Grandmother
A burning slammed the space behind my eyes. Tears had remained in the background for days. The urge to cry was so fierce it overwhelmed the throbbing heat from the slap I’d received.
I breathed deeply, resting my head on the desk.
Don’t cry.
There was a time for tears. And that was when a child’s parents died. Then, a person was allowed to cry their tiny heart out.
I sucked in breath after breath and, in those agonising moments, came as close to crying as I had in twelve years.
When I’d regained control, I read the email again, swallowing back the surge of emotion a second time.
How had she known I’d need this?
My grandmother was fucking magic. That was how.
I came in here needing her. Guidance. Love. Somehow she supplied that in two short paragraphs that she sent the night I left the estate.
My heart swelled.
I re-read her sign-off. My forevermore love. It was something she started saying after my parents’ death.
Lifting my head, I trailed my gaze over the first paragraph again, drinking her words in.
You will always succeed.
My grandmother believed in me. Even though I’d left her and refused to be part of the rich bullshit. She was still rooting for me.
In my eyes, the two sentences in the top paragraph were linked.
I would succeed because people loved me.
As soon as I could afford to, I’d go see my grandmother. Before, I’d seen that as admitting defeat. Not anymore.
Smiling even if the gesture didn’t quite reach my soul right now, I typed out an email to my only relation.
Grandmother,
I caught the bus the other day
and lived through the experience.
My forevermore love,
Your Basilia
Logging off after, I caught the glares of those who’d been waiting their turn for the computers.
How long had I sat here for?
I nodded to the elderly librarian and left the building, gaping at the twilight sky. That explained the glares.
Butterflies erupted in my gut.
It would be dark soon.
Call me a coward or call me smart, but I wasn’t walking to Orange by myself at night. Clint’s grip on my arm was an all-too-recent reminder that I could be overcome in a matter of seconds. He could still be out there. Maybe he’d called some friends in to help.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.
I’d catch the bus back. Wasn’t like I had to pay rent anymore.
The library stop was the place I’d first hopped off with Tommy, so I headed there and waited.
... And waited some more.
When the librarian from earlier walked by, I smiled politely. She hesitated before approaching. The woman’s hair was confined in a bun at the nape of her neck—in a similar manner to my grandmother’s preferred style. That was where the similarities between them stopped.
“The buses stop at 4:00 p.m. on a Sunday,” she said, grimacing. “Or are you waiting for someone?”
I didn’t know what the time was. Clearly after 4:00 p.m.
Was I waiting for someone? Nope.
Did I have a plan? Nope.
She rested a hand on my shoulder. “Do you need help getting someplace, dear? Do you have somewhere to sleep?”
At least I didn’t look rich anymore. I must have skipped by the downtrodden nine-to-five-job appearance and proceeded straight to homeless.
Licky Lips probably wouldn’t know me.
“Dear?”
I focused on her. As it turned out… “I have somewhere to go.”
I waited in the small mall where I stole sneak peeks at the paper each day.
When 9:00 p.m. came around, I rode the escalator to the surface.
Stars twinkled high above, night in full stride.
The city was well lit, but I stuck to the shadows where possible, the memory of Clint all too vivid. My mind was convinced he or his friends lurked behind every corner.
Caught between fear and dread, I stopped in front of Kyros Sky, the key and chip that gave me access to Level 44 burning in my hand.
I’d waited until well after closing time, and Angelica had said no one would be here until midday tomorrow, but there was still a risk I’d get caught.
Until I reunited with Tommy, I was homeless. Sleeping on the streets was the very last resort. I could have tried the homeless shelter recommended by the librarian—my response hadn’t satisfied her that I had a plan. But Live Right, despite the alarming people and their maybe illegal agenda, was my first option.
I preferred the devil I knew.
Slotting the small silver key into the front door, I made sure to lock it behind me. Expecting sirens to howl at any second, I passed the electronic