Hello!
So I'd just like to start by saying I WILL be continuing HOME. I promise. This story just crept up on me and demanded to be written. I honestly couldn't stop thinking about it until I typed it up at 4 am. I'd also like to thank my new editor, Nehkara, for being super awesome and helping me out.I'm forever grateful.
As always, constructive feedback is welcome.
-Kat
PROLOGUE
Parker
When I was 7 years old, I took my first swim class. My dad hadn't thought I'd ever really need a class up until then, seeing as how we lived in a land-locked state. No very good logic if you ask me, but I was 7 and way too excited to give a hoot. Don't ask me what prompted him to wake me up that summer Saturday and take me to the local rec center. He just did. And I was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Most, if not all of my friends could swim by then. My lacking in that area was one of many shortcomings I overcame as a kid. But then again, everyone goes through that sort of sad shit, right? Anyway, when we got to the indoor pool, everything sort of hit me at once. The smell of chlorine water, the whooping sounds of other children at play, the bodies swiftly bouncing about in the crystalline blue water. My head was moving back and forth, trying to take it all in at once. I looked over my shoulder and saw my father strolling in behind me, his dark shades still on indoors, his beer keg belly bulging out in front of him. His presence alone was enough of an okay for me to go sprinting into the crowd. And I did. I did a quick scan of the water and saw an area that was oddly scarce , compared to the other places where the kids were warming up. And because I was such a bad ass little rebel, I choose that area to make my grand entrance into swim class. I gathered all my wits about me and went bounding in, feet first into the deep end.
Those first few moments in the water were the best of my life. The cool crisp water engulfed me, sucking me into a new world, a different world, full of joys and wonders. It was overwhelming and exhilarating and fantastic all at once. I opened my eyes to slits and saw the distorted image of the world I'd left behind. It was nothing more than a glassy mirage to me then. Something traded in for something else, a better else. I opened my mouth to express my utter joy at that moment and all at once, my new watery wonderland changed into terrifying tundra.
The lack of air was so startling then. Like I'd assumed that the air, the comfort for which I survived on, would follow me into the water. That no matter what, I'd have the air to fall back on. But now, thrashing in the pool, I had nothing but my terror. My arms and legs fought the water hell, trying to push it away and escape back to the world I'd abandoned. But it was like the water was refusing to let me go. Like I'd made the choice to enter this new and uncharted place and there was no turning back, no way to escape. I would drown that day. For being a stupid cocky child, I would die. I would be joining my mother, which I would have loved back then, but while in the water that peace hadn't occurred to me. Nothing really occurred to me except fear. A deep rooted and paralyzing fear.
A lifeguard did eventually fished me out and I did have to face my father's fists for humiliating him in public with my first, but not last, near-death experience. The whole thing probably only lasted a few seconds, but those few seconds were etched into me that afternoon, as many such experiences are in children.
You'll never forget your first kiss and the first time you're face to face with death. Although, people don't really talk about the latter.
That swim, my first swim, feels now like God's way of foreshadowing the sweet hell I'd be facing in my adulthood. It was a warning. Like, "Hey, prepare yourself bud. Cuz' you ain't seen nothin' yet."
God was right. I had only a taste of what was to come.
It all crashed in on me when I met Avery Carter.
As I sit here now, with blood slowly making its way out of my body, I can't help but feel like I should have seen this coming.
Scratch that. A blind man would have seen this coming.
And what's my excuse for allowing myself to be in a situation where I've been shot, there's a warrant out for my arrest, and there are mob members after me?
A girl!
A pretty fucking girl.
Ain't that some shit.
I know my dad is rolling around in his grave right now, cursing that he'd ever had such a pathetic dumb ass for a son. I honestly can't blame him. She had beautiful eyes, so I ignored what I saw. She had a cute smile, so I quelled my suspicions. She had a great pair of tits, so I pretended not to notice certain things. Jesus, when had I become so pussy whipped?! It was a rhetorical question, of course, because I was whipped from the moment I met her. I will, for the rest of my life, (which may only be a few more minutes, it would seem) forever curse that night.
I try to sit up, but the pain too god damn stifling. Fuck. This is bad. This is really fuckin' bad. What's even more paralyzing than the pain, is the sound of running footsteps. They are getting closer and louder. There are lots of them, coming from above and below. I didn't know which were which, the cops or the mob guys, and it really didn't matter. They both wanted me and they both would spell my death if they got me. And then there was the guy I'd shot staring at me from the other side of the room. His eyes were dead, most definitely, and yet were laughing at me at the same time.
"You've done it now, you stupid little shit," they seemed to say, in their cold dead laughing way, "You fucked with the wrong people. You killed the wrong fuckin' guy, and now you're gonna join me in hell you son of a bitch."
I closed my eyes and began to heave in breaths, trying like hell to slow down my heart so it'd be easier to think. I was tempted to put my hands over my ears to block out the dead man's words, but I remembered then that he wasn't really speaking.
It was in my head. All of it.
It's funny how madness seems to set in so quickly after a horrible incident. Perhaps I was always a madman and never truly realized my potential until I'd gotten involved with Avery. I sure as hell had been acting like my mind train had derailed, but it took looking into the face of the man I'd killed to make that one hundred percent clear to me. But none of it was going to help me out now.
C'mon Parker. You gotta think. THINK dammit! You've gotta get outta here. You can't go up and you can't go down. Where can you go?
The fire escape.
This was a bad idea. Neither side was lacking in man power. There could be guys out there on the escape now, trying to get in. I opened my eyes and tried to stand. The pain shot through me again and I had to suppress a yelp. I grabbed the backpack and slowly walked over to the window. Miracle of all miracles, there was no one making their way up it. I heard a crash from overhead. Panic threatened to swallow up my mind again, but I kept it at bay. I needed to stay calm and sharp if I was going to get out of this alive.
I slung the backpack over my shoulders and propped open the window. It took a lot out of me, but the hoots of the approaching men scared me out of any creeping exhaustion. I gave one more glance to my dead compadre slumped over in the corner. His eyes were speaking again, but they didn't say too much. Just one more sentence that I'd probably hear in my sleep for a while (assuming I'd be waking up afterwards).
"I'll be seeing you again," his eyes said. They were probably right.
"Hurry up boys! That twiggy faggot is on the 6th floor!" I heard some macho son of a bitch holler from below. It was hard to hear, but the fact that I could make it out at all was a bad sign of their closeness.
