My Name Is...

The Station

She stepped off the train that had just come from Hamburg. She was now in Copenhagen, her new home. With her ruck sack containing an extra pair of clothes, cosmetics and her notebook, she walked towards the telephone box. Knowing the number off by heart she punched the numbers in for the last time.

916 878 9240

There was a high pitch ringing on the other end of the phone. She had never been so nervous in her whole life. Her mother had never been an understanding woman. She would constantly try to change her daughter's motives in life. Not to mention the endless lack of connection between the two, the daughter had not spoken to her mother since the beginning of the gap year- almost twelve months ago. She called her mother every day but to no avail, her mother never answered.

Like every time before, she was forwarded to the answering machine. Knowing these would be her last words to the last person she was still in 'contact' with from her previous life, she was speechless. With a great deal of heart break and with the knowledge that this call may never make it to her mother's ears, she said her final speech.

"Mother, I hope you realize that this is the last time you have to talk to me. Well that's your loss! I'm starting over, a new life, and the best part is that you won't be there to change my mind. I understand that you don't know what I'm doing but I hope that in the bottom of your heart you still love me like how I love you. This is my last message to you. I love you Muti." With that final sentence, tears started to cascade down her face. However unlike all the other times she cried, this hurt. It hurt more than her father beating her or when her brother lost his life to his own hands. No this hurt more. Was it because this was her last connection to her old life?

People at the station stared at the girl but she couldn't care. She was wounded and it felt like a thousand syringes were stabbing her heart all at once. Her legs were shaking, her body was failing her. As her life collapsed around her so did her body. She was balling her eyes out and the phone that was formerly in her hand was now hanging by its cord. After all her tears and shortness of breath, she passed out.

Mere minutes went by and not a single soul dared to wake her. All the people in the station merely brushed it off as a prank or a beggar. The floor was bitter cold and her blood freezing through. The wind battered on her body as the moon began to rise. Her skin turning pale and her hands turned cold. However, everyone knows that, 'To cold hands, comes a warm heart.'

Then from the darkness came a figure of a lady. She had an hour glass figure and long blond hair that was braided into two piggy tails that trailed down her body. She had been spectating this whole event from the broad shadows. Walking towards the body, she proceeded to remove her black coat. It was fur lined with large black hematite buttons. The coat was not a cheap item and now the passed out figure was covered but the lady was now in a simple black jacket, black jeans and fur lined boots. A train had just pulled into the station, 'The train's here! I can't just leave her! And what am I supposed to say to him!' She thought to herself and was about to turn and leave the girl on the floor beside her. However she bent down to the frozen morsel and her hand brushed over her forehead. She felt her fingers tingling with the distinct feeling of pure ice. Smiling, she looked down at the body and whispered to the unconscious body
"You know... You need him more than I do... Till a later date you can thank me." And with that she turned on her heels and left.

Getting off the train from Riga was a boy about the 'girl on the floor's' age. He spotted her passed out on the floor and dismissed it at first (just like all the other people passing by without a care in the world) but then he looked closer. Her coat was obviously not cheap and she was also well kept. Her hair was chin length and it was the most lively but elegant bombshell blond waves he had ever seen. He finally noticed the ruck sack. The conclusion the boy came to was that she was a gap year student that was not from here. Then his eyes saw the crystalized trail of tears down her face and the phone no longer on the line. Then in the corner of his eye he saw it. 'Is... Is that...BLOOD?' the boy thought internally as he spotted the cut on her wrist, and without hesitation he darted towards the girl and picked her up immediately. She was fairly light and sickly cold but perfectly built. So without any more time to waste, the boy was carrying her to the nearest taxi.