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Save Me A Skyline
Author's note: My dear friend Desi helped me in coming up with the idea for this story. I dedicate it to her <3
If you asked me about the accident, what I remember, I’d probably tell you I didn’t know. Which is the truth. Almost. Most of the memory is really fuzzy, I’m not sure exactly how it went about, but there’s one thing I can remember very clearly. Gloved hands. Whoever had saved me, pulled me out of the street, had worn faded leather gloves. And whoever is was had the tattoo of a little blue butterfly on their her wrist.
I can sort of remember them dragging me out of the street and keeping the blood inside my head. I can recall the person pulling out a phone, the tell tale dial of cell buttons. Three numbers and then... it all went black.
And now I’m here, all couped up in a hospital, sick of everything. Sorry bad pun.
The doctors say I’m about ready to leave. Just a couple more days. I can’t wait to get out of here. Then I can get her that coffee I promised.
I saw her for the first time on the second day at the hospital. My head still hurt like h*ll and my Mom refused to leave my side.
“I’m good Mom. You just get yourself a sandwich or something.” I had told the short, dark haired woman who kept fussing over me.
“You sure, sweetie? I can get you something, it’s no trouble.”
“I’m not hungry, Mom.” She paused, gave me a suspicious look, and then pursed her lips, nodded and left the room. I chuckled to myself, rolled my eyes, lying my head back on the mountain of pillows behind me. I bounced my leg up and down, looking around. And then I noticed a figure in the doorway.
She was tall and slim, her head down. A black hoodie hung over her body like a curtain, her hands deep inside the front pocket of her jacket. Her jeans were faded, torn at the right knee, and her combat boots looked worn and ugly. She crossed her long thin legs as she leaned against the door frame, an old looking black satchel strapped across her chest. Her thick red hair framed her face, a curly strand falling in front of her nose. She stared at the floor, intruiguing eyes unmoving. Honestly, she had the most amazing irises I’d ever seen, a bright sunny yellow with a deep brown ring around the pupil.
I cleared my throat, raising an eyebrow. Her gaze flickered up to me, her head still down. She blinked at me, her face un-faltered. I creased my brow trying to figure out where I’d seen her before.
“Um, hey, you can sit down if you want,” I told her, gesturing to the chair that once housed my mother. She blinked again, still looking at me, and then shook her head, moving her eyes to the floor. “Oh alright...” I muttered, looking down at my fingers and fiddling my lipr ring with my tongue. I looked up as she moved. She walked slowly, but gracefully, her bod moving like a ballet dancer. She stopped at my bedside, looking down at me with her odd yellow eyes. It felt like she was looking into my soul or something, her pupils kept getting bigger and smaller and she looked zoned out, but all too focused at the same time. And then she pulled a hand out of her pocket placing it on my shoulder. She closed those gorgeous eyes, her brows pinching in concentration, her lips slightly parted. I frowned, wondering what she was doing, but didn’t pull away. I wanted to see what she was going to do.
After a moment, she looked at me face contorted. I could see the fear in those sunny eyes. And then she turned and bolted. Confused and sort of afraid, I shook my head and leaned back against my pillows, waiting for my mother. I didn’t tell anybody about the girl.
I saw her again, about a week later. It was after visiting, my mother had gone home. The whole hospital was quiet, except for the occasional groan from another room. My head throbbed a little but definitely didn’t hurt as much as it did when I first woke up. The room was dark, I was supposed to be asleep, but my insomnia was getting the better of me. I leaned against my pillows, watching the insides of my eyelids. And then I heard the slightest noise, like a foot scuffing the floor. I opened my eyes and noticed a figure in the doorway again.
She moved like a shadow, a creature of the night. Her steps were quiet, I couldn’t even hear her breath. She came and sat down in the hard plastic chair by my bed. The dim light coming from the hallway caught a corner of her face, lighting up the tip of her nose and the Cupid’s bow curve of her lips. I couldn’t see her eyes, which was disappointing.
“I’m sorry.” The words that escaped her lips were barely an utter. Her voice was melodic, slow and thick like molasses. She gave me a sheepish smile and I could kind of see the red tint her cheeks had taken on.
“For what?” I asked in a raspy voice, clearing my throat.
“Being so rude. I shouldn’t have ran like that.” I could feel her gaze on me. Shivers ran up my spine as she looked me dead in the eye. she let out a small gasp, and then turned her head to look back down at the floor. “I just... I’m sorry.” She sounded pained, her knuckles white from gripping the armrests on her chair.
“Are you okay?” I asked, frowning. She looked miserable. Her body was tense under the baggy clothes, her face hard, emotionless.
“Yeah. I’m-I’m okay.” She said shakily. Her gaze was glued to the floor.
“Hey I’m sorry if I scared you.. somehow...”
“You didn’t.” she shook her head, fingers still clenching the armrests of the chair.
“You sure? It sure looked like I did.” She shook her head again. I sighed. She was being ridiculous. I did too scare her and she just didn’t want to admit it. I decided to drop it anyway, she seemed uncomfortable enough. “So... what’s your name?”
“H-...” but she trailed off, biting her lip. I stared at her expectantly. She slowly came around, muttering her name softly. “Haily.”
“Logan Monroe. I know.”
“How did y-”
“Don’t bother asking.”
I just sort of stared at her. I could see a hint of a smile grow on her face. I flung my hands around, frustrated. She giggled. “You’re funny.” I let my hands rest in my lap. She had the most adorable giggle. Ever. I mean seriously, it was so freakin’ cute.
Once again I felt her gaze on me, and her smile fell. She grew silent. I shut my mouth, curious. She gave a noise that sounded like a strangled cat and looked back at the floor. The tension in the room got twice as thick. I decided not to question. She probably wouldn’t answer anyways.
And then it felt like a light bulb had popped over my head. I fought the urge to point in the air and shout like they do in cartoons. “Hey, you wanna like go for coffee sometime? After I’m all better?” I asked, leaning forward on my hands. I could see the blush come back to her face, this time bigger and darker. She smiled a little and opened her mouth to say something but then hesitated. She closed her mouth and frowned, looking at the floor, thinking. And then she opened her mouth again to speak.
“Yeah.” She said slowly and then more confidently: “Yeah, that’d be nice.”
I smiled nodding and leaning back on the pillows. She was quiet and I sat there just enjoying the company. Soon my eyes grew tired and my brain fogged with exhaustion. I fought to stay awake, but I eventually submerged into a deep dreamless sleep.
She wasn’t there in the morning.
I still wanted that coffee date.
The Doctors took the bandage off yesterday. I’d reached into my moms purse while she was out, fishing for her hand held mirror. Pulling the round black plastic out of the bag I dropped it on my lap. My hands were shaking with anticipation. Picking it back up, I tried to steady my hands. I flipped it open and stared at myself. The skin that had been under the bandage was a soft pink and cracking around the edges. Dark spots that looked like bruises were littered over my right eye. Doctor Peterson says that’s where the rocks went in. A long, jagged, stripe of skin ran from the corner of my eyebrow, across my forehead, and up into my hair. My usually slightly long, inky black locks, were extra short and a little spiky. I scowled carding a hand through my hair and fingering the scar. It was soft and bumpy and still a little sore. With a wince I removed my hand, leaning back against the pillows for the one millionth time.
I looked back up when I heard the low rumble of someone clearing their throat. Haily leaned in the door frame like she always did. She wore the same black hoodie, jeans, and boots. Her visits had grown more regular and now she visited me every couple of days. I’d asked her once why she came at such odd times and she’d told me she came whenever she had a chance.
“Hey!” I said, waving her inside and dropping the mirror back into Mom’s purse. She stepped into the room, marching over to my bed and sitting down in the chair. She had her hood up today. I gestured to her odd apparel, “Whats up with the hood?”
She shrugged. “Rain.” Was all she said, eyes to the floor. I nodded. This was usually how our conversations went. I did most of the talking, her replies simple grunts or one word responses.
“They took the bandage off today. My hairs all weird. It used to be longer, like long enough to cover my eyes but y’know not girly long. Before they shaved it, it stopped at my chin and curled out a little. But now it’s all short.” I said, using my hands to illustrate what I was saying. I had a nasty habit of waving my hands around when I talked. Which usually led to knocking things over. I was definitely not the most graceful person alive, tripping up stairs and falling on my face a lot.
Haily smiled a little and looked up at my hair, avoiding my eyes. Her brow furrowed, and her lips slightly parted. But it wasn’t the usual zoned out moment, that only happened when she looked me in the eye. This time I think she was just freaked out about my scar.
“Cool huh? I mean not cool, but it’s a pretty wicked scar.” I gave her a grin. Her brow furrowed deeper. My grin faltered. “Hey, you still there sweetheart?” I asked, snapping my fingers in front of her face. She blinked, closing her mouth. Slowly she pulled a hand out of her pocket, reaching up towards my face. I didn’t even bother raising an eyebrow. She was always doing weird stuff like this.
Pressing her fingers against my head, she frowned, zoning out again. My eyelids fluttered, an odd tingling running up my spine. It was so eerie. I felt like she was looking inside me, unlocking the parts of my brain even I didn’t know about. As if her hands had access to everything I’d ever thought, read, felt, or said. But of course, that was impossible. Wasn’t it?
I snapped my head back up when a commotion outside caught my eye. Three men stood at the receptionist counter, each of them in a black suit, each of them wearing dark sunglasses. It reminded me of that movie, Men in Black. Although I didn’t think a parade of aliens were going to attack us any time soon. Probably just some law issues needed to be discussed with a patient or something.
I turned my head to look at Haily, who had removed her hand and was glancing out the door. She whipped her head back around to face me, staring with wide, fearful, yellow eyes. I raised an eyebrow, wondering what was wrong. But then there was a bunch of yelling. I snapped my head back up to see a blond woman in blue nurse scrubs trying to hold back the men.
“But sir! You can’t go in there!” The tallest man grunted, flashing what looked like an FBI I.D. Nurse Cappella (I knew her name because she came into my room to change my I.V. and stuff every day) huffed, stepping aside. The men continued down the hall, fanning out and entering rooms.
‘Help me’ Haily mouthed the words slowly, not making a sound. I opened my mouth to speak, to ask her what was wrong, but she placed a finger over my lips in one swift sweep of her hand. I blinked, nodding, and looked around. Obviously these men were looking for her. Obviously she didn’t want them to find her. Obviously they were FBI agents or something and had special training to find her. So where the h*ll was I going to hide her?
My gaze flashed around the room. Bathroom? Nah. Closet? Nope. Behind the curtains? No! There really wasn’t a good place to hide! But Haily seemed to take matters into her own hands. Before I could tell her I didn’t know, she dove under the bed, disappearing beneath me. Just in time too, because at that very moment one of the Men In Black dudes walked in.
The guy was tall and dark skinned, his shoulders wide and bulky. A tiny ear bud sat in his right ear and something bulged under his jacket. It sure did look like a gun to me. But why would these guys be after someone like Haily? Quiet, shy, a little odd but still. She seemed harmless. Maybe they weren’t even looking for her. Maybe she was just acting weird again and these guys were looking for someone else. A fugitive from Alcatraz maybe. Some guy who’d murdered 13 people and decided to hide out in a hospital. Charlie Manson! Yeah, it was probably that guy.
“Mr.... Monroe?” The guy asked in an unusually high pitched voice. I suppressed the urge to giggle. And then I noticed how he wasn’t reading from a card or a file. He just knew my name. Why the h*ll did everyone know my name?!
“Yeah.... that’s me....?” I said hesitantly, eyeing the big guy.
“Son of James Monroe?” I nodded. What the fudge. He just happened to know my dad’s name too? My DEAD dad’s name? My dead dad who died only a YEAR ago’s name? This was just getting way too creepy.
“Yeah.....” Mr. High Voice gave me a grunt, muttering to himself about something that had to do with James Monroe. I raised an eyebrow straining to hear his words. This would of been a good time for a radio active spider to come around and bite me. Super Hearing seemed like the only way I was going to catch his mumbles.
“Okay... Mr. Monroe. Have you seen or heard about a girl named Haily VonBlack?” I gulped. Haily VonBlack? Of course I didn’t know Haily’s last name. This could very well be just another Haily running around.
“Um... not that I know of.” My hands were shaking. “W-what does she um... look like?”
“Tall. Probably 5’11”” Well just about everyone was tall compared to me. Curse my mother and her freakish midget genes. I stood at only a rough 5’2” and Haily was like a sky scraper, towering over me. “Red hair?” Oh c’mon, Logan! Stop kidding yourself. I’m sure there’s just another Haily with red hair who’s running from the government. “Gorgeous yellow eyes?” Sh*t. Haily was going to have some explaining to do.
“N-no... don’t think I saw any yellow eyes. There’s a nurse on the second floor with red hair, but she had green eyes.” I mumbled, stumbling over my words, my hands shaking like mad.
“You sure boy? Don’t lie. I’m from the FBI and this is a VERY important matter.” I shook my head quickly.
“Yeah, yeah I’m sure. Never saw her before.” The man silenced himself, listening. I held my breath hoping Haily wouldn’t make a sound. The man swiveled his head, glancing around the room and then he stomped over to the closet, flinging open the door. No Haily there. He opened to bathroom and even looked behind the curtains but there was no Haily. And the idiot didn’t even bother looking under the bed. Stupid. Thank fate he was stupid.
With one last suspicious glare, he bulldozed out of the room and down the hall to join his buddies. I kept my gaze on him until he was out of sight, making sure he didn’t come back. When he was down the hall, I leaned over the railing on my bed and looked under. There was no one there. I frowned, where’d she go? Looking back up, I noticed a movement out of the corner of my eye. The curtain was moving. The window was a jar, the chilly February breeze blowing the shades.
The window hadn’t been open before.