Chapter III

The Girl Named "Ashley"

[Part III]

[R E A L I T Y]

  Did-ding! 

   The chime of the bell announced the arrival of warm air that flew out into the bitter rain to swaddle them. As they passed through the doorway, the world changed and the door swished shut behind them to shut out the bleak weather with a victorious cry from its bell. The soft hiss of rain became the casual commotion of conversation—hushed tones that climbed over and crowded one another to be heard. Muffled beneath the piled clamor were the faint, rhythmic thumps and ticks of a pop beat that descended from the ceiling to swim the sea of shuffled sounds. Buried beneath even that was the suffocated patter patter of raindrops kissing the windows, only heard when the sky would sigh and guide the glittering beads to the glass. At random, a grinder would spool up across the room, swallowing all these sounds into itself to churn and knead them into a brown dust. Some of this would take to the sky—invisible, but still present in the nutty aroma of strong coffee that clung to the air. The rest would be diluted to fill vessels and hearts with the steaming essence of this place: the bell-chime, the warmth, the small-talk, the pop beat, and the rain in every cup. And it wasn’t just the coffee that lingered here: the air was sweetened with the perfume of freshly baked pastries, rich syrups, and chilled creams. A soothing, faded-caramel glow baked itself into every surface, staining the shallow colors and saturating the deeper ones. All of this was wrapped up in a little brick building with big windows and a silly neon-jellyfish sign. 

   Periodically, a girl’s voice boldly called from the other end of the room. “Hanson!” A grinder spooled up. Coffee stained the air. “Becca!” The chatter was undisturbed by her cries and the shrieking grinder. “Diana!” In the same way, her strong tone was equally unfazed by the grinder and the chatter. “Robert!” 

  Oddball wondered what she looked like. Maybe she had black hair—Sam had black hair, and her voice was strong in the same way. Set eyes that were hardened and cold, maybe? But only as a shell: warmth would lie within. That’s how Sam’s were, anyways. He would never know what this girl looked like. His head had grown heavy and his neck had grown weak. His face had pitched forward, inviting the edges of his hood to create walls around it and deny access to the curious and wandering gaze. Ashley had let go of his hand minutes ago—at least, it felt like minutes—so they’d found their way to the pockets of his jacket and pushed aside his wallet, key, and phone to hide themselves there. He couldn’t raise his head. He couldn’t coax his hands from his pockets. So this girl would continue to remind him of his sister, and nothing more.

  The floor tiles were small, brown squares that looked almost-red in the caramel light. The grout between them was grimey and marred with the vain efforts of chemical cleaning in some places. Here and there was the forgotten plastic candy wrapper painted with filth, or the patch of blackened gum that knew the soles of countless shoes. 

  Oddball tried to number the reddish tiles, but the messy choir of idle conversations kept making him lose count—the spooling grinder would occasionally chime in to mock his effort. It was stifling. 

  What am I doing in here? It was more of a prompt for justification than a question. It’s not like he’d wanted to come in here. Ashley dragged him here—where was that girl anyways? The realization that the hem of the girl’s cherry raincoat was no longer swaying at the top edge of his vision tripped his heart. His joints locked and stiffened. His arms pressed themselves into his sides. Where did she go? His instincts collided with each other—he went to lift his head and scan the room, but a sudden, icy tension seized his lungs at the birth of movement and pinned his chin to his chest. No! Don’t do that! Don’t do that! Ashley was gone. Seconds passed. The voices grew louder. The voices grew oppressive.

  Ba-dum. 

  His heart punched his ribs. If he weren’t stiff he might have stumbled. Calm down. Fear brought futility. Futility brought fear.

  Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. His heart pushed his brain from his skull in that instant, for the former raced behind his ears while his thoughts felt displaced. 

  Calm down. It was a call from outside: from a rational conscience that was growing distant. “Calm down”, it said as it fled in terror. “Calm down,” it said as it abandoned him in cowardice.

  Ba-dum. Ba-dum, his heart replied from his skull. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. 

  Ca…m …ow…n. It was distant. It was fading. He barely heard it. The noise was too loud. The noise was too cluttered. What was the noise saying? C…lm… d…n.  What was the noise clamoring about? A new feeling took the driver’s seat. I need out. His foot pivoted. The floor-tiles revolved around his feet. I need out. I need out. I need out.

  Did-ding! 

  No good. The air shifted as the warmth leapt out to cordially welcome its new guests. Shoes scraped a hard mat. Shoes squealed on tile. Coats rustled. No good. New voices joined the chaotic coffeeshop choir. They laughed. Oddball flinched at each cluster of bellowed delight. No good. No good. The escape was blocked. No good. The exit was clogged. No good! He was trapped. 

  Ba-dum. The pressure on his chest worsened. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. His lungs were crushed by the weight of chatter. His breathing grew shallow. Ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum. His head felt light. His mouth dried. Each breath hissed against the plastic mask. Badum badum badum. One thought kept time with his heart. Badum badum badum. Out out out. The world was an erratic blur. One foot. Next foot. Out out out. Next foot. Out. Next foot. Out. A faint sound like a dog whistle. Closer. Closer!! A faint ringing behind his eardrums. Almost! It grew louder. 

  Wumpf! Oddball’s left shoulder and the side of his face met something coarse and plush. The something moved. His head flew up. No! It was too late for instinct to intervene now. A scruffy, checkered coat. A chiseled jaw. Thin stubble. Breath tinged with alcohol. Sharp nose.

  Eyes.

  “Watch it." Was that what he said? The ringing was too loud now. Eyes… The man’s lips moved. Only muffled sounds came out. Oddball stopped breathing. Eyes… The ringing drowned out his heart. The ringing drowned out his thoughts. 

  Wide, blue eyes. Shock. Curiosity. Annoyance. Staring. 

  Staring. 

  Staring. Staring. Staring staring staring staringstaringstaringstaringstaringstaringstari…

  White fog enveloped everything—floor tiles, wrappers, tables, facial hair, coats. Everything but the wide blue eyes vanished into the blank. They grew bigger. They grew bigger and bigger until he could trace the red spider web of bloody lines with the palms of his hands. Oddball was empty. There was no blood in his heart. There was no air in his lungs. There was no thought in his skull. He was a shell. A shell of skin and fabric and plastic and flesh in a white void with eyes.

  Whimpering. Crying. Sniffling. 

  Oddball turned. There was a little boy with brown hair. His skin was marred with dirt. His face was twisted and warped with a deep pain. His head was in the lap of a young woman with black hair. Oddball couldn’t make out the eyes of either of the two through shadows casted over their complexions. 

  “Sis,” said the boy, “why do they hate me? Why do they all hate me?” His voice echoed far into the blank expanse. The young woman stroked his head and frowned from beneath the shadow clouding her face. 

  “Because,” she said, “you’re different. But you know what?” 

  “What?” Silence. Did the boy ask or did he? The world was growing dark now. More colossal eyes rose from the nothing at his feet. “What?!” Human shadows stretched to give crude bodies to the eyes. The laughter of children filled the air. “TELL ME WHAT!!”

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(Went over the character limit, had to split this one into two episodes, sorry...)