Elle
As we ascend down the hallways to the main office, I drag my finger along the wall. Over the different picture frames along the wall. Paintings of men and women in gowns and robes. Of landscapes and empty abandoned buildings. Of Jaylemm and it's beautiful reality. If you look up close, you can see each individual brush stroke.
"Elle, you're spacing out." Laye points out.
"Huh? No I'm not." I argue.
"It doesn't even take that long to get to the office. You're spacing out." She says.
"Well sorry." I say, already having my mind on other things.
Jemma dings the bell on the counter. We wait a half a minute, and she hovers her hand over the bell, about to ding it again. Suddenly, the little old man barges the door open, his arms full of paperwork. He dumps it on the corner of his desk before turning to face us.
"Heyo, girls." He says with a small smile.
"Hey." Jemma says.
"So, what can I getcha?" He asks, "Or have you all came down to have a nice conversation?"
Jemma looks almost guilty before answering, "Actually, yeah, we do need something."
"Well go on." He says.
"We need to be teleported to the House." She answers.
"Oh, I see. You guys need to get your Tests, right?" He asks.
A guy turns into the office, and looks the old man in the eyes.
"When you say it like that Charlie, you make it seem like they're getting tested for an STD." He says, as my face turns a shade pinker. I silently curse my red hair for making it easier to see my embarrassment. I also notice that I've never actually made it my business to find out the counterman's name.
His eyes met mine; they were the color of the sky on a cloudy day. I couldn't decide if they were blue or grey. His features were soft, and he was wearing a dark grey jacket with black pants and combat boots. His brunette hair fell around his head in messy curls.
"Where are you off to in fighting gear, Malachi?" The man says.
Malachi, who looked as though he was dreading something, shakes his head. "I've got another job. Something about one of the wyverns going rogue."
"So is that why your carrying around mystic poison like a water bottle?" He replies.
Malachi turns pink, and lifts his jacket to reveal a weapons belt. Mainly just carrying shortswords and knives, but in one of the compartments was a vial of teal liquid.
"What's mystic poison?" Jemma asks.
"It's a poising that you can cover a blade with, and it sort of sinks into it, like a sponge soaking up water. After slicing something with that blade, even just a tiny cut, can send poison through their system. One little cut, and they're dead." He answers.
Laye perks up. "I want some. Gimme gimme."
"No, because it's illegal for most uses, except for hostile creatures." The man at the counter interrupts. "It takes a lot of maturity and rank to even possess it in a safe, let alone let it dangle in a weapons belt. You can get in a whole lot of trouble, boy. You let a single drop of it fall on someone's property, and it'll kill off all of their lawn."
"Yeah, I guess. But I won't let it, I promise." Malachi says, opening the door.
"You better hide it better, though; you're going to get caught!" He yells, just as Malachi leaves.
"Whew," He sighs, "That kid's always a pain in the butt. Oh! Right, you guys need to get to the House?" He says, looking a little bit concerned, but clearly trying to hide it.
"Yeah, we do." Laye says, sounding impatient.
"You're name is Charlie?" Jemma asks.
"Oh, yes. That is my name. Now let's get around to the back. Portals always leave this black burn mark on buildings and such, it would be quite the burden to have to replace the wooden walls." He says, almost shutting down Jemma's question.
"My dad's name was Charlie." Jemma states as we walk around the building.
"That's interesting." He says.
"He died when I was born, though. I never knew him. My mother, too. Her name was Kara." She says.
"Oh, well that's quite unfortunate." He says.
"Yeah, well. Not much you can do." Jemma says, looking around. It was obvious she hadn't gotten used to the vibrant yet subtle colors of Jaylemm's landscape. I don't blame her, it was an amazing thing to just sit and take it all in.
Charlie reaches his hand up to the wall, and whisper-chants something I couldn't hear. A square portion the size of an average adult shows up glowing purple, and he motions to it.
"Here ya go. This should take you straight to Elander." He says.
Laye walks up to it, and sticks her hand through.
"Oh, wait, just don't-" he starts, but Laye has already walked through.
"Don't, oh whatever. I'm too old for this." He says, walking away. Jemma looks at me, and I shrug. She walks through, and I follow.
•••
My eyes flutter open, and I'm back at home. I'm sitting in a barstool in the kitchen. There's yelling coming from the living room. A lot of cussing. And crying. I look down at my hands, confused. They were small, like a child's. My hair was tied into pigtails with a light blue ribbon.
I was a child. And this was my childhood house, but not at the same time. Avoiding the living room and ignoring the sound of glass shattering, I make my way upstairs. I look in the first door down the hallway, and my older sister sat in the corner of her bed, covering her ears and crying. She looked about twelve. That meant I was five.
She looks up at me, and then looks at the baby crib in the corner of the room.
"Elle, Joe won't stop crying. I don't know what to do." She says.
"Willa, it'll be alright." I say, hugging her. I don't have control over my own body.
I walk over to Josephine's crib, and rock it gently, praying for her to quiet down.
There was a huge slam from downstairs and then, "Shut that stupid kid up!"
"Sh sh sh," I say, picking her up as carefully as possible. I carry her over to the bed, and Willa and I cuddle her, blocking her out of the yelling and smashing.
Everything was fine, until there was the footsteps coming up the stairs. Willa tenses, causing Joe to start crying again.
My father barges into the room, and yanks Joe out of our arms. He smacks Willa in the face, and pulls me to the ground. There was a blow to the stomach, and a second, and a third. I fall asleep.
When I wake up, my mother is there, looking me in the face. She pets my head.
"You poor, poor girl." She pulls something out of her pocket. A pill. "Take this, sweetheart, and you'll forget this whole terrible accident." Without thinking, little me takes it.
•••