“Oh,” said Zoe, obviously wondering how that classed as ‘deep shit’.
I looked at Darran gratefully. We’d never needed to discuss how to answer that question before. We usually kept to ourselves. I felt Zoe look up at me. It had been a long time since a girl had looked at me like that.
“So,” Darran said to her, “what brings you to America?”
“My grandma lives here. I ran away from home and came to live with her.”
“Why’d you run away?” he asked.
“My dad got remarried a few years ago and she’s... horrible. She treats me alright when he’s around but when he’s at work or something, she treats me like crap.”
“I know how you feel,” I said quietly, without meaning to.
Zoe looked up at me. I looked at her and some sort of understanding passed between us. She looked about fifteen. Her dark green eyes seemed to swirl in the lights and her straight auburn hair shone. Her smooth, golden skin seemed to glow. Her pouting lips were a pale pink that made her perfect.
She looked away, embarrassed. She smiled to herself as I looked away. My ash blond hair fell across my forehead as I turned back to the window. I felt my brown eyes sliding shut. I was kicking myself inside.
Don’t go to sleep now, you twat! I shouted at myself, but my brain wouldn’t listen. I just fell asleep anyway, hoping I wouldn’t do something I’d regret.
I was lying in an alley, bleeding to death. When the last drop of blood fell from the multiple wounds, I sat up. I looked around, I couldn’t remember much, just that I should have been dead. I stood up wobbling all over the place. I grabbed the rim of a bin to support me. I looked down at myself. I was soaking in blood but the wounds had closed and already faded to scars.
I felt something hit my leg hard, but I couldn’t see anything. I felt it again. I felt something hit my face and I jolted awake, looking around, paranoid.
Darran was sitting back down in his seat. I sat back in the seat, thankful that I was out of that dream, that nightmare. I knew what happened next, what always happened next.
“Why are you so hard to wake up?” asked Darran.
“Always have been,” I muttered.
“I kicked you four times and resorted to slapping you.”
I felt the bones in my calf fixing themselves. He must have been kicking me pretty hard, if he managed to shatter the bones.
“Thank you,” I said, meaning it. Zoe looked at me as if I was going insane. Maybe I was.
I looked out the window. It was dark outside. How long had I been asleep? More than long enough.
Eyes, said Darran in my head.
I looked at myself in the window, using it as a mirror. He was right, my eyes had gone black.
Crap, I replied.