Oleander: One of Us Series Page 5

  And the woman in the photos held my gaze.

  Did she love me?

  Had she loved me…had anyone ever loved me?

  I clutched the images and leaned my head against the wall. I’d sleep here, it was as good as any place, and try not to think those questions ever again.

  Because the answer was too cruel to bear.

  Chapter Three

  Oleander

  Roam, 2014

  I stiffened as the booming laughter cut through the crowded mall, swallowed hard and tried to breathe. No one turned at the sound. No one seemed to notice the man and his companion.

  Except for me.

  He’d changed. Changed his hair. Changed his name. A squeal of delight followed as a young girl jumped up from the opposite side of the table to wrap her arms around his neck.

  Even changed his family by the looks of it.

  He hugged her back and then laughed again. Only this time it was a chuckle and not a roar—like a joke between friends.

  And they were friends, weren’t they? Parents, protectors. Someone to hold you at night, when the wind howled like a hungry wolf at your door. Someone to whisper…everything’s okay now. You’re safe here…safe with me.

  But no one was ever really safe.

  Not in the warm beds at night with their father protectively beside them.

  Not in a crowded mall in the middle of the day.

  It’d taken me years to find him. Years of searching old stomping grounds, searching for any hint he'd been there at all.

  And what'd started out as a desperate search for love, became something else entirely. Call it self-flagellation of the cruelest kind, I stalked him like an old lover who'd already moved on. And in a way he was...my first love...my first scar...

  The one man who was never supposed to break my heart.

  She lifted her hand, gold glinted from the chain in her palm. A gift, by the looks of it. Delicate and pretty. The sleeve of my hoodie dropped low as I touched my neck. Ugly black numbers on my wrist caught my eye.

  He reached for the chain, lips moving with silent words…turn around, Princess.

  And she did. She swept her long blonde hair aside. Her lilac dress billowing as she turned.

  I watched him with her. Watched how he leaned close to whisper in her ear—watched how she clasped her hands with sheer delight, as Carrie’s haunting words closed in.

  Said you weren’t even human, did you know that? Called you a fucking monster, even to your face.

  Stephen Lowman. That was his new name now. Hater of children…

  But not this one. No. This one, he seemed to love.

  I tried to see the change in him, tried to see the man he’d become…and not the one he once was.

  The man who left a nine-year old girl to die at the end of the world.

  With the wolves and the bears, and the cruel cold.

  She touched her necklace as he grabbed the plastic tray on the table and then moved to the trash can. There was a motion of his hand toward a corridor, followed by the nod of her head.

  I dropped my gaze as he scanned the crowd. He was worried, nervous about leaving her alone for even an instant. After all there were monsters out here. Monsters with hoods tucked low. Monsters she’d never see coming.

  And then he was leaving, striding toward the restroom while his little girl played with her pretty new gift. I shoved off the wall and made for the cafeteria, passing mothers and strollers and bitchy girls who sniggered and pointed.

  I didn’t care about them. They were all noise…every single one of them.

  All I saw was her in her pretty lilac dress…all I cared about was her.

  I reached up and shoved my hood over my head.

  Purple slipped free from the movement and spilled down my chest. Purple so vibrant that everyone stared. I’d tried to color it in an attempt to hide who I really was. But the dye never stuck, sliding off the strands to stain my pillow.

  Chairs scraped, people stood, stared, and then moved out of the way. But it was her I watched…her as she lifted her head.

  Her gaze went to my hair and widened. But there was no fear in her eyes, there was nothing but excitement and warmth.

  “Wow, your hair is so beautiful,” she murmured.

  There was a glance toward the corridor as though that tiny voice inside her head said…never talk to strangers.

  “Thanks,” I muttered with a snarky grin. “I grew it myself.”

  Her smile was instant, warming and soft. She looked like him a little…in the nose maybe, and her eyes. I dropped my gaze to her necklace. “That’s pretty, is it new?”

  Her smile widened, hair scattered as she nodded. “It’s a gift from my dad. It’s my birthday tomorrow, so he figured we’d spend today with just us.”

  “You’re lucky.” My throat clenched choking the words. “How old?”

  “Nine…I’m nine.”

  I shifted, moving around her, pretending to throw something into the bin. But she never noticed there was nothing in my hand. She never noticed anything at all.

  But I could see the corridor now, see the hustle and bustle as others cut across and then disappeared. “Nine,” I murmured, “that’s so cool. I can barely remember myself when I was nine. But I didn’t have a dad to spoil me like you do.”

  “Yeah, he’s pretty cool.” Her gaze danced toward the floor and then returned to my eyes. “You live here in Roam?”

  Strands of purple scattered as I shook my head. Movement caught my gaze…as my father stepped into view. “Just here to see an old friend.”

  “Oh cool.”

  He lifted his head, scanned the tables and then stilled…on me.

  There was a slowing of his steps before he stopped dead in the middle of the entrance.

  People barged and pushed around him. One woman gave a snarl and smacked into his side with her bag. He stumbled, straightened but never moved.

  I should be grateful really. He’d played his part, teaching like a father should.

  Only he taught a girl how to hurt.

  And a woman how to hate.

  He taught me that memories were traps designed to bleed you slow.

  And that in the end it’s not family that mattered.

  It was only yourself.

  “Can I see your necklace?” I muttered, the words tasting like ash, and lifted my hand.

  Power hummed through my veins, twisting and turning like gnarled roots in the ground. But the monster inside didn’t control me anymore.

  No, the monster inside was a lover, holding me at night—feeding me what I needed to grow and hate. I no longer looked at the world the same.

  I unfurled my fingers and reached for her neck, but it was him I watched.

  Him that paled and shook. Him that never took his eyes off my fingers.

  One small brush was all it’d take.

  Daddy’s little girl had grown into something more powerful than he’d ever believe.

  His knees shook, and then buckled.

  But he caught the fall just in time as I skimmed the gold still warm from her skin with a finger. One tiny brush was all she’d need.

  Just a whisper.

  Just a breath.

  And she’d be taken from him, like he took everything from me.

  I curled my fingers and dropped my hand, as the cruel twist of fate drove an unseen knife in my chest. “It’s beautiful,” I murmured. “You’re lucky to have a dad who loves you. Some of us aren’t as fortunate.”

  Pain flared, carving deep. I wanted to run from the pain…I wanted to hide, until something brushed across my mind—an unseen touch that hadn’t been there before. It’s okay…a male’s voice filled my head. It’s okay, I’m here.

  I flinched at the sound. Cut my gaze right and then left. No one was there. No one spoke…no one even whispered. Still the brush on my mind lingered as the food court blurred behind a sheen of tears.

  I’m right here…the whisper came once more

  I
wanted to reach out to that voice…wanted to just feel…something other than pain.

  Still the agony of heartbreak filled me. I turned then, and left an unseen trail of blood behind. I was sure it was there, but I was too weak to look. I didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to see this place ever again.

  He never loved me—only ever her.

  Only the monster loves me now.

  And it’s back. The monster in my head.

  I feel it under my skin, flowing along my spine.

  The urge is everywhere.

  I can’t stop it…

  And in moments like this I don’t even want to try.

  Chapter Four

  Oleander

  Demand, 2019

  The white truck had passed the shelter four times now. Each time a little slower, and each time the driver stared. Dark tinted windows gave me little to go on, but I’d seen the graffiti on the tailgate many times before.

  BB, glared thick and ugly. Two letters surrounded by the body of a bear lunging with claws raised high. Brother Bear they were called, street kids and thugs…dealers with nice cars and a bad reputation.

  And that voice in me whispered…careful now.

  I knew bears. I knew how they moved, knew how they protected. But I didn’t know these ones…these hid in disguise.

  I turned my head and stared at the corner, steam billowed from my mouth as I wait for the growl and the rumble of the pickup's engine. Maybe it was time to move on? Find another place...I scanned the streets that pulsed and sparkled—maybe one with not so many people.

  “Here you go sugar,” the deep, bass-filled voice rang out.

  Shiny brass buttons glistened from the sea of navy blue as I lifted my gaze and smiled. The old man handed me a sandwich and a steaming cup, and then gave me a pat on the back of the hand. “It’s gonna get cold out here, Ol. Sure I can’t offer you a bed inside?”

  I glanced behind him to the overcrowded foyer filled with women and babies, and the old. Most would sleep huddled on the hard floor. There weren't enough beds to go round, especially on a cold night like this. "No thanks, Joe. I'm just fine out here."

  There was a sadness to his smile. He gave a nod and I caught the glint of snow in his soft cotton-white hair. If I was truthful, I felt at home in the cold. Felt at home with the ache in my bones and the burn in my lungs.

  “Well, alright now. But you be sure to find somewhere indoors, don’t make me find your stiff, frozen body in the morning,” he said with a chuckle.

  But underneath his pretense glistened fear. He was a nice old man, kind to me from the first moment I stepped into the city. I smiled back, raised the cup and took a sip. Heat slipped down the back of my throat to find my belly. “I promise.”

  He turned his head, cheek pushed toward me for a peck, and then stilled for a second before he turned back.

  He forgot for a moment. Forgot I never touched. Forgot I never kissed—not even on the cheek. Forgot I wasn’t like anyone else he knew, and that the animal in me lived far too close to the surface.

  “Okay, Ol. I’ll see you in the morning with a fresh cup of that,” he murmured and gave a nod toward my hand. “And remember Jackson’s on the corner will give you free coffee anytime you want it, all night long. Just don’t…”

  “Don’t sit inside. Yeah, I got it.”

  I bent and snatched my backpack from the pavement and heaved the straps over my shoulder. My life was in here. It seemed fitting it barely weighed anything at all. Two changes of clothes and some creased photos I’d kept through the years and the one thing that gave my life purpose.

  A book, half filled with blank pages, but the other half stuffed with everything I’d found over the years. I glanced at the thick leather bands closed around my left wrist. Information about my dad…what little I found on my Mom, and snatches of information about kids they found after the blast.

  Kids with abilities.

  Kids like me.

  I made for the streetlights and punched the button to cross. Headlights were blinding as they shot past. There was a call from an open window, some fucking asshole with a filthy mouth. Suck my cock, bitch!

  I kept my head down, sipped my coffee, and waited while I listed all the things that made me different from them.

  My lips curled around the paper edge. It was funny really. Kinda an inside joke. Because there was only one thing that set me apart.

  The streetlights changed and the beepbeepbeepbeep mingled with the ticking inside my head.

  I strode across the street and made for the park. City cops patrolled the edges, shining spotlights into the brush. But they left the homeless to sleep.

  Headlights faded as I cut through the brush. Dark shapes huddled on cold, lonely seats. Many huddled together on a nights like this, head tucked low, soft snores rising from behind towering sculptures of art.

  But it was a soft white light I aimed for. A beacon in the dark. Suicide bridge most people called it. Remnants of that name were left behind. Dying wreaths crowded cold, grey concrete walls.

  Hardly anyone came here. Only those new to the city, or new to being homeless slept under the overpass, even if they did, it was only for a night.

  Haunted. Bad mojo. Take your pick, it didn’t really matter. Most people steered clear and I was more than fine with that, for the past six months it’d been home for me.

  Home? The word stuck in my craw. Maybe it was time to move on. This place had become little too familiar. A little too fucking nice. I heaved my pack from my shoulder as I stepped into the shadows and made for the wall.

  Coffee was first. Too cool now to heat me the way I needed it to. Still, warmth raced, dancing bitter around my tongue before it slid down. I left half, tucking the waxed paper cup in the gap between my thighs.

  Plastic scrunched and cracked. I tore the covering aside and yanked half of the sandwich free. It didn’t matter what was on it. It was food. Food in my belly…food for the beast.

  I bit, chewed and stared at the dark, listening to the rumble of the cars overhead, before I shoved the plastic wrap into the pocket of my bag and lifted my knees. The autumn wind whipped up, swung hard across the trees and howled through the damn tunnel. I lowered my head and yanked my hoodie tight, turning away from the wind. My eyes drifted closed. Sleep, just a little, just enough to take the edge off the ache.

  Tick…tick…tick…

  The constant sound grated on my nerves tonight. I tossed, shifted again and pulled my head in tighter. Just sleep…sleep. And as the wind whipped and howled I sank into the darkness…where the bad men waited.

  Fuck you’re pretty…

  No…please. I thrashed, cheek skimmed cold concrete. Still the dreams held on, sinking talons deep. And I was back there, with the Alaskan wind in my eyes as I ran.

  And the monster rose inside me. Let me out. Let me out of here…

  I couldn’t let it out, not again…

  Didn’t want to poison them.

  Didn’t want to make them bleed.

  It won’t hurt…the bad man growled in my ear. Not after the first time.

  I wrenched my eyes open to stare into the dark. A siren cut through the night, loud, screaming. I shuddered and huddled tighter. The wind was brutal through the tunnel, and the dreams still waited in the back of my mind.

  There was no more sleep. Not tonight. I waited, tried to gather my thoughts, and scrunched my toes in my boots, working feeling into my feet.

  Hot coffee. Jackson’s…yeah Jackson’s with their free cup of joe. My body ached. I grunted, climbed to my hands and knees and then shoved to my feet.

  The pack felt heavier as I lifted it. Straps bit into my shoulder as I blinked into the blur and tried to rub the sting from my eyes. Gotta keep moving, just a little longer. Just until wind died down, and maybe I could try again. Gravel crunched under my heels as I cut through the tunnel and left the park behind.

  Red and blue glinted behind the thick brush that ran along the parks edge. I pulled my hood
low and tucked my hair inside.

  No matter how many years passed I still waited for them to find me, lock me up and throw away the key.

  Branches scratched and snagged my clothes as I turned and stepped through the hedge. Catcalls were unending, cars drove slowly with their passenger’s windows down. I focused on the streets in front of me, bypassing the street lights and kept on walking.

  Cars thinned to dealers and thugs, most of them never paid me no mind. To them I was invisible, neither buying or selling, just a bottom feeder in their hood. I scanned the traffic and then crossed. Bright lights lit up the night in the distance, glaring neon blue and purple. Jackson’s Diner.

  They said old man Jackson was a drifter, he fell on hard times after the blast and lived on the streets. Until one day someone helped him. So now he repaid the favor, free coffee to the homeless, all day and night—a shiver raced along my spine—and on nights like this, it was a blessing.

  Hoots and hollers caught the wind. I glanced over my shoulder and then scanned further along the street. There was something in the air tonight, some kind of hunger I felt deep in my bones—like a storm lingered on the edge of the horizon—brewing.

  I glanced inside the diner, two men sat at the counter, hunched over burgers and chips. I stepped up and pushed through the door. The young guy behind the counter, Nik, looked up, scanned my clothes and backpack and then gave a nod.

  The two guys turned to stare at me as I stepped inside. Hard eyes skimmed my body…tits and then my ass. I curled my shoulders, hiding what I could and moved closer to the counter.

  “You okay out there?” Nik asked and glanced out of the windows. “There’s been a shooting down the street.”

  Tickticktick…

  I nodded. “Yeah, just cold is all.”

  The cup rattled on the saucer. He motioned for the booth near the window. “Have a seat, and I’ll bring it over. You in a hurry? Got some fresh pie just out of the oven?”