He hadn’t believed I was human since he saw me outside Temple Bar as I’d stood watching street mimes, laughing my ass off, one hand shoved in my pocket, the other cramming a cheeseburger in my mouth. I’d had two black eyes and was badly bruised, still drunk on being able to freeze-frame all over the city before I learned to lock my mental grid down.
But that wasn’t when we’d met. We hadn’t met for some time after that.
Still, he had a flawlessly detailed memory of walking up behind me, stopping a matter of mere inches from my back, pausing for a moment, inhaling deeply, before vanishing in that eerie, instant way of his. If I’d sensed an electrifying presence behind me, I’d written it off as my own excitement at finally being free in the world.
He’d known about me long before he came to find me on that water tower, to rope me into working for him.
I tried to ponder that thought but my brain was sluggish and uncooperative. I couldn’t access any of my mental vaults. Was this how normal people felt? How terrible that must be! How did they even stand it? I had sludge in my head.
My legs went out from under me then.
As I slumped to the floor, I cried out to Ryodan, “Don’t catch me! Don’t touch me! I’m dangerous!”
Ryodan smiled faintly but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I think we’ve figured that out.”
FALLING
Belong, e
tymology: Old English, “gelang,” “at hand,” “together with.”
Definition: To be suitable, advantageous, appropriate.
To have the proper qualifications, especially social, to be a member of a group, to fit.
To be attached, bound by birth, allegiance or dependency.
To be a son, daughter, mother, father, lover.
Families belong to each other.
I have no idea what the word means.
My mom said I “belonged” in a cage.
But I know better.
I’ve never belonged anywhere.
—DANI O’MALLEY
What have I become, my sweetest friend
“HEY, SHAZ-MA-TAZ,” I GREETED him with weary cheer, as I trudged into my bedroom and flipped on the overhead light.
He raised his great shaggy head from the mattress on the floor and peered at me, scanning me intently from head to toe. It was a look we’d often given each other after battle, ascertaining whether the other was okay.
His violet eyes widened. “You’re thorny!” he exclaimed. “That’ll be a tryllium scratch!”
One of my old passwords used to be thornybitch314159, a combination of how I sometimes felt plus the first six digits of pi. I considered choosing more wisely in the future. “That I am. I assume tryllium’s good?”
“The best!” he enthused, but sobered quickly. “Are you all right, Yi-yi?” he fretted. “It grew again.”
“I’m fine,” I said, slipping out of my dress. “I’m going to wash up then I need big-time cuddles. Oodles of them.”
“And we’ll put the mattress back up?”
“You betcha.” I headed for the shower.