Decadent Rose (ON HOLD)

Pulsing Magic I 4

Charlie
Ancient cobwebs lined the dark shady corners of the small, cupboard like room and fluttered with the light breeze floating in through the slightly ajar grime-covered window. He lay sprawled across his bed, half of his body resting outside of his blanket as he listened to the slow steady breathing of Sera on her own mattress less than a metre away. She slept like a log compared to him. When his nights consisted of moving relentlessly as he waited for the sun to come up, hers consisted of a soundless and composed sleep.

She didn’t miss Neverland like he did; she’d always felt like an outcast and had missed the company of girls. However, when he’d been with his Lost Brothers he’d never felt alone or like a pariah. He’d felt like he had finally found a home. Thoughts of their whereabouts plagued his mind and kept him conscious during the time he wished he wasn’t, tossing and turning till the thin sheet warming his body restricted his movement.

He sighed agitatedly. There was more chance of him dying within the next minute then there was of him getting any sleep and so,  with less than a seconds thought, he untangled his legs from the twisted blankets and placed his feet on the cold hardwood ground. It creaked with the newfound weight, making him grimace at the thought of waking Sera. She would be far from pleased, especially with the amount of alcohol he’d found her chugging at the bar. More warily, he stood and crept to the end of his bed where his spare set of clothes lay neatly folded on the floor. After being forced back to the World, Sera and him had found themselves at a loss of what to do or where to go. They had no parents, no family or friends – or at least, any friends that cared to remember them.

So, they’d been on the run from nothingness itself, sleeping in squat houses and abandoned buildings till the sun rose and they were back on their feet begging for money or pick-pocketing a few silk-lined pockets. The money they earned – or stole – went towards the bare essentials such as food and clothes, but on the rare occasion he pocketed an extra rich object they would always go down to local bar and drink away they’re troubles. 

Charlie tugged on the overly large ebony knitted jumper and pulled on a pair of ripped grey skinny jeans, all the while fighting to stay silent. He couldn’t stand seeing Sera living like this; in a dirt-covered foul-smelling cupboard of a room meant for people who lay six-feet-under. He wished he could do more for her, but they both knew any attempt at a normal life was fruitless. Death was closer to them than normality was. Sera rolled over in her dream state and muttered an incoherent word. Charlie flinched, but made no sound as he continued dressing till he stood bare foot on the dusty hardwood ground, staring regretfully down at the tranquil form of his sister. He would do anything for her, he just hoped she knew it.

“I’ll be back soon, Sera” Charlie whispered. He turned away quickly and made his way outside, shutting the door light behind him before turning to the shady alleyway and breaking into a jog. He ran bare foot through the streets, careless of the strange glances people gave him as he ran past, but grateful for the sense of freedom he felt rush through his veins with every step. He knew the streets well – not only because they were the first thing he’d seen when he had come back to the World but because he and Sera had grown up there, on the streets. He’d had a family once, parents, friends, but it all went away within the blink of an eye. Or, in his case, in the tick of a minute.

He and Sera had been exactly one minute late home. They’d stayed back after school to escape the rush of students excited for the summer break; he knew something was wrong the second his mind made the decision to wait. Like a rock in his stomach, he’d felt a strange weight pull him as he pulled Sera inside a classroom to wait. Charlie ignored, assumed it was just a stomach ache. Then he’d returned home to a crimson stained house with broken furniture and the sound of police sirens echoing in his head.