She had been riding her bicycle for almost the entire day. Something about just cruising through empty streets and weaving through busy crowds set the Irish girl's mind at ease, letting all of the stress seep out of her usually strict shoulders and tense facial features relax into a neutral state.
It was well past midday, the sun seeking out its harbor in the distant horizon so that evening could cast its spell across the city. Kingsley was walking beside her bike down a long stretch of barren road, its only other occupants the occasional car that came zipping down the street at speeds that made her wince.
Cars still reminded her of that bitter night three years ago when her family had lost Brandon. She had gotten over it, for the most part, but even so....Memories could still sometimes hurt.
Turning her bike to head down another empty tract of pavement, she idly kicked a few pebbles as they came underfoot. She glanced up when she heard the roar of an engine in front of her, a sleek black car turning the corner sharp before slamming gas into its works.
Pursing her lips, she moved over as far as she could on the sidewalk. Drivers like that always bothered her. Why did you need a car that sounded like a monster" And why did you need to speed down a street like the devil was on your tail" It never made any sense to her. It's why she had never bothered getting her license.
She had gone only a handful of steps before she heard something from behind. No, not really heard, more like felt. Her pace slowed and she looked over one shoulder. Standing there in the middle of the road was a tall, lanky boy wearing faded jeans and a plain white t-shirt. Only the steel blue of his left eye was visible as the fall of bright orange fell over the right. It was a characteristic of his that she knew only too well.
"Toby."
The name was a near whisper, as if saying it any louder would have taken too much time, too much effort. Kingsley looked back to her left, to the oncoming car still speeding down the one-way strip, then back to her right and the boy just standing there, staring at her with an expression that even she couldn't read.
Left, right, back again. It was like a scene from a bad horror flick, one that had a horrendously awful ending, leaving you feeling hollow, gaping and gouged out inside and wanting nothing more than to curl up into a ball and cry your eyes out.
This is not what she wanted to be seeing. This is not where she wanted to be.
Shoving her bike away from her, she launched herself to the right.
"Toby!"
The scream was supposed to be hers but it sounded more like a roar, deep and guttural and nothing at all like the sweet little Irish voice the girl normally possessed. Her muscles, while usually lithe and mildly toned, shot into overdrive, shifting within the flash of mere seconds and causing the thin fabric of dark jeans to bulge, straining against elastic threads.
She barreled toward the boy, racing against the car and, miraculously, won the fight. She would have been out of the way of it, too, if she hadn't stumbled when her body discovered that there was no person standing there to counter her. Her momentum was lost, her feet fumbling up, her outstretched arms circling in only to find that no one was caught within them.
A look of sheer surprise glassed across her face as she fell, knees first, toward the hardened gravel. It was still there when she turned her head to look at the car speeding toward her, its paint gleaming and the failing sunlight glinting off the pristine windshield.
This is not what she wanted to be seeing. This is not where she wanted to be.
Both her look and the window shattered as the vehicle crashed into her.
It was well past midday, the sun seeking out its harbor in the distant horizon so that evening could cast its spell across the city. Kingsley was walking beside her bike down a long stretch of barren road, its only other occupants the occasional car that came zipping down the street at speeds that made her wince.
Cars still reminded her of that bitter night three years ago when her family had lost Brandon. She had gotten over it, for the most part, but even so....Memories could still sometimes hurt.
Turning her bike to head down another empty tract of pavement, she idly kicked a few pebbles as they came underfoot. She glanced up when she heard the roar of an engine in front of her, a sleek black car turning the corner sharp before slamming gas into its works.
Pursing her lips, she moved over as far as she could on the sidewalk. Drivers like that always bothered her. Why did you need a car that sounded like a monster" And why did you need to speed down a street like the devil was on your tail" It never made any sense to her. It's why she had never bothered getting her license.
She had gone only a handful of steps before she heard something from behind. No, not really heard, more like felt. Her pace slowed and she looked over one shoulder. Standing there in the middle of the road was a tall, lanky boy wearing faded jeans and a plain white t-shirt. Only the steel blue of his left eye was visible as the fall of bright orange fell over the right. It was a characteristic of his that she knew only too well.
"Toby."
The name was a near whisper, as if saying it any louder would have taken too much time, too much effort. Kingsley looked back to her left, to the oncoming car still speeding down the one-way strip, then back to her right and the boy just standing there, staring at her with an expression that even she couldn't read.
Left, right, back again. It was like a scene from a bad horror flick, one that had a horrendously awful ending, leaving you feeling hollow, gaping and gouged out inside and wanting nothing more than to curl up into a ball and cry your eyes out.
This is not what she wanted to be seeing. This is not where she wanted to be.
Shoving her bike away from her, she launched herself to the right.
"Toby!"
The scream was supposed to be hers but it sounded more like a roar, deep and guttural and nothing at all like the sweet little Irish voice the girl normally possessed. Her muscles, while usually lithe and mildly toned, shot into overdrive, shifting within the flash of mere seconds and causing the thin fabric of dark jeans to bulge, straining against elastic threads.
She barreled toward the boy, racing against the car and, miraculously, won the fight. She would have been out of the way of it, too, if she hadn't stumbled when her body discovered that there was no person standing there to counter her. Her momentum was lost, her feet fumbling up, her outstretched arms circling in only to find that no one was caught within them.
A look of sheer surprise glassed across her face as she fell, knees first, toward the hardened gravel. It was still there when she turned her head to look at the car speeding toward her, its paint gleaming and the failing sunlight glinting off the pristine windshield.
This is not what she wanted to be seeing. This is not where she wanted to be.
Both her look and the window shattered as the vehicle crashed into her.