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Star-Crossed


The sound of grinding metal sliced into the air. Sparks spewed from the source of the collision between the car door and a stop sign. They fluttered in front of Kyra’s face like up turned leaves in the wind. Kyra had run herself ragged to reach the street corner when a Camry twisted around it like a drunken speed-skater. The damage was done before Kyra could exhale. By her next breath she was already halfway across the street, physically and mentally unscathed by the near hit and miss. The only thing that had increased her speed was the quickening constriction of her lungs.

Each rain drop that crashed down on her, felt like an ice blade, piercing through cloth and flesh. The cold air that hugged her neck and chest stiffened their muscles. Every tendon in her body was already exhausted and deprived of oxygen, but the rhythmic stomps of her feet on the pavement, grew faster still. Her lungs would close up on her sooner than she desired but she had to make it home. Kyra pressed against the icy gale, now ripping down from the sky until she was able to throw herself into the apartment complex.

Kyra sprinted up the stairs, still holding back the subtle waves of pain inching their way through out her body. She made it into the apartment and no one was home but all she had held back came rushing at her. Her knees became as unstable as her thoughts; wobbling every which way with the slightest of pressure. Her loose sense of balance and darkening vision sent her stumbling down the hall, clawing at the walls. Plain white paint easily crumbled under her fingernails. She tried to move quickly, but her haste only made her stagger and flop off her sandals. Her keys and thin black jacket had assumed the weight of a car, so they trailed off onto the floor behind her.

“Hello? Kyra are you home?” Kyra hadn’t heard Isaac open the door but his voice clearly echoed down the hallway. She wondered how she had not run into him and was thankful for it. This gave her time, enough to get into the bathroom, although she stood trembling against the wall. “I thought you wouldn’t be back until 10:30. Why are you…Kyra?” Isaac peered down the hall way seeing Kyra barely standing. She looked over her shoulder for a moment staring at him and with the last of her energy, bolted for the door.

Kyra crashed into the bathroom before Isaac could think to react. She locked the door and let her back slam against it. As she slid to the floor, her body would jolt slightly; Isaac had started to pound on the door. It was made of hard wood and dead bolts; Kyra knew his attempts would be fruitless even as the room began to shudder.

“God, why didn’t you tell me? Open the door! Damn it Kyra, please!” Isaac’s shouts stung in her ears. Her eyes burned and sharp stabbing pains worked their way down her spine and tore through her chest, probably churning organs in her rib cage. It felt as though something would burst out of it. Sci-fi movie clips sped through her mind making her chuckle at the pain aloud. Her laughter turned to cries as the ache increase. She tried to reach out for the sink to pull herself up, but her knees collided with the cheap, cracked linoleum tiles when Isaac began to ram the door.

“Please…please just go away! You can’t do anything! I can take care of it…” Tears tumbled over her cheeks as she strained to speak. Kyra pulled herself up to look into the mirror, which had become steamy and her face appeared faded. The rich tan of her skin had been waned away by fear and exhaustion. Her long dark curls stuck to the side of her face, heavy and damp with sweat. She stared into her own eyes; two large hematite like spheres, dark and magnetic, that memorized her even now. She listened to Isaac now wrestle with the door knob. Then in in a fury she ripped the medicine cabinet open, allowing all its contents to spill out into the sink.

“Just come out! I can help you! Please God, let me help you! Open the door! Open the- Argh!” His shouts cut into a short, deep scream of pain. The door knob had become a ball of searing metal. His shouts only reached Kyra as erratic whispers swirling in the heat. Thin wafts of sauna like steam had begun to fill the room. The water in the toilet was bubbling over and Isaac’s wails of pain and desperation were cut through by the sound of the porcelain crack. A surge of burning hot water rushed to Kyra's naked feet but she didn’t flinch nor notice.

Her eyes darted round the room in quick fear as her sight and sound began to dampen. The candles beside the bathtub were puddles of wax and the shower curtains seemed crushed up to its hooks, dripping molten plastic. The green wall paper was stripping itself to the floor and the toilet paper was turning to embers. She looked down into the sink and all the bottles and tubes had become a clump of useless play dough. The pills, now nothing but a ball of paste and plastic would not have dulled her stinging, stabbing, cramps and aches. Kyra understood that they wouldn’t but she still flung the toilet cover in frustration at the mirror, sending reflecting glass shards everywhere.

The sounds of pounding and shouting dissipated from the air as Isaac moved from the door. Steam was seeping out from under it. The air in the bathroom had become so thick and heavy the room’s volume could no longer contain it all. Kyra crumpled into a heap on the floor amongst the broken bits of mirror. She trembled and screamed in fits of pain as her whole body began to burn from the inside. She reached out desperately and grasped one fragment of hot reflecting silver.

She plunged it deep into her thigh and blood oozed from between her fingers and leg, spilling out onto the floor. She lay in a fetal position as pinkish hot water lapped against her head. Her pain slowly seeped away, along with the fog of heat in the room. Kyra gazed up at the blinking light bulb on the ceiling. The rest of the room darkened as the hum of electricity faded from above her and she eased into unconsciousness.

Everything was devoured by a grey abyss. It had no weight or volume; it could have held the entire universe for all Kyra knew. This void enveloped her mind and seemed to erase all traces of the present. The terror and pain of that time dissipated into this span of nothingness, that acted like a silent parasite, hungering after anything in it’s path. It swooped down on any signs of conscious thought, obliterating its brief existence into dust. Particles of slain notions drifted in the vast space of her mind.

Descending through this cloud that ate away from her consciousness, she was left with nothing but memories. Discarded moments in time swam around her, silhouette against the blank slate. Most of them were looming dark shadows, who’s words were scratched like broken records. Though thick with demonic-like accents, Kyra knew every scene word for word. The things you would rather have forgotten, are the ones that hold on the strongest. Locked away in the far reaches of her psyche, these memories morphed into formless nightmares that leap in and out of the darkness.

Soon the grey turned to black and the shadows melted into her surroundings, no longer able to give off detectable movement. She was just engulfed in an infinite darkness, but then a light appeared before her, in the form of glowing green figures. Kyra’s eyes adjusted around the numbers “11:21.” If it wasn’t for this clock sitting beside her she wouldn’t have realized she was awake.

Kyra’s limp body was sprawled out on the couch in the living room. Her muscles felt so stiff and worn. She grasped at the couch to pull herself up. Sitting up was much more of a task then she thought, but she managed to prop herself against the back of the couch. Her mind was still a little fuzzy and light headed so she hunched over and put her head on her knees, still with most of her weight on the back of the sofa. She looked up and realized that the room had not been as dark as she thought. Blinding light was pouring in from the bathroom.

She started to glance around the room attentively and confused. How had she gotten in to the living room in the first place? She turned back to the bathroom and saw that the door lay cast aside on the floor, taken off from its hinges. The bathroom floor was smeared with bits of her own blood as if someone had tried to clean it.

The bright white tiles held on to the brilliant red color and let it seep into its cracks. It now resembled veins torn from the body and put on this display as an eerie reminder. She grazed her fingers over what she thought was still the open wound, but her thigh was tightly wrapped in gauze. She was quickly aware of how painful this gash in her leg was as sensation came back to her body.

“I don’t think you should be sitting up, you might pass out again.” Isaac came up silently beside the couch, his voice was soft, almost tired like. He was only 22 and his expression seemed 8 years older. He had a knack for sneaking about the house and he did it without even realizing. Kyra was not startled and remained silent. “Are you O-…are you cold?”

He was trying so hard not to pry, though it was not like he didn’t have a right to, not after what just happened. He took her silence as a yes and simply draped a quilt over her.

“So what are we gonna say this time?” Her voice barely came through as a whisper and she didn’t lift her gaze to meet his.

“I don’t know. I’ll think of something. Don’t worry about it, you just…relax.” Out of the two of them Kyra was the most relaxed. Isaac sat down beside her and rubbed the back of his neck hard, as if he was trying to massage an answer into his mind. He placed his hand back down over a square bulge in his pocket. The Newports must be burning a hole in his pocket Kyra thought; he always smokes when things get tough, which was becoming more and more often. Every time the man coughed she felt responsible.

“You know, I don’t even want to go. I hate hospitals. Besides it’s not-”

“No, no we are going to the hospital. I can’t take care of that wound. You cut too…” his voice trailed off when Kyra shot him a look of one thousand deaths. He narrowed his and pushed on regardless. “It’s too deep to just slap a Band-Aid over it Kyra!”

“It’s not that bad.” Her voice was devoid of emotion and she twisted her pinky around a loose string on the quilt, winding it tighter and tighter until it snapped. When she felt the hot beams of his stare and looked up at him, Isaac’s cheeks had turned an angry pink. He reached out and tore the quilt from Kyra’s legs to reveal a blood drenched bandage on her leg. A crimson stain was seeping out of it onto her jeans. She turned away from him defiantly.

“I’m going to…I’m going outside for a smoke. When you feel up to getting stitches just lock yourself back in the bathroom and pass out again. I’ll have an ambulance ready this time.” He greedily dug into his pocket for a cigarette but his face scrunched up in the process from quick pain. When he lifted up his happy little cancer stick, Kyra noticed how swelled his fingers were. He had blisters around the edge of his palm as well. “What?” he muffled out with the cig in his mouth, when he caught her staring.

“What happened to your hand, did I…” she only made eye contact for a moment and that alone seemed to melt Isaac’s anger to slush. He popped the cigarette out his mouth and brushed back behind his ear.

“It’s not that bad” he let out a little laugh. Kyra’s sad attempt to smile made him sigh. “Did something happen this time? What was it?” He looked so young in that moment. His brown eyes shined like a little boy wanting the secrets to how the sky was blue, how babies were made, how his niece had come home in such a state. He looked more pained then she felt. This disease, as they both thought of it, was ruining their lives. Isaac couldn’t sleep at night with out worrying about her. Kyra could live her life without worrying she burned the world to cinders.

“Nothing happened, it just came without warning.” Kyra stated, almost as if it were to herself. Isaac looked at her for a moment.

“If the bleeding stops, we won’t go to the hospital.” He started to walk toward the door.

“That’s it? All it took was for me to tell you what happened?”

“If that’s what you call it. You are a horrible liar. If I took you to the E.R. god knows what they would think.” Isaac just sighed heavily and opened the front door. “I’m going-”

“-to smoke, yea I know.” Kyra chimed in a matter-of-factly monotone. Isaac just nodded.

“Yeah, well just stay here and don’t move around. I’ll be back in five.” Then he left with out another word or another glance. Kyra being left to her self, left to her thoughts, wished that she was still unconscious. Although rather than be plagued with the waves of useless memories, she would be pleased to have that nothingness again. She was indeed a bad lair even to herself. She couldn’t chop the truth from her mind. The night just kept beating itself into her thoughts again. Her mind flooded with the memories of hours ago; when the rain that was pitter pattering against the living room window was non-existent and the gash in Kyra’s leg had not yet come of use.




“Let’s go kiki!” A girl with hair bright red enough to stop traffic stood screaming on Kyra’s corner. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” Her heels clicked rapidly as she rushed ahead of her sluggish friend. Kyra was at a snails pace of movement.

“It’s only 8:00 o’clock Nana.”

“Ugh” with a toss of her long blood red strands she practically stomped and pouted her way back to Kyra. “You just don’t want to go.” Nana’s Brooklyn accent was in full throttle that night. She was unknowingly emphasizing her “a” s and “o” s in every word. She always did when ever she got excited.

“Perhaps-”

“After you said you would last week. You don’t go anywhere. You’re out the door and halfway down the block and now you choose to change your mind.” Nana spoke so fast it gave Kyra whip lash, even having been used to it for the past year.

“Ok, I didn’t say I wasn’t going, … it’s just so early. Why do we have to be there first?” Kyra let go of her breath and adjusted her long black gloves. Nana began to speak but then caught herself in thought.

“Well you know what… you are right. It is a little early.” Her pace seemed to slow altogether and she wrapped her arm around Kyra’s. They steadily walked down the street together in a silence that never lasts long with Nana. “So, how is mister Alron doing?” A small smile curled in the corner of her mouth.

“He’ll be doing about five years if you keep that up, miss jail bait.” Nana raised an eyebrow at the thought.

“Well just think about it, in 2 years I’ll be 18; I could be your aunt. “Ramona Alron” has a nice ring to it and we’d be family.” Nana’s Spanish accent rolls in with her “r” s when ever she gets “romantical”.

“So you can boss me around, I think not.” Kyra and Nana laughed a moment but their pace seemed to slow even more so. It was Kyra who was dragging her feet. Nana didn’t seem to notice, in fact she had caught sight of their destination, and urged them forward.

The building they stood in front of was not unlike Kyra’s apartment building. The whole area seemed very much the same to her own neighborhood; probably because it was only a few blocks away. These buildings all had dirty red bricks and tall thin windows. The building before them had it’s windows lined up neatly all the way to the sixth floor.The party that Nana and Kyra were headed to was a the top. Nana looked down at her three inch heels with a sigh.

“I told you to wear comfortable shoes.” Kyra said as she felt Nana hesitate to move forward. Nana lifted her head a moment later and with a deep breath, she pushed onward, although for the rest of their trek up the stairs, Kyra remained in the lead. Nana’s face grew unnaturally serious with concentration and pain at each passing flight. Kyra tried hard not to look back at her, she would laugh if she did. She wondered why people put them selves through so much for these things.

This party, as well as every other party Nana invites Kyra to, was useless. They had no purpose other than to pass time. They were not created to celebrate anything, it was just there and in Kyra’s opinion unnecessary. She didn’t like being around large groups of people but Nana was always very protective of her, so Kyra didn’t mind so long as they were together.

They reached the 6th floor soon enough and even though Kyra didn’t know the apartment number she walked straight toward the right door. The pulsing beat behind it was a dead give away. Nana had now assumed her normal grace and came up behind Kyra in a glide but before she could knock, Vincent Zortel opened the door.

“Well better late then never Ramona.” Vincent’s voice was deep and smooth and his words lazily moved through the air. He stood towering over the two girls in the doorway grinning like a cat. His dark brown eyes lain under sleepy lids looked down at them. His completion was a the same deep mahogany color as Nana, but his cheeks were flushed into a vibrant pink.

“Vin you must be really drunk or really stupid to be calling me the “R” word. Only I have that privilege.” Nana marched in to the apartment and Vincent merely shrugged off her comment with a overzealous smile thus confirming his guilt. He eyed Kyra as she strolled in behind Nana.

“Who’s your friend?” Kyra was surprised by his interest in her. She figured no one would notice she was even there. If fact she hoped that would have been the case. Kyra stood there awkwardly in front of him. Nana walked up to Vincent and gently lifted the plastic cup he was holding to take a sip. She smelled it first, took a sip and looked up unaffected.

“What ever you’re drinking, it isn’t that strong. I didn’t know you can’t hold your liquor.” She gazed up into his eyes a moment and with a closer inspection, she saw how red rimmed they were. Along with the stupid smile on his face, her conclusion was set. “Uh-huh, no wonder you can’t recognize people when they walk into your house.”

“ I knew who you was.”

“Well this is Kyra Alron. She sits about three seats from you in all of our classes.” Nana looked up at him almost devilishly as she was pleased with knowing him so well. Vincent stared at Kyra curiously for a moment .

“I think I do remember you, Kyra was it. You would think I would remember you. Anyways, lets go in already.” He brushed his short dark locks out of his face, his eyes still struggling with Kyra’s identity and moved down the hall. They hadn’t realized how loud the music was until Vincent opened the door and it came pouring into the hallway.

The dim lighting of the living room cast shadows over the thirty or so people bobbing about. The floor trembled with their stomps and the deep pulse of the base of what ever song was playing. It was so loud the words were indecipherable.