from the part of me that wished to stall the inevitable. No magic for now, and no danger — just New York. Maybe I was so adept at normalcy that I was trying to restore some even in my ridiculous escape with Kian.
He raised a perfectly black eyebrow at me but had no chance to respond as the plane began to descend and the noise of the wheels coming out from under the cabin scared us both into gripping the seat dividers. I looked over at Kian trying to mask his fright — his demeanour was falling apart. It was nice seeing his human side.
Leaving JFK airport was an adventure in itself. We picked up our baggage and Kian once again stuck his little suitcase into my hand and picked up my giant green one. We walked through the glassy airport looking for a way out, until finally stumbling upon a taxi service.
“Manhattan,” Kian said to the driver, “8th and West 42nd — Hilton Hotel.”
I sat nervously in the back seat, a little portion of my mind still going crazy at my actions. It was like the old Gwen was trapped in the mind of this new Gwen. The old Gwen was screaming and stomping and wanted to go home to somewhere sane, and the new Gwen wanted to see where this adventure would lead. She was dangerous. I frowned disapprovingly at my reflection in the window. The new Gwen wanted to see if Kian would touch her arm again.
By the time we arrived at the hotel, it was past eleven at night. The time difference quickly caught up to me and I found myself exhausted. The cab driver silently unloaded our bags, but I didn’t even notice. I wanted sleep. The giddiness had seeped out of me as I sat in the car, and now a proper rest was in order.
As I got out of the taxi, I was reminded of the pain I was in. I hadn’t noticed it while sitting in the plane, but as I stood, everything hurt. I could hear my elbow crack and my knee snap in ways they never had before. Kian paid and led the way into the expansive lobby of the Hilton.
I missed the name he gave at the desk, and I didn’t even notice the shiny credit card he fished out. I was standing off to the side, dreaming about a pillow and a bath to soak aching bones and muscles. In my mind, the old Gwen was beginning to sound like a senior citizen. Not paying attention, I also missed that Kian had only gotten one room.
We travelled quietly in the elevator, the bright lights beginning to sting at my eyes again as the headache returned. I felt like one big mess of pain. I followed Kian to a door then stopped.
“You only got the one room?” I asked, the force having left my voice. My stomach did somersaults.
“Just to make sure I don’t lose you,” Kian said, smiling reassuringly. His crooked smile again reminded me of the demeanour he had shed in the past day. Even with the smile, his words unnerved me. What did he think could happen to me?
Before I could ask, he opened the door to reveal two double beds and other components of a standard hotel room. I was relieved to see the double beds, and all questions were forgotten as I fished my pyjamas out of the tattered green suitcase, changed in the bathroom, and climbed into bed. I had reserved some thinking time to ponder my day and figure out what was happening inside my mind, but as soon as my head touched the pillow, I fell asleep.
I was standing on a clifftop, overlooking a dark and angry sea. Waves were hitting the shore unnaturally, as if no longer an effect of the tide and wind, but rather a deep rage that was threatening to break onto the land. Every wave that smashed against the rocks far below was like a hammer to my chest. The wind rose around me, and soon I was struggling for breath as it blew past my face so quickly I could not catch time to inhale.
Terrified, gasping, I still looked over the edge onto the jagged rocks beneath. I did not want to see them — did not want to increase my fear, but could not turn away. The wind picked up and blew even harder against my skin, whipping my thin dress against my legs
He raised a perfectly black eyebrow at me but had no chance to respond as the plane began to descend and the noise of the wheels coming out from under the cabin scared us both into gripping the seat dividers. I looked over at Kian trying to mask his fright — his demeanour was falling apart. It was nice seeing his human side.
Leaving JFK airport was an adventure in itself. We picked up our baggage and Kian once again stuck his little suitcase into my hand and picked up my giant green one. We walked through the glassy airport looking for a way out, until finally stumbling upon a taxi service.
“Manhattan,” Kian said to the driver, “8th and West 42nd — Hilton Hotel.”
I sat nervously in the back seat, a little portion of my mind still going crazy at my actions. It was like the old Gwen was trapped in the mind of this new Gwen. The old Gwen was screaming and stomping and wanted to go home to somewhere sane, and the new Gwen wanted to see where this adventure would lead. She was dangerous. I frowned disapprovingly at my reflection in the window. The new Gwen wanted to see if Kian would touch her arm again.
By the time we arrived at the hotel, it was past eleven at night. The time difference quickly caught up to me and I found myself exhausted. The cab driver silently unloaded our bags, but I didn’t even notice. I wanted sleep. The giddiness had seeped out of me as I sat in the car, and now a proper rest was in order.
As I got out of the taxi, I was reminded of the pain I was in. I hadn’t noticed it while sitting in the plane, but as I stood, everything hurt. I could hear my elbow crack and my knee snap in ways they never had before. Kian paid and led the way into the expansive lobby of the Hilton.
I missed the name he gave at the desk, and I didn’t even notice the shiny credit card he fished out. I was standing off to the side, dreaming about a pillow and a bath to soak aching bones and muscles. In my mind, the old Gwen was beginning to sound like a senior citizen. Not paying attention, I also missed that Kian had only gotten one room.
We travelled quietly in the elevator, the bright lights beginning to sting at my eyes again as the headache returned. I felt like one big mess of pain. I followed Kian to a door then stopped.
“You only got the one room?” I asked, the force having left my voice. My stomach did somersaults.
“Just to make sure I don’t lose you,” Kian said, smiling reassuringly. His crooked smile again reminded me of the demeanour he had shed in the past day. Even with the smile, his words unnerved me. What did he think could happen to me?
Before I could ask, he opened the door to reveal two double beds and other components of a standard hotel room. I was relieved to see the double beds, and all questions were forgotten as I fished my pyjamas out of the tattered green suitcase, changed in the bathroom, and climbed into bed. I had reserved some thinking time to ponder my day and figure out what was happening inside my mind, but as soon as my head touched the pillow, I fell asleep.
I was standing on a clifftop, overlooking a dark and angry sea. Waves were hitting the shore unnaturally, as if no longer an effect of the tide and wind, but rather a deep rage that was threatening to break onto the land. Every wave that smashed against the rocks far below was like a hammer to my chest. The wind rose around me, and soon I was struggling for breath as it blew past my face so quickly I could not catch time to inhale.
Terrified, gasping, I still looked over the edge onto the jagged rocks beneath. I did not want to see them — did not want to increase my fear, but could not turn away. The wind picked up and blew even harder against my skin, whipping my thin dress against my legs
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