Gehenna's Rogue Gallery: Alabaster

'Great events make me quiet and calm, it is only trifles that irritate my nerves'

~Queen Victoria~

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Dodge to the left.

Dodge to the right.

Jump back.

Avoid the wild swing she throws your way.

You fail; her fist connects with your cheek.

Take a breath, wipe off the blood.

Wait as she swings again.

Duck.

Kick out your leg at her shins.

She stumbles back, shoes scraping on gravel.

In her daze, throw all your weight behind a punch to her gut.

If you’re strong enough, she’ll cough up blood and collapse, winded.

The others swarm you, praising your strength. No-one checks to see if she’s okay.

Congratulations, you survived a street brawl.

It feels like knives are carving at the inside of my chest. I take a few small breaths, wincing in pain, then I take one more. The pain doesn’t go away,  but as I breath out all of my aggression and stress goes with it. Suddenly I feel stupid for fighting over a five-pound note. It’s not like I started it but looking at Noire on the floor, her wholly black outfit now tainted with red, brings up memories I’d rather forget. So, I push past the small crowd of punks to stand in front of her. I hold out the hand I didn’t punch her with. She looks at it and scoffs, spitting blood onto it.

“Fuck off Al, just take the money and go away. I can get up just fine” She retorts, her voice weakening by the word. Some people are so difficult I swear, I’m just trying to nice!

Okay Al, breathe again. It hurts but breathe. Feel better now?

Good, now let’s try again.

“I was gonna let you keep the money stupid”

I forcefully grab Noire and pull her to her feet, shoving the fiver in her mouth, the only place that’s open. Instinctively she spits it out into her hands. She stares at it with disgust and confusion, then at me.

“Always so charitable, Mr Holier Than Thou” She remarks sarcastically, pocketing the bloody cash. Noire signals her friends, moving to leave the alleyway. As she stumbles past though, she leans close to my ear, spitting a little blood on it as she whispers.

“What are you even still doing in this city?”

The calm breaths suddenly hitch in my throat. I don’t move. I wait until the crunch of Noire’s crew stomping on the pavement disappears down the street. At that point, I let my legs collapse under the gravity of everything. Grabbing at my hair with tattered gloved hands, I curl into myself like a snail to its shell.

Images flicker by, courtesy of my subconscious. Burning villages. Pit fights. Mutations.

I inhale one sharp breath and quietly scream.

The images disappear. My pulse regulates itself. I stand back up. The whole scenario lasts only ten seconds. Somehow I still don’t find myself too worries about that brief bout of trauma, if you can even call it that.

I don’t think I can even get traumatised.

That’s too stressful to think about though. Right now, my body aching is more important. I stretch out my arms, clicking my fingers, my neck and my shoulders. The sounds helps me relax as much as the physical feeling of it. When I pull my arms back I catch a glance at my watch.

Shit!

It’s already 6:45pm!

They’re gonna stop serving food soon!

Like that, everything becomes forgotten in an instant. My tired feet become rejuvenated, tearing up on the concrete as they streak down the streets of Gehenna. I pay no mind to the claws, literal or not, of the sleazy sellers, the junkies or the sirens. The only being I’m obeying right now is the cruel master that is my stomach. He directs me straight to the place we both love the most.

I come to a grinding halt outside the gates of this streets larger, and nicer looking buildings. It has unusual, old -fashioned appearance. The architecture seems to represent some sort of mixture of a temple and a palace. By some miracle the large, fancy sign out front still hasn’t been damaged. Perhaps it appeals to moral conscience of the people around here.

I stop to admire and smile at the words written on the sign.

‘Sister Cherry’s Castle for Castaways’

Pretty much, it’s an orphanage for children whose families either died, abandoned them or came here without one in the first place. I fall into the last category.

In my moment of distraction, the aroma of stewed meat wafts its way out from the cracked window, interrupting my other senses. Instinctively I check the clock.

6:53pm.

I only have seven minutes!

I hop the fence and effectively throw myself through the doors, making a beeline to the dining hall.

Please still be serving, please still be serving…

“Please still be serving!” I yell into the spacious room, bursting through the doors in desperation.

 A few of the stragglers still finishing up their meals turn to look at me, some giggling, some grunting in irritation. I guess it’s a little embarrassing. Fuck it though, I’m hungry. So, I’ll just go and-

“ALABASTER!”

Sharp pain. Back of my head.

“Ow…”

“Oh stop your whining”

A hand lifts up my chin. My eyes meet with big sister Cherry, who’s shaking her round face in disbelief.

“You need to stop showing up late for dinner. You’re overworking the poor chefs”

She grips my chin tighter, turning it left, then right, rubs a thumb along the corner of my mouth and frowns.

“Al…are you getting into fights again” Cherry questions. All I can manage is a petty huff. I really don’t want this conversation again. Still, at least this time there was a good reason. At least, I think it was a good reason.

“I was just trying to help out, there was money involved…”

She sighs, letting go of my chin.

“Go and get yourself something to eat. You’ve technically still got two minutes. Come and see me in the lounge later though, I’ve got something for you”

I nod gleefully, sprinting over to the nearest table where one of the chefs had readily placed a juicy looking bowl of beef stew. The smell is so divine, I’m almost drooling. I just want to shove my face in it!

Come Al, keep it together. Take a breath. You can’t be too greedy. Prayers first, then eat.

“Yagna shishta shinah shanto muchyante sarva kil bishaihi, Bhunjya tete tvagham papa, ye pachantyatma karnat”

I feel like my pronunciation is a little off, or I might have forgotten some words. It’s been a few years since I was in India after all. Still, reciting it makes me feel…at home again. I guess I like eating a little later when there’s less people around so I can have that sort of quiet moment, to pretend it’s just me and my family again.

I take a deep breath and pick up my spoon.

It takes only a few minutes to finish the entire bowl, bread included. Okay, sure, I probably made some disgusting scarfing noises but I was hungry!

Plus, as I scoffed down each spoonful I couldn’t help but wonder what big sis Cherry wants to see me about this time. Usually I’d think she’d want to see me about the fight, but she’s more upfront about those kinds of things. Did I do something else wrong?

I know my room can be a bit of a mess, but it’s not that bad and I don’t keep anything naughty in there.

I run my bowl back to the chefs, thank them for the meal and jog back down the hall in the direction of the lounge. One of the chefs shouts something out but I don’t understand their language.

Ow…

Stomach ache.

Maybe that’s they meant.

This is worse than Noire punching my face.

Ugh…I hobble instead, clutching my gut, to the lounge. When I get there, Cherry is snug on the sofa, watching some of the little kids play. She doesn’t notice me enter.

Great, no attention for my stomach pain!?

I mutter loudly so she hears while I shuffle over, collapsing on the couch beside her. She finally sighs and looks at me. I feign more pain.

“Did you run in the hall?”

“…Yes”

“I bet the chefs tell you time and again-“

“I don’t speak…all of their languages”

“Then it should just be common knowledge”

“Gah!”

I pout and look away from her face. My attentions down, noticing her hands are moving. They seem to be fiddling with some sort of small, black button. She seems to pick up on this quickly as she holds it out to me.

“This was delivered by a mail carrier from Nirvana. She said to give it one of the kids, preferably around sixteen or seventeen. You’re the oldest kid here so I thought I’d let you have it”

Seems…weird. I look back Cherry to say so but she’s smiling. It’s so heart-warming, so genuine.

What’s she up to?

“Why are you smiling like that, it’s weird”

She rolls her eyes and lightly slaps me upside the head with the button. A holographic screen pops out from the corner of my eye. It’s really cool, like the massive screens in Cifer Central but much, much smaller.

“This came from Nirvana!?” I ask, a little much excitement leaking out. Although, it is really exciting.

“Yep. I haven’t read this properly, I wanted to leave it to you”

She moves her hand and places the button in my awaiting hand, the screen still present, then pulls herself up from the couch to usher the young kids to bed. I’m left alone in the lounge. Only the flicker of the fake fireplace provides company. I settle into the couch and read the mysterious message I’ve been left with.

~Hello stranger, my name is Faida. I’m a sixteen-year old girl from Nirvana. This place is nice but it’s also really boring. All I do here is play video games, go to martial arts lessons and play in the fountain. I want to know more about your city. It sounds so different and so cool compared to my home. Please tell me what it’s like and who you are. I’d love to make a proper friend!

You can delete this message and write a new one. Give it to a mail carrier called Mrs Henriksen. She’s really nice and will deliver the message safely. Once you send me one I’ll send one back, like a pen pal.

Hope to hear from you soon!~

A girl the same age as me…in the other city…

No Al. Bad thoughts. Cool down those cheeks mister.

Still though, she sounds nice. Nothing like the people I’ve known here.

Alright, so much for sleeping tonight. It takes me a few minutes to figure out how to delete the message. When I do I get straight to work, devising the perfect letter for my mysterious new friend.