They Called Me FIVE

LANCE

I followed Dad on trogging down the stairs. A burst of dust pop when I flump my feet on the ground. I keep forgetting I have a glow stick stash on my back pocket. I yank it out. Forgot I sat on my butt on the passenger seat, squashing the poor stick until it flattens like ice cream on a driveway.

I search for the wall with no lights to aid. Bulging my eyeballs until I can make something out of this darkness. The dank and dusty atmosphere irritates my nose.. Somehow Dad has found the switch to a generator. I heard him kicked a metal lever and the machine roared to life. The orange light bulbs lit on top of our heads.

And the moldy room with damp cement walls came into view. I could have sworn I saw five rats squeaking in the corner, startled by the sudden light. Except for big white sheets covering tables, sofas, and other equipments I suspect are working out equipments, the place is equally spacious. Dad is removing the white sheets one by one. Recycling bins are lined at my right, densely filled with soot. Old electronics, broken monitors, and other machines are stacked in a corner.

This place looks like it's been abandon for years. The cemented floor and ceiling have small cracks in it, molds crawled its way on the lower part of the walls. But Dad is humming and sticking his nose out in the air as if nothing smells better than the putrid smell of this room.

"Dad are we going to…?" I started,

"Live in here? Yes!" he finished. I scowled.

"I was gonna say clean. I'm too tired to clean Dad, don't we have some polished room where there's no molds, cobwebs and rats spraying rat party in smutty corners?"

He clapped his hand. "Oh! Yes, of course. We're not actually sleeping here, I contacted a friend of mine to let us live this building and he said yes so we're free to stay." He exclaimed.

"Hold on, are you saying this building is…"

"Ours. He's planning to demolish the place in the next six months anyway. Hence, we're welcomed to do whatever we want."

I'm getting suspicious about Dad's mood swings. Back at the truck, he's all serious edgy tight mode, now he's happy delighted fanatic.

"Dad? Is something wrong?" I asked. There's something in his smile that made me feel upset in the stomach. Or I probably ate too much tacos and pizza.

He clamped his hand on my shoulder and shoved me to the other side of the basement. In the opposite direction from where we come in. We stop in front of double metal doors in mossy green color and grab the hilt to slide it open. Behind it is a ramp that opens upward…leading to another dark room.

Except for our shoes clanking against the metal surface and Dad's needless humming, no other sounds flooded in my ears. Not even the hootings of cicadas or the scraping of cars in the asphalt roads. I don't doubt Dad. Not even once.

But I wonder why Magnus's words of 'once a slave of the Faeries will always be the slave of Faeries' kept repeating in my head. Like a loop. There's a thing at the deep part of my brain, telling me to be careful. That the trouble is not over yet. That I shouldn't slack and ready myself.

I haven't solved the 'trap' part yet.

When we climbed up a gush of wind swoop in my face and I stumbled. Dad caught me before I slip. My forearm tingles. Just the part where the Mark of Five is and where Dad's hand settled. An electric current swooped in my body. And I shivered.

Dad switched the light on and the dank white room with peeling flower pattern wallpapers came into my view. There are also sheets on the furniture here, another dust and cobwebs, broken tables, chairs, the lamps laying dead on the floor.

I'm thankful at least the windows aren't broken. The fluorescent light above flickers and I need to be mindful in my step or I'll fall between the gaps on the floorboards.

The fireplace that sits at the center of the room looks it's recently used. There were traces of tenants in here. Tenants who smoke in the window. There are ashtrays and some bottles of beers scattered around.

Dad followed my line of sight.

"Probably homeless dudes who break in." He said. Lower branches from the tree outside scrape the open window. Letting the outside street lights inside. The road is eerily quiet.

Drowsiness swept over me and I rubbed my left eye.

"Dad, room?"

"Right," Dad paced in the room and opened the small door at the corner. I followed him, careful I won't hit any furniture or trample the floorboard gaps. I didn't bother running my eyes around the small room he offered me to sleep.

"I suppose this will be my room?" I asked and yawn.

"For the meantime yes, take a shower first, then remove the beddings on the bed. Take another sheet on that small cabinet. I'll be stacking our stuff from the truck here."

I nod. He bid goodnight and closed the door behind him. My body suddenly feels sore all over and the empty unused bed looks tempting. But I made sure to replace the bedsheets. Due to my tiredness, I even ignored the three cockroaches doing what the adults called 'threesome f*cking' at the side walls inside the cabinet.

I tuck the pillow under the new bedsheet and slam my body in the bed. Puffing a good amount of dust under the beddings. I don't care if this bed screams months of soot and dust and probably cockroach sh*t. Or maybe rats have done it here. And I'm just too tired to give a damn.

I wonder why I feel like someone smacks my head into the frozen river twenty feet of ice deep? And in the midst of my drowsiness…I wonder why Moonrose face appeared in front of me with another blue rose on her lips…