f l y. {chapter three is wip; looking for crit!}

[winter.]

CHAPTER 2
Light blinds me as I emerge from the forest into a manicured backyard. Lush, green grass blankets the ground, with a few stones sticking up every once in awhile. Trees scattered throughout add a natural feel, and in the middle of it all sit two weathered wooden chairs, facing the forest. Suddenly, I hear a deep rumbling around the front of the house. I duck back into the forest and hurry past the side of the house. Peeking out from behind the trunk of a large pine, I look to see what is going on. A school bus has stopped to let someone off. My heart skips a beat when I see who this ‘someone’ is.

Is it really him? It has to be. After seeing his face so many times, I could pick him out of any crowd. His thick, wavy, dark brown hair is messy, like always. His piercing green eyes are framed by eyelashes and eyebrows just as dark. The bus pulls away, and he walks across the yard to the front door. I feel tempted to run up to him and ask for help, but I resist. What if he doesn’t remember me? Besides, I could be a fugitive. What if his parents are home and they turn me in? I’ll just have to wait. After the door slams shut, I sneak over to the window and hide behind a bush. I peer through the glass, hoping that he won’t see me. He heads up the staircase, disappearing in a matter of seconds. I duck back down and grab my knees. For the first time in days, I think about how hungry I am. In fact, I’m starving. I look down at my arms and see that they’re much bonier than I remember; much paler too. I have to do something; I’ll die if I stay out here.

Eventually, I work up the nerve to ring the doorbell. Besides, if his parents do answer, I can just hide in the bush. I gulp down my fear and press the button. I hear a muffled ringing through the door and footsteps thumping down the stairs. I contemplate running back into the forest, but I am paralyzed. This is it. The doorknob twists and the door swings open. The boy that I remember stares back at me, not believing. “I-Ivy?”

. . . . .

He holds me in his arms, squeezing me so tight that I fear I might snap in half. I don’t mind though: it’s been far too long since I’ve felt the warmth of embrace. He steps back and looks at me with bewilderment. “Ivy! Oh my god! What happened to you? A-are you okay?” He grabs my hand and tries to pull me inside. “Quick, come in-“ But I resist. He looks at me first with confusion, but soon realizes what I meant. “Don’t worry. My parents aren’t here.” We hurry inside, where he sits me down on a couch in what appears to be the living room. It is then when he really looks me over. I see the pain in his face increase the longer he looks. I can tell he has many questions, but first he rushes into the kitchen. It is not long before he returns with a peanut butter-and-jelly sandwich and a glass of water. He hands me the plate and glass, not saying anything. He promptly sits down across from me and stares. I am too hungry to be concerned with etiquette, so I devour the sandwich in less than a minute. His mouth gapes open, and I blush in return. “I’ll go make a few more.” This process continues until I’ve eaten close to six. He doesn’t say anything the entire time; he only stares. He shouldn’t have to see me like this; he’s obviously upset. Suddenly, he jumps up and wraps his arms around me, cradling me against his chest. This touch is different from the first: it’s more careful and restrained. He must realize how fragile I am.

I am carried upstairs to his bedroom, where I am set down on his bed. He leaves the room and returns with a wet rag. I don’t know why, until he wipes it against the sole of my foot. I wince from the pain and pull my foot back. I see the raw, bloodied skin and remember that I made the entire journey barefoot. What concerns me is not the pain, but the silence. I look down at his face and see that it is frozen in a mixed state of sorrow, anger, and concern. I wish I could tell him that I’m okay. But then, another thought occurs to me. How will I explain that I can’t speak? I decide to wait until it is absolutely necessary, as to not shock him any further. Luckily, he asks no further questions. In fact, after he is done cleaning off the blood, he lays out a t-shirt and boxers and leaves the room entirely.

. . . . .

I am left observing my reflection in the mirror on his wall. However, the image is so disfigured, I can’t believe it’s me at all. Oh my god. No wonder he was so upset; I look ghastly. The soiled nightgown hangs limply over my wasted body. My skin is pale and void of color; my limbs are skeletal and weak, but luckily, I still have some muscle left as a result of the running. Thick, wavy hair the color of flax hangs down past my shoulders, with many knots throughout. Large, hazel eyes, a straight nose, and full lips characterize my face. I have large freckles everywhere, especially on my face, shoulders, and arms. I undress and throw on the shirt and boxers. The loose clothing disguises most of my body, but I am still not pleased with my appearance. I look around the room and notice a door leading to the bathroom. I rummage through the drawers until I find what I’m looking for: a comb. It takes at least ten minutes to get out all the tangles. While I am in the bathroom, I wash my face and hands in the sink, making sure to clean the dirt from under my fingernails. I go back to standing in front of the mirror and give a half-hearted smile. That’s a little better, I guess.

As I lie curled up on the bed, memories of the last week run through my head. I remember the confusion, the pain, the uncertainty, but mostly: him. I recall how he was with me from the very beginning, how his image kept me going, how he took the pain away, and how he saved my life. It is then that I realize that I don’t even know his name.

[Lady Tuesday]

I l-l-l-l-Love it! Woohoo! It is cool! *man I feel like such a nerd* /ends randomness.

[winter.]

Aww!
Thank you so much! :)

[Lady Tuesday]

No prob. It's really good! Please, do continue!

[Meredare]

Yeah. I have to agree. I can't wrap my head around the idea that she can't speak! o.OO Can't wait to find out why... (besides that creepy lady with the syringe)

Puh-lease continue this (and don't ever stop!)

[Lady Tuesday]

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Gift banner! (First time making one, hope it works. It's for your sig, sorry it's so big O.O)

[Bruneydog]

I like this story!

[abbie-sama]

I. Love. This. ♥

[winter.]

*weeps softly*
I'm so glad everyone loves the story!
I'm sorry I haven't posted in a while; I was on a trip.
More writing coming up though!

@ Creole:
Thanks so much for the banner!
I tried to put it in my signature, but sadly, it doesn't fit. :'(
Thanks so much though; it's beautiful!

[winter.]

CHAPTER 3
I hear a light knock on the door and take a deep breath. Come on, Ivy. You can do this. He enters the room, much happier than when he left. He comes over to the bed and sits down on beside me. “Are you feeling better?” I stare silently at the floor. “What is it?” He gets down on his knees and looks up at me. “Please tell me.” We hold eye contact for what seems like hours. It’s now or never. I move my hands to my throat and mouth the words: “I can’t speak.” He looks at me with confusion, but it quickly turns to terror. “You’re kidding right? Please tell me you’re joking. Oh god.” He jumps up and wraps his arms around me and for the first time, I feel that things might be all right. He pulls away too soon and looks me in the eyes. “Wait here.” He exits the room yet again, leaving me to my own thoughts. I think about the woman who did this to me and shudder. Why me?

He returns much quicker than last time with his hands behind his back, forcing a smile. “Close your eyes.” I shut them tight and wonder what he could have brought me. “Put your hands out in front of you.” I do as I am told and feel him place something in them. “Go ahead; you can look now.” My eyes open and I gasp. A spiral notebook and a pencil lay in my palms. It is a small gift, but I am so happy that I begin tearing up. Seeing my reaction, he smiles – genuinely this time. I pull him in and hug him as hard as I can. He is surprised at first, but then he holds me as well. “It’s so we can communicate.” We sit down on the bed together and I hold the pencil in my hand, knowing what I need to say first. I scrawl out the words: “Thank you.” He looks at me and asks the question that has been on his mind since he first saw me: “What happened to you?” For a second, I wonder if the truth would upset him, but I decide to be honest anyway. “I don’t remember. I woke up in the middle of the woods about a week ago with no memory of anything. Then, I started running and ended up here.” His eyebrows knit together and he looks at me in disbelief. “How did you know where to find me?” “I didn’t.” We sit in silence for a moment before he speaks again. “Do you remember me?” I smile as I think back to the dream. “We used to go to school together. I don’t remember your name, though.” He smiles gently at me. “I’m Samuel Evans, but you can call me Sam.” I look down at the paper and blush. “It’s nice to meet you, Sam.”

. . . . .

“You don’t remember any of what happened before you woke up?” I shake my head. “You were gone for six months. Everyone thought you were dead. After what happened-Wait, you don’t remember what happened, do you?” I shake my head once more. He takes my hand in his and looks at me, sorrow in his eyes. “Ivy, I don’t know how to say this, but… your parents are dead.” No. Tears run down my face, and I realize that I am truly alone. I am frozen. I stare ahead, but see nothing. What will happen to me now? They’ll put me in an orphanage. Or even worse… the people that did this will find me. I come back to life when Sam squeezes my hand. “Ivy, you okay?” As I look into his eyes, full of compassion and kindness, I understand that I’m not alone. I have him.

The pencil darts across the page, leaving behind the words I wouldn’t have the courage to say even if I could speak. “Sam, I don’t know where to go. Can I stay with you until I figure things out? I’m scared.” I keep my eyes down, afraid he might say no. He hugs me, and I breathe a sigh of relief. “Of course. My parents will be home soon. I can try to explain to them what happened.” I grab Sam by the shoulders and shake my head. “Why not?” “They’ll tell the police I’m here, and they’ll take me away. I’ll have to live in an orphanage. How do I know the people that did this aren’t still looking for me? Please. Don’t tell anyone.” He looks me in the eyes and places his hand in mine. “I promise.”