Grey II - Ghosts

Chapter 17 - First Vision

All my friends are heathens, take it slow.
Wait for them to ask you who you know.
Please don't make any sudden moves.
You don't know the half of the abuse.

Twenty One Pilots - Heathens

In retrospect, it might have been somewhat dramatic to leave the little glass ball from Abraham, but if breaking it would tell him my location, it could probably track me all the time. I spent the entire walk back to the warehouse paranoid, constantly looking over my shoulder, my eyes shooting to each noise in the dark. I pulled my Shift around me a handful of times just to see better, just to be sure I wasn't missing anything, but I never saw anything more devious than panhandlers and drunks.

I took a roundabout way back, cutting through abandoned buildings and pausing to see if anyone followed, expecting a tail, waiting for an ambush. I made it to the warehouse in the middle of the night, maybe four, though I had stopped caring hours earlier. I was cold and in a foul mood, wishing I had found proper prey instead of letting myself get dragged into haunted memories, again.

I felt empty-handed, coming back for the second night without a new cut on my arm, not that anyone would notice, not that anyone would care, but I still felt like a cat returning home after a night of hunting without a mouse in her maw. I barely made it to the cot in the corner of the communal room before I was asleep, a twisted smile on my lips as I thought of the shock the twins would have in the morning when they saw me sleeping in the same room as them. I pulled the covers up over my head and prayed my dreams would be dull.

I could hear the Clan moving about, but sleep wouldn't quite let me slip from its grasp. Instead, I saw a woman lying on the ground, her face hidden by her smooth, dark hair. Something about her seemed familiar, but with the long jacket she wore, it was impossible for me to place her. I heard a choking sob come from her throat, a heartbreaking sound that played with the edges of my memory, and then I saw the three men standing over her. They had heavy tattoos on their arms and necks, peeking out from the collars of their shirts. They wore their sleeves rolled halfway up their forearms, even though I could see the faint puffs of their breath. They weren't in my city, or even close. There was no snow on the ground.

The woman peered up at them then, her eyes running with tears and I felt my chest tighten, even in my sleep; it was Nevaeh. She looked different, frightened and tear-stained, but it was undeniably her.

"Are you going to h-hurt me?" She stuttered, her voice sounding terrified and miserable.

"No way, doll face, we would never." The tallest of the men spoke in a gravelly rumble, his lie so blatant I couldn't imagine that Nevaeh hadn't heard it in his voice. But when she looked up again, her eyes were wide with hope.

"Really? D-do you promise?"

I felt sick just watching, knowing the men were lying. She dropped her head again, her hair falling in front of her face as she waited for their reply. The men glanced to each other and I wondered where Kael was, why Nevaeh was acting like this, why she didn't kill the bastards who clearly had evil thoughts running between their ears.

"We promise."

The shortest one replied, a grin spreading across his face in a grotesque way, like his mouth was much too wide for his narrow face. It gave the impression that his head would split apart like a pistachio shell if you pulled back on his jaw and forehead. I wished I could test my theory.