FOURTEEN
52 0 1
X
Reading Options
Font Size
A- 15px A+
Width
Reset
X
Table of Contents
Loading... please wait.

There are some ties you just don't cut.

Declan was one of those ties. One of those people I'd known for years, but only ever spoke to on a full moon, when the stars were lined up exactly with one of Saturn's seven rings, and an asteroid would threaten to hit the craters, yet again. In short: only when he wanted to talk. And though we had known each other for a number of years, the opportunities to meet up slimmed because of this circumstance, but I still knew where he lived, and I still remembered the way to get there, even after several years of barely any communication.

I parked down the road, not wanting to leave my car in the middle of the cul-de-sac, where anyone else could easily swing around trying to do a U-turn and knock out my side mirrors without a second thought. Underneath a skinny tree, I stepped out into the cool night, glancing around at the houses, and at the large family cars parked in their driveways, and their clean-cut lawns with sleeping flowers in their beds. I hoped no one would be nosey enough to glance out their windows, peeking out from behind their curtains to see a young girl with a hood over her heard, heading towards a block of units on the far left side of the dead-end street. But even if they were, I probably wouldn't turn around to check. As if being out, by myself, at 8PM at night wasn't obvious enough to where I was going or what I was doing.

I look up at the block of units, up at the rusted and moss-covered brick building, zeroing in on the lights in the top apartment, knowing that was where he lived. A shadowy figure stares back down from the side of the window frame, watching me approach, the same shape as Declan's round head and his shaggy, shoulder length hair. And as my feet hit the pavement of the smooth footpath that's rounded around the cul-de-sac, the shadowing figure moved away, the curtains waving as they make their leave.

I head up the long driveway that leads towards the back to the block. A large, windowed door stands open in the side of the building, a door stop preventing it from closing before curfew hours can hold those restrictions necessary. A carpeted staircase, leading up to the first floor, is the first thing I see before I descend up them, automatic sensors clicking on fluorescent lights the moment I hit the first floor. I climb another set, and I'm midway between the first and second floor. Then another set, and another, and then two more before I'm finally on the third floor and spot number 13 before me. Declan's apartment is hiding right around the corner.

The brown door is almost as dark as the dye over my hair. The brass 12 shines from the dim fluorescents above. I take in a big breathe, approaching the door with one hand raised into a fist. It's so quiet on the top floor, I realise, that I wonder if anyone else will hear. If anyone else would think it's for them, and then come out, only to find a young girl standing outside the opposing door dressed in gym tights and an oversized hoodie, looking up to no good. They wouldn't be so far from the truth if they thought that.

I glance around the floor, at the three other doors - 13, 14, and 15 - all still, quiet. The entire area is quiet, I'm hearing, spare for the rustle of the trees outside and the faraway cars driving along the main road, the same one I had to turn off to get here.

And I turn my attention back to the door, back to the hardwood, dark brown exterior, and the rusted over number 12 staring me down like it dares me to knock, knowing full well why I'm here and what I'm doing. And though it's quiet around me and outside, and I may be just being paranoid and reflecting what Sam had said to me earlier today, my fist bangs on the door and my hand is swiftly back into the pocket of my jacket without a second thought.

The sound of my heart beating is almost as loud as the feet I hear, taking heavy and weighted steps, thumping louder as they draw closer, and the brown door opens to replace the dim shine of the brass 12 with the glitter of a pair of cocoa brown eyes.

Declan stares back, a gleeful smile appearing on his face. He looks almost exactly how he did when I last saw him; shaggy, dark hair to his shoulders, a short boxed beard, and wide eyes creased with lines and dark circles underneath, and they sparkle as they look at me.

"Kara," He says gleefully. "Hey."

I force a smile up at him, my heart beating so much I can hear it in my ears. "Hey."

1