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RealityMisfit
— Another Weird Short Story
Published:
2014-03-23 00:54:03 +0000 UTC
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Scaro didn’t know what hatred felt like until he came home to find a notice plastered on his front door, detailing the limited time he had left with his sister. He angrily ripped it away, the taped corners adhering to the door still, before he crumpled it up and stuffed it in his bag. When he opened the door, the smell of meat pie met his nose. Kat, the caretaker, came bustling down the staircase with a peeved look on her face.
“I hope you realize that you’re late”, she huffed.
“I hope you realize that I don’t care”, he fired back.
“Watch your mouth boy”, she threatened.
At the dinner table, a cold looking meat pie sat waiting. Scaro ate as Kat went back up the staircase. Immediately a sick feeling formed in the pit of his stomach. He had the feeling that the room she was spending so much time in was the room of his sister.
After finishing half his food he got up quickly to check on his sister, Quryana, himself. He peeked through the crack in the door, seeing Kat hovering over her, before making his presence known. “Hey, Qury”, he said softly as he pushed the door out of his way.
The girl lying immobile on the bed looked up at him and smiled a faint smile. She placed her hands on the mattress and began to push herself up, being rendered with the dead weight which was her legs from the waist down. He hurried to help her. “Hey, take it easy.”
“I’m fine Scaro”, she protested. “It’s only been like this for a week, I’m sure I’ll get better.”
Scaro’s eyes shifted to Kat who avoided his gaze. Instead, she smiled reassuringly at Qury. “You need anything sweetie?”
Qury shook her head no, prompting Kat to leave the room. She then looked at Scaro. “How was work?”
“It was okay”, he responded, not really caring about his work at the moment.
She smiled and he knew that she saw right through him. “I’m really fine Scaro. Really...”
He bit his lip. “Well, I’m sure we can get you leg braces, the nice ones that really support you.”
She looked confused, though “confused” might not be the right word for it. Disbelieving more like. “I said I was fine.”
Scaro didn’t say anything else. He just looked down at the floor. “I think you need some rest, let me help you back down.”
She nodded slowly and moved her hands to her bed before freezing her face paled. “It’s wet here”, she said before her face turned a brilliant red. “I think… I think I wet the bed.”
Scaro couldn’t find it in him to feel awkward about the situation; instead, he called for Kat. “Don’t worry, Kat’ll get you cleaned up. Here-“
He picked her up as gently as possible, her calves swinging lifelessly. After explaining the situation to Kat he carried her to the bathroom then left, leaving Kat to do the washing. He found himself in the living room where he dropped to the couch. The exhaustion that piled on him that day suddenly crashed over him in one fatal blow. He stretched out on the couch, his bag serving as a pillow, and nodded off.
“Get up boy.” He opened his eyes to find Kat hovering over him. Not remembering the past events, he ignored her and closed his eyes again. She flicked him on the nose. “I can’t carry her back into the room you know.”
Scaro winced, more at remembering than the flick. He got up and went up to the bathroom. Quryana was there sitting on the lid to the toilet adorned a nightgown. He could tell that she had to drag herself from the bathtub to the toilet. Her legs were twisted oddly and she bent forward in an effort to untangle them, but was having difficulties.
Scaro went over and helped her straighten out her condition. He lifted her into his arms and carried her to her bed, which had new sheets. “I’m sorry about the inconvenience”, she said.
“Stop”, he replied. “It’s not an inconvenience. Everything is alright.”
She looked at him as though she didn’t believe him, but Scaro was in no mood to argue. He bent forward to kiss her forehead. “Good night. If you need anything call for Kat. “
“Okay”, she said somberly.
Out in the kitchen, Kat scrubbed at the food crusted plates. Scaro headed for the door. “Where do you think you’re going?” Kat said without looking around at him.
“Out”, he simply replied.
She spun around. “How can you even think about leaving when your sister-“
“I very well know what’s going on”, he said before he went to retrieve his bag, fishing out the crumpled up notice. “I got this on the door. We have two weeks left until the government confiscates her.”
Kat nearly dropped her sponge as she looked fearfully at the note. “You mean it’s already happening?”
“Unless her condition improves.” Scaro raked his hands through his hair. “But the plague’s already paralyzed her from her waist down. I don’t think that she’s going to improve any time soon.”
“Scaro don’t say that!” Kat threatened.
Scaro just shook his head, the helpless feeling of the situation washing over him like a tidal wave. He put the note into his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “I’m just going to go out with some friends. I’ll be back and it’ll be like I was never gone.”
She looked at him peculiarly but didn’t argue. She just turned back and resumed cleaning the dishes. Scaro exhaled and walked out into the bitter night. The hum of the city buzzed in his ears, pulsed in the sidewalks he walked in the suburbs. It seemed so lively. Only it wasn’t. It’s was decaying but put on this façade as though to say it wasn’t. As Scaro walked and passed the houses, he couldn’t help but observe a few and wonder if they too have to deal with the burdens of some artificial disease created from failed experiments. On some, he saw the sickening note taped onto their doors. He wasn’t alone.
He eventually came to a pub embedded in the suburb that he went with his friends sometimes. Inside, one of them named Ace sat at the bar, leaning in and whispering something into the ear of some girl with blonde curl bouncing as she giggled, undoubtedly the bartender. Scaro sat on the other side and after not having been noticed for a few moments, cleared his throat loudly so that Ace may hear him. Ace pulled away from the blonde and acknowledged him finally. “Oh hi Scaro, I was just talking to Anastasia.”
“That’s great”, Scaro said flatly.
“Hey man, what’s the issue?” Ace directly turned to him, prompting Anastasia to look affronted and continue tending to the empty glasses needing washing.
“My sister is going to be taken away from me”, Scaro said in a defeated tone.
“Oh…” Ace looked at the wood on the bar, having known about her illness prior. “I’m sorry.”
“We saw it coming.”
“Still sucks.”
Scaro chewed the inside of his cheek and shook his head. Ace turned to Anastasia and turned on his charm, getting her to quickly forgive him for abandoning her, while asking for two beers all the same. The man was sly. He slid the bottle to Scaro who stared at it. “Come on man, maybe this’ll make you feel better.”
“No thank you”, Scaro sighed. “I promised Kat I’d come home with no trouble.”
Ace rolled his eyes and slid the bottle back towards himself. “You know, I think I might know a way to help your situation, I discovered this a few days ago.”
“You’re not funny.”
“I’m serious.”
“What?” Scaro looked at his friend.
“There’s a lab in the city, and I know they’ve been working on some vaccines that’ll cure the plague, or at least improve it, which is what your sister needs right? So go and steal some. They’re keeping it from the poor people is what they’re doing, but you can steal some I bet”, he said.
“I think you’re drunk”, Scaro decided as he turned away.
“I’m serious!”
“Seriously drunk.”
“Whatever man, I’m just trying to help you out”, Ace said. “The Lab is called, N.E.M.A. Do what you will with the information.”
Scaro didn’t know why, but he took the name and imprinted wrote it down on a napkin.
He arrived home at twelve, three hours after talking to Kat. Scaro spent the time making sure Ace stayed out of trouble, as this was the last thing he needed. However, Scaro wasn’t planning on staying home for very long. He went upstairs to his room where he yanked open his closet doors. He climbed into dark clothes and made sure that Kat was asleep. He need not the napkin with the name, but it was imprinted in his brain, repeated itself, sending adrenaline into his veins with what he wasn’t about to do. He took a pistol and a dagger with him. This was stupid. This was just. Opposing consciences clashed as he left the house heading for the lab. He tried to shut them out and let his instincts take over. He wasn’t stealing, killing, or being stupid. He was surviving, and helping his sister do the same.
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