Phi
oh baby baby it’s a wild world
There was that terrible, terrible sound, a metallic screech like two cogs getting stuck on one another, pulling past each other, ripping steel off its hinges. A sound so loud, so terribly soul-shattering, that her hands came up to her ears reflexively, her chin pulling down to her chest, her whole body curling into a ball. And yet, no one else seemed to hear it. She screamed, curled against her knees, elbows covering her ears, her body pressed against the brick wall of a towering building. And yet, people continued to just walk on by. Having conversations over headsets to unseen partners, hundreds of identical, business-suit-clad people, walking past, speaking to no one, as the sky split open. A horrible, terrible, splitting of the world, a rip in reality, and no one saw it. No one noticed. Or no one cared.
“Kolby. Kolby.. KOLBY...” And with a gasp, she drifted from one nightmare into another. Someone was tugging on her sleeve impatiently. Her eyes felt sticky and she effortfully pried one lid from the other, blinking into the dark. Jasper stood over her, illuminated through the neon glow that seemed to seep into every crevice of the apartment. The surrounding buildings were heavily laden with advertisements that blinked at every hour of the smoggy day and never-quite-dark night. It wasn’t abnormal that Jasper would rouse her, though Kolby had almost perfected the cocktail of booze and daytime naps that allowed her to never truly sleep deeply enough for the nightmare to surface again. She knew that when she did sleep, she would often scream. And thrash about, all flailing limbs and racing heartbeat. Once, she kicked Fynn so hard in the stomach, she went flying off the futon. Fynn. She was never angry either – always had a wet washcloth ready, pressing it to Kolby’s forehead ever so softly, wiping away the fretful sweat. Fynnie.
But Jasper was wide-eyed. This was urgent. Kolby struggled to sit up, trying to catch her breath over a heart still pounding, trying to drag her consciousness back into this world. The real world. “Kolby, this is serious. Kolby. Listen to me.” Jasper was always nervous. Kolby had been crashing at his and Max’s place for nearly a year, the longest she’d lived anywhere since she was a child. Jasper was slight where Max was broad, sneaky and manipulative where Max was all muscle and intimidation. The two of them shared the master bedroom. Kolby and Fynn slept on the couch in the living room, which was also the kitchen and the entrance. Well, that’s how it used to be anyway. For months, it had just been Kolby.
“Kolby. KOLBY. Jesus Christ.” Jasper flicked on the lamp perched on the wobbly side table, spotted with rolling papers and rings from drinks without coasters. He began to pace, two steps to the left, two to the right. “Kolby, this is really bad. We really messed with the wrong people this time. -You- really messed with the wrong people. Kolby, Max doesn’t think anyone saw us, just... you.” Kolby had known Jasper to be the nervous type since the first day they met, shooting pool at a dive bar, always hopping from one foot to the other, stealing glances at the door.
“Kolby! Max doesn’t want you here anymore. He says you’re a liability.” Jasper rubbed his tiny, pale hands together and in an instant, Kolby saw only the sweet, tiny hands of Fynn, who had always been fidgeting with something. A pencil, a cigarette. Always rolling something back and forth across soft fingertips, chewing on the tip of a pen.
Jasper took a breath, strengthening himself. “You need to get out. Like, now. Before Max wakes up.” And having spent his authority, “I’m sorry, Kolby, you know how Max is. And you could bring trouble here for us. Real trouble. You’ll find somewhere else to go, won’t you?” He held eye contact, a rare occurrence that clearly made him quickly uncomfortable, before skirting away, pixie-like, back towards the bedroom he shared with Max. “And, Kolby... watch out for yourself. Someone like that...” He inhaled sharply before slipping back inside the dark room where Max’s snoring could be heard.
Shit. Kolby knew it wouldn’t be forever but living with Max and Jasper had been nice. They had a favorite table at the bar downstairs, had shared everything they could nick, made meals together sometimes. At least, it was nice when they were four. As three, it was different. Fynn and her were never “together” like Max and Jasper were, never kissed, and only started sharing the bed from necessity. But in the winter, Fynnie would curl up against her, under the covers, shivering, pressing her angular little frame into Kolby’s warmth. She would unbraid and brush out Kolby’s long, dark hair, careful not to pull. She understood Kolby, without having to talk.
And Kolby always thought that Fynnie might come back one day. Might remember this address and come check on her. Or at least get tired of that brute, the bouncer with the thick arms and hairy chest, decide it wasn’t worth being his toy just to have an apartment with a hot water heater and a loaf of bread in the pantry.
But fine. Fynn would have come back by now if she had wanted to. If she had cared. And now, Kolby had other trouble to worry about. So she picked up her black hoodie from where it was discarded on the floor, zipped it up to the chin and tucked her hair into the hood. Her pants would be around here somewhere too, black and baggy with too many pockets. Everything else, the worn-out blanket that was still soggy with her boozy nightmare sweat and the other assorted bits that belonged at least mostly to her, she stuffed in her backpack. “Fuckers.” She muttered under her breath, taking two bottles of beer from the fridge, the last of the tobacco and a half pack of crackers. So, basically, clearing the place out.
Kolby dropped the key on the kitchen counter and let herself out into the smoggy summer night. She had nowhere to go. And Jasper was probably right, there probably was someone after her. Not that she was sure that she cared. I mean, if the world was ending, which it was, did she really want to be around to see it?
“Kolby. Kolby.. KOLBY...” And with a gasp, she drifted from one nightmare into another. Someone was tugging on her sleeve impatiently. Her eyes felt sticky and she effortfully pried one lid from the other, blinking into the dark. Jasper stood over her, illuminated through the neon glow that seemed to seep into every crevice of the apartment. The surrounding buildings were heavily laden with advertisements that blinked at every hour of the smoggy day and never-quite-dark night. It wasn’t abnormal that Jasper would rouse her, though Kolby had almost perfected the cocktail of booze and daytime naps that allowed her to never truly sleep deeply enough for the nightmare to surface again. She knew that when she did sleep, she would often scream. And thrash about, all flailing limbs and racing heartbeat. Once, she kicked Fynn so hard in the stomach, she went flying off the futon. Fynn. She was never angry either – always had a wet washcloth ready, pressing it to Kolby’s forehead ever so softly, wiping away the fretful sweat. Fynnie.
But Jasper was wide-eyed. This was urgent. Kolby struggled to sit up, trying to catch her breath over a heart still pounding, trying to drag her consciousness back into this world. The real world. “Kolby, this is serious. Kolby. Listen to me.” Jasper was always nervous. Kolby had been crashing at his and Max’s place for nearly a year, the longest she’d lived anywhere since she was a child. Jasper was slight where Max was broad, sneaky and manipulative where Max was all muscle and intimidation. The two of them shared the master bedroom. Kolby and Fynn slept on the couch in the living room, which was also the kitchen and the entrance. Well, that’s how it used to be anyway. For months, it had just been Kolby.
“Kolby. KOLBY. Jesus Christ.” Jasper flicked on the lamp perched on the wobbly side table, spotted with rolling papers and rings from drinks without coasters. He began to pace, two steps to the left, two to the right. “Kolby, this is really bad. We really messed with the wrong people this time. -You- really messed with the wrong people. Kolby, Max doesn’t think anyone saw us, just... you.” Kolby had known Jasper to be the nervous type since the first day they met, shooting pool at a dive bar, always hopping from one foot to the other, stealing glances at the door.
“Kolby! Max doesn’t want you here anymore. He says you’re a liability.” Jasper rubbed his tiny, pale hands together and in an instant, Kolby saw only the sweet, tiny hands of Fynn, who had always been fidgeting with something. A pencil, a cigarette. Always rolling something back and forth across soft fingertips, chewing on the tip of a pen.
Jasper took a breath, strengthening himself. “You need to get out. Like, now. Before Max wakes up.” And having spent his authority, “I’m sorry, Kolby, you know how Max is. And you could bring trouble here for us. Real trouble. You’ll find somewhere else to go, won’t you?” He held eye contact, a rare occurrence that clearly made him quickly uncomfortable, before skirting away, pixie-like, back towards the bedroom he shared with Max. “And, Kolby... watch out for yourself. Someone like that...” He inhaled sharply before slipping back inside the dark room where Max’s snoring could be heard.
Shit. Kolby knew it wouldn’t be forever but living with Max and Jasper had been nice. They had a favorite table at the bar downstairs, had shared everything they could nick, made meals together sometimes. At least, it was nice when they were four. As three, it was different. Fynn and her were never “together” like Max and Jasper were, never kissed, and only started sharing the bed from necessity. But in the winter, Fynnie would curl up against her, under the covers, shivering, pressing her angular little frame into Kolby’s warmth. She would unbraid and brush out Kolby’s long, dark hair, careful not to pull. She understood Kolby, without having to talk.
And Kolby always thought that Fynnie might come back one day. Might remember this address and come check on her. Or at least get tired of that brute, the bouncer with the thick arms and hairy chest, decide it wasn’t worth being his toy just to have an apartment with a hot water heater and a loaf of bread in the pantry.
But fine. Fynn would have come back by now if she had wanted to. If she had cared. And now, Kolby had other trouble to worry about. So she picked up her black hoodie from where it was discarded on the floor, zipped it up to the chin and tucked her hair into the hood. Her pants would be around here somewhere too, black and baggy with too many pockets. Everything else, the worn-out blanket that was still soggy with her boozy nightmare sweat and the other assorted bits that belonged at least mostly to her, she stuffed in her backpack. “Fuckers.” She muttered under her breath, taking two bottles of beer from the fridge, the last of the tobacco and a half pack of crackers. So, basically, clearing the place out.
Kolby dropped the key on the kitchen counter and let herself out into the smoggy summer night. She had nowhere to go. And Jasper was probably right, there probably was someone after her. Not that she was sure that she cared. I mean, if the world was ending, which it was, did she really want to be around to see it?
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