Rhydin?s Badside ? 20 some odd years ago?
?Cu?ndo es mi cumplea?os?
Callate. ?Qui?n Cuida?
?Quiero saber!
?Oi! Tu esta un dolor? En el verano? Junio. ?Ya vete!
The raven haired girl was somewhere between the ages of 4 and 6 and already well wise beyond her years; street wise, if not book-wise. Yet the question of her birthday always went unanswered. She was surprised her brother had even told her the rough time of year before telling her to go away.
Summer. June.
RhyDin?s Marketplace District ? Present Day
She hated this time of year. The weather was starting to get hot, the skies were always too damned blue and happy, and the sun seemed to shine 18 out of 24 hours; (Which she was hating even more this summer, thanks to Gage.) Other than the fact that she was a night owl with less night to be had, PJ just plain hated June.
June haunted her. June hated her. June tormented her. June sucked.
June was an unanswered mystery in her life that she was still no closer to solving. June was the door to a plethora of questions with unknown answers about who she was. She kept that door tightly locked, but the door itself was a yearly reminder of what lay beyond that passage, under lock and key.
PJ wasn?t even sure Spade had told her the truth all those years back. It was highly possible her birthday wasn?t in June at all. Yet in the struggle to be ?normal? while growing up, when asked about her birthday, PJ always gave the same answer.
?Summer. June.?
No date really, at least not until she had learned to read 5 or so years ago, somewhere between the ages of 18 and 21.
She had been in her typical June funk, throwing darts at her walls at random. She?d been holed up for days, not wanting to see the sun or let the sun see her. She?d sneak out at night for supplies and be back as quick as she could, not wanting daylight to even rear its ugly head in her presence.
Back to the darts she?d go. At least this time she?d gotten an 18 month calendar as a promo item from the liquor store? or as she called it, a target. It hung on the wall as she laid on her makeshift bed. She fired off a dart, landing on the 18th, Father?s Day.
Three 18s. PJ wasn?t a highly superstitious sort of girl, but three 18s was enough for her. June 18th was now the assumed date.
June 18th had come and gone, but the month still had a little less than half to go. The birthday blues usually started on the first and got progressively worse. The 18th had sucked pretty badly this time around, and by the 19th, PJ wasn?t leaving home for anything.
She?d gotten good at darts over the years though, and every last one she threw now would land on the 18th day of the 6th month. At least Gage?s wall wouldn?t be too badly damaged.
June had to end soon, right?
?Cu?ndo es mi cumplea?os?
Callate. ?Qui?n Cuida?
?Quiero saber!
?Oi! Tu esta un dolor? En el verano? Junio. ?Ya vete!
The raven haired girl was somewhere between the ages of 4 and 6 and already well wise beyond her years; street wise, if not book-wise. Yet the question of her birthday always went unanswered. She was surprised her brother had even told her the rough time of year before telling her to go away.
Summer. June.
RhyDin?s Marketplace District ? Present Day
She hated this time of year. The weather was starting to get hot, the skies were always too damned blue and happy, and the sun seemed to shine 18 out of 24 hours; (Which she was hating even more this summer, thanks to Gage.) Other than the fact that she was a night owl with less night to be had, PJ just plain hated June.
June haunted her. June hated her. June tormented her. June sucked.
June was an unanswered mystery in her life that she was still no closer to solving. June was the door to a plethora of questions with unknown answers about who she was. She kept that door tightly locked, but the door itself was a yearly reminder of what lay beyond that passage, under lock and key.
PJ wasn?t even sure Spade had told her the truth all those years back. It was highly possible her birthday wasn?t in June at all. Yet in the struggle to be ?normal? while growing up, when asked about her birthday, PJ always gave the same answer.
?Summer. June.?
No date really, at least not until she had learned to read 5 or so years ago, somewhere between the ages of 18 and 21.
She had been in her typical June funk, throwing darts at her walls at random. She?d been holed up for days, not wanting to see the sun or let the sun see her. She?d sneak out at night for supplies and be back as quick as she could, not wanting daylight to even rear its ugly head in her presence.
Back to the darts she?d go. At least this time she?d gotten an 18 month calendar as a promo item from the liquor store? or as she called it, a target. It hung on the wall as she laid on her makeshift bed. She fired off a dart, landing on the 18th, Father?s Day.
Three 18s. PJ wasn?t a highly superstitious sort of girl, but three 18s was enough for her. June 18th was now the assumed date.
June 18th had come and gone, but the month still had a little less than half to go. The birthday blues usually started on the first and got progressively worse. The 18th had sucked pretty badly this time around, and by the 19th, PJ wasn?t leaving home for anything.
She?d gotten good at darts over the years though, and every last one she threw now would land on the 18th day of the 6th month. At least Gage?s wall wouldn?t be too badly damaged.
June had to end soon, right?