• A soft feeling brushed my cheek and the tinkling sound of a feint good-bye descended like snow into my dreams. A melancholy sadness saturated the farewell and I could hear vague footsteps that rang loud and near, than faded into the distance. Something inside of me shrieked for the return of the source of those goodbyes and footsteps, but another part of me rejoiced in their escape.
    She would be safe.

    "I had the dream again." I announced to my parents as they performed their morning routines. They had it down to a fine art, my dad would munch studiously on whatever my mom placed in front of him, and parooze the morning news on the TV.
    My mother looked up from her hissing eggs to eye me speculatively. "Again? But I thought that went away."
    I shrugged. "Me too. I guess it didn't."
    "That's not good, Trinity. Not good at all. We should schedule another mee-" I slammed my cup down in silent protest against her idea. A year of weekly therapy had transformed me from a nattering heap of self-pity to just your regular heap of self-pity. I didn't need more than that. Mom gave me "the look" but didn't persist, she just turned back to her eggs and prodded them idly in silence.
    After breakfast was eaten, delicious as always, I stood and headed out to work. Thick, summer air rushed to greet me when the door was opened and my neglected lawn was like a forest of weeds and grass. On a nearby lamp-post came the sound of a startled crow bursting into flight with raucous cawing down at me. Our neighbourhood consisted mainly of tired townhouses that were split in half to try and assuage the cities growing population problem.
    Unlike the others who were forced to live here by limited incomes, our family lived here because my mother refused anything that might sport our hidden wealth. The thoughts of mansions and butlers were something she didn't find enticing like most people would because she feared it would split our family apart. So we lived in this world of chainlink fences and nightly robberies all because my mom refused to budge on her ideal of familial bliss. Fantastic.
    Once I reached the street corner I sat on the bus bench. Refusing to look at my face on the ad which was now half covered by my back. I was no model, nor was I famous. It wasn't even my own face, it was my twin sisters. A year before she had left home and had cut all ties with us. That was, atleast, what we hoped. But the school picture of her smiling face that matched my own was accompanied by a "Have you seen this child?" in ostentatious block letters. The few phone calls we had received gave only vague hunches of her whereabouts, most of which were about having seen me and not my sister. We were stupid to have thought about putting that kind of thing on the back of a bench when there was an identical twin going to and from school on a daily basis.
    A city bus wheezed its way around the corner and stopped in front of me, openning its doors so I could enter. Fellow commuters sat in silence and only offered me a passive glance before going back to their bored bus-riding activities. I took a seat near the front and pulled a book from my bag to read. The wizened vehicle heaved into motion and continued forward, stopping at odd intervals to swallow another group of lethargic people.
    Several stops later, two boys stepped onto the now crowded bus. One looked only to be about seven or eight years old who wore dark hair and eyes atop relatively pallid skin. The other seemed eighteen and could be the younger ones father with his matching hair if not for his green eyes that glinted with childish mischief. The younger one threw himself dramatically onto the seat across from mine and the older one stood, holding loosely to the strap that hung down from the roof.
    Kissing noises came from the direction of the eldest, which I ignored. I had known from the arrogant way he carried himself that something like this would happen. I rolled my eyes to myself as the noises grew louder and more obnoxious, changing from puckered kisses to low moans. Passengers shot him glares of disdain but he continued to make the raunchy sounds as the bus lolled through the busy streets. I turned my head to peer out of the expansive window in hopes of seeing my stop close by. To my disappointment, it wasn't.
    "Blake? What're you doing?" Queried a young voice. I looked up to see the eldest, Blake, turned and smirking haughtily to the youngest.
    "Nothing, just having some fun." Explained the annoying one.
    The youngest gave Blake a reproachful look. "I don't think that girl likes it very much."
    Blake laughed. "I don't really care, Gray. I'm just playing around."
    Angrily the boy named Gray slid from his seat and came over, plopping animatedly beside me. "Is my brother bothering you?" He asked through wide, innocent eyes.
    Crap. I wasn't good with kids at all. I sighed. "Not really."
    "See Gray! I'm not bugging her. So come back and sit down, remember, stranger danger." Coaxed the elder brother. Gray scowled but gave in and left to return to his original seat.
    Softly I snorted. "The only dangerous stranger on this bus is you, a*****e."
    "Excuse me?"
    I started slightly and mumbled a quick "nothing" before returning back to the world of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Blake replaced Grays previous spot beside me and eyed me with petulent amusement.
    "What did you say?" He asked, his tone as placid as a stream but with a vicious undercurrent of malice.
    I kept my eyes on the book and gritted my teeth in hopes of keeping them from seperating and bursting into an indignant tyraid insults and cusses. It was then I noticed the bus nearing my stop and a fleeting burst of courage washed over me.
    "I said your the only dangerous strange on this bus, you a*****e." I repeated, every word dripping with acidic malignance. And then I stood, proud and respiteful to finally be free of those two, and stepped off of the bus. Leaving him to digest my sudden outburst and for me to get to work at the coffee shop.

    [Edited July 15th, 2009. 7:53 PM.]

    The sheer ordacity of that Blake guy was enough to put me in an irritable mood. His atmosphere screamed narcissist and the way he treated people, most of whom he had just met, was enough to make me want to scratch his eyes out with a toothpick. But I tried my best to refrain from thinking of him while I worked. I would never see him again, anyways.
    My workplace was several blocks away from my bus stop, but the stagnant monotony that was my life made it so that the walk was quicker. Work was something like a tonic that kept boredom temporarily at bay. Well, for me atleast. My co-worker and boss, Kayla, was always sighing melodramatically and offered little in way of conversation. She often wore her thick, brown hair down to her shoulders and perfectly straight. Kayla had thick lashes which surrounded a pair of large hazel eyes that I couldn't help but feel envy towards. She always seemed to regard her shop as a plan gone awry, and not exactly the thriving billion-dollar industry she must've thought it would be.
    My cellphone burst into life as shrill beeping erupted from my jean pocket. I unsheathed it and flipped it open.
    "Hello?" Was the generic greeting.
    "Hey, hunny." Was my mothers generic greeting. I didn't even bother being sarcastic, it wasn't worth it.
    "Hi, mom. What's up?"
    "I just wanted to tell you that you have to come straight home after work, no running off with your friends. We have plans." She relayed the information like a practiced dictator.
    "Alright." Was my easy-going reply.
    She didn't seemed taken aback by my easy acceptance and just moved on."Okay. I love you." She was preparing to hang up, obviously.
    I Sighed. "Love you too." Kayla snorted from somewhere nearby.
    A click and my mom was no longer there, leaving me alone and naked to the torments of my lethargic colleague. Kayla just came from the bathroom and set too work helping a lingering customer.
    The coffee shop was homely and charmingly cozy. Browns and creams were dominant in the color scheme while the hardwood was a rich mahogany. Golden rimmed appliances added an aged touch to the snug little cafe'. Circular tables accompanied by matching chairs with ornate backs were lined against the wall and meticulously strewn about infront of the shop. Spuming flowers frothed from pots that both hung and sat on things.
    I watched as the odd customer flitted noiselessly in and out of the shop, some sitting and some just taking their orders and leaving. My fingers were so accustomed to the register that it took little effort on my brains part to perform my simple task. And before I knew it, work was over and it was time to go home. With a quick good-bye to Kayla, I headed back home.
    "What a day." I grumbled to myself as I walked home in the waning daylight.
    My lack of friends was my fault. I should be bubbly and naive like all those other girls who wore their hair in perfect styles and perfect make-up on their perfect faces. Like my sister had been. But that just wasn't who I was, I thought as I stepped back onto the bus and continued home.
    I was off the bus and headed up the walkway to my front door within what seemed like several minutes. The street was just as I had left it that morning, and so was the front walkway that led to my door. A nearby dogs barking ruptured the thick silence as I stepped up the onto the porch. After a few minutes of fumbling in my pocket for keys- they were never in my pocket of choice- I opened the door and could hear the unusual sounds of company.
    My fathers relentless schmoozing and moms honey-coated voice joining with the clatter of the expensive dishes sang a harmony that told me we did have visitors, important visitors. The foyer wore four more coats and pair of shoes, one pair sported a picture with Power Rangers, so I could immediately deduce that it was a young boy. Gray, the boy from the bus, immediately flickered through my mind.
    "Trinity? Is that you?" My moms voice asked from the dining slash living room.
    "Uhh... yeah."
    "Good. Come and say hello to your Aunt Amelia and Uncle Liam!" She commanded with a sweetness that made my mouth go sour. Like chocolate on top of chocolate cake with chocolate sprinkles, too sweet. Something was off.
    I stepped that doomed step out into the open where the table was in view. My heart stopped as I saw who surrounded the table, stuffing their faces. Just as the shoes had forewarned, Gray and Blake. Blake looked up from his food and a goofy smile spread across his face as he, obviously, recognized me too.
    "Hey." He grinned. All five of the other people around the table turned to follow his gaze that was pointed directly at me. "It's the bus girl."
    Grays eyes lit up when they met mine. "Hi!"
    The other two unknown people, Uncle Liam and Aunt Amelia I was guessing, shot quizzical glances between me and Blake. Gray was the spitting image of his mother, with her thick brown hair. They both had eyes that could look wide and perfectly innocent after slaughtering some village and petit frames that were stringy and small.
    Blake seemed something like a hybrid of the two parents. His dad had striking green eyes that almost glowered unintentionally at everything with a look of permanent disdain. But Blake also had hair that matched his mothers brown, while his dad had a shock of blonde. I blinked at them for a few moments, drinking the bizarre family in and weighing my chances of feigning sickness in hopes of avoiding this dinner.
    My mothers reply to Liam and Amelias bewilderment was a sugary introduction. "This is my daughter, Trinity."
    I grinned weakly. "Nice to meet you."
    Amelia flashed a broad grin while Liams mouth just kinda twitched. "Nice to meet you, too."
    I took a seat on a vacant chair between my dad and Gray.
    "Where is Noelle?" Queried an innocent Amelia. Her odd tone made my mothers own tone turn from honey to diamonds. "She left. About a year ago."
    Liam was suddenly interested in the conversation, something that didn't seem to happen very often considering his apathetic personality. Amelias former tone was now portrayed in his own, as if this were some sort of inside joke only the parents were in on. Liam seemed like a very sly person, the kind who earned his living through conning middle age women. So when his both composed voice joined into the conversation, I could feel an undercurrent of something subtle.
    Something like a warning.
    "That is very unfortunate. I'm sorry for your loss." Was all he offered as sympathy but it was enough to send a shiver up my spine. It was like a pick-axe wailing away at ice, not something that made you feel better about the loss of a child.
    It wasn't until the topic of decorating schemes and the recent recession came up that my mother reverted back to her original attempts at impressing these strange people. What was surprising was Blakes lack of contribution to the conversation, he had come across as the type who liked to have his say in everything. Whether it was welcomed and appreciated or not.
    "So, Blake, what were you saying about Trinity being a bus girl?" My dad asked after a rousing debate on housing prices had dwindled to a smoulder.
    Another goofy grin. "We met on the bus this morning when me and Gray were on our way here."
    My dads eyebrows shot up. "Really? How did that happen? Trinity usually keeps to herself."
    Blakes eyes blazed with comical mischief and I prayed that he didn't tell them about the whole a*****e thing. "She dropped something. I picked it up for her. You know, the whole romantic comedy deal." My dad laughed.
    Both relief and rage. He had lied to my father in front of my face, but had saved me from embarrassment and vicious chastisement in the near future. I didn't know whether to thank him or kick him.
    Liam didn't say anything anymore. But Amelia chattered on and on until dessert was eaten and Gray dozed in his seat. Blake kept a decorous appearence all throughout dinner until he went down the hall to use the washroom.
    "Would you go and ask Blake if he wants this last piece of pie?" My mom gestured feebly towards the only surviving remnant of pumpkin pie on the table. I pushed back the chair and headed towards the door of the washroom.
    I knocked on it softly. "Blake?"
    No answer.
    Again I knocked, slightly louder. "Blake."
    And again, there was no reply.
    I sighed. "I'm coming in. If you aren't fully clothed and are just not answering to be stupid, I'll kill you." Nothing was there to protest so I cautiously opened the door. Blake was in there, fully clad in the jeans and T-shirt I had seen him in that morning. But something else was on him. A thin, bony frame with a film of skin that wore a web of veins protruded like grotesque appendages from his back.
    Wings.