Day One in Mercy
The new house sucks.
Three stories, crammed between others- like an apartment. What's the word? Oh, yeah. Townhouse. It's an annoying word. It's not even a house! It's just a long apartment with multiple stories and a yard! Ugh. It annoys me how my parents can drag me into this horrible town named Mercy. Who would name a town Mercy?
Well. The weather in Mercy sure isn't merciful. It's raining as I walk down the street because the wardens, my parents, ordered me to take a walk.
"Maybe you'll meet people," my mother commented cheerfully.
"Yeah, and maybe they'll hate me," I mumbled back.
But now I just walked. My Superman hoodie was too big but usually I didn't care; but with these big pellets of rain slamming into my back every second it was starting to get cold. I pulled my sleeve up, but that didn't really help. I ran my tongue over my frozen piercings and cursed silently. But still I trudged on.
I don't know why I didn't turn around. Maybe I didn't want to go home to parents who had no idea what I was going through. Or maybe, deep down, I knew fate would pull me to them anyways and I just wanted to get it over with.
But after almost half an hour of walking in the rain, after I was sure I could legally be considered soaking wet, I burst open the door to a random little warehouse.
"Hey!" a voice called. I looked up, to the ledge, where it had come from. A boy sat there, dressed in an over sized leather coat that was covered in patches and a beanie. He waved and motioned for me to come up. "Warm yourself up. You look like you need it more than I do."
"Uh, I... I'm fine down here. Thanks, though. I'll leave you be, I'd hate to intrude." I pulled open the door, but the voice called back.
"Nonsense! You're welcome here! Besides, you can't go back out there like that!" He was so sweet, so kind... I had to give in. So I, reluctantly, found the stairs and climbed them.
At the top sat a man with a small scruffy beard. His dark hair had grown out for some time, and a patchy beard had grown on his narrow face. A small smile was plastered on his face, but it was out shined by his blue eyes that were sweet and caring. He seemed to be a nice enough person.
"Name?" he asked me.
"Toby," I responded reluctantly.
"Toby. Nice name. Mine's Vik."
"Vik? Never knew a Vik before."
"That's 'cause we're rare," he laughed. "Usually we reside in the wild, in the trees or something. I'm a domestic Vik. I live in a warehouse and take in soaking strangers named Toby."
"Us Toby's are shy," I admitted. "We usually don;t talk to strangers, but Viks' seem to be nice enough."
"That's because us Vik's, we care. We don't judge. You can be safe with us."
The conversation went on like that for hours before I passed out, the fire between Vik and I.
When I woke up, I realized that, though I was dry now, it was still raining. Giving in, I figured I'd have to walk anyeays; my phone had died halfway through the night.
