ask, confused by why she would assume someones gender when you could hardly see them. And assume wrong. She looks at me like I am stupid and huffs, crossing her arms dramatically over her chest.

"Eh like duh! No females here can throw knifes like that and why would they? It is SO a mans job." She states matter-of-factly. She talks and acts like she stepped of another planet. One that only cares about men and gossip. I am so glad I came from this world.

"And he is so mysterious and handsome! The way he threw those knives was SO hot!! And he like..." She rambles on and I pretend to listen. The quicker she finishes talking the quicker she will leave. "... But no one knows who he is and I wish I knew, so like everyone is calling him The Knife Thrower and lik-"

"Wait! What did you just say?" I am paying full attention now.

"Oh! Well, he has been nicknamed The Knife Thrower. So hot right!!" The Knife Thrower. A small smile takes over my lips. I actually like that. As long as no one knows it was me throwing the knives last night, then they can imagine whatever they want. Though I was not trying to save them, except when I saw the little girl. I didn't do that for them.

I wait until Fanny stops to breath and I interject before she can start again. "Okay. Thanks for stopping by. See you later." I usher her to the door, pushing her not so gently through it. She turns around and starts to protest but I shut the door in her face. Thank goodness that is over. I listen to her reluctant footsteps making their way down the road. Finally.

I go back to Izzy and Jay and sit down. I sigh and press my forehead against the table. That was painful. She is right, I hate people. I wish they would leave me alone. Hint hint to the girl who was blabbering on all morning.

"So, what's it like to be famous? Who would have known, my big sister, The Knife Thrower." I look up to see Izzy teasing me with a mischievous glint in her eyes. I smile and then we start to laugh. All three of us, laughing over something so unreal, so stupid.

Kyra Avedel, The Knife Thrower.