UnfathomablyCute
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Chapter Thirty-Nine: A Terrific Day for Rain
🕑 Added 2023-08-11 17:59:13 +0000 UTCIt’s raining again.
My foot splashes through a recently formed puddle, the water soaking through my mostly cloth shoe and dampening my sock.
I don’t really care.
I keep running.
I’m not sure where I’m going, or even the full reason I left to begin with. They didn’t shout at me or seem particularly upset at my revelation, but the genuine acceptance they had when they thought I was gay—another thing I’m not sure how to react to—just wasn’t there.
I want to take a second to think things through, to be rational, but my legs won’t stop moving, and this heart-rending fear is tearing my thoughts apart. I was right. Things are going to be different now that I’ve told them. I’m no longer the same person in their eyes.
I vault over the hood of a car as it stops at a stop sign, unable and unwilling to slow down. Another puddle further soaks my right sock, and the clash between it and my dry left one is somehow more uncomfortable than if both had been wet.
Cars honk at me a few times, leaving me grateful for the rain hiding my features as I run. I’m not sure what I’d do if the whole city knew what I was. Though, to be honest, maybe it doesn't matter at this point.
My phone’s constant buzzing has almost faded into the background; it’s ceaseless vibration numbing my outer thigh. I’m terrified to see who it is that’s calling, as I can’t think of anyone I’d be able to talk to the way I am right now.
I find myself at the edge of the city, finally stopping at the metal railing that overlooks the ocean. My hands wrap around the bar; it's cool temperature from being rained on soothes my palms, but I still feel my body temperature rising.
Barely thinking anymore at this point, I leap over the fence, sending myself headfirst towards the ocean. It’s too late to regret it by the time I crash through its surface, balling myself up as my momentum carries me downward.
The cold water quenches my overheating body as well as my feverish mind, returning me to the rational thoughts I had abandoned. I just jumped into the ocean. I look around me as I kick towards the surface, making sure nothing lurked nearby during my lapse in judgment. I know reasonably that nothing should pass through the barrier, even in the ocean, but the worst of the Fathom are the ones ocean bound.
I pull myself onto dry land, the slice of clover-covered dirt adding mud to my already soaked ensemble. Dragging myself to the cement wall of the city, I settle against it, my wet clothes pressing against my back. My eyes are closed, but the tears won’t stop. I’m no longer panicking, but a deep, sorrowful dread has taken its place. My family is where I felt safest, and even though I know it doesn't make sense, it feels like that safety is gone.
It’s stupid, but I feel like I don’t have a place to call home.
The rain hitting my face stops all of a sudden, and I choke back a sob in surprise. Above me, leaning over the railing with her bizarre living umbrella, is Menagerie. She doesn’t say anything, but her expression looks expectant as she stares down at me placidly.
“Hhuh–hello?” I say, my closed throat making it hard to speak.
She blinks a few times, not responding immediately. “May I join you?” she asks after a moment.
Join? What?
I give her a tentative nod, not really understanding what’s going on but feeling like I have to respond somehow. One of her dangerous-looking boots steps up onto the railing, the other stepping out onto open air. I half expected her to float down Mary Poppins style, though that just made what she actually did even more alarming.
A long zipper-shaped tear opens up in the cement wall, and I freeze as I see hundreds of glowing eyes peer out from inside its depths. A singular claw—one the size of my head—reaches out gingerly, palm up, for Menagerie to stand upon. It lowers her gracefully, letting her step off before silently returning to the zipper it emerged from. The whole thing zips back up, disappearing, and I’m left with its creator, who is holding an umbrella over us.
I force the gulp in my throat all the way down, despite how painful it is to swallow. Something about her presence makes me feel like I need to speak. “Thank you? I ask, mess that I am, before correcting it into a statement. “Thank you.”
“You should enter your Ascendant form; otherwise, you are likely to become ill.”
Feeling a little lost, but trusting that her advice is in my best interest, I pull on that ethereal feeling along my bones. Within moments, the dark threads wrap themselves snugly around me, sending my wet clothes to Kthanid knows where. I feel a bit overdressed, like I put on a ball gown just to cry, but Menagerie was right; it’s warm and dry.
Before I can thank her a second—technically a third—time, she opens her mouth to speak. “Revvy was rather surprised when someone slid over the front of my dear Ophelia.” She states, looking down at me. She answers my question before I can ask, reading my expression. “She’s my hearse.”
The blood drains from my face, remembering the black car I vaulted over on my way here.
“Oh, shit! I’m really sorry about that. I was so focused on—no, there’s no excuse. Did I scratch it at all?” I ramble, worried for a whole new reason now.
A bit of rare amusement plays on her lips, filling me with tentative relief. “She is untouchable by conventional means, you needn’t fret. No, the reason I had Revvy drive after you was simple. You seemed a kindred spirit lacking a home.”
My chest tightens at her comment, which is somewhat telling. Being seen through makes me uncomfortable though, and I’m about to try and refute her when she speaks again.
“Come, I will bring you to our estate.”
“Estate? Is that an exaggeration? I don’t think literally anyone in the city has an estate, there isn’t enough room.” I ask, but she’s already lept the height of the wall—like twenty feet of it—and is presumably walking back to her hearse.
My confusion drowns out a lot of the emptiness I was feeling, though I presume that was her intent. Or maybe she’s just kind of like that.
I do my best to dwell on the useless quandaries Menagerie provided as I scale the wall to catch up to her. I’m not okay, but whatever she has planned sounds better for my mental health than whatever I’d be doing alone.
I take a running jump, landing about halfway up the wall as I sprint up it. My hands grasp for the bars, but only the tips of my fingers connect, and I start to fall back down. The crook of her terrifying umbrella catches under my armpit painfully, and she hoists me up like it’s nothing before setting me down on the sidewalk.
Figuring the painful way she did it cancels out the fact that she helped me, I don’t bother thanking her again and follow her to her car. Which is parked on the sidewalk. That’s gotta be illegal, though who’s realistically going to stop them?
I try to ignore the cars slowing down as they notice the two of us walking towards her hearse like we’re cosplayers on the way to a con. My face flushes slightly, though I try to keep myself composed now that I’m supposed to be a Vanguard. I can tell I’m clinging to that responsibility as a distraction, but it’s helping, so I’m not going to stop.
Revision steps out of the driver's side door, greeting me as he moves to open the door for Menagerie. “Hey Amalgam. I hope we’re not imposing too much. She can be a little pushy sometimes, but she means well.”
As soon as the words “She can be a little pushy” come out of his mouth, I’m forced to watch, aghast, as Menagerie whirls around, slamming her umbrella into his shin. Rather than yowl in pain, though, like any reasonable entity—except maybe a steel beam—would do, he just looks down at her warmly and opens the backseat door for her.
Seeing my jaw hanging open like a ghoul, he explains, “Physical damage is kind of irrelevant to me at this point, so I barely feel something as light as that was.” He opens the passenger side door for me as he talks, and I settle into its outrageously comfortable seats. “It’s kind of like punching a pillow for her, so I let her get away with it.”
I glance back at her to see how she’s taking being talked about despite being right there, only to immediately return to my original orientation. She doesn’t look mad, per se, but the eye’s glaring out of the several zipper-shaped openings around her sure do.
Revision rocks the car as he slides into the driver's seat, and I can’t help but notice the car automatically raising to match the amount he's weighed it down.
“I’m not much of a talker when I drive—makes me nervous—but you’re welcome to play around with the radio however you like. The backseat is sound-sealed, so Mel has her own music, and you don’t have to be worried about playing something she wouldn’t like.”
I look at the cross and skull designed radio, unable to decipher how any of it works. “Gotcha, could I get a crash course before we go? That skull in the middle looks like an on/off button but I’d rather not mess something up just fiddling with it when I can’t ask questions.”
He looks a little relieved, probably at me finally saying something since I’ve been kind of quiet. “Eazy-peazy, middle skull is on and off, as well as volume. Just twist it like so. There’s only so many stations, but you can change them with the two crosses there, like up and down buttons.”
The radio turns on as he presses it, though the volume is a little quiet since we fiddled with it as an example. I raise it back up, making the channel host's enthusiastic voice audible as they talk between songs.
“You’re listening to: one-o-one point nine, Vanguard classics. I’m your host, Database, and we’re playing non-stop hits till the world falls apart around us. Next up, we’ve got ‘Bargain Madness by the Slayer Twins, so stick around.”
Their voice fades away, replaced by the thrumming of electric guitar chords. I’m not super into rock, but I leave it on anyway, the lyrics resonating with the way I’m feeling right now.
I lean my head against the window, staring out at the rain. I still feel like I’m in pieces, but I also feel like I’ve got the front of the puzzle box too, and I might be able to put them back together.
Comments
James Walsh
well, telling to her family that she was Vanguard seemed to not relly go well. well not bad but also not well. I think what is making it worst is comparing to how they reacted to, like she said, when they thought she was gay.
