The Fallen Ch. 01

There was nothing left for me in that old life. My mom was dead. I've never been good at making friends, so I had none of those. Mom's parents had passed as well, and with mom being an only child I have no other relatives to speak of. There was not a damn thing holding me there. So I retreated from the house that only served to remind me of what I'd lost. Now, here I am at Bay Ridge Academy.

Staring at the ceiling.

Wondering why my stomach is growling.

Probably because I skipped breakfastandlunch today. I turn my head and note that it's 3:04 PM. I've been able to hear the faint clanging of the distant school bell all afternoon, and as my clock flips to 3:05 I hear that distant but clarion sound once more as classes end for the day.

I open my duffel bag and dig out the handful of granola bars I'd packed inside for the plane ride over, setting them on my nightstand. I stare at the snacks, thinking it would be better to go to the student union's cafeteria to get some real food. That would mean dealing with people, though.

I'll pass...

I rip open the packaging of a granola bar and lay back on my bed. I take a bite of the crunchy, gritty bar and chew slowly, trying to empty my mind so I don't have to dwell on how miserable I am right now. There's this aching hole in my heart where my mom used to be, but she had always taught me if I can tough out a loss then I'll only be stronger for it.

I'm trying, mom. I really am, but it's hard.

I think I dozed off at some point because a knock on my door rouses me. The sharp rapping causes me to jump awake, and I have a few confused seconds before I remember where I am. I get up from the bed, walk to the door, and peer through the peephole. I recognize the guy standing there from his picture. My brother is in the hallway looking around as he waits.

For a split second I consider pretending I'm not here. I'm not really in the mood for people right now, but, then again, when am I ever in the mood for people?

I shake my head and brush off my reluctance with a deep breath before opening the door.

Christopher is about a head taller than me and slightly stocky, but it's in a muscular way. He has a pleasant, handsome face with green eyes and black hair. It's weird. I feel like I'm staring into a mirror that shows what I'd look like as the opposite gender. I suppose it's to be expected. Heismy twin after all.

His fashion sense looks like it came straight from the early double-aughts, though. The black jeans, black silk shirt with the top two buttons undone, and the cocky smile screams "jock". His clothes fit well, though, unlike some guys who can't seem to grasp the basic concept of 'wear clothing that actually fits'.

I see the brace wrapped around his right wrist and say, "You're hurt."

He lifts his injured hand a little and looks at it, his other hand going up to scratch lightly at the back of his head. I think he was expecting a "hi" or "hello", but I just have to be an oddball and start off by pointing out something relatively irrelevant.

"Yeah, it's nothing," he chuckles. "Zigged when I should have zagged I guess. Doc says it'll be fine in a few days."

An awkward silence fills the air between us, and I feel as though I should say something to greet him.

"You're my brother," is all I can think to say.

Gack. Way to point out the obvious, Sherlock. Why can't my brain and mouth ever agree on anything?

Brain: 'Say something nice.'

Mouth: 'Derp.'

"Uh-huh," he nods.

Leave it to me to make what should be a happy family reunion feel uncomfortable. Christopher's expression becomes slightly troubled, as if he's pondering something thorny. He's probably thinking 'great, my sister's a drooling idiot'.

A slightly self-conscious smile graces Chris' face as he says, "I'm really happy I finally get to meet you, Erykah."

He leans forward slightly, his arms lifting just a bit, but then he stops with indecision written on his face. The expression fades away to be replaced by a conscious resolve, and my brother wraps his arms around me in a gentle hug.

In that moment I feel a powerful connection to him. Maybe it's because he's my twin, flesh of my flesh and blood of my blood, or maybe it's something else entirely. The feeling is confusing. Either way, a wall I've been holding up for two weeks crumbles.

After mom's death I had no one I felt I could really talk to, no shoulder to cry on, so I had to stay strong. Or at least pretend to. I labored under the belief that it made me weak and flawed if I showed anyone how much I hurt inside. I ended up pushing all the grief, denial, pain, and anguish down deep and locking it away where no one could see it.

Now it all comes flooding out.

I bury my face against the soft, silk shirt covering Christopher's chest and wrap my arms around his middle, clutching him tight. I cryepicallywith heavy, heaving sobs shaking me.

Christopher strokes my head softly and begins repeating, "It's okay."

I'm not sure how long we stand in my doorway like that. I don't know if it sounds weird or even bad, but crying about the shitty hand life dealt me feels so very good. It's an immense relief to finally be able to let go, and for some reason I feel safe in the arms of this brother I just barely met.

After a time my waterworks taper off, but I still hold my brother in a tight embrace.

"Thank you," I breathe softly against his chest.

"It's okay," he repeats one more time. "Is that the first time you cried?"

"Yeah," I nod.

"I'm glad I could be here for you," Christopher says affectionately.

I slowly release my grip and take a step back from him, using my sweater's sleeve to wipe away the remnants of tears from my cheeks.

"I'm sorry," I utter in a quiet tone.

"Don't be," he shakes his head. "I'm not."

"It's embarrassing."

"What, being human?" he smiles in a way that makes him look angelic. "Don't sweat it."

"I just met you, and here I am crying all over you," I say with a tiny sniffle.

"Well, hey...not that I have a lot of experience making girls cry, but I don't think tears will ruin my shirt," he laughs.

"I hope not," I chuckle. "That shirt looks good on you."

Wait...did I justlaugh? Holy crap...I think I did. I almost forgot what it feels like.

"Thanks," he says, a little surprised by my casual compliment.

"I'm sorry," I shake my head at my lack of manners as I motion toward my room, "would you like to come in?"

"Actually," Christopher begins, "I wanted to see if you'd like to go into the city. You know, to buy food or anything. The cafeteria can get really expensive after a while."

"That...that would be nice," I nod, a slight smile pulling my lips upward.

* * * * * *

It's about 10 PM that night when I finally get on some pajamas and lay down in bed, but sleep is strangely elusive. I'm really tired from the day, but I keep thinking of how wonderful my brother has turned out to be. He's like a more sociable version of me, and I get the sense that he'sreallya good guy...not just a pretender. He even stayed to help me put away all the groceries, kitchenware, and toiletries I bought, but the 7 PM gender curfew was looming close so we didn't get much time to hang out and talk afterward.

The couple hours I spent with him weren't boring at all, though. Chris kept me entertained with stories of places he's been throughout the world. I discover he can speak fluent Japanese and passable German. Apparently he'd learned the languages while living abroad with father.

I tried to bring up our dad in conversation, but Christopher seemed evasive about him. At first I thought maybe my brother and father didn't get along all that well, but even that was difficult to nail down. Eventually I gave up on the subject, and we talked about other things, much to Chris' relief. I'm positive there's something he won't or can't tell me about father, but I didn't want to push too hard.

At the end of our shopping sojourn I certainly felt as if my brother and I were quickly becoming friends. We actually have a staggering amount of things in common. Our favorite color is purple, we both like operatic goth/rock music, we're both into sci-fi books and shows, neither of us can stand green beans, we both love spicy food, and the list goes on and on.

At about 10:30 I give up on falling asleep right away. I get out of bed, sit at my desk, and try to read a book. It's a sci-fi novel, my favorite genre, but for some reason I put it down after five pages. I can't help feeling restless for some reason. I get up from the work desk and walk to my kitchenette. I open the fridge and stare at it's contents out of insomniac boredom.

Maybe I just need a snack to help me sleep, but nothing in there looks appetizing right now. I didn't really buy any junk food, trying to stick to the basics, and I realize some Twinkies would really hit the spot. I remember seeing a vending machine in the first floor lobby. I think I remember it having Twinkies...maybe.

I head to my closet to change clothes. I even get so far as opening the sliding door before it occurs to me there's no need. There's only supposed to be girls in the dorm this time of night, and my pajamas aren't revealing anyway. I grab my room key and a few dollars from my purse before heading into the hallway, locking my door behind.

The hallway is empty of people, and I head toward the elevator. I notice a hall-mate's front door is open a bit, but there's no light shining from within. Strange. Did she go to sleep and forget to close her door? I think about simply shutting the door.

I should probably just ignore it, get my Twinkies, and go back to my room.

I'm not sure why, but I stop and lean closer to the darkened room, calling out softly, "Hello? Is anyone there?"

My hand reaches out slowly to the door, as if something within the darkened place is calling to me.

What in the hell am I doing?

I push the door open, once more calling out, "Hello?"

Looking around I notice a soft glow coming from the kitchen area. Bits of light are escaping from around the closed bathroom door.

"Is anyone here?" I ask the empty room.

This is someone else's room! Get out dope!

Despite my internal alarm bells going off I move forward, as if an unknown force is compelling me to keep going. I find myself standing in front of the bathroom door. The light coming from beneath it is dim and wavering. I hold my breath and listen, but only perfect silence comes from the other side.

"Is anyone there?" I whisper in a tense tone.

With a shaking hand I reach out to the bathroom door.

Last chance to turn back.

I turn the knob and push the door open. It's hinges groan obnoxiously loud in the dead silence as it swings inward.

There are several tall candles atop the sink, their flickering flames washing me with their subdued light. They've been burning for a while, long rivulets of wax running down the the sink's ceramic basin and wooden sides.

There's a girl lying in the tub full of water, her eyes closed and her body unmoving. Her skin looks very pale, and her short blond hair is still dry. Her face is so stunningly beautiful that merely looking at her makes my heart ache with an unexpected longing.

What the fuck am I doing?

"Are you sleeping?" I whisper, my voice cracking.

I move closer to the tub and the dark water that fills it, a rising dread forcing it's way up my stomach. The water is murky red, and I begin to notice the thick, metallic smell in the air. There's a bloodied razor blade at the edge of the tub.

Oh my God...

I should run screaming...or run for help...orsomething.

Instead I find myself moving closer. I kneel next to the tub and reach out with a trembling hand. My fingers press against her neck where the artery should be. I feel a thready pulse. It beats weakly three times before it stops.

The angel-faced girl dies.

It strikes me how odd it is that a girl this beautiful would kill herself. What happened in her life that was so horrible the only way out was to end it all? Even after losing my mom I can't imagine a pain so monolithic that this is the only answer.

I shake my head in vehement denial.

No.

Nothing is worth this.

I won't let this happen!

A powerful instinct and dark secret guides my hands into the sanguine waters. I grip the dead girl by the forearms and lift her dripping limbs to my sight. The wrist closest to me is sliced open. In a detached way I note how she cut down the road...not across the street. This wasn't a cry for help. She truly wanted to die.

I allow her unmarked arm to drift back into the waters as I lift her opened wrist closer. I clamp one hand over the deathly wound and close my eyes. I fall into myself.

Don't turn away from me, little angel...

A warmth forms within me. It starts at the base of my spine and flows upward like the current of a lightning bolt. I gasp, drawing a breath inward as the power builds inside. My eyes snap open, and I exhale powerfully as Ipushlife back into this girl of such ethereal beauty.

She twitches briefly as her skin flushes pink with an unnatural suddenness. Her eyes fly open and she inhales with a sharp and shuddering breath. With chest heaving, her gaze flashes around the room as if remembering.

Her radiant blue, terror-filled eyes lock on my face.

"What...? How...?" her voice grates roughly before she begins coughing almost violently.

I come back to myself and totally freak out in normal Erykah style. In a panic I jump upward and sprint from the bathroom with a squeak of fear.

"Wait..." the girl croaks weakly.

I rebound painfully from the kitchenette counter, and in my haste I knock her coffee maker to the floor. I hear glass shatter as I dash into the hallway and fly to my room. I bounce off my front door before remembering I'd locked it. I fumble the key from my pocket and drop it. With clumsy, shaking fingers I pick it up and somehow manage to get my door unlocked. My jelly legs carry me inside. I slam my door closed, run to the bed, and dive under it's covers.

I quiver in absolute confusion and fear until my fevered, exhausted mind gives up, and I pass out.

* * * * * *

I get an early start the next day, but my dream from last night haunts me all morning. It had seemed soreal, but it couldn't be...right? There's just no way. I laugh at the absurdity. Of course it was only a dream.

I eat a bowl of cereal, shower quickly, and get ready for my first day of school in this new place. The uniforms Thomas had gotten me fit well enough. I go to the bathroom mirror to see if Ilookas silly as Ifeelwearing it. It actually doesn't look too bad, though this burgundy color scheme isn't exactly my favorite. It reminds me of the red and cloudy waters from my dream last night.

I shake my head and try to brush away the memory of that crazy, vivid nightmare.

I like the white, cotton, button up shirt, but the jacket feels strangely heavy. I prefer light sweaters. I reach down and tug at the knee length skirt to adjust it slightly. It feels a bit...airy down there, and I can't help but wonder how it will be when winter hits. I don't really feel like wearing six pairs of panties to keep my coochie from freezing.

Oh well. I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.

I gather my books and school supplies, stuffing them into the backpack I bought yesterday during my shopping trip with Christopher. I make my way out into the throng of girls moving and chatting throughout the dormitory halls. I can't help but stare at the door from my dreams as I wait for the elevator, but it's firmly closed. I take the lift to the first floor and exit the building.

I have to ask for directions, but I soon find myself walking into my homeroom. It would seem I'm not the only early bird. There are already a few students within, and I'm a bit surprised to see Thomas is one of them.

Huh...he's in my homeroom. What are the odds?

"Good morning, Erykah," he says with a wave when he sees me.

He gets up from his desk and walks over to meet me.

"Morning," I respond simply.

He gazes at me with a probing look.

"Are you alright?" he asks.

I still had that freakishly realistic, yet impossible dream knocking around my brain case. Was it showing that much on my face?

"Weird dream," I explain.

"Oh. I guess that might happen in a new place. But hey, it's pretty cool we're in homeroom together!" he says with that handsome smile of his.

I look away shyly and say, "Yeah."

"So it's your first day. You excited?"

"Not really," I shrug.

"Aw, come on! This place is awesome! You're gonna love the teachers. The workload can be tough, but it's challenging and we do a lot of fun projects," Thomas enthuses.

"Sounds great," I mutter uncomfortably.

Sheesh. Could I be any more of a cold fish? The poor guy is only trying to be social and friendly, and I'm responding with one and two word sentences. No wonder people never like me. Why can't I talk with people like my mom and I used to talk?

I think Thomas senses how uncomfortable I am, and he lets me off the hook.

"Well, homeroom is gonna start in a few, and I wanna double check some homework real quick."

"Okay," I nod.

Thomas gives me another smile before turning around to go back to his desk. He stops and spins around to face me again.

"Oh, are you going to have lunch with Chris and I today?" he asks.

Christopher...

The dream had me so off-kilter I'd completely forgotten how I was able to talk with my brother yesterday like I was a normal girl. That's a good idea, actually. With Chris there maybe I won't act so...rude? Stupid? Boring?

"Sure," I nod, a slight smile on my lips at the thought of spending more time with Chris.

"Great!" Thomas says, that attractive smile of his spreading over his face again. "We'll look for you in the cafeteria then."

"Okay."

Thomas goes back to his desk, opening up his folder and scanning some papers. I find a desk near Thomas', but not too close. I don't want him to think I hate him, but I also don't want to be so close that he feels compelled to talk to me. He's just too...

Face it Erykah. You think he's sexy.

Oh God, I do think that, don't I?

I put my elbows on my desk and place my face in my palms. I'd like to tell myself it's just teenage hormones, but it's like there's something more there. I don't get much time to examine my feelings because I get the sense of someone staring at me. I look up from my self-face-palm and look over at Thomas, but he's still reviewing his homework.

I turn to scan the room, and that's when I seeher.

The divinely gorgeous blond from my dream is standing in the doorway to the classroom. Her ice blue eyes widen, and her mouth drops open slightly when she notices me. Our eyes lock. We gaze at each other, and I'm unable to look away. She's about my height, maybe a hair taller, but her body is soft and feminine in all the ways mine is not. I can see her buxom chest rising and falling swiftly.

Her perfect beauty is exactly as I remember it.

Was it really a dream? Ithadto be! What I recall happening is impossible! Did I sleepwalk last night? Maybe I unknowingly wandered into her room and made a damn fool of myself. That must be it. I don't remember ever having issues with sleepwalking, but stress can do funny things to a person.

I notice two girls step up behind the blond, and one of them almost immediately begins to tap her foot impatiently. They can't get into the classroom because the girl from my dream is blocking the doorway.

"Move, slut!" the impatient girl barks with a cruel loudness, drawing the attention of everyone in class.

The blond girl looks down and starts to step forward, but apparently it's not quick enough for the second girl.