Chapter 4 - Sanctuary Intrusion

Mikayla had isolated herself in her room all evening.  Luckily, no one bothered to disturb her.  She spent it honoring the memory of her grandmother and would have snarled at anyone who tried to interrupt her.

In the morning, she woke up before everyone else and slipped out of the house.  She didn’t even bother to grab anything to eat for breakfast.  She just had to get out of there.

The sun was on the horizon, casting a faint orange glow over the land.  The air was still mild from cooler desert winds blowing in during the night.  In less than an hour, the temperature would start to climb as the sun rose higher in the sky.

She had a couple of hours until school started.  She already had a something on her mind that she was determined to find in the time she had beforehand.  She kicked her motorcycle up and rumbled down the street towards the sunrise.

Quiet were the streets as the residents of suburban Tucson, Arizona slowly woke up for another weekday of work, school, and the hustle and bustle of everyday life in the city.  The normal routine of normal people that a freak like herself had to weather day after day.

She could endure it.  She’d be free in just a few more months.  That knowledge was enough to keep her going every morning.

She sped forward on the vacant streets with unintended deliberation, her mind resolved on finding the treasure of the desert.

As she headed east, she knew she was running out of time.  She pressed on faster, leaving the city limits behind and plunging deeper into the calm Arizona countryside.

The sun was just above the horizon now, bright yellow and orange against the golden land.  The cacti were few and far between among the dried grasses that served as an excuse for vegetation.

Come on, there’s gotta be something around here, she thought, her eyes scanning around and ahead for the treasure.

There, ahead, she glimpsed something promising.  She gunned the engine and roared over.  She drew the bike to a stop and pulled her helmet off.

The wind was dry and gritty, but she welcomed it to the stuffy enclosure of her helmet.  Finally, she had found what she was looking for.

The treasure of the desert was simple: a beautiful view of the sun rising in the distance.  She was situated up on a little hill with a small valley below, dotted with gnarled trees, bristled cacti and rolling hills of baked land.

Climbing off the motorcycle, she took her leather jacket and gloves off, and set out on a little expedition on foot.

The desert was like a barren wasteland—a reflection of herself.  She loved it, felt like it was the only thing in the world to truly understand her.  Few creatures could survive in the desert and only the strongest could live within.

Stopping, she closed her eyes, turned her face up to the sky, and spread her arms out wide at her sides.  The gentle caresses of the early morning sunlight on her cheek, and the brushing of the wind’s fingers through her thick black hair, made her heart soar and her spine tingle.

She didn’t need anyone.  No one would ever touch her the way nature did.

And she wouldn’t let them.  Couldn’t let them

Sighing deeply after a few minutes, she pulled herself back down to earth, and began to hunt around.  She found a stick, about a foot long and as thick as her slender fingers next to a dusty rock.  She sat down on the rock and examined the stick in her pale white hands.

Her skin always looked the most beautiful in the desert sunlight—luminous and striking as it contrasted with the reddish-brown soil.

She drew a line in the dirt around her and her perch on the rock.  Once she connected the beginning of her circle with the end, she set the stick down on the ground.

The color of my ancestors, she thought as she picked up a handful of earth.

True, she was only a quarter Navajo, but she spent over ten years of her life on the reserve, surrounded by her grandmother’s people.  She identified with them above all others.

But even then…  Even then, she had been removed from them, hidden away in amá sání’s shack of a house.

She let the wind blow the copper soil from her outstretched hand with a sigh, and watched as the grains of earth danced away in the breeze.

No matter what anyone did, or said, no one had been able to help her.  No one could drive out the chindi, the evil spirit, that resided in her body since conception.  There had been many attempts with the Navajo when she was young, and more recently with Catholic priests, but she remained unchanged.  She was destined to endure a cursed soul with no hope and no escape.

She picked up her stick again and said a little Navajo chant as she grew in the sand.

Watch over me.

Hold your hand before me in protection

Stand guard for me, speak in defense of me.

As I speak for you, speak for me.

As you speak for me, so I will speak for you.

May it be beautiful before me.

Closing her eyes, and drawing her hands together with the stick between her palms, she prayed to have a good day.  She prayed no one would get hurt and no one would die.  To keep her secrets intact at all costs was her driving force every day.

And every day it felt harder and harder to bear.

She couldn’t wait to leave everything behind.  If only the stupid government with their “child protective services” would leave her alone…

Life would be so much easier if I could just disappear…

She heaved a sigh as she released the stick next to the drawing in the sand.  Standing up and dusting the sand off her pants, she turned and headed back to her motorcycle.

It was time to face the day.

X

She knew that the second day would be more eventful than the first.  People were always more intimidated on the first day, but curiosity always got the best of them after that.

So she wasn’t surprised when a small group of black-clad goth-metal kids were waiting for her near their front entrance doors.  They looked her up and down, no doubt sizing her up to see if she’d fit in with them.

She just ignored them and pulled the doors open.

“Hey, you’re new.  Come here a second and talk with us,” a guy with heavy black eyeliner demanded before she could slip inside.

She heaved an exasperated sigh as she leaned back on her heel.  She turned to face the group and crossed her arms in front of her.  She loved the groaning of her leather jacket as she moved.  It was such an abrasive sound.

“Yeah?  What do you want?” she drawled in disinterest.

“Come chill with us.”

She studied them as they did her.  They all wore black pants, some bondage like hers, some not.  Their t-shirts under their leather jackets (one had a hoodie on) were black with depictions of skulls, pentagrams and swirling, smoky text.  Their hair ranged from mohawks to long and straight, all dark shades of red or blue with black.  Piercings of all sizes and shapes protruded from various orifices on their black-painted faces.

There was one girl in their midst wearing a black leather skirt, just an inch or two short of being considered “mini” with black fishnet leggings and knee high boots with thick three inch heeled soles.  Her hair was long and dark reddish-black in color—no doubt dyed.  She looked back at Mikayla with a hint of curiosity behind her heavily painted black eyes.

No doubt, Mikayla looked like she would fit in with these kids, but making friends was not on her agenda.

“Thanks for the invitation, but I’m not interested,” she replied.

The guy that first spoke to her shrugged.  “Whatever you want.”

She knew their kind.  They didn’t care about much of anything and didn’t ask nosy questions.

She had hooked up with their type when she first started going to public school.  She learned how to dress like them, act like them, and uncovered all the things that really turned them off.  Dark, heavy music was their binding force and dictated their lives as they showed little concern about anything else.  They may come off as disinterested or even uncaring, but she knew that they always stuck up for their own, and sometimes the little guy (depending on the situation).  They didn’t start fights, but they knew how to finish them, and they weren’t afraid to get involved.  They always looked intense, but deep down, they were good people. 

Not killers like her.

They’d be better off without her.

She entered the school like she owned the place.

Once again, she was bombarded with the familiar feeling of being stared at, watched from all angles and from all lenses.  But among the looks that bore into her, there was one that stood out and hit her left temple.

He was there, she knew.  His gaze was different from the others, and it made her blood boil.

She wouldn’t look at him though.  Couldn’t give him the satisfaction of being acknowledged.

The students parted as she approached.  One kid, appeared to be a freshman, was engrossed in telling his friends something, and didn’t notice her coming.

She shoved him with her gloved hand, knocking him over into his friends and nearly sending them all tumbling like carefully placed dominos.

Problem solved.

She made it to her locker and put her helmet inside.  Just as she was ramming it shut, Isaac appeared behind her.

“Good morning Mikayla.”

Cursing under her breath, she shot him an icy look.

He contorted his face into an equal glower at her.

Curse him!  Why was he trying to engage her in meaningless conversation?  She didn't want to be his friend, hadn’t she made that clear?

I’ll have to put him in his place.

She grabbed his face and squished his cheeks and lips together like a fish.  He stared back at her with wide eyes.

“Don’t mess with me,” she growled slowly.

She studied his brown eyes as they began to dance.  Even now, as she gripped his face between her leather-coated fingers, he was unafraid of her—amused even!

What is his problem?  She couldn’t fathom it.  There was something driving this boy to push her buttons, but she couldn’t figure out what his motive was.

She released him roughly and brushed past him.

She would have to try harder with him.  It would seem as though he took her words lightly yesterday.  She’ll have to change that—immediately.

He’ll learn what’s best for him, she thought as she jammed her hands into her deep pockets and tromped to her first period classroom.  They all do in time.

Luckily, he got the picture as he left her alone all morning.  It helped that whenever she caught him looking at her, she shot him a dirty look.

By lunchtime, she was relieved to be able to get out of the building and back to her new sanctuary under the tree.

Her stomach grumbled in discontent.  She hadn’t eaten a thing all day and didn’t have any money to buy anything to eat for lunch either.  She didn’t mind it too much.  She was used to it.  It was familiar—a feeling of being alive.

Not to mention that she wouldn’t dare enter the lunch line or cafeteria for that matter.  No, she would rather avoid all that and just isolate herself someplace quiet and peaceful.

Unfortunately for her, her peace was about to be interrupted.

“I thought I’d find you out here.”

Fuck! She mentally raged as she spied from the corner of her eye the overly helpful and friendly boy from several of her classes.  Why won’t he just leave me alone?

As he got closer, a friendly grin plastered on his stunning face—

Wait, stunning?  Ugh, what a grotesque slip-up.

She noticed he was carrying food with him.

“Mind if I join you?”

Crap.  He’d discovered her sanctuary.  Now she’d have to find a new one.

“Yes, I do mind,” she grunted.  “Go away.”

He ignored her and plopped himself down next to her on the dusty grass.  The wind tugged playfully at his brown hair, brushing the tips into his eyes.  He put the food in his lap and pushed the hair from his face.

“I noticed you didn’t grab anything to eat, so I hope you don’t mind that I bought you some food.”

“Ugh.”

Her stomach growled in protest.

Traitor, she silently cursed her body as she wrapped her arms around herself.

He laughed at her stomach’s reply as he handed her a turkey (or perhaps chicken) sandwich wrapped in plastic.

“I don’t eat wheat,” she retorted as she turned away from him.

He blinked, momentarily speechless as her words set in.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” he replied, withdrawing the sandwich.  “Do you have wheat allergies, or something?”

She shrugged.  Amá sání never cooked with wheat or ate it.  Said one time that after the white men changed the way they harvested wheat, her stomach grew increasingly ill after consuming it, so she stopped eating it and got better.  That was before Mikayla moved in with her after her mother died.  Therefore, she grew up not eating wheat, only traditional Navajo food like corn, potatoes, beans, goat meat, and various fruits and vegetables.

When she moved into her first foster home, her stomach began to cramp and cause her pain and discomfort after eating sandwiches for the first time.  When she stopped eating them, she felt better.

She didn’t know if she had an allergy or not.  She just didn’t eat wheat.

He handed her a banana, an apple, and a fruit cup instead.  “I didn’t peg you to be a picky eater,” he chuckled good-naturedly.

She was quiet as he watched her.  He wondered about what she was thinking as he chewed on his sandwich.  She kept her gaze lowered, as if off in deep thought.  He could tell there was something consuming her mind by the swirling clouds in her eyes.  She was a lot easier to read than he though.

“So what do you like to eat?” he asked, trying to get her to talk.

She weighed the banana in her hands momentarily before starting to peel it.  She didn’t know what to say.  She didn’t want to tell him anything.  At the same time, she felt obliged to answer his question.

She scowled at herself.  You don’t have to tell him anything just because he gave you food!

Still… it might be fun to toy with him…

“Blood… and werewolf meat.”

Man I’m hilarious.

He stared at her in perpetual silence.

She waited.  Looked over at him then as his stunned expression began to crack.

He snorted once before bursting into fits of laughter.  He rolled back on the ground, doubled up through fits.

She tried so hard not to laugh herself.  His laughter was contagious and he looked ridiculous rolling around on the dry grass as he guffawed uncontrollably.

Instead, she crammed half the banana in her mouth.

An unwise move.

He roared with laughter even harder at that, causing her to practically choke.

Coughing violently, she grabbed the bottle of water he brought and chugged it down in one go.

He was clutching his stomach, tears in his eyes, as she finished and tossed the empty plastic bottle at him.  It bounced off his knee unimpressively as he wiped a tear from his eye.  He rubbed his eyes, sniffling, as he tried to calm himself down.  His face was red as a tomato and was grinning from ear to ear.

“Gee, thanks for drinking all my water,” he declared as he crossed his legs in front of him on the ground.

 “You’re welcome,” she grumbled before belching loudly.

He sputtered, “Well, that was lady-like.”

“Shut up,” she spat darkly.

“Are your table manners always this epic?”

“What table?  We’re sitting under a tree and using its roots as a seat—or at least I am,” she retorted, looking away from him.

He snorted as he tried not to laugh again.  He clutched his stomach again and bent forward a little.  “Would you stop making me laugh already?  I might really split a gut if you keep it up!”

“How very tempting…” she murmured softly to herself.

He caught her eye and gave her a pitiful look.

She sighed and rolled her eyes before returning to the banana and eating it like a normal person.

Relieved that she wouldn’t do or say something else that was crazy-funny, he tried to finish eating himself, but found he couldn’t now.  His stomach was all knotted up from laughing so much that simply looking at his food made it churn.  He forced himself to eat a few more bites before giving up for the time being.  He turned his attention to the tree overhead, watching how the sun played between the leaves.

Mikayla regarded him closely.  How could he be so casual around her?  Did he really find her that amusing that he laughed so hard he hurt his stomach?

She tried to remember a time when she had made someone laugh as much, but even amá sání never laughed like that.

She lowered her eyes upon this realization.

This wasn’t good.

She had to end this before he got the wrong idea.

Her heart began to race and she swallowed with difficultly.  She clamped her eyes shut as she inhaled deeply.  She stood up as she exhaled and left without another word uttered.

She had made a mistake.

She went too far.

This had to end.  Now.

Before it’s too late…

.

Author's Note:  The big reveal is coming next...