Unwound (4 page)

what I had once read in a book referred to as an orphan. In my

situation that should be the better thing for me but I had just left London and so I missed her still.

My insides ticked louder the longer I sat lost in silence. I

stood and prepared to move. I couldn’t be found out for what I

was and now I didn’t have the one person who made me to care

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for me in her own twisted way.

Oh stop it. You wanted to escape and you did. Now live as

normal of a life as you can. I smiled slightly. Sometimes I

wondered if the voice inside me were really my own thoughts or

if they were the thoughts of the man or woman she had harvested

part of my brain from. I knew it was only half because the other

half had to be what she put throughout most of us. Little cogs and wheels, screws and pins; we only looked human on the outside

but on the inside we were something much more intricate.

It didn’t matter anymore though. Out of all of us, because I

knew deep down inside me there had to be more than just me and

the Other, I was the one that looked the most passable as a real

man. She had harvested most of my skin from the same person so

that there were little to no discolorations noticeable on me. I

clenched my fists angrily.

How dare she? How dare she destroy other lives to make us?

What were we that were more important than a real live breathing

human? Sighing, I unclench my hands and begin to walk quickly.

That was London; creator extraordinaire who gave no pity or

thought for anything other than what she wanted to accomplish.

I walked until my legs started to stiffen. The sun had gone

down some time ago and night had fallen with a cool, crisp breeze

as its acquaintance. I found myself in a small park with benches

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lining most of its sides and decided it would be a good idea to rest until I felt ready to move on. Leaning back I crossed my arms

over my chest and closed my eye. It felt nice to sit and feel the

breeze go around me like an embrace I had never known before. I

sat there and let ticking inside of me grow louder and stronger,

blocking out the sounds of the night.

I could feel my body going into its recharging mode and for

the first time since I had been “born”, I actually felt safe as I felt myself slip further and further away.

Suddenly my eye snapped open and I felt my makeshift heart

start to beat erratically. I could hear the sound of chains creaking close by and any feeling of safety immediately left me. How

could she have found me so quickly? It had not been a full day

and already London was here to drag me back to hell.

Shakily, I got to my feet and started to slowly head in the

direction of the chains. There would be no point in trying to

escape now with my legs still feeling tight. Taking a deep breath I continued as bravely as I could toward the horrible sound until I

found myself in a small clearing. There she was on a swing. I

knew what that was only because I remembered coloring it in a

book she had once given to me when she had been kinder. It was

ironic now how she chose this way to come drag me back to

torment.

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The closer I got the more I realized that something was very

different about her. She seemed smaller somehow and there were

paintings on her arms. She had a hood over her head and her hair

had seemed to grow longer in the few hours since I had seen her.

Even her skin color had changed; pale small hands gripped the

chain as the strong, small legs swung her higher and higher in the air.

I got as close as I dared.

What had she done to herself in the time since I had seen her

last? Had she decided to make an experiment of herself?

London slowly turned her head to the side, which was still

shrouded by the long hair and the hood. I wasn’t sure if she had

noticed I was there until she gave one more powerful kick and the

swing circled over the top of the swing set. Landing on one knee,

she looked up at me with dead, dangerous eyes.

Those eyes.

They weren’t familiar yet they held such an animalistic, dead

gleam to them.

This wasn’t London.

What I was staring into the face of was something much,

much worse.

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Three

Instinctively I backed away and choked back a scream.

She got to her feet in front of me and stuck her hands in her

pockets. The moonlight made her look so pale, fragile, and young.

Her eyes were captivating, one being ice blue and the other a

green I could only have seen in a dream; under the watchful eye

of the moon they were given such a magnificent glow to them

that for just a moment I felt myself lost in them. I couldn’t let my guard down though, because I knew I just knew she was

dangerous by the way she dismounted the swing.

She stared at me for a moment with a great deal of curiosity

before speaking.

“What are you?” she asked in a soft voice. I hadn’t expected a

voice so sweet to come from something that so closely resembled

a monster.

“I… I don’t know really,” I replied answering as truthfully as

I could.

“Hmph.” She stood there and took me in. I could tell she was

looking at every detail of my being and for some reason, I almost

felt as if though she could see inside of me.

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Closing her eyes she lifted her head slightly and took a deep

breath. The moonlight glistened on a scar on her face as she did it, but I still couldn’t help thinking that she was absolutely beautiful.

“Not human,” she said as she lowered her head and trained

her eyes on me again. “Not alive, but not dead and definitely not

undead,’ she said with a small grin. “I don’t think we’ll be hurting each other this evening. I’m Finnegan.”

She stepped closer and held out her hand. I stared at it for a

moment unsure of what she wanted to do until she let out an

impatient sigh and came over, taking my hand and putting it in

hers, shaking it up and down.

“What are you so scared of? You seem awfully jumpy,” she

said shifting her weight from one leg to the other.

“My mother.”

She stared at me for a moment almost as if she were

considering what I said to be false. For someone else to have such a fear of their mother must seem unheard of but she didn’t know

the pains I had suffered at her hands. The nights of torment where I would wake screaming in agony because London had either

decided to tear off a piece of me for one of her new experiments

or make little adjustments as she called them.

Finnegan searched my face for any signs of deception and I

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could feel myself starting to get angry. How could she not believe me? Had she not known similar torments as I’ve had? She

must’ve because she too bore scars. She scratched her artfully,

colored arm and raised an eyebrow almost as if to question what I

had just said.

“Yes.”

She looked away for a moment then back at me. Again I had

the feeling that she was trying to look inside of me. I wondered

what she would think if she saw that most of me was nothing

more than used pieces of scrap. Her eyes drifted down to my

hands and lingered there for a moment. I looked down and saw

that the moonlight made the scarring on my hands more

prominent too so I shoved them in my pockets.

“Do you have a name?”

“Three two five seven,” I replied.

Her reaction almost caused me to laugh out loud. The look of

confusion was so apparent on her face.

“You don’t look like a number,” she said with a shrug.

“It’s all I’ve been known by,” I reply looking away.

“Is it okay if I make a suggestion?” I nodded as she tilted her

head slightly to the side and she glanced up at the sky again. I saw 39

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her place purse her lips as she searched the heavens but for what I wasn’t sure until she spoke again. She pointed to a cluster of stars and my eyes followed. “Do you see that pattern? I know that it’s

hard to see especially with just one eye but I think your name

should mean something great,” she said with a smile as she

glanced back at me. “That set of stars is named Caelum, and it

means ‘chisel’, you know like an engraver’s tool,” she said

glancing at my arm where I was hiding my numbers. I think that

should be your name,” she said looking into my eye purposefully.

“Caelum,” I repeat thoughtfully. This was another being that

was doing a random act of kindness for me, how could I refuse?

Mother had never given me a name before. Honestly I don’t think

it was ever a thought in her head. Maybe if she did she would’ve

assumed it would make me real to her. That’s not love. As it

stood the only reason I had only thought of myself as three two

five seven because of the journal I found. And here was Finnegan,

a complete stranger, putting so much effort into naming me when

London couldn’t be bothered enough to care. “Thank you. My

name is Caelum.”

“Good. Now that we’ve been introduced, I suggest you get

out of this park. Strange things happen here after dark if you can’t tell,” she said with a laugh. “It was nice to meet you and I hope

that maybe one day we can be friends.”

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Before I had a chance to reply she had turned and ran off

faster than anything I had ever seen move and was gone into the

night. As I stood there I thought of the last thing she said to me. I never had a friend before and I found myself hoping that maybe

one day she would be the friend I never had as she had so

generously offered.

A twig snapping broke me from my thoughts. I didn’t turn

toward the noise, but instead walked quickly in the direction

which she had ran since I knew it had to be the other side of the

park, Another twig snapped and then another. It was almost as if

the sounds were getting closer the faster I walked. I still refused to look.

The pace behind me quickened as soon as my own did. I knew

I couldn’t run because I was in enough pain trying to walk as fast as I was already. Maybe unlike death at the hands of London,

whatever this was following me now would make it quick and

with little pain as possible.

I could almost feel its breath on the back of my neck when to

my left something came running quickly out of the darkness

letting out a guttural cry. I closed my eyes and crouched down as

it quickly tackled what was behind me to the ground.

“I told you to leave,” the voice growled angrily.

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Turning, I saw what I assumed to be Finnegan’s small figure

as she was now hiding herself partially behind the body that she

had so badly crippled with her one blow.

“Leave before this place is crawling.
Now
,” she shouted at me.

I stood and bit my lip. Fighting away the pain of my cramped

and tightened legs I ran as quickly as I could while I heard the

familiar sound of tearing flesh behind me.

Maybe I shouldn’t be friends with her after all, I thought as I

fought against the pain. Another flesh ripper was not something I

wanted to anything of or be anywhere near. My fear would

always over take any emotion I could ever hope to learn if I

stayed near Finnegan for too long. I would just carry on with the

gift of the name she gave me and try to never think of her again.

My legs started to tighten faster on me the longer I ran.

Eventually they gave out as I knew would happen and I stumbled

to the ground. I hit the edge of the pavement hard and somehow

on the way down I was able to save my face from smashing into

the ground. I could only imagine how much more of monster I

would look like if I had damaged my face with London around to

fix it.

The wind was knocked out of me so I laid there for a moment.

Little things like losing my breath made me wonder if the lungs

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she had harvested for me were full and not altered, but I never did linger on those thoughts for too long.

Pushing my hands against the ground, I got to my knees then

slowly to my feet. For a moment I stood there and wiggled my

arms, hands, and legs, bent my knees, and swiveled my neck back

and forth to make sure nothing had been damaged upon impact.

Nothing seemed to be out of place or badly bruised. I attempted to take a step forward and my legs refused to budge; it felt as if they had locked. I tried again, and again neither leg would listen to my mental command.

A wave of franticness washed over me. I wasn’t yet

completely out of the park of mysterious and dangerous monsters

and here I stood with stiff legs that would not carry me to safety.

But I had just been able to bend my knees and move my legs no

more than ten seconds ago? Was that the last bit of comfort they

would allow me away from this place? How could I have so

foolishly wasted such a precious moment in vanity?

The longer I stood with my legs frozen the more desperate

and frustrated I became. The only way to be able to get them to

work again would be to just stand there and hope that nothing that posed a threat would come to me.