Still Beat

"You need to go home, Maddie."

I didn't know where I was. It was too dark to see anything, but it felt like a familiar place. I frantically moved my hands, searching for a wall, or the floor, but I felt nothing.

"You need to go home, Maddie."

The voice sounded familiar, too. One of those voices that you know you recognize, but you just can't place the face. It kept repeating the same thing, over and over.

"You need to go home."

"I don't want to," I said, though the sound of my own voice surprised me. I reached up to touch my mouth, as if I couldn't believe it had made sound come out.

"You have to. You can't stay here."

"Why not?" I replied, and my voice sounded like a child. Suddenly, I was beginning to connect the voice with the situation.

"Just go home, for Christ's sake."

"No, Brayden. No. Don't leave me here. Please."

I was crying now. I could fell the tears run softly down my face and taste the salt in my mouth.

"Just go home."

Aside from the sound of crying, things were quiet for a moment, until the sound of definablewhoosh echoed through the space. Though I thought there was no floor there to begin with, I suddenly felt it fall out from underneath me. My body stayed stationary for a moment, suspended in the air like a cartoon, then I felt it lurch downward and lose control as I started to fall.

It was still dark when I jerked awake, though the station wasn't as empty as the night before. On the opposite side of the waiting room, a woman with a black scarf wrapped around her head sat holding a sleeping child against her chest. In a corner, there was a young, gangly looking man in a suit, who seemed to check his watch every few seconds, as if the the time would jump ahead.

The woman with the child was staring at me curiously, until her eyes met mine and she looked away.

As I stood up to stretch, I looked at the clock the hanging on the wall. 6:40. The sun would be rising soon, but they wouldn't start selling bus tickets until 7. Instead of waiting in my seat, I made my way to the dingy bathroom.

In the bathroom, the fluorescent lights illuminated the stained tiles and stalls, and gave everything a sickly glow. It had the same effect on my face - it gave my skin a sickly glow, and enhanced the dark circles that sat under my eyes. All in all, I looked like hell.

Actually, I looked like I had just spent the night at a bus station. What a coincidence.

I pushed the lever that controlled the water all the way to the right, then stuck my head underneath it. I took a deep breath as the cold water seeped through my hair and over my scalp, sending a rough chill down my spine. I stood like that until my hair was completely soaked, then began to dry it with a handful of paper towels. I ran my fingers through it in a feeble attempt to get rid of the knots, though in the end, it came out looking like nothing more than stringy, brown straw.

When the time came to buy my ticket, I simply picked the place with the most interesting name, and hoped it would take me far away.

I had never been out of the state before. In fact, I hadn't ever even been out of Dayvale.

I had the opportunity, once. Brayden had just gotten his first car, and planned on going on a road trip of sorts. Just a trip down to Philadelphia, where he had an old friend. A couple of stops along the way to take in the sites. He invited me along, but he made the mistake of asking my father. As usual, Daddy wasn't having it.

I was young then - about seven. Still, I took it as a sort of sign. As I watched Brayden walk out the door, I figured that was how my life would always be. Me, watching the backs of people as they left me behind. I would never get out. I would be trapped inside those apartment walls forever and ever.

So when my bus came forty minutes later, I had a curious mixture of emotions swirling inside my head. There was excitement, of course; I felt like a giddy child when I saw the bus parked in front of me.

There was something else there, too. It was fear, but it was more than just the fear of the unknown. It was like I was doing something wrong, or forbidden. I could hear Brayden's voice as I took the steps to board the bus, clutching the ticket in my sweaty hand. "Just go home," it was saying. I was only causing more trouble for myself. I didn't know what I was getting myself into.

I was nearly about to make a 180 and head straight off the bus when something caught my eye. Up ahead, toward the back of the bus, I saw a familiar mop of fine, brown hair. He was facing the window, and even with the shadows gone from his face, it was impossible to ignore. It was the man from the night before, in all his right-time-right-place glory.