Young Writers Society

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The café was filled to the brim with busy, bustling bees. The voices in the room were loud, obnoxious. Many of the people speaking didn’t think about what came pouring out of their mouths. Half of those willing to speak had no idea that what they said in this little so called safe house could turn their lives into their own personal hell. I flicked my bangs back from my eyes, scanning the shop. Men with no jobs stood leaning against the counters, hitting on the young baristas serving up iced coffee’s. My boots clicked against the green tile as I slid from my stool. I zipped up my black leather jacket and looked towards the girls’ bathroom expectantly.

“Shanna, Shanna, Shanna!” Little Vanessa pushed opened the dirty white door with the pink stick figure proudly painted on and took off towards me at full speed. Her little body slammed against my legs heavily, almost knocking me over. I smiled and gently peeled her off my jeans, hefting her into the crook my arms made and nuzzled her warmly. She was my little angel, my little ball of sunshine. She filled the dark corners of my mind when I was doing unpleasant things and kept me separated from everyone else I knew. I rocked her gently and bent to pick up her little pink princess bag. “Shanna, can I see mommy now?” I looked down at Vanessa, her brown eyes sparkling and wide. She wanted to see my sister. Of course she did. She’d been stuck with me for two weeks. I nodded and carried her out to the parking lot.

“Shanna.” I stopped, juggling Vanessa and my keys in one hand, and my coffee in the other. I turned to see Christian’s large frame overshadowing mine. I raised an eyebrow and managed to unlock my sister’s minivan, then slid Vanessa carefully into the backseat. I closed the door, smiled at her through the tinted windows, and turned back to Christian. I leaned against the door and crossed my arms, looking at Christian for an explanation. “Shanna, you’ve been off for too long. Those little mutts are running loose all over the damned place.” He gestured towards the café and looked at me harshly. “Do you have any idea how many of them could have been plotting to overthrow us right before your eyes?” I sighed, covering my eyes with my hand and nodded. I pointed at Vanessa with my thumb and raised my eyebrows, daring him to say anything against my taking her home.

“Shanna Banana?” Vanessa’s little nose was pressed against the window, her fingers smudging the glass. I turned to face her and nodded with a plastered on smile, opening the driver’s door. Christian walked to the opposite side and took his place in the passenger seat as I slid in and hit the manual lock button, locking us all in the small, humid car. I turned the key in the ignition and pulled out of the lot, turning the wheel to the left. Christian turned in his seat to face Vanessa and smiled at her, making little grabs at her feet dangling over the cushions. She giggled and squealed, kicked out slightly to avoid Christian’s hands. It always caught me off guard how he treated Vanessa, as if she were his little sister.

After about an hour or so of driving, I pulled into my sister’s driveway. Vanessa was unconscious in the backseat, her stuffed bear clutched tightly in her little hand. I slowly climbed out of the car and opened Vanessa’s door, unbuckling her seatbelt as quietly as I could. I gently picked her up and cradled her in my arms, carrying her up the concrete steps to her home, and knocked on the large red, wood door. Jessica opened the door almost immediately, stealing Vanessa and her warmth from me. Almost instantly I felt dead inside, and couldn’t help but thrust Vanessa’s bag at Jessica. She looked at me, her expression pained, and nodded, her blond curls spilling over her shoulders. Then she closed the door on me, the temporary light Vanessa had given me winking out.

I turned on my heel and walked slowly back to the minivan, sliding into the seat. Christian pat my shoulder, his way of consoling me, and looked out the window. As I pulled back out onto the street he fed me directions, the directions that had already been carved into the side of my brain. Soon enough a large, red brick building was looming above Christian, the minivan and I. I looked at the large, dark house for a while before following Christian out. We made our way to the front door and pushed inside. We hung our coats on the hooks on the wall to my left and stepped around Jack and Derek, who were fighting over who got the bigger gun.

Downstairs, we heard whips slapping against skin and screams echoing off the walls. Christian steered me in the direction of the room at the end of the hall and nodded at the man standing guard. He opened the door and pushed me inside, closing the door behind us. A young man, looking to be in his early twenties, sat tied to a wooden chair. His dirty, greasy brown hair hung in his eyes, untamed and uncut. I sniffed, bringing my hand to my nose to mask the smell of sweat, tears, and blood. His shirt hung in strips off his bare chest. Bones stuck out promptly, glaring at the world. I winced slightly, my eyes catching hints at the long, thin gashes that crept over his shoulders and disappeared down his back.

“You filthy, disgusting mutt.” Christian kicked out one of the legs on the chair, causing the man to slide forward and land roughly on the stone floor. A sickening crack echoed through the room as his nose broke, and I couldn’t help but turn from the sight of him. How I had managed to stay in this business so long was a mystery. The man spit at Christian, blood splattering on his shiny loafers. Christian hissed and his arm struck out in the man’s direction. My hand beat him to the victim, and to my surprise, took the blow Christian had intended for the man that was practically kneeling at our feet.

“So, this time it wasn’t enough to beat me. You had to bring an audience.” I turned to the man, stunned that he dared to speak in front of Christian. Most of the gifted people we brought here were too scared to utter a prayer to see the next sunrise. Christian smirked and knelt down beside him, grabbing his chin and yanking his head up. He looked into his dark brown eyes and cocked his head to the side, making him look at me. I wanted to drop my eyes but found that it would cause me more trouble in the end, so I managed to lock my eyes with his. For a minute, I saw hope in his eyes.

I knew he could tell that I wasn’t as ‘hard-core’ as everyone else, and that gave him hope. He wanted me help him. I dropped my eyes, and Christian let go of his chin. I couldn’t help but reach out to catch him before he hit the floor. My heart ached slightly, and I knew that I shouldn’t have grabbed him. Giving someone with no chance hope was beyond cruel. Christian looked at me sharply and stood, taking hold of my jacket as he did so. I managed to let the man down carefully while Christian yanked me up. He opened the door and motioned for me to move out. Just as I was about to put my foot out, one of the broken splinters from the leg of the chair imbedded itself deeply into the back of my thigh. I inhaled deeply, sucking in the tight pain in my thigh and turned to see the man on the floor looking at me, his muddy brown eyes pleading. He’d just used his gift to hurt me, yet I couldn’t fight back the pang of guilt I felt seeing him on the floor like that.

He looked just like Justin had when we brought him in years ago. Christian hissed in frustration and pushed me out, pulling the door shut behind him.

The guard that had been guarding the door took my arm and pulled me towards the stairs, and I knew he intended on bringing me to Kelly, so she could pull out the wood, clean the wound and bandage me up. I struggled to slow him down, and we were at the bottom of the steps when I heard the man in the room at the end of the hall cry out in pain.

I bit my lip, gnawing on the uneven skin as the guard walked me up to Kelly’s little haven. We elbowed our way through other members of “The Kill” as the gifted had named us. I stumbled into Kelly’s office, the walls bleached white and the floor cold tile. Kelly hopped out of her chair and winked at the guard- George, I think his name is. His vise of a grip let go and the blood slowly started flowing through my arm again. Kelly tsked at me and turned me around, looking for the cause of my visit.

When she saw it she winced- Kelly was as good a doctor as any, but she was weak. She carefully pushed me onto one of the sterile linen-clothed beds and poked experimentally around the area. I sucked in a breath of clean, fresh air free of the horror I saw and helped make every day. She grabbed a pair of tweezers and gently began to pick out the wood. After ten excruciating minutes, all the splinters were out and my skin stung and gave off a prickly feeling.

Kelly slapped some alcohol on my cut. I buried my face in the pillow and bit back a scream. Pain isn’t something that anyone ever gets used to, despite the tough poker faces they use as a mask when they’re getting the skin lashed off their backs. I was panting and numb by the time Kelly had wrapped my thigh in bandages. She rubbed her chin for a minute after flipping me over and hummed low. “I don’t think you need crutches- you a strong woman.” Kelly smiled and bowed her head respectfully. She was from Japan, and her original name was too hard for the rest of us to pronounce so we all just called her Kelly.

“Now, out out! Many people to help, little time. Bye, bye!” Kelly persuaded me to limp out of the room and down the hall. I came to the large spiral, iron staircase and gripped the railing as I dragged myself up the stairs. I hopped onto the second floor and made my way to the third door on the left of the hall I had come into and pushed open the door that had my name in bold print on it. I walked to my bed and dropped down on it, the mattress refusing to bend underneath me. Instead, it bounced up and made my little bottom fly up a few inches with it.

I laid back on my bed, curling under the covers and looked up at my ceiling. I closed my eyes and turned onto my side, gingerly running my fingers over my thigh. I sighed and yawned, tired from the day. It wasn’t long before my eyes were forced open by the sound of the loud, whaling alarm. I propelled myself from the bed and flipped on my light. Yanking open my closet door I threw my clothes aside and grabbed a few tiny daggers, shoving them into my belt. Either someone had broken in, or someone had broken out.