Dancing In the Shadows

-Original Fiction-

Lament of a Lonely Soul

by Pookie

A cold rain was tapping lifelessly against the window, a monotonous sound that had become part of the daily routine, something too common to pay attention to, yet so familiar you could not escape it. Sitting in his dark and empty room, his back against a cold concrete wall, a young boy with charcoal hair stared blankly at the wall across from him, his hollow gaze seeming to always avoid the half open window. Sleep was evading him on this cold night and, as usual, there was nothing he could do about it. With a sigh he reluctantly stood up and grabbed a small vest, aimless determination in his movements as he finally glanced at the window. Might as well put the night to good use if sleep was to betray him.

Walking out his room he ran into what would be considered a friend around these parts: someone who tolerates your presence and doesn't try to rape or kill you every time you sleep.

"Can't sleep either?" the other asked.

"No."

"Damn rain."

"Yeah."

He sighed and looked down the hallway at the fire exit and wondered if going outside really was a good idea. The rain was cold and dreary, the kind that sunk deep into your very being and chilled your soul. Oddly fitting if one took the time to think about it, but this was neither the time nor the place…

"Know that feeling when nothing around you exists anymore?" he asked after a while, almost without truly realizing it.

He immediately regretted his words as he saw the predatory look settle in his once-friend's eyes. Rule number one: Never show any weakness or you will be as lamb to the wolves. He smiled, a cold and deadly smile made only worse by the hidden youth of his features, his hand grabbing a small cutter in his pocket.

"That includes me?" the other asked, his initial thoughts slightly put off by the cold look in those green eyes. Suddenly, the weak prey had found its teeth once more, and knew where to bite.

"Something like that." Without another word he walked towards the fire exit, his hand never letting go of the cutter. His body was tense but he did not show it, kicking the door open unceremoniously without glancing back. Self confidence was worth more than gold here; it meant your very life.

"Where you going?"

"Out." He hopped onto the metal staircase and disappeared into the cold rain, his mind barely registering that this building he had once called ‘home’ would no longer welcome him. In a way, he would miss the comfort of knowing there was a warm dry corner of a room he could use.

Since he had arrived in this godforsaken dump of a city, he had managed to survive without too much damage to his person. But the cost had been a high one to pay. Blood and tears mingled here with the sewers, the rotting core of every human being only made more prominent as unruly masses gathered. Whoever said war did not exist at home?

As he walked by a dark alley, a familiar sound of heavy panting, whimpering and mocking laughter reached his ears. He did not need to look to know some poor young man was painfully pinned against a wall by two? Three? Who knew how many were planning on satisfying their more primal lusts tonight. The weak were always at the mercy of the strong here, no one escaped that rule. And if you were caught… you paid the price and moved on. With a grunt he chased away memories of times long lost when he had been the weak one, his fingers nervously playing with his cutter as the dull clicking sound drowned in the incessant rain.

He walked aimlessly for hours in the maze of buildings and streets before the cold rain became too much to bare. He knew he needed to find a place to stay for the night or he would surely die of pneumonia. Not one of the better deaths to suffer down here…

Looking around at his surroundings, he noticed an old fire escape by one of the buildings. Most buildings in these areas were by now either abandoned or the home of some random gang, at which point even glancing at the stairs would have him shot or worse. Still, a building was a building. The promise of dry ground was one he would not fight.

Slowly he started climbing the ladder, allowing himself to hope for even a moment he would not run into a mass of half-crazed murders. Yet even he knew that only fools hoped. As he reached the first floor, he quickly glanced back down, his trained gaze taking in the empty trash bin, the pile of wooden boxes and the sharp jagged piece of metal sticking out from the wall. Satisfied with what he saw he decided to try the first floor. He was close enough to the ground that he could jump out easily and this would be a rather painless landing.

The room into which he entered was dark and very quiet, a stark contrast to the half hazed streetlights outside and the incessant drumming of the rain. Sliding out his small blade, his fingers wrapping around the weapon with an edge of desperation, he stayed by the open window and waited for his eyes to get accustomed to the darkness. After a few minutes he finally started to relax and stepped deeper in the shadowed room, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of life, present or past. Soon he could see as clearly as the ambient light would allow and he nodded briefly to himself, slipping the cutter back into his pocket. This would do rather nicely; the place was dry and more importantly, devoid of any recent inhabitants.

As he scanned the room a second time he noticed a light switch on the opposite side of the wall and very carefully crossed the room, avoiding piles of paper and what looked like a sack of rotting clothes on the way. As he flicked the power on and the old fluorescent light struggled to life he heard a loud snarl behind him. In shock he turned around, one hand instantly reaching for his cutter, the other automatically coming up to protect his face, the gestures grown out of experience and desperation in their effectiveness.

A large form lunged at him, a putrid smell of something that never managed to properly dry wafting to his nose. The shock of the initial attack had him unbalanced and the sudden impact made him loose his footing, sending him and his attacker to the ground with a heavy thud. The boy winced in pain as sharp fangs dug into his arm viciously and claws raked his chest. He grimaced and frowned a moment as he struggled against it, his eyes suddenly growing wide as the lights above finally powered up and showered the room with a dull white glow. A dog!

Discovering the nature of his attacker proved to be a huge relief, even for the amount of pain the suddenly found himself in. A dog, however desperate, was never as dangerous as a desperate human. He slowly grinned at the furry snout before him, ignoring with disturbing ease the painful attack on his arm and chest. It only took a second for his blade to slide out of his pocket and press against the dog's throat. The message was clear for both, but to his surprise, the dog did not move an inch, even when faced with the prospect of death. His arm was quickly starting to become numb from all the pain and his mood was taking a turn for the worse with every passing heartbeat.

"Stupid mutt..." he mumbled as he pressed the blade in a bit harder. At this rate he would soon draw blood... For all he had done, for all he had suffered, he hated the idea of killing a dog. After all, humans were the true animals here. The dogs were merely unfortunate tools of the trade.

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted when he felt something tug lightly at his arm, the pull not very strong but extremely forceful. Twisting his neck as much as he could he glanced over and saw a small puppy biting stubbornly on the hem of his shirt, trying to pull it away with all its might.

So...not just a dog...a mother guarding her pups... His face twisted into an angry snarl. That was more dangerous than a desperate human. Unfortunately for him, in his current position did not give him much in the way of options. He had invaded their home and she had every right to defend her pups. “Ah, a mother's love”, he thought, the curve of his lips as he smiled dripping with poisoned sarcasm.

He sighed heavily, blaming the pain and that infernal rain as muttered curses escaped him, and he finally let the puppy pull his arm away, dropping his cutter with a pitiful clang as he did.

"You win. I was wrong. I won’t hurt you." He kept his voice calm as he spoke, fully expecting to be ripped to pieces by this dog.

Why the she suddenly decided to trust him he could not understand. Why the teeth released his arm and grabbed the pup to return to their corner of the room he would never know. All he knew was that he was alive, released from imminent death and free to move away. The pain that shot through his arm and strong smell blood that now filled the room were enough of a reminder of his situation. He knew he needed to get up and go clean the wound. Who knew what a dog bite could have, especially in this moist and humid weather. But for now, resting here on the cold floor in his drenched clothes seemed like a very good idea.

He listened to the incessant drilling of the rain and the occasional yips of the puppies nearby for what seemed to be hours… or maybe just a handful of minutes? With a painful groan he forced himself into a sitting position and looked around, the surge of blood in his body making his head swim as he desperately tried to get his bearings. After a moment, as his head clear, he was able to start paying true attention to where he now found himself. He took careful note of the position of the dogs and the window, marking his escape route and the corner to leave untouched. He also noticed another door, scarred with claw marks. Seems the mother must have tried to open it for a good while now... At this rate, she might eventually chip out enough of the wooden frame for one of the pups to make it through. Trying his best to ignore the pain he stood up and dragged himself to the door, a trail of rain and blood behind him. He could feel the mother’s gaze on him as he placed his hand on the doorknob, but not once did she dare to move.

He very slowly opened the door and took a careful glance inside into darkness. Wary of another surprise attack he carefully turned on the lights, cursing himself for having left his cutter on the floor and instead using his proximity to the door as a potential shield. The light flickered on much faster this time, revealing to his surprise a simply furnished bedroom: a bed, a small sink with attached mirror and a cupboard. Nothing fancy here, just a normal room… A thought started forming in the back of his mind and he walked towards the cupboard hoping to find something edible, or at the very least useful to him. Amidst dust and spider webs, he saw a can of what seemed to be dog food and an old, almost solid loaf of bread. He looked between the two food items with disgust and realized that thankfully he was not that hungry yet.

Listening to the whimpering of the puppies behind him he grabbed the can and what seemed to be an old tin plate and made his way back to the small canine family. Why he was helping them he did not know, but at the same time, he really could not think of a reason why he shouldn't be helping.

The mother growled as he approached but he ignored her. Collapsing heavily to the ground he pried the can open and dumped without much care the content of the can into the plate. After checking briefly that the food might possibly be healthy for animals, he slid the plate towards them. The mother looked from him to the plate hesitantly, recognizing the smell but fighting with her current knowledge on whether or not to taste it. Her pups however were not so hesitant, and their basic instinct of survival made them rush onto the food with surprisingly cheerful yips.

He could not help but smile as he watched them eat ravenously, wondering how long they had been here feeding off scraps and rats.

"This was your home wasn’t it girl? That's why you haven’t left..."

He sighed and forced himself to a standing position one last time. After that, his mind blanked out completely, exhaustion and strain from a long day finally taking its toll on him. The boy woke up a few hours later in the bed, not really sure how he had found the strength to even get there. He vaguely remembered going to the sink and washing off some of his wounds, so he simply assumed he had passed out on the bed from there. His body was aching in far too many places, a dull throb in his arms indicating the wound was still very much bleeding but he dared not move. Really, he just wanted to sleep again. Yet even for the pain, the sensation of cold clothes clinging to him, something felt very out of place. He slowly realized something warm and soft was pressed against him, a sensation he rarely ever knew. Blinking his eyes and reaching out with his good hand he felt the small body of one of the puppies curled up against him, the animal barking slightly at the touch and seeming to promptly fall back asleep. He smiled to himself, shaking his head lightly in disbelief at the picture that was forming in his mind. All he had done was feed them; they really did not need to keep him warm like this.

"You really are a stupid mutt..." He whispered as he let sleep take him, a small weight having left his shoulders. For the first time that day, he truly looked his age.

He woke up again hours later to a rather unpleasant and dangerously familiar sound, one that activated all his alarms and sent his body in a frenzy of action. Loud voices were somewhere outside, the crude words and laughter at first indistinguishable in his half-awake state. But his body reacted rapidly and he quickly stood up and examined his surroundings. The dogs were gone but he could still hear the puppies whimpering in the other room. Carefully moving to the door he tried to assess the situation, peeking into the room discreetly. Once sure the room was empty, he crossed towards the window in a low crouch, grabbing his cutter on the way before hiding himself in the shade of the window. Glancing outside he saw a group of teens, armed with sticks and small blades, tormenting the poor exhausted mother. They were surrounding her, taunting her to attack but always lashing out at her before she reached them, the cruel taunting of those enjoying their power far too much.

"Look at that bitch! She thinks she can fight us!" A loud voice started right by the window. He strained to see, his eyes focusing on a tall scrawny boy standing just at the edge of the fire escape. The idiot must have tried to come into the room...and now that poor dog was desperately trying to fight them off, to protect her home, her young.

With a growl, driven by god knows what, the raven haired boy lunged at the offending youth, sending them both crashing down to the ground a few feet below. The landing took the wind out of him, but luckily Tall-and-Scrawny did make for a very good cushion, sparing him too much additional damage from the fall. Before the others had time to react he jumped up and started attacking them, praying the seconds of surprise would be enough to take one or two down... Just take one down, that would be enough… Scavengers and fools alike - show enough power to kill one, the pact would disband. Just one… that was all he needed. The words repeated in his mind as his blade flew and his punches landed, hitting random pieces of soft flesh or hard bone, his entire body screaming in agony with every motion. In the commotion he could hear the snarls of the dog and the painful cries of some boys as she took her revenge.

As another boy fell to his attacks he almost believed in victory when a hard punch caught him square in the face, sending his limp body flying into nearby trashcans. His mind and stomach reeled from the impact, the coppery taste of blood flooding his mouth. The pain was becoming unbearable and he desperately fought off the urge to slip into unconsciousness. Death was coming… he needed to face it head on. He could already hear some of the others walking up to him, mumbling and cracking their knuckles as they promised a world of pain and suffering for him.

"Wait." An authoritative voice resonated through the street, making him peer up through one bloodied eye. "Kid's got guts. We should treat him nicely."

As he heard the sinister laughter following those words he suddenly realized that passing out now would be the best solution for him.

He did not think he would be waking up again, much less that he would be resting comfortably in a dry bed. Blinking to regain his senses he tried to look around without letting anyone know he was awake, grunting suddenly as he felt his muscles pull in his shoulder. Thankfully, the caution proved useless as he found himself back in the old bedroom on the first floor, as empty as the first time he had seen it. His wounds had been carefully cleaned and bandaged, the work obviously done by someone with enough experience on the streets. He noticed a carefully folded shirt at the foot of his bed and slowly put it on, every move and every breath proving to be a challenge its own in his current state.

A hard look steeled across his face as he realized just how much he was being toyed with by these unknown kids, and more specifically by their leader. It took a lot to stop a pack with only one word... The sound of that voice echoed in his mind and he shook it out with a growl. He stood up carefully and felt an unwelcome pain from his backside, although hardly an unexpected one considering it all. His lips twisted into a snarl, now sure he had just been used by all of them – and, by the pain he was feeling, not just once. He half-walked, half-hobbled over to the cupboard and noticed a knife planted deep into the hard wood, pinning down a piece of paper. He read the note and laughed, the dark, cold and bitter laugh of one who has lost.

"You could not save the bitch, so now you must take her place."

That was when he finally realized it. His hand wrapped itself around his neck and he felt a thick leather collar. His fingers tightened around the collar, the sudden pull threatening to crush his windpipes. He could not decide whether he wanted to laugh at the irony of it all or hate them for what they did to him. A sound behind him startled him back to attention and he whipped around, pulling the blade out from the wood for defense.

A small scrawny pup walked towards him, trembling from the cold and fear. His mother was long gone and from the looks of it, so were his brothers and sisters. They would probably serve as powerful guard dogs later on, groomed and fed into brutal killing machines while this little one was doomed to starve to death for being weak. He looked down at the animal wondering if ending its miserable existence now would be the kinder act. The pup sat before him and barked once, looking at him with large black eyes, eagerly awaiting for something, some form of acceptance.

"Go away. There's nothing left here for you."

The boy turned around and rummaged through the cupboard hoping to magically find something other than the stale bread in there. The pup ignored him and barked again.

"Go away!" The boy turned around and threw the bread at him. The pup yipped and ran for cover but quickly changed his mind and timidly returned towards the human, the only recognizable feature in this entire apartment now.

"Why are you so stubborn?" He kneeled down next to the animal and looked at him more closely. The moment he came in reach, the small animal jumped on him and nuzzled the leather collar, yipping and licking at the familiar smell and taste. The boy picked up the animal and smiled sadly.

"This was your mother's, wasn't it?" With a sigh he placed the pup back on the ground and started walking towards the window. "I'm sorry she's gone. I couldn't protect her. And I cannot give you this collar. It's mine now." He looked back at the puppy that had started running after him.

"I will give this back to you when I'm no longer the bitch… if you survive that long."

He walked out onto the fire escape and faced the skies, shutting his eyes to the world. The cold rain drops were soon drowning him, washing away all his emotions and leaving behind only a cold hard shell on the outside. When he finally reopened his eyes, a dark shade of red seemed to momentarily dance within them, a hint of all the anger and rage within him. He touched the collar and grinned, the dark smile of a predator catching a scent.

The hunt was now going to begin.