AN: Well... everyone seems to think Fly Wings is confusing so far, which confuses ME. Anyway, the lack of reviews has been discouraging, but I figure I'll post up the next bit anyway. Erm... ;_; *is sad so few people seem to like it*
Review Request: PLEASE! FOR PITY'S SAKE!!

Fly Wings
by TalentlessMoo

Chapter Two
I sat in a closed store's doorstep, catching my breath and trying to regain a sense of balance. These were my first gasps of outside air, free of the stuffy confines of a gray basement. The realization was wasted on me, however, the slightest breezes cutting through the malodorous rags I wore. This street was almost empty except for a pair of hobos, one on each side of the street, sleeping on their birdshit-covered stoops beneath their ragged comforters.

Naively, I thought I might find a shelter or something. I heaved myself to my feet, and staggered past one of the hobos in the direction of the more heavily concentrated cluster of lights.

An arm shot out from beneath the blanket, and a bushy face peeked out from beneath the hem of the blanket. I was startled by the homeless man's boldness; I was sure ten years ago bums, sleeping or not, did not touch “normal” people.

“I need...” the hobo rasped out, his grimy touch on my grimy leg strange. “I...”

“Do you know where a shelter is?” I blurted out stupidly, tripping over my words.

“Don't be stupid,” he spat. “What's a shelter going to do for you, even if I knew where one was?”

“Please, I—” What could I say that would sound plausible? “–– I just ran away from home, I don't have any warm clothes, or food or money... Are you sure you don't know—”

“Go back home's my advice, kid. I'd be grateful for a roof, I tell you that.”

“I can't.”

“Sure you can. Skedaddle.”

“It's all gone,” I whispered.

“What? I can't even hear you. If you don't got nothin' to share, then scat.”

The sidewalk felt so foreign beneath my dirty, bare feet. I wandered for a good while till I ended up in a part of the city obviously not favored by the government. Most of the buildings were derelict, though one or two of them bore scaffolds in front of them. The legally-inhabited buildings didn't look much better than the squats.

Clumsily, I clambered up one of the scaffolds, and swung onto the corrugated aluminum above. One of the boards across the windows swung only from one nail; someone lived or had lived here after the nails had been driven in. I pushed aside the board, squeezing myself through the opening I was given; whoever lived here was not very given to eating if they managed to get in and out every day.

I nearly fell in, my reflexes were so poor. There were a few figures lying prone on the floor, scattered amidst tattered blankets; whether dead or asleep I couldn't be sure. I tiptoed between the splayed limbs, careful not to tread on anything.

There were clothes heaped in the corner, though I didn't doubt they smelled of months without showering. Clothes that didn't look like they belonged to the massive fellow near one of the doors.

Oh god, to be clothed in something other than the silly costume Catharyn's paying customers liked to tear off...

I didn't care what I'd come in here for; I knelt and pulled my so-called clothes off, trading them in for some of the shirts and a pair of pants from the pile. It felt so good to have so much skin covered.

Boldly, I tugged as much of the blanket of the person next to me over me as I dared, and fell asleep somewhat warm.

~*~

I was still in the squat when I woke up. Dammit, had I been stupid enough to sleep here?

The fat guy snorted in his sleep, and I froze, but his alarm was false. It was the boy by my side I was worried about.

Despite his unkempt appearance, he was a handsome creature. Handsome, despite the dirt ingrained in the skin of his palms and the yellowed whorls of his fingertips. Attractive somehow, despite the stubble and the more-than-slight olfactory offense of his person. Despite the red-rimmed nostrils, despite the needle-bruised forearms, despite the bloodshot eyes he cracked open as I stumbled over him.

He brushed black, wavy hair—shiny with the oils of being unwashed—from his face, blinking as he tried to take in current events. His clothes spoke of having come from a family with some extra money, though these particular clothes weren't very clean or new anymore.

“Sunny...?” he murmured. “Izzat—no—that's not—what—?!” He began to panic as he realized he didn't recognize me.

“Shh—shh, no, shut up—” I tried, but the boy wouldn't do as told. “–– Shut up, stupid—”

“Who the hell are you?!” he whispered fiercely, sitting up.

“I—I just wanted clothes, please—” I stuttered, holding out my hands in apology.

“You want clothes, you little bastard, I'll give you clothes!” he said, voice becoming louder. He tackled me off my knees, hands aiming for my neck as I knocked them away as best I could. “Those were mine!”

“I'm sorry,” I choked out.

“Sorry's not gonna do you any good now,” he muttered as he punched me in the chest in an attempt to keep me from hitting away his hands anymore. Light pain blossomed where he'd punched me, and he managed to get a grip on my neck.

No sooner had he managed it than I'd rolled him, and he suddenly found himself beneath me, I looking down at him serenely.

“I said I only wanted clothes,” I said calmly.

He spat, landing the saliva on my cheek. “There's your clothes,” he retorted. “Fucking asshole, think you can just come in here and take what you like. You haven't been out here long, have you?”

“No... No I haven't. I just got out here today,” I admitted.

“Little snob, why don't you go back to your rich family? Why didn't you just take clothes from there?”

“Shut up!” I snapped, a little louder than intended, backhanding him silent. The stubble burned my skin.

“Like your life was so bad, eh?” he bit back, neck straining as he lifted his head to argue.

“You wanna see?” I hissed, pressing my fingers into his temples. His spine arched and his mouth opened soundlessly with the pain, and suddenly his eyes rolled back.

Little Hadrian, six years old, gathered around a happy dinner table. Little Hadrian, leaving the happy dinner table to go take his sick brother dinner and pills. Little Hadrian becomes little Altair, dreaming of a day when Catharyn would die as he lies in what he judges to be the warmest corner of the basement. Slightly less little Hadrian, age ten, attending a somber funeral. His brother isn't sick anymore, at least. Hadrian, age thirteen, sobbing his brother's name as the needle pushes into his arm. Altair, age thirteen, sobbing too much for words to form as the middle-aged businesswoman straddles him. Hadrian, age fourteen, crying with chemical happiness, brother forgotten. Hadrian, sixteen, swinging a hammer sideways into his father's gut. How dare he speak of his brother like he knew him. Hadrian, here.

Hadrian, gone.

His tears were drying on his cheeks, which were quickly congealing. His hair was spread in a circle around his head like a halo, and he'd died with his face stuck in the expression of one on the verge of tears.

I stroked his face once in respect, regardless of the fact I'd been his killer. Heartlessly, I pulled his shoes off, measuring them against my own feet. His feet were about a size bigger than mine, but I didn't particularly care as long as I didn't have to walk barefoot. I took his socks, too, for good measure.

Clothed and shod, I carefully walked through the sleepers again, and pushed over the makeshift door to let myself out.

Of course, being as klutzy as I was, the board slammed against the windowframe as it swung back.

“What the—?!” I heard behind me.

“What the fuck, Hadrian, you cry to sleep or something last night?” Laughter.

“Hey. Dammit, Hadrian, wake the fuck up, I think someone was in here.” A different voice.

“Hadrian!”

“Oh god, I think he's dead!”

“Fucking—crackhead motherfucker—”

“What's going on...?” Yawning. The last to wake.

“Hadrian's dead!” the second voice wailed in response.

“Oh my god, no!”

I'd been trying to keep quiet in my escape outside, but the aluminum suddenly creaked under my foot, betraying me.

“Someone out there!” the first voice crowed, and there was the sound of scuffling feet toward the window. I vaulted over the edge onto the bars below, earning myself a few splinters on the way down.

“He's wearing Hadrian's shit, the fucker! He's the one killed Hadrian!”

“Fuck him up!” someone else shouted.

Oh god, oh god, oh god, I'm SO fucking stupid! I thought to myself, panicking as I landed on the sidewalk and started to sprint. I can't even run that fast and I can barely see out here! What the hell am I gonna do? My head is killing me—I'll get locked up if I kill more of them—as a scientific experiment or just as a criminal I dunno—oh god! They're behind me oh god oh god oh god—

“Come back here, shithead!” the fat guy was screeching from the window, which he seemed unable to squeeze through quickly, though the rest of the squatters were doing some fine running behind me.

For a moment, I wasn't even touching pavement as the fastest of them caught up with me. The next, though, my entire body was hitting the ground, squatter atop me and whipping my arms behind my back.

“I'm really nice, so I'm gonna give you a chance to try to clear your name before I beat the shit outta you,” he growled.

“Just break his face now, Rob!” the fat guy yelled from his post back inside the building. He seemed to have given up on trying to get out.

“Shut up, Ernie!” Rob yelled back. “Alright, kid, you have 60 seconds.”

“He was dead when I found him!” I yelped, crushed by the older kid on my ribcage. “Swear it!”

“So you were inside the squat!” He bounced once on my back, forcing all the breath from me in the form of a wheezing whimper.

“It was cold!” I pleaded.

“You look warm enough,” he said icily, glancing at my clothes. “Pair o' t-shirts, pair o' pants, even a pair o' old Vans. You have a condition?”

“I... I came in for clothes, too,” I admitted. “I took some of the clothes in the corner—”

Rob punched me in the back of my head, making everything in my line of vision reel. “You killed him for his clothes, you fucker!”

“I told you, he was dead when I got there!” I lied again, starting to cry.

“Then don't you have any respect for the dead?”

“I'm really, really sorry, if you want I'll give ‘em back, I just—I won't have any clothes at all—I just got away from home yesterday—”

“If you're really a runaway, you would have your own shit,” Rob informed me. “What are you really?”

“Just—fucking—kick—his—ass—!” Ernie bellowed from the window.

“I'll kick yours if you don't shut the hell up and lemme handle this, Ernest!” Rob bellowed back. “Don't lemme tell you again, or your fat face's gonna meet the sidewalk.”

Rob cleared his throat. “Now then, answer my question.”

“What question?” I'd forgotten what Rob had said when Ernie had started yelling.

“Wrong answer!” Rob said, bouncing my head off the sidewalk.

“I—I forgot—” I stammered as my vision pulled itself back together.

“You can't really be a runaway,” Rob repeated. “You don't have any kind o' luggage on you.”

“Didn't have any to take,” I gasped.

“Is that so?”

“Yes... Can... Can I get up now?”

Rob grunted what I supposed was confirmation, and suddenly I could breathe normally again as he got to his feet. However, I was hauled up to stand next to him by my collar, making me cough as I tried to stay up.

“C'mon. We'll see what makes you tick,” Rob said as he motioned one of the girls over, who helped to frogmarch me back toward the squat.

Once back inside, Rob sat down on a milk crate, the girl who'd taken my other arm pushing me down to sit on the floor in front of him.

“First off, what's your name?” Rob demanded.

“Altair,” I replied nervously, constantly glancing at the girl.

“Do you have a last name?”

“Yeah...”

“What is it, wiseass?”

“Um—”

“The real one. Don't try to trick us,” the girl said.

“I—I dunno,” I stalled as I racked my head. What the hell'd my mother's last name been? I knew one of her friends—the gay one, I thought—dammit, I couldn't remember his name either—had always liked to call me by my full name... What had it been?

“You dunno?” the girl growled, leaning in with a predatory stare. I flinched, unconsciously moving away.

“Zoey. Back off,” Rob ordered.

“How can someone not know their last name?” Zoey whined, glaring at me.

You're a brave man, Altair Calebson.

“Calebson,” I babbled suddenly.

“What?”

“My last name's Calebson.” I hope.

“Good, we're getting somewhere,” Rob smiled, though it wasn't too friendly. “How old are you?”

“Thirteen?”

“Are you asking me?” Rob asked.

“I'm thirteen,” I confirmed, more to myself than to Rob.

“Pretty young,” Zoey commented.

“No one asked your opinion,” Rob countered swiftly. “Okay then, Altair Calebson, age thirteen. That's all I needed to know. You can have Hadrian's old clothes, and I guess we'll put you up for now, just to see how well we can trust you.”

“What?!” Ernie protested, echoed by Zoey. “Rob, you can't just—”

“I can and I will,” Rob interrupted smoothly, ending the argument quite well.

I scrambled into Hadrian's corner, hoping Ernie and Zoey would eventually stop eye-needling me.

~*~

Later that day, I was formally introduced to the rest of the squat's inhabitants while trying to ignore a fierce headache brought on by all the natural light these people seemed to live in.

“Ernie and Zoey you already know,” Rob gestured, indicating the chunky, clown-haired, eyelinered man and the pixie-looking strawberry-blonde. “That's Janie,” he continued, pointing at a scowling black-haired girl in purple plaid capris, “that's Tia,” gesturing toward a mellow looking girl with flowing, straight red hair, smoking, “and that's Sunshine, my baby brother.” Sunshine scowled and grinned alternately at his mention, bald except for a single curly lock of white hair in the middle of his hairline. He wore gaudy, rhinestone-studded sunglasses, and seemed to be clad only in a hoodie Ernie may have given him.

“Aw, geez, Sunny, go put some pants on, for Chrissakes,” Rob reprimanded, throwing an empty soda bottle at his brother, who dodged the projectile with a lopsided smile.

“Kay,” was all he said before flapping off to one of the back rooms, his pigeon-toed running obviously intentional.

“Fucking little retard, love him to death,” Rob murmured. “So, look, now that you're kinda settled in, I'm not gonna babysit you anymore. If Ernie beats the shit outta you, then you don't come crying to me, only Sunny gets that privilege. You go running to Ernie and you deal with him, not me. Got that?”

I nodded, though I nervously noted that Ernie was cracking both his knuckles and his neck in what I hoped wasn't anticipation.

“Good. What's wrong with you? You gotta tic or something?” Rob asked as he got up.

“Ah—no—just got... a headache... just need to get outta the sun or something. Yeah...” I held my tender head to reinforce the idea.

“Alright then. See if Sunny'll letcha sit in his room for a bit, no windows in there,” Rob advised.

“Thanks,” I said as I heaved myself standing, tottering toward the back room after Sunshine.

“Vavoom!” Sunny shrieked as I made it through his doorway, ambushing me with both arms around my neck. “Hee hee! Hee hee!” He'd gotten the pants up to his knees and fasted the fly there.

“Hey, uhh, Sunny?” I tried as he catapulted himself off me, twirling about his dark room in his own mad dance, screaming happily to what could be the beat. Only the light from the next room lit his room at all.

“Lombardi!” he cackled, jumping up onto his bed and performing a demented bastardization of the can-can, kicking off the pants.

“Can I sit in your room for awhile? I've gotta headache...” I explained, doubtful he understood.

Sunny stopped cold, climbed calmly down from the bed, and pulled me gently toward him.

“What?”

And suddenly Rob's “baby” brother, who had to be at least ten years my senior, had thrown me on his disjointed bed, straddled me, and was rocking back and forth on my stomach, moaning as he moved continually faster.

I yelped both in surprise and disgust, trying to force him off, but Sunny would not be moved till he'd finished, which he did quite quickly, splattering across the late Hadrian's shirt and a little bit on my neck. As quickly as he'd gotten on, Sunny was off, hopskipping wildly into the big room, shrieking with joy.

“Aagh... Oh, god...” I said to myself, taking stock of the damage to the shirt. I doubted they had a washing machine or a working shower, nor did I think they would bother with laundry money.

I peeled the thing off, using it to wipe Sunny's stuff off my chin and neck, and headed after the madman to complain to Rob.

“What the fuck—” I began, before Rob brought his hand up to stop my words.

“Up-up-up—what did we say about not running crying to me?” he demanded.

“But... Sunny... just eww.” I held up the shirt as evidence.

“Oh. Oh, no, did you ask if you could stay in his room?”

“Yeah, you told me to!” I said indignantly. “You didn't say he'd use me to jack himself off!”

“I should've toldja how to word it... Sunny's weird about his room, I forgot. Totally sorry. Be thankful Hadrian (god bless his sorry-ass soul) was a clothing whore.”

“So what do I say next time so he doesn't hump me?” I wanted to know.

“What, do you plan on doing this often, this intense sunlight headache thing?” Rob snorted.

“Yeah kinda,” I muttered, scratching my neck bashfully.

“Then you say this. ‘Sunshine, can I play tag with you?'”

“What the hell does that have to do with it?” I asked, bewildered by the wording.

“Like I know. Thankfully he never tries anything with me.” Rob dismissed me by flicking his eyes down at me from atop his tall, gangly body.

Sunny wasn't in his room, at least, when I returned, closing the door behind me, so I felt free to simply flop down on the blue Toy Story comforter, face turned toward the wall. “Ohh...” I groaned as the pain began to subside quickly.

Knock knock.

Who's—oh. Oh, no. Not you.

Thought I was gone, did you?

Yes. Yes, I did, and I was quite happy in that knowledge, thank you.

How do you think you learned to speak in phrases like that, eh?

Luck. Lots of luck.

You owe me your sanity right now. If not for me you wouldn't be able to string two words together without an infantile lisp. If not for me you'd still be three years old mentally.

Thank you. Okay.

So?

So what? What do you want? I'm done with you. Go away, I don't need you anymore.

I can't go away, though, you see.

Why not? I certainly wouldn't mind to see you gone.

That power you used to kill Catharyn, and that boy—

—Shut up!—

—where do you think it came from? Eh?!

Not from you! Go away, I hate you!

Without me you are nothing! Accept it!

Shut up!

You're breaking down without me—

I SAID TO SHUT UP!

And suddenly I was awake, cold sweat coating my body in a sheen, tears of fear collected and unshed in the corners of my eyes. I was panting as my eyes darted about the dark room; the Voice was still here.

“Show yourself!” I cried.

“Shaddap, kid!” Rob's voice came sharply. “We're tryin' to sleep!”

Sunny shifted beside me; apparently he didn't mind sharing his bed, and had gone right ahead to sleep, pushing himself nearly against the wall to make room for my sprawl.

“I know you're here,” I muttered, shivering as I kept glancing around.

The question is, can you find me?

The Voice's cackling filled my head as it snapped back, and a half-muted squeak of pain, more air than noise, escaped my throat as I staggered back on my knees, falling backward at an uncomfortable angle and landing on Sunny's calves.

Sunny jerked awake at the touch, and impulsively shot out an arm, shoving me off the bed.

“Gaaahhhh!” Sunny shrieked, withdrawing into the far corner of the bed. He began to wail as I writhed on the floor, my face set in a scowl as I battled my Voice.

“I know! I know you're here!” I crowed, unmindful of the sleepers in the next room. “There's no point in hiding!”

The door slammed open. Moonlight flooded the floor, and I flinched, more from the light than from Rob's imposing presence in the doorframe. Rage twisted his face till he was even more frightening than he normally was. The other squatters crowded around behind him to see, lessening the light.

“What—the fuck—is going on in here?!” Rob bellowed, glaring fiercely down at me. “What're you doing to Sunny?!”

“Nothing!” I said, followed immediately by the Voice doing something to my wrist, making me lose all feeling in it. I toppled down further, landing on my shoulder and rolling onto my side, clutching the offensive joint.

There is nothing you can do against me! the Voice sneered, laughing. Look at yourself. You look like a maniac, spasming like that down there.

“Shut up!” I yelled uncontrollably.

“No one said anything,” Janie said nervously.

Hee HEE hee

“Are you okay...?” Rob asked suspiciously, looking down at me.

“I... I...”

There. There.

“I see you!” I screeched, pointing in the corner.

What?

And suddenly it was there, hideous in its deformity—a crackling wolf of pure heat and energy, neckless, headless; all that was left of such things was a wide, gaping mouth filled with teeth composed of the same matter, set in its narrow, round chest. It bawled and cawed disgustingly, and as it noticed my attention, it tried to bolt toward the door, despite Rob standing in it.

“No you won't!” I scrambled to my feet, giving chase. The Voice could no longer speak, ironically, screaming as I fell upon the side of my thigh, and my burning hand tore through its midsection. Its hind legs fell, smoking, to the floor, and it tottered doubtfully on what remained.

You... don't understand... it managed to gasp out. It sounded almost sad.

I understand everything. I blew purple smoke from my lips, and the remainder of the Voice wafted away with it.

It was only then I allowed myself to return to reality, and realized how mad I must look to the other inhabitants of the derelict building. They all looked at me with some level of fear—all except Rob.

“He's sleepwalking,” Rob stated flatly.

“But didn't he answer you?” Zoey asked.

“Probably someone in his dream. Maybe he heard me subconsciously and incorporated me into his dream. He's sleepwalking,” Rob said again, inviting no argument.

He knelt down in front of me, placing his hands on my shoulders. Play along, Rob mouthed, lips hidden from the others. “Wake up,” he said, loudly and suddenly enough that an involuntary shudder passed through me as he gave me a single hard shake.

“Uhh...?” was all I mustered.

“There. He's awake. Now you guys all go back to sleep while I talk to Sunny,” Rob ordered; no one disobeyed.

Sunshine was still coiled in his corner, whimpering and watching me with wide eyes, even as Rob sat next to him on the bed with a creak.

“Shh... Shh... Sunny... It's okay. It was just a dream. Just a dream.”

Sunny looked up at Rob with an intense amount of fear and worry in his pink eyes, looking on the verge of tears.

“Shh...” Rob continued to hush as he pushed his younger brother's head against his chest with one hand, the other stroking Sunny's back. “Shh...”

Sunny was visibly relaxing as his form seemed to melt under Rob's care. Rob kissed him once on the top of his head, and slowly, gently let Sunny go to lay him down on the bed. Sunny watched him with only a little apprehension as he walked back toward the door.

“Are you going to be okay, Sun?” Rob asked. In the short time I'd known him, I'd never seen Rob so compassionate.

Sunny nodded, and Rob left.

“C-can I come back up there, Sunny...?” I asked timidly.

Sunny sat up facing the walls, the only sounds made coming from the mattress springs.

“...Sunny?”

“Don't call me that, please, I hate it,” Sunny replied grimly.

“Did you just talk?” I asked with a start.

“Yes, I talked,” Sunny bit back, turning his head to stare at me with a bitterish look to his face. “Just like any other twenty-three year old. I'm not retarded.”

“You've been... acting like it... Rob said you were...”

“I've been doing this since I was little. Rob wouldn't remember a time when I didn't seem retarded.” He was looking at the wall again.

“But... why would you?”

“Don't you see it? The only way to get Rob's positive attention... and to keep it... is to be helpless. To be someone in need of defense from every last member of the human race. Rob knows that the other squatters can basically take care of themselves. He just helps them take better care with his leadership. But I didn't want all those harsh words he uses as his general affection.

“So... I decided to put on an act at an early age when I saw the difference between Rob's treatment of bullies and the bullied. My dad fancied himself a doctor of some kind or another, so he diagnosed me as retarded himself, without any real tests; he judged soley on my behavior. Since then, Rob's treated me like glass. Different from everyone else.”

What could someone say to that?

Sunny merely sighed at my unresponsiveness. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry, too,” he added, looking back at me momentarily with a slight blush, “about earlier today. I had to keep up the act, y'know?”

“It's... okay, I guess,” I answered with a nervous little smile.

“C'mon up here. You don't have to stay on the floor.”

Tentatively, I pushed myself up into a stand, and walked over to the bed, clambering up with the albino.

“Call me Renee, would you?” Sunny said, not unkindly.

“Okay.”

“I don't think you were sleepwalking,” Sunny—Renee—said bluntly.

“I was,” I said defensively. “Rob was right. I sleepwalk a lot.”

“No, I saw you, you were awake!”

“I was sleepwalking,” I repeated, teeth grinding against one another. “What's so hard to understand?”

“What are you trying to hide?” Renee wanted to know.

“Nothing! Why is it so far-fetched to think that I sleepwalk?” I demanded right back of him.

“Ecch... Fine,” Renee gave up. “I'll let it go. I don't believe you, but I'll let it go.”

I let out a breath of relief. “Thank you.”

“I think maybe we should turn in, then,” Renee said, finger tangling in his one lock of white hair in his frustration.

“Yeah... that's a good idea.”

“G'night, Altair.”

“Night, Sun—Renee.”

“Thanks.”

~*~

When I awoke, Sunny—I could not think of him as Renee when he was back in his act—was squealing in the main room, chasing a mellow, laughing Tia back and forth, the smoke of her cigarette trailing in their wake. Janie was nowhere to be seen.

“Ugh...” I mumbled, shading my tender eyes from the high noon light coming in from between two widely-spaced boards.

“Well, look who's up,” Zoey snapped, looking irritated the moment she noticed me. She stalked off into what was once a kitchen.

“Don't mind Zo,” Tia murmured, watching the younger girl leave. “She's really territorial... she was the same way about me when I came, but she's come to like me. I think she'll at least tolerate you.”

“Uh-huh,” I agreed stupidly, facing the wall in order to avoid Tia and the light.

“Do you have some sort of vampire thing going on?” Tia giggled.

“Uhh... you could say that,” I said. Why won't she go with Zoey?

“Look, look, I can give you a—a pair of sunglasses too—whee—!” Tia laughed again as her legs gave way beneath her, and she fell near a duffel bag. “Wow, whaddya know? It's... my stuff. Whoah.” She blinked momentarily, before she started rooting through the bag. “Look... Look... Here...” She offered me a pair of purple-lensed sunglasses, hiccupping.

I looked at her suspiciously, not daring to go near her.

“What, ‘re you antisocial too?” Tia glared. “Look, fine. Here.” She flicked them my way across the floor, the frames spinning as they came.

Studying them, they had the thinnest, horizontally longest lenses I'd ever seen; they looked more like a fashion accessory than anything useful. I seriously doubted their efficiency, but at least they weren't big and plastic and rhinestone-studded like Sunny's.

“Put ‘em on, put ‘em—on,” Tia encouraged merrily, waving her cancer-stick at me.

I was right; they didn't do a very good job unless I shoved them up the bridge of my nose until they almost touched my eyeballs, and Tia wasn't about to allow that; she would immediately pull them down to about the middle of my nose, insisting that they looked “stupid perched all the way up there, Professor.”

“Things are kinda blurry,” I commented, backing away in another attempt to avoid her touch. “You don't have anything like prescription, do you?” Don't let her touch me....

“What do I look like, a fucking—fucking—whaddyacallem, eye doctors, I dunno. Ha ha ha. Eye doctors. What kinda lameass would be a doctor just for eyes—I mean, what, do I need a doctor just for my ear, now? My nose? My fucking pinky toe? Ha ha ha! Stupid!” She fell back cackling, ignoring me. Sunny grinned moronically at the sight, his entire body saying he hadn't a clue what was going on.

I left Tia to her humor, discreetly pushing the sunglasses back up to where they would work. I walked into the “kitchen” where I'd seen Zoey go, hoping oddly to find food; she was still there, puffing angrily on a joint.

“What the fuck do you want?!” she shrilled at me, nearly crushing her joint against the wall as she whipped it out of her mouth.

“N-nothing,” I stuttered, holding up my hands in apology.

“Then get the fuck out!” She pointed with the joint toward another door. I could have sworn I heard her sniggering maliciously as I followed her directions.

Considering how much she seemed to want me dead, I could see what she found funny, though I saw nothing humorous about the situation as I barely dodged Ernie's massive fist.

“Got lucky, shithead!” Ernie roared as I plastered myself against the wall.

“What'd I do?!” I protested sharply, eyes wide as Ernie stumped toward me menacingly.

“I don't need to tell you,” Ernie sneered.

“Uhh... how about we just say you beat me up and skip the process, eh?” I said nervously. “Eheheh...”

“Nahh, this's the best part,” Ernie said, pounding one meaty fist into the palm of a meaty hand.

“What am I being beaten up for again?” I tried to stall him again.

“Uhh...”

In the moment it took him to try and think of an answer, I had shot back into the kitchen, Zoey laughing cruelly as she watched me run. Ernie howled in the background, and light tremors ran through the floor as he crashed after me.

I slammed into the door leading back into the main room, not expecting to find it closed. I tried the knob, panicking as I found it locked.

“I locked the fucking door, you dumb bitch!” Zoey squawked, pointing as she laughed.

Um, um, um, how to open it? Can't find the...

Ernie's fist slammed into the wood of the door beside my head, and I whirled to face him, trembling.

“You think you can just come in here and replace Hadrian?” Ernie breathed, brows furrowed in his anger.

“What are you talking—”

My sentence was cut off as Ernie punched me in the gut, and I slid down the door into a sitting position, clutching my midsection.

“You're some kinda fucking retard,” he continued rambling, towering over me. “You talk to voices in your head, and somehow you think you can just replace Hadrian.”

“I dunno what you're talking about,” I muttered. “I don't wanna—”

“Look, fucker—”

“—replace anybody...”

“Ernie!” Zoey called. “If you're gonna beat his ass, at least take it back to your room, I don't wanna have to clean blood off the linoleum and field Rob's questions. You know Rob doesn't care what happens in your room.”

“Ahh... fine.” Ernie frowned as he grabbed me by the collar and dragged me back into his room, hurling me onto the stained carpeting.

“C-can we talk about this, maybe...?” I asked.

“That's what they all say,” Ernie said, cracking his knuckles.

“But... I don't get why you're gonna beat anything out of me. I just wanna live here.”

“You don't get it!” Ernie said sharply, arm swinging out to land a hit on that wall. There was a tinge of desperation to his voice. “You haven't even been here a week, and already you've got Rob eating outta your hand!”

“What?”

“Last night! Rob's got a soft spot for crazies like his brother, and that's why he covered for you—”

“I was sleepwalking!” I snapped.

“Bullshit!”

“I was! I'm not fucking crazy!” Getting the courage to stand up now in my indignation.

Ernie was silent, regarding me thoughtfully as he continued frowning.

“How'd you get here, kid?” he finally asked.

“What?” Taken by surprise. I was starting to sound repetetive.

“How'd you end up here? You get kicked outta the house?”

“...Something like that.”

“Gonna sing?”

“Huh?”

“I said, gonna talk?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

Ernie sat down on his bed, the springs squeaking their pain. “You're some kinda wierdo, guy. You come outta nowhere, some punk stealing Hadrian's stuff after he dies in his sleep, and suddenly Rob's welcoming you with open arms, and Sunny's letting you share his room. Tia doesn't give a shit about anything, she's always too stoned, and Janie's almost never here, she still goes to school a lot and she's got other friends, but you've got the royalty of this place practically licking your feet.

“How d'you do it, man? How'd you do it?”

I shrugged, a pitiful response.

“I've known Rob since... since the sixth fucking grade. First day of middle school, here I am, this dumb fat kid freaking out cuz the cliques are already starting to come together, and I'm not part of any of them. And then Rob comes over, sees I'm an outcast, and declares himself his own clique. Then he says I'm his right hand man.

“No one was gonna fuck with a six foot tall sixth grader, so whatever Rob said went. He ruled that fucking school grade by grade, and he was my best friend through the whole thing. High school same thing happened, except I already knew my place was with Rob, and once you're in high school, the fat kid can be menacing instead of stupid, so that's what I was. I did all of Rob's dirty work and some of my own.

“The thing is, I'd never been to Rob's house. This really bugged me by freshman year, so I asked Rob if I could come over. He didn't even stop and think, he just said yeah, sure. C'mon over tomorrow after school.

“And that's when I met Sunny. That's when I realized I wasn't at the top of Rob's good list. I was number two; Sunny was numero uno. Whenever anyone said shit about Sunny, it was an easy bet they'd be in the hospital the next day, maybe the morgue the next from all the complications. Even with other retarded or crazy kids he was the same way, though not as extreme; Rob had a soft spot, like I said.

“And ever since we came here and Rob has had to deal with me and Sunny at the same time, Rob's been treating me like the dumb fat kid again, and... dammit, I can't stand it.”

“Uhh... I'm sorry?” I said tentatively.

Ernie brought his hands to his pudgy face, burying it in them. “I wanna die. I'm such a fat fuck,” he said, muffled by his palms. “I'm such a fat, dumb fuck who can't take care of himself.”

What should I say? No, you're not? I couldn't really disagree, as Ernie didn't strike me as the brightest crayon in the box.

“God, I'm depressed,” Ernie sighed. “Geddout and lemme alone.”

I complied quickly, scampering back to the main room—Zoey had left the kitchen, forgetting to lock the door behind her—with loud music following me out.

“‘Dig though the ditches, and burn through the witches, I slam in the back of my—Dragula! Dig through the ditches, and burn through the witches, I slam in the back of my—Dragula!'”

“Ern's depressed again,” Tia called out through the squat, doing her best to make herself heard over the volume of Ernie's music.

“Who the fuck cares, Tia?” Rob called back. “What's he gonna do, kill himself?”

“Y'never know,” Tia shrugged to herself. Sunny squawked in the background, running back and forth across the room and flapping the sleeves of the 4XL hoodie like wings.

“So when he plays music, Ernie's depressed?” I asked Tia from a safe distance.

“No, not when he plays music. When he plays Rob Zombie, that's when he's depressed.”

“Oh.” I didn't know who Rob Zombie was. “What's Rob Zombie?”

Tia gave me a look akin to a phrase like, “What gynormous rock have you been living under all your life, and does it have its own zip code?”

“Never mind,” I excused myself.

“It's not like Rob seems to care when any of us are depressed unless it's Sun,” Tia commented, jerking her head in the direction of the albino in attempted flight. “And you fucking pushed your shades back up. C'mere, lemme fix that, you loser.”

I meekly allowed Tia to mess up my perfect equilibrium with the eyewear, trying not to flinch when her skin came in contact with mine and noting in the back of my mind that no one seemed willing so far to call me by my name, except Renee.

~*~

Ernie didn't come out of his room for two more days; he only opened his door for Zoey, who brought him food, and at one point was allowed inside his room, where she stayed for the next hour or two. When she came out again, she looked a little flush, her hair not as neat as it had been when she'd gone in, and her clothes a little wrinkled. I knew what that meant (although it wasn't something I wanted to imagine).

Lying awake next to Renee on the third night of Ernie's self-inflicted lockdown, I was beginning to wonder if Ernie was going to die in there, when the door was flung open by a terrified Tia.

“Get up, get up!” Tia yelled, rushing in and shaking Renee behind me. “Get the fuck up, Sunny! Altair, c'mon! Get out here!”

My first name, even. It must be something serious.

I rushed past Tia off the bed, and strode into the main room.

“Go up to the roof,” Tia called as she pulled the other squatter up to his feet.

I complied, and swung out precariously onto the fire escape, clattering up the wobbling stairs toward the roof above the sixth floor. There, I found a startling sight; Ernie, standing a mere six inches away from the edge of the roof, tears running down his fleshy face in droves. Rob was a few yards away from Ernie, long arms held out in a plea toward the porcine man. Zoey sobbed close by, her knobby little girl's knees grinding into the gravel of the roof as she clasped her hands beneath her chin.

“Don't do it, Ern! Don't you dare!” Rob was commanding.

“Y'see, you're doing it still!” Ernie caterwauled, pointing one pudgy finger in accusation and causing his rolls of fat to undulate and come close to unbalancing him. “You're doing it still!”

“Doing what, Ernie? Tell me. Whatever it is, I'm sorry, and I'll stop,” Rob said, voice suddenly softening, kinder. More butter to it.

“You've been doing that ever since—ever since—”

“Ever since what, Ern? What've I been doing?”

“Treating me like the stupid fat kid! Like your dumbest minion, Rob! I know how your mind works, you're the king of everything, but look at you! How can you be king of anything except a condemned six-floor tenement?! You're 29, but you can't even find a real job! You live in a squat with your retarded albino brother, who you're still taking care of at the age of 23! You're an addict to every needle drug under the sun, and it's a wonder you haven't got every STD, too, considering! Look at you! You're not fucking perfect, you wannabe god!”

Rob stood transfixed, eyes not even blinking as his arms fell. I noticed, as he lowered them, the track marks I hadn't picked up on earlier, marring him from wrist to armpit on both limbs.

“E-Ernie—whatever it is I've done, I'm so sorry—you know we've been like—like brothers, since the sixth grade... You're my best friend, in the entire universe, Ern... Don't... don't do this to me. I... I know I act like such a bigshot, calling all the shots, but please, don't make me bear this. You're—you're right, I'm—I'm a loser. Don't do it, Ern. Don't leave me with this. You're right, I've got no job except getting little kids hooked on the same stuff I am, and I'm stuck taking care of my helpless kid brother because I can't afford a hospital, even with the money I make... Don't leave. Don't go.” He dropped to his knees alongside Zoey, whose sobs had quieted with Ernie's speech so she could listen.

“You're lying.”

Rob was the picture of grief. “What am I lying about, Ernie? Tell me, what the fuck am I lying about?!” Rob fell further, the heels of his palms digging into the sharp pebbles.

“I...” Ernie fumbled.

“Please, Ernie, listen to him, come back downstairs, everything'll be fine!” Zoey suddenly cried.

“No...” Ernie blubbered. “No, nothing'll be fine until...”

“Until—?” Rob asked hopefully.

“Until that kid is gone...”

“Which kid?”

Ernie hesitated. I knew he resented Sunny, but would he go so far as to order Rob to evict him?

“Altair.”

Oh no. No. Rob—Rob wouldn't—

“Done!” Rob said, a note of desperation tinting his voice. “He'll be outta here by morning, Ern ol' buddy!”

“O-okay,” Ernie conceded, and Zoey scrabbled to her feet to quickly lead him away from the edge and embrace him. Zoey's tears had turned to those of relief and happiness, and Ernie allowed himself to crack a miniscule smile. As the tension decreased, it had only to go up again when I caught Rob's eye. Rob blanched, and trotted over, unnoticed by the mismatched couple.

“Al—Altair!” Rob said brightly, still nervous. “Just got here, then? Look, we got Ernie away—”

“—from the roof, I know,” I finished sorrowfully. “So I should be gone by morning? I don't have a bag to pack anything in...”

Rob gripped me by the shoulders, drawing me in close to whisper into my ear. “Look, kid, I'm sorry, I'll see what I can do to keep you here, but Ernie's not gonna be happy.”

I nodded sadly. After this display of power loss, Ernie was that much less likely to obey Rob, and I was pretty sure Rob knew it. “Did Hadrian have a bag?”

“Y-yeah, but don't count on having to use it, okay, Alt?” Rob said, shortening my name awkwardly. “I'll keep you here, don't worry.”

~*~

“Look, Ern, I'm sorry, I know what I said last night, but I can't just throw the kid out on the street, you gotta see at least that much!”

“You said! You said you'd get rid of him!” Ernie retorted, storming through the squat with Rob on his tail.

“I was desperate!” Rob growled. “I was trying to keep you from being stupid!”

“Oh, so now I'm stupid, eh?”

“Seems to be shaping up that way, the way you don't fucking listen to me!” Rob snapped, standing still.

Ernie whirled, words of fury and demand about to spill from his lips—and then he saw the look on Rob's face. Rob had regained his power with a single facial expression, drawing the corners of his mouth down, and adding a disapproving glare. Combined, it was not a face to be messed with.

Ernie snorted, trying to keep his dignity, and waddled back to his room.

For the next three weeks or so, I lived in relative peace with the squatters; the only disturbances were minor, such as Ernie's constant hateful glares directed toward me, and the three or four times Tia tried to get me to either steal needles from Rob's room, or use the needles themselves. I declined on every occasion, despite Tia's nonstop heckling.

“Don't be such a fucking pussy!” she had whined, falling over on her side on the splintered hardwood floor. “Just try one, just one, it's good for you!”

“That's okay,” I had murmured, playing with one of my long locks of hair demurely as I sat against the wall in one of the darker corners.

“Try this one!” she had said desperately, shoving a needle in my direction. “You'll feel good for hoooours, I swear.”

“That's okay,” I had repeated, turning around.

“No! No, no I hate you now, ohhh, you don't like me anymore, ohhh...” she had wailed, burying her face in her hands as she rolled about on the prickly floor. “Aagh, shit! For chrissakes! I gotta splinter in my motherfucking back...”

“A-are you okay, Tia...?” I had asked tentatively, though I didn't dare reach out to even try to help her.

“Fuck no!” she had screeched, rolling over onto her stomach and flailing her arms, deliberately trying to stab me in my helping hand with the previously proferred needle. “Take it, take it, it'll heeeeal me—”

“That's okay!” I had squeaked as I scurried away back to Sunny's room, leaving Tia to holler and bawl in the main room.

Other than that, everything had been peaceful. Then, of course, Ernie being Ernie with his big devil-clown hair, heavily-applied black makeup and HATE motif t-shirts, ruined it.

~*~

I stank. I knew it. I'd been “pampered” in Catherine's dubious care at least enough time to know what one smelled like when bathed every day, as opposed to not. Since my escape four weeks ago, I hadn't showered once. The squatters were used to it and never once commented on my developing stench (they weren't so daisy-fresh themselves), but I couldn't take it much longer.

I sat, stupidly, staring at the disintegrated caulking of the shower knobs, knowing turning it would do more toward breaking it off than producing water, but silently wishing I could summon the sorely-missed liquid anyway. The shower was a another tiled corner of the bathroom that happened to have a dipped floor, a dust-caked drain and a metal bar above that must have once held up a shower curtain. A lack of electricity was a given in this place, so there was no light in the cramped room, but I could see the small, cracked toilet and the two-thirds left of an old porcelain pedestal sink, light or no light.

I must have dozed off in the shower, because I was awoken by a loud, sharp bang noise that made me crack the back of my head against the mildewy tiles. I clawed my way up the wall to stand up, and peeked into the main room.

No one there. I did see Janie's back in the doorway of my and Renee's room, though; she was home tonight. I walked over to the room, wondering what she was doing there.

I slipped in past her, quietly installing myself in a corner further inside the room. Janie looked unsure of what facial expression to make, though it usually settled for disgusted; Tia had lost her stoned look and instead looked furious; Zoey had sunken to the floor in shock. Rob stood, looking nearly impassive, unless you noted his fists, clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, the flesh of his fingers a bright red, and one or two rivulets of blood trickled between his fingers. His eyes were narrowed so much I doubted he could see, and his lips were drawn so far in between his teeth he looked like a bare-gummed old man with new lips of white, bloodless skin.

The spectacle of the room, however, was Sunny, lying sprawled on the carpeting, one glistening, white-haired leg still on the bed, arms held above his head in a childish position. Blood ran in little streamlets from the corners of his mouth and his nostrils, and more flowed, occasionally spurting, from a small wound near his collarbone, staining the grey fleece hoodie.

Ernie stood over the fallen young man, tears causing his black makeup to run the same path. An old black revolver was held loosely in his fingers, threatening to slip from them any minute as it swung slightly from his trigger finger. Some of the blood had spattered upon his HATE t-shirt.

“Rob... Rob, please... I had to,” Ernie blubbered.

Rob was silent, still seething.

“You don't understand, Rob...” he whispered. “You're always... always blinded by him. No one else matters but him, right Rob? Well... let's see how well you function without him.”

“Get. Out.” Rob ground his teeth painfully as he spoke.

“Rob...! We... we were...”

“Were, Ernest. Were. Now leave, before you end up like—like Sunny—oh god, Renee—” Rob's eyebrows inverted themselves as his lips drew up, the precursors to crying.

“Rob... You're so... myopic...” Ernie muttered, as he lifted the gun. Tia's eyes widened.

“Oh god, Ernie, no, don't—”

The gun was no longer pointed at Rob, as Ernie curled his arm around to point the gun between his eyes, the muzzle of the gun resting weightily upon his brow.

“Fuck—”

And Ernie crashed heavily against the bookshelf that housed only three books, his newly opened third eye spurting red. The bookshelf fell aside, knocking into the door's edge and almost forcing it closed before it bounced back, the cheap wood trembling. Half the room was painted with mostly Ernie's blood, including us.

Janie was the first to react, running from the room in horror. Retching noises coming from the main room told anyone who cared how she felt. Tia, shaking, tried vainly to right the bookcase, though Ernie's rapidly cooling carcass kept her from her goal. Zoey threw herself upon Ernie's body, moaning piteously as she cried into his bloodsoaked shirt.

Rob was standing still, his pupils close to pinprick in size. Blood dripped freely from his fists, and he dropped to his knees. Eerily, he kneeled further down, and laid carefully on his side, curling into a fetal position beside his fallen brother. He said no more, stoppering his mouth with a large thumb.

I had coiled myself up in a corner, feeling more like an outsider than ever.

~*~

For the next few days, we were to forego food almost altogether, so Rob could pay for a pair of spots in a cemetary. He couldn't afford Ernie a casket thanks to his size, and Renee's coffin was mere chipwood. Gravestones were out of the question; Rob would have to make do with plastic plaques shoved into the earth. I noted, once in the graveyard, that Hadrian, too, already had a makeshift grave. I supposed I hadn't been invited to that one, considering.

The joint funeral was a somber, if ragtag event. For the first time since I'd met him, Renee was fully dressed, wearing what looked like Rob-sized formal clothing. Poor Ernie, on the other hand, was wearing black jeans and another one of his HATE shirts, this one clean of blood.

Rob did all the digging himself, looking frighteningly drawn as he did. Ernie was lowered first in a stretcher-looking affair. The remains of the squatters and I each threw in a black-dyed rose without much energy, looking away once they'd paid that respect.

Tia and Janie helped to lower Renee's cheap coffin, doing their level best not to jostle it. More black roses were thrown, and Rob folded his hands together gravely.

“We....” he faltered, swallowing, “we're gathered here today... for... for...”

“I don't think he should be here,” Zoey suddenly growled.

“What?” Tia said, startled.

“This... This is all his fault,” the pixie girl said in a disapproving voice, shaking her head more and more vigorously as she spoke. She pointed a shaking finger. “If it hadn't been for him, we wouldn't have lost Hadrian, we wouldn't have lost Sunny, and we wouldn't—have lost—Ernie!” she blubbered accusingly. “He can't be here!”

No... No, Rob will stop this. Rob pities me. I looked to the older man hopefully, as he forlornly raised his head; the minute I saw his eyes, though, my hopes were dashed immediately. His entire body language said he'd given up; there was no strength in the slouched shoulders, in the toneless features. He gave me a weak, apologetic smile, and shook his head.

“Get out!” Zoey shrilled. “Get out, get out, go away!”

Tia sniffled, staring at the mud between her feet; Janie looked as apathetic as ever. Zoey's face, though, was fixed in a snarl, her small body tense and curled into a fighting position. “Leave!”

I looked to Janie; she turned her face to stare at someone's marble cross. I glanced at Tia; I got similar treatment. I looked at Rob one last time; I had never seen a man so fallen.

You see, what happens without me? the Voice said sadly, suddenly sitting by my feet in its wolfesque form. You see, the flaws of the human race, which in you I would erase, would that you gave me a chance?

“No more flawed than you,” I whispered, still staring at the squatters from a distance.

Leave them, Altair. They've infected you—

Be quiet, Voice. I turned slowly, squelching away in the mud toward the cemetary gates. Something small and hard hit my back; it was Zoey, still infuriated.

“Don't try to play for sympathy, you murderer! Hurry up and fucking leave!”

I doubted I would ever see a single one of them again as I ran through the gates.