Matthew (@TheFlag and NTNO; you guys should try continuing the conversation in your own ways, asking other questions, etc. I feel as though my character overshadows yours just a bit too much, and I donât want that :( )
I awaited their answers patiently. Taylor responded with a prompt no, clearing her throat in the process. For a moment, I wondered how long the two of them had escaped from the Ward. Had they unknowingly come from the same Ward and accidently met up? Or had they been together the whole time?
âI think I came from..." Sam began, pausing for a moment as he seemed to organize his thoughts
"Arizona. As for plans, I haven't really had time to formulate one."I nodded, prying apart my lips to inform them on my own situation. For a moment, my eyes flashed brightly as I remembered the crumpled up piece of paper stuffed in Marceâs sweater. Jeez. There was no way that thing had survived the blood showers in one piece, as cruel as it sounded to joke about my sisterâs condition. Iâd just have to hope that it was at least legible.
Just then Taylor seem to grasp onto something I had been completely and utterly oblivious too.
âWhereâs Euro?âWhere was Euro? A better question would be, how long had we been here? Certainly long enough for them to have patched up my sister. Weâd been sitting here for what seemed like hours.
âI donât know,â I answered dumbfounded, just as a nurse sauntered over to us.
âIs your name Matthew?â she asked politely, a small yellow, sticky note looking piece of paper in her hand. I nodded, still too shocked with Euroâs disappearance to find words.
âWell,â she said, hesitating, âAmazingly, your sister,â
âMarceline,â I filled in automatically.
âMarceline,â she corrected herself, âIs in stable condition. Her wound seemed to, well, miraculously speed up in the healing condition. However, you all canât see her just yet.â
I nodded. The nurse and doctors would never understand just how advanced us bird kids were. Speedy healing was a part of the package.
âAlso, the young man who dropped you off left this note for you.â
I took the note from her dainty hand, unfolding it to read the insides.
â
Iâm sorry. I have a family. Weâll meet again someday. Iâm really sorry kids. Oh and Iâm human.â I read aloud. The words were scrawled on the paper as though heâd rushed them down. My lips pursed. I felt both betrayed and yet at the same time, responsible to keep Euro a secret.
I could only assume so many things: First and foremost, Euro was a young guy. Family probably meant a wife, or something, and a
baby. I couldnât jeopardize his life like that.
âHeâs human,â I repeated the word human, emphasizing on it, and hoping to convey to Taylor and Sam the idea that we couldnât let it slip up that Euro was one of us. We could be putting his family in danger. I mean, I hoped he wasnât lying to us. Heâd helped us, why would he be lying?
I slumped down in my chair, disappointed and tired. Tired but not necessarily sleepy. I didnât know what to say, and honestly hoped that Taylor or Sam would change the subject somehow. This was justâŠtoo devastating.
I remained emotionless. Perhaps a normal person would have arched their eyebrows, but I knew of no such thing as plainly expressed emotions. Or rather, I preferred to keep what I was feeling to me, only if the reason was because I didnât really understand what it meant to express myself. Slowly, by the indication of the female scientist, I lifted myself to my feet following Mikeâs lead.
He seemedâŠintelligentâŠor at least I had to assume so. Something already felt different about him, different to the way other Vampireâs acted. He seemed careful, and controlled. He also seemed to have recognized me as soon as the scientist had uttered my age.
That in itself proved how well known I was amongst the Ward intelligence. Anyone with power in the Ward knew about me. Which meant if my father trusted Michael to take care of me, trusted Michael to know about me, Michael must have had a rather high ranking amongst the Vampires.
I followed him through the hallways, uncomfortable with the looks that the majority of scientist threw my way, praising my form as though I was some kind of prize animal. I heavily disliked it. You may wonder why I didnât use the word hate. I once heard that hate means you must have once loved quite a bit. I get the impression that many donât believe, but I do. And so, for now, I shall try to avoid the word âhateâ.
âTell me,â I said in a monotonous voice, directed at Mike, âWhat is it you do here at the Ward? What is it weâre going to do?â
Do surgery on my wing, will you?
My lips pursed as the doctor tersely touched the edge of my formerly ripped wing, reveling in itâs presence.
âAre you done masturbating to my wing yet?â I asked casually, implied venom subtly dripping from every word. Taken aback, he snapped his hand away, pale freckled face running bright with blood.
âSorry,â he stuttered, already seeming to grasp for an excuse.
âI donât want hear.â I cut him off, before he could continue. âWhereâs myâŠfamilyâŠâ I said carefully, referring to all of them (Matt, and the new kids, Taylor and Samuel ) as my collective family. It was safer that way, if the doctor thought we all had connections to one another.
âTheyâre outside. They canât see you yet,â He murmured, quickly beginning to dismiss himself, âIâm sorry miss, but youâll just have to stay here. Good night.â
He rushed out of the door flicking the lights off. Asshole.
I sighed, rubbing my forehead, and flexing my fixed wing. It was beginning to feel much better, but the ache in my head was worsening.
Euro had driven us here. Heâd helped the doctors patch me up. But heâd never once said he was a bird kid as well. All I remember hearing of his hushed conversation with the doctor was that heâd been strolling along when heâd found us. He explained his bird knowledge by saying he worked in a pet shop with a section dedicated to parrots and parakeets. All his excuses would have sound like lies coming from a kids mouth, but he was an adult.
Then, when everything had been over, heâd come and spoken with me.
âSorry, but whatâs your name?â he looked down at me sheepishly, and I almost melted under the light brown eyes begging for forgiveness. Iâd never in my life met a guy who was able to that. Then again, thereâs always firsts.
âMarcelineâŠ.thanks.â
âNo prob Marceline,â he twined his fingers, glancing the other way then back. His words spilled out of his mouth like a rushed waterfall, âI have to leave you Marceline. I have a family, a pregnant wife, a special baby on the wayâŠâ
Special. Winged, he meant.
I nodded. âThanks EuroâŠyou gotta do what you gotta do.â
He nodded back in agreement, looking genuinely sorry. âIâll leave a note for the kids. Weâll meet again someday.âAnd just like that he was gone.
I frowned. The rest of the kids would be devastated when they found out. I was.
Flapping my wing, I tested it out on the curtain, which abruptly began flowing with the motion of wind I was producing.
I couldnât handle being in here. It smelled disgusting, and felt cramped. Slowly, I slid out of the hospital bed, grabbing my jeans and my shirt. My regular, blood soaked sweater was now dyed with dark, almost black spots of dried blood. Against the dark purple background of the sweater, the blood looked like an out of place design.
Oh well.
I slipped it over my head, glad for the fact that blood doesnât smell. Iâd ditch it some other place.
Prying open the window, I did one of the things I knew how to do best. I jumped.
Spreading my wings out, I let a sliver of wind catch me, before pumping myself higher in the sky. I winced as my wing ached a slight bit before subsiding.
My headache was already beginning to disappear. The fresh (or as fresh as polluted air can get) air was a welcome change to the disinfectant scent of the stinky hospital.
I canât tell you how long I flew. The trip back to the area where Iâd been, by air, was about fifteen minutes, tops. It didnât take long before I got to a shopping district, grinning as I looked down at the ant-like people still out and about. Which, to me, was not many. They wouldnât be able to make my shape out against the pitch black darkness of the night sky. To them, normal people whoâd never seen a bird kid, I would have looked like some giant bird. To a bird kid, I would have been recognizable.
For a second, my eyes blurred, and I snapped my head forward.
Oh no. Once again they blurred, and I felt myself tilting to the left. My left wing had given out.
In a matter of seconds I was spiraling downwards. In a desperate attempt to adjust my direction, I tilted my body, and remaining wing, aiming for a rather desolate alley near an already closed store.
When I was close enough to the ground of the alley, I spread my right wing out, slowing my speed, but still toppling me into the ground. At least it didnât hurt as much.
But let me tell you. It still hurt.
âOw,â I scowled, tightening, my wings against my back. My right neatly tucked itself into my sweater, but after a determined effort, my left simply plastered itself awkwardly up against my back, too stiff and painful to fully fold into my sweater. Jeez, what a mess I had gotten into.
âStupid,â I reprimanded myself, refusing to blame my wing (yes I treat my wings just like any child would treat their teddy bear; like a real personâŠI wish I had a teddy bear.) The walk back was probably a good hour.
âWhatâs wrong with you Marce?â I sighed, pulling myself to my feet and dusting my jeans off.