The Angel Within

Runa woke up with a screaming headache and little memory of how she’d gotten it. Whatever she’d done last night that had made her drink this much must have been pretty bad. Not to mention she felt like the right side of her face was the size of a grapefruit.
She sat up, the covers falling around her waist so that the cool air hit her bare skin. She was in her underwear and not at home. Well, not her apartment, anyway. Les’s place was the closest to a home as she could get. Wincing, she grabbed her head and leaned over, moaning when a wave of nausea swept over her.
“It’s about time you woke up,” Les said with a smile. He was leaning on the doorframe with a bowl in hand. “I’ve told you not to drink so much.”
She squinted up at him, not even bothering to cover herself. It’s not like he was ever affected by her anyway. “What happened?”
He pushed off the door and came over to her, sitting on his bed and shoving the bowl at her. “I was hoping you’d tell me. Eat.”
Realizing she was starving, she grabbed the bowl and shoveled the food into her mouth, forgetting her pounding head for the moment. “Don’t know,” she muttered between bites. “I must have been pretty pissed.” She stopped eating to look up at him. “Why does my face feel like I got into a fight with a crowbar and lost?”
Les reached out and touched the sensitive skin below her eye. She probably didn’t know it, but Les was getting ready to kill her parents if they kept this up. He was almost positive that they’d done far worse, but Runa had never told him anything, just showing up with bruises all the time whenever she went for her “visits”.
“You have a black eye,” he told her and watched her face scrunch up before she went back to eating. “. . Runa. What happened?”
She didn’t even pause. “Don’t know. Went to meet someone, then left to see Linda and Pops. .” She stopped and Runa felt the color drain from her face as she closed her eyes.
Oh, fuck. Not again. If her father had been there, then only one thing could have gone down. It was no wonder she was bruised from here to Kingdom Come. She would never give into that without a fight. They must have slipped something in her drink again. Damn, when was she going to learn? She was so stupid.
“-na? Runa?”
She blinked, schooling her features, and started to eat again as she forced unpleasant thoughts away. Don’t think about it. Just don’t think about it. . . “I’m okay. If Pops was there, we probably just got into another fight. Nothing new.” And she was betting there was a new wad of bills stuffing her jeans’ pocket, too.
“I figured as much,” Les said with a frown. “When you got to the club, you were buzzed. You must’ve hit a bar on your way.”
Yup. Definitely drugged. It explained the memory-loss too. Damn it, she was going to have to go to the clinic again. . .
She put the empty bowl aside and reached over for the clock. “What time is it?”
Les grabbed her wrist as she reached out to grab the alarm. Worry laced his voice. “Runa. . . What aren’t you telling me?”
It was the same routine again and she sighed. He asked and she came up with some excuse that she knew he didn’t buy for a minute, but, because he was such a nice guy, she knew Les wouldn’t press for answers. Not really.
She plastered a smile on her face. “Just that I have the worst headache on the planet and I’m hoping you have some more of your goop in that pot of yours.”
“How many times do I have to tell you that it is food?” he teased back.
Yup. Nothing ever changed. The secrets would always be there. As she scooted across the bed, rifling through his drawers for a t-shirt, she knew that he would never understand. Half the time, she didn’t even understand. So the secrets would stay where they were: buried deep behind a wall in her mind, where the memories from last night were starting to take up residence. As they slowly formed in her mind like flashes of some distant nightmare, she forced them away, reminding herself not to look too closely. Never look too closely.
She spun towards his bathroom, calling out to him, “I’m using your shower, Les.”
“Use whatever you want,” he called back as she heard the sizzle of a frying pan.
Runa stripped quickly, turned the taps on as hot as they would go, then stepped under of the scalding spray. She didn’t care that it burned her skin. She didn’t care that she knew that the water wasn’t going to wash away the discomfort or the bruises or the aches and pains. She just welcomed the short moment of emptiness she got before her body became numb to the pain.
As she washed her hair, scrubbing furiously to get the smell of yesterday off, a jingling caught her attention.
Surprised, she looked at her wrist, trying to ignore the bluish-purple bruises spreading on her skin. And her mother wondered why she wore thick leather guards instead of delicate pieces of rock artistry. If this was going to happen on a regular basis, what was the point? It’s not like the bands were a fashion statement anyway, so she could deal. They were just a means to cover up something that shouldn’t be seen and that was good enough for Runa.
But that wasn’t what she was looking at right now. Frowning, the date with Uniteare flashed through her mind. Just what was he up to? What was his motive behind blackmailing her into something so stupid? She couldn’t think of any.
Still, as she finished washing herself, Runa couldn’t say that she wasn’t glad that the innocent-looking bracelet had somehow managed to survive the horror of last night.

*************************************************

“Runa?”
She bit back a sigh and tucked the bag close to her chest, turning around to see Jareth, a little slip of paper in his hand and obviously heading for the pharmaceutical counter Runa was currently blocking. Damn it, why did he have to show up now of all times? She had the worst luck ever.
“What are you getting?” he asked, frowning. “Everything okay?”
Well, if this wasn’t awkward as hell. She was hoping he’d given up after that weird blowup after their “date”. “What about you?” she dodged. “What’re you doing here?”
He held up the paper with a frown. “Medicine for my cat. Idiot keeps eating crap that doesn’t belong in his stomach.”
Runa nodded. Sounded like a cat. She wondered what his looked like. “Well, I’m off.”
“Wait a sec,” he ordered. “I’ll walk you home.”
“I’m cool,” she told him, waving a hand behind her. “I live close by.”
He grabbed her wrist over the new bands she’d bought. She couldn’t find her old ones. Pops had probably taken them and thrown them out during the. . uh, episode. She tried not to wince.
“I don’t care if you live close by,” he gritted. “Stop being difficult and let me walk you home. A student shouldn’t be out this late and definitely not a girl.”
She shot him a glare, but he did have a point. Since she hadn’t brought her bike, she was actually slightly grateful that he’d forced her. Not that she’d ever tell him that.
Glancing outside, she waited for him to fill the prescription as she took in the dark street and the sky beyond. The day had been like any other days when she woke up under Les’s care: tense, but relaxing. He didn’t ask what had happened, and she didn’t tell, playing the Don’t Remember card like a rule. It wasn’t that hard, she supposed, to let him stay content with his pure image of her. If he knew the truth, there’s no saying what he’d do - or what would change between them, and, above all else, she didn’t want his pity. Never. Not with Les. He had enough going on without her problems added to his plate. Staying quiet was the only option. She could handle herself. So, they had sat and watched movies, played a few games with the twins, and enjoyed each other’s company and quiet support. A regular day in the simple life they shared.
“Runa?”
She jumped, startled out of her reverie. “Sorry. I was spacing out. Can we go now?”
Not waiting for him to answer, she left, the convenience store door jingling behind her.
Keeping pace with her easily, Jareth strode beside her, taking in the way she was covered from head to toe in clothes even though it was rather warm for evening. She was wearing too much clothing. The regular black combat boots pattering on the cement and concealing the ends of her tucked-in, baggy, multi-pocketed pants, her high-collared tank under the hooded sweater with the sleeves pushed up and her suspenders hanging out the bottom and her little beanie made her look like a thug. And he supposed she was, in some sense. Absolutely untouchable and dangerous, she made for an intriguing mystery. Especially since, once in a while - more than likely when she didn’t notice - he saw a great sadness in her. He was sure that something was haunting her. Something that she was holding back. Something that, right when it got to the surface and threatened to spill over, she reeled back in and shut tightly away again, as if she’d somehow made a mistake.
It made him worry.
“Hey,” he started, more to get out of his thoughts than to break the silence. It helped that he really wanted his question answered, too. “Where’s the bracelet I bought you?”
“Didn’t want people asking questions about it, so I put it away,” she said without pause. She gave him a smirk. “Besides, anything that delicate breaks around me in a matter of minutes. It wouldn’t survive the kind of shit I do.”
Jareth tried his best to remind himself that Runa was no ordinary girl. That, maybe, she actually was worried she’d break the chain, and not that she’d perhaps thrown it out or given it to some random nobody on the street. “I see.”
She sighed, knowing he didn‘t believe her. “Look, if you don’t believe me, I’ll show you.” She turned abruptly off the street and into an apartment block. An expensive apartment block. “My place is right here.”
Not knowing why, she climbed the stairs to the third floor, knowing he’d follow, and led him to her door. As she fished her keys out of her pocket, Runa wondered why she felt the need to prove him wrong about her. She wasn’t the trouble-making, lying hellion everyone made her out to be. She told the truth and, apart from her drinking, she had an outstanding reputation. The same couldn’t be said for many others.
Jareth tried not to gape as they entered her large living room. It was bigger than his house times two. . . But it was empty. Bare, almost. As if whoever lived here only came home to sleep and possibly eat. There was a couch and a small carpet under the plain coffee table off to the left, leaving the huge expanse of the thirty-foot area empty. A flat-screen television hung on the wall in front of it with a black-painted wood chest underneath, but that was it. There were no pictures, no magazines, no other furniture. Nothing. It was white and completely void of all emotion. So different from what a teenager’s apartment should look like.
She set her keys on the counter and walked off to her right, down a hall. Curious to see if her room was any different, he followed her. There were two doors on either side of the hall and one at the end. The first door on the right was open and, on the quick glance he got, seemed like a masculine guest bedroom. There were some clothes there, a few pictures and it was done in deep reds and golds.
When Runa turned into the room on the left, opening the door with yet another key, Jareth figured that the room at the end must be a bathroom. But, then, who was she keeping the guest room for? The question made his skin itch. Especially when he thought it might be for Les.
“Come on,” she said, flicking on the light. “It’s right in here.”
Though this room had more of a personal touch, it was much like the living room and kitchen. White walls and wood floors with a bright splash of blue in the form of a rug at the end of a modern, boring, but huge bed that looked like it hadn’t been slept in yet since it was collecting dust on the covers. Did she sleep on the couch?
Further inspection of the room revealed little. There was a dresser with some pictures that he really couldn’t make out of her and some boy - more than likely a brother or something - throughout her life, changing with age, a half-open closet, a nightstand, and a long wood table running across the right wall.
She was fiddling with a box, opening the lid after producing yet another key. Good Lord, was she paranoid?
“See?” she said triumphantly, holding up the sparkling chain. “Safe and exactly the same. Happy?”
Part of him was, actually. The fact that she hadn’t lied and really did care whether or not she broke, lost or damaged the bracelet gave him warm fuzzies, but he still wished she’d wear it. He hadn’t bought it to sit in her jewelry box, after all, silver or not.
“Why don’t you wear it?” he asked.
She sighed, looking away. “I already told you. I’m not the jewelry type.” She held up her wrist, showing him her leather cuff. “This is my style. And it’s definitely not delicate or breakable. If I lose it or it gets damaged, I can go get another one without thinking twice.”
“Be that as it may, I think the bracelet suits you better.”
“That’s a first,” she scoffed, shaking her head. “You’re definitely the only one. Though I suppose my mother would agree with you.”
“Where are your parents?”
Her mouth drew into a thin line and he winced inwardly. Okay, so Mom and Dad weren’t a safe subject. He’d keep that in mind and poke her later.
Her voice was like ice when she answered. “They’re not here.”
Yeah, he could see that. He held out his hand. “Alright. Back to my point. Give me your wrist.”
She eyed him skeptically. Paranoid much? “Why?”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m going to prove my point.”
Tentatively, like a wounded animal, she reached out and let him take her hand. He thought he saw her eyes tighten and, when he flipped her wrist up and went for the buckle of the leather band, she tried to pull away, jerking her arm back.
“Let go!” she demanded, her voice hinting at panic.
He frowned. “Breathe, would ya? I’m just going to show you you’re wrong. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Not the point,” she spat, tugging at her hand even as he worked the band undone. She pulled at him with her other hand. “Stop! Don’t undo the-”
His eyes widened even as hers closed in what seemed like angry shame. “What the fuck?”
Encircling her wrist like a shackle was a wide, mottled bruise of purple and blue, marking angry lines against her pale skin. Pissed and disgusted, Jareth grabbed her other arm and yanked off the band to find the same result. Suddenly, he saw at her clothes in a new light.
He narrowed his eyes on her. “Take off your jacket.”
She glared at him, lifting her chin in defiance. “Piss off.”
Rage built in him and he saw red for an instant before he reminded himself that Runa was the victim. He couldn’t control the strained sound of his voice, though, or the fact that he had to grit his teeth in order to keep from ripping her clothes off himself. “Take. Them. Off.”
She glared at him for a few more seconds before making a frustrated sound. She set the bracelet down behind her and kept her eyes locked on his face as she unzipped her jacket and let it hit the floor, revealing her arms. They were just as bruised as her wrists - the only clean places being her forearms - dark imperfections spreading at irregular intervals and disappearing under her dark tank top.
He reached out - both proud and sad when she didn’t flinch - and tugged off her beanie, cursing when he saw the black eye she was sporting. How could he not have seen that in the store?
“What in hell happened?” he demanded to know.
She turned and replaced the bracelet in the box. “I got into a fight.”
He grabbed an un-bruised part of her arm and spun her. “This is not from some damn fight. What the fuck happened, Runa?”
Her eyes were cold and her face had closed. Damn it, he’d lost whatever little part of her he’d thought he’d gotten. She wasn’t going to tell him shit. More and more fucking secrets. “It’s none of your business, Uniteare. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you’d leave.”
Frustrated and wanting answers, but knowing he wasn’t going to get them from her, he let her go and stormed out of her apartment, slamming the door behind him. He didn’t know where he was going to find them, or what he was going to do when he found them, but he was going hunting. And he'd be damned if he was going to stop until he got some.