Dark Wings - Chapter Three

Keira jolted awake, shooting straight up, but she soon fell back onto the pillows when her head throbbed painfully in protest. Pressing her hand tight to her forehead, she clenched her eyes shut and inhaled deeply.

Her senses rejuvenated and the first thing she became aware of was the cold of her body and the air in her room. Cracking her eyes open to search for the source, her gaze fell upon the windows that were thrown wide open. A bird perched on her windowsill, the morning sunlight giving a subtle glow to it's glossy blue feathers. It cocked it's head at the brunette once, twice before spreading it's wings and lifting off, leaving her feeling empty and wanting at once.

Why are my windows open?

She curled into the covers, looking for warmth but too lazy to pull them up over her, and stared contemplatively at the window. A fleeting memory of a face and shocking white eyes flitted through her head, and she froze in remembrance. Her head throbbed, confirming the memory.

Trembling, and not just from the cold, she rolled off her bed, leapt to the window and pulled them shut hard, the windowpanes rattling. Keira pressed her forehead to the cool glass. Morning poured over the town, bathing everything in a soft yellow glow and casting deep shadows along the ground. The sun had just begun it's ascent into the sky. Dew clung to the grass that jutted from cracks in the cobblestone roads. Wooden buildings seemed to straighten as the sun touched them. Past the staggered rows of houses and buildings, the ocean, with it's ever rolling waters, glittered in the sunlight.

Turning from the glass, her drooping eyes found the time in blazing red on her digital clock: 7:25. She was immediately wide awake and rushing about her room; she had ten minutes to get to class.

"Keira! Are you up yet?" came her father's voice from downstairs. Keira sighed in frustration, which came out more of a scoff. Trust dad to wait until I'm practically late for school already to ask that.

"Yes, dad," she called back, voice terse and irritated. She was out of her clothes and into a pair of light washed jeans and a plain blue fitted t-shirt in record time, pulling her two necklaces out from under her shirt so they laid on top. Checking herself in her full-length mirror, she wondered for the umpteenth time why humans liked such low-riding and tight-fitting jeans. At least the dark blue of her shirt complimented her eyes.

Wondering why she bothered with her appearance at all, Keira grabbed a pair of socks out of a drawer, sat on the chair in front of her vanity mirror, and began the daunting task of putting her socks on and brushing her long hair simultaneously.

Her father's figure appeared in the doorway. Keira glanced in the mirror and saw him slouched against the frame, looking at her with pensive eyes. Her hand reached for her favorite perfume.

"You can stay home today," he offered, his voice hopeful. Keira didn't pause in the motions of spraying perfume on. Getting up to stand in front of the full-length mirror once again, she replied, "You know I've missed too much school already." Turning from side to side, she examined herself. Slim, muscled, medium height, pretty face. She wasn't ashamed of her body, just the fact that she didn't see any wings when she looked at herself in the mirror.

Spinning away in disgust, the brunette snatched her worn blue bookbag off the floor and started for the door. Peiton blocked the way.

"Keira-"

"Look, dad, for the fiftieth time, I'm fine. Sure, you just told me I'm a sorceress' tool, but she's locked away, incapable of sucking the life out of me. Maybe everyone does have a problem with me, but I can't change it, so I'm just going to go to school and deal with it like I always have, and like I'll always have to."

Shock painted Peiton's face; he was speechless. Keira hadn't meant for her words to be so harsh, and she felt a pang of regret for that, but she had meant for them to be a total lie. I'm not okay, not one part of me is okay, but hell if I'm going to let anyone know that.

Using his distraction at her words, Keira slid past him and made her way down the steps and to the front door where she hastily slipped her boots on, shoving her jeans down into them. Her hand paused on the doorknob when she heard footsteps come to a stop behind her.

They stood in silence for half a minute, their chests rising up and down the only movement made. "I'm sorry." Keira's voice ruptured the heavy silence. She turned to him, hand not leaving the golden doorknob. "I know you just want to help, but I need to deal with this on my own, okay? I'm," she paused, reigning her emotions in before finishing, "I'm sorry you have to have me for a daughter."

With those words she pulled open the door in a rush and leapt down the front steps, breaking into a sprint when she hit the cobblestone road. She didn't even care if she was late to school, she just needed to get away from her house, from her father. Funny, last night I was in a hurry to get home and now I'm racing to get away from it. Is there no place for me?

Cold morning air whipped against her face as she sped through town, her feet light on the cobblestone. People puttering around on their porches or walking along to work stopped to look at her, a few having to leap out of her way. Luckily the wind dried her tears as they fell down her cheeks. A few angry voices trailed after her.

The high school was a rather plain-looking building; square, two-storied, and made of red brick. A cobblestone walkway that lead to the front steps split the grassy courtyard in half. Two brown, iron doors with one window in each door made up the entrance. Block letters that spelled out 'high school' stood out an ugly yellow above the front doors.

Keira leapt up the stairs three at a time, opening the door and stepping inside just in time for the shrill buzzing of the tardy bell. She groaned and let her head fall back. Empty hallway stretched out in front of her and to the sides. A locker slammed in the distance: another student late for class.

The brunette shuffled the short distance to her locker, catching her breath, and took her time opening it and getting the material for her first three periods. She was already late, so there really was no rush.

Her first period, math, was on the first floor. While she never enjoyed the subject, Keira always found it easy while others struggled. Though, she never could understand why humans needed to do so many different things with numbers.

Reaching the closed door, the brunette finally noticed the other presence. The one leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the door, smirking smugly at her. Chale. So he was the source of the slamming locker. And of course he was in her first period class. Joy of joys.

"Find your way home safely last night? You left in quite a hurry," came his teasing remark. Keira bristled, clenching her jaw. "Have a fight with your hair gel this morning?" she bit back, glancing at his short, heavily slicked blonde locks.

The blonde grinned toothily. "Got a bite with that bark?"

Scoffing, she reached for the doorknob. Chale stepped in front of the door, obstructing her path. She glared at him murderously.

Ignoring her glare, he shifted his gaze to the stones around her neck. "Did you get that last night?"

Rolling her eyes, Keira nodded. He whistled low. "Wow. That's a pretty incredible stone. Can I touch it?"

"Move," she ordered, far beyond a tolerable level of annoyance.

Smirking again, he stepped back and bowed. "Yes, princess. After you." His mocking was aimed to strike at the brunette's chords. It worked. Huffing, she yanked the door open, slamming it shut behind her. He soon opened it and stepped casually into the room, smirk still in place and unsuppressed mirth glittering in his eyes. She called him lots of inappropriate names in her head.

"Keira. Chale. How nice of you two to join us," Mrs. Kisling greeted the pair, haughty as ever. Murmurs sounded through the room. Keira's jaw moved around slightly, the only sign of her irritation.

Mrs. Kisling sniffed, pushing the glasses up her nose. "Any reason why you two are late? Any good reasons?" Her eyes slid expectantly to the blonde beside Keira.

"No," Keira muttered, making her way down a small aisle to the desk in the very back by the window, feeling eyes on her the whole way. She noticed that out of all the remaining nine desks, the empty one for Chale was beside her. She flopped into her seat ruefully.

The class erupted in laughter, surely from some cocky, made-up excuse the blonde fed the teacher that Keira hadn't even bothered to listen to. She saw Chale scan the room for a vacant seat, and the smug look that creased his face when he noticed the only one was beside her made her want to thrash him. Swiveling her head towards the window, Keira feigned interest in some random sight outside.

Mrs. Kisling started on the days lesson, and Keira soon realized her teacher was reviewing material from yesterday since most of the class had been unsure of the lesson. Thankful she had a free period to rest her mind, she unzipped her bookbag and brought her sketchpad to her desk along with a sharpened pencil. Only half-listening to the lesson, Keira began to draw.

From the corner of her eye, the brunette saw Chale lean to the right slightly. Curious, she turned her head to look. Keira regretted it immediately when she saw his arm around Jayde Mylen, whispering in her ear. Jayde giggled, the sound completely fake, and slapped his arm playfully. Scoffing loudly in disdain, Keira returned to her drawing, executing short and long strokes upon the paper.

She couldn't help her stomach tightening and her heart slipping down past her stomach.

What is this? Jealousy? No, never over Chale. I'm just disgusted.

There was a sudden creak of metal and then warm breath drifting over her arm. She turned her head and blonde filled her vision. She was suddenly caught up in a smell reminiscent of strawberries and the vague smell of pine and musk.

Chale. Looking at my drawing. So close...

The brunettes eyes widened in surprise before she flinched away, eyes wild, whispering intensely, "What the hell?!"

He leaned back slowly, the ever-present smirk gracing his lips. His nice lips...

Keira's mouth slipped open in shock. I did not just think that. She brought the back of her hand to her forehead, checking for fever.

Still leaning her way using the desk as support, the blonde said quietly, "That's pretty good. Who is it?" His voice dragging her out of her shock, Keira glanced down at the paper. Dread flared through her chest as she realized just what she had been drawing.

The face from last night.

"N-nothing," she stammered, ripping the piece of paper out and crushing it in her hands. They shook badly, and Keira clasped them together in a feeble effort to make the tremors stop.

"You okay?" There's the concern again. I have to be imagining it.

"Fine," she grounded out from between clenched teeth, a little harsh.

Chale leaned back in his seat, bringing his arms up and lacing his fingers at the nape of his neck. "Tch. Whatever. I was just asking." Keira had to forcefully tear her eyes away from his arm muscles. Her head dropped wearily into her hands that still clenched the drawing.

Class seemed to drag on forever until the bell finally rang. Keira gathered her things in a hurry and bolted from the room, still spooked, but not before seeing Chale wrap an arm around Jayde's tiny waist and hearing her fake, high-pitched giggle.

Maybe I'll take a trip to the restroom to puke now.

The next two periods passed slow and uneventful, like every day. The usual happened: jeers and taunts in the hallways, stares in the classrooms, the occasional something tossed at her.

Why is everything starting to hurt more?

At the end of her third period, language, everyone in school, all seventy of them, excluding Keira, were dismissed to go outside for flying lessons. She could have chosen to run, but her body just wasn't feeling up to it, and she couldn't help but needing to distance herself more than usual. So Keira sat inside, gazing out the window at her classmates gliding against the blue sky, feeling more crestfallen and isolated than she ever remembered feeling. Against her will, her eyes swelled with tears. The ones that spilled from from her eyes were quickly swiped away.

At lunch she sat by herself under a shady tree, leaning back against the jagged bark. The brunette barely touched the food she purchased from the cafeteria. The sounds of laughter and loud conversation drifted around her, taunting, suffocating. The knife cut deeper, twisting into her heart.

Alone. I'm always alone.

A shadow fell over her, and she glanced up to find three boys sneering down at her.

Great.

"Looks like you're not eating this," the one with gray wings observed, picking up her untouched sandwich and waving it in front of her face before taking a bite, making sure she watched him. The two others snickered.

One with dark blue wings made a show of looking around before commenting, "Say, why are you sitting alone? Where are your friends. Oh, wait." He gasped dramatically. "Don't tell me you don't have any! How terrible!" They all fell into fits of laughter.

Keira rolled her eyes heavenward. Ha. Ha. She still couldn't fight the stab of pain caused by his words. It was the truth, no matter how hard she tried to deny it and push the reality to the very edge of her mind.

The third, with his very pink wings, said lamely, "Hey, where are your wings? I don't see them."

"I don't know, but you look lovely in pink," Keira mocked, gathering her things to leave. His face soon matched his wings, maybe even a shade darker. It gave the brunette a twisted sense of satisfaction.

Standing with her bookbag slung over one shoulder, Keira started, "If you'll excuse me, -" Then the side of her face suddenly burned and stung with pain. She stared at pink wings, disbelieving, holding her smarting cheek. She could feel a bruise forming already; she'd always had sensitive skin.

"You have no place to mock me, freak," he hissed, hand poised to hit her again. Strangely enough, she welcomed the pain. Some part of her believed she deserved it.

A hand grabbed pink wings' wrist and a deep, velvety voice sounded behind him. "It's not nice to hit ladies." Pink was then spun around and promptly knocked down by a brutal punch across the face.

Chale stood over him, triumphant smirk plastered across his lips. The red stone that dangled from his ear below an orange and brown one began to glow a soft crimson. He held his hand out palm up, a small flame bursting to life. "Anyone else?" he sneered, moving his gaze back and forth between the two left standing.

At that moment the outside bell rang, signaling that the students should go to their next period class. The two boys looked like they wanted to stay and fight, but they reluctantly drug pink to his feet, his nose bleeding profusely, and stomped away to the school.

"Later, punk. Don't think you're gettin' away with that," blue threatened, sending Chale a menacing look over his shoulder.

The blonde laughed condescendingly, calling after them, "Yeah, whatever. Pansies." He turned to Keira, but she had already took off away from the school, feelings running rampant. Why did he do that? I don't understand. As hard as she tried, she couldn't get her heart to end it's wild fluttering against her ribcage.

"Hey! Wait up!" The blonde jogged to catch up, falling in stride beside her. "I save your hide from those creeps and I don't even get a thanks?"

"You shouldn't have. I had it under control." When did I start to lie so much?

He scoffed, "Yeah, it sure looked that way. What did you do anyway? It sure looked like you had their panties all in a bunch."

Keira glanced sideways at him, ignoring his question. "Why did you help me?"

He shrugged easily. "Never liked those three. Seemed like the perfect opportunity to do something about it."

Keira couldn't believe how deflated and hurt she felt at his words. Chastising herself on being so foolish as to believe he might have cared, she quickened her steps. Of course he doesn't care, who was I trying to fool? Nobody in their right mind would care for something as twisted and morbid as me.

"Leave me alone." The brunette started into a run, not knowing where she was running to but needing to get away. Once again, she ignored his calls.

Fleeing again.

When am I going to stop running?