SimpleConfusion

     At first, it baffled me; that someone could as such a thing. I wasn’t sure if it were unexpected, or simply that someone would have kept better self control to ask. He waited.

“Well,” he asked again, tapping his toe. “Where are they?”

     The thought never came to mind, I decided.  I only shook my head. The boy was scrawny, but tall for his age, which couldn’t have been more than ten or so years.. His face was dirty and wide, which lead to reddish brown hair, cut short. He rolled his eyes.

“What do ya mean by that? You have to have a guess!? Din’t they tell you where they are?”

     His face twisted into what I could only assume was curiosity. I looked at the cobblestone road beneath me. The light rain earlier in the morning had darkened the stone, and for the moment, cheered me up. I had always hated the sun, and unlike most children my age.

     “No…” I managed. It wasn’t that I didn’t know where my parents were, either. I wasn’t allowed to tell. Since I could remember, my parents wanted to move. Every year or so, we moved to a new city, from time to time returning to a visited one. I couldn’t remember if we’ve been to this town before, but I suppose it didn’t matter.

      The boy spoke quickly, and I was unable to understand him in his obvious excitement. I was still very new to Italian, and hadn’t quite grasped the language. It wouldn’t matter, though. I was certain we’d be gone from this city soon; perhaps, to an English-speaking town again. I smiled, in my hope, but nodded to help the boy feel as though I was agreeing with him.

     “So, it’ll just be you and me!” he laughed. His grin revealed yellow brown teeth, a few of which weren’t correctly placed. He threw his arm around my neck and lead me down the road away from my temporary home. I looked back, hoping that we wouldn’t be gone for long. Dad had asked me to stay close to home for a few days.

     “I’ll show you where our street is,” he added, in between his constant stream of incomprehensible jumble. I frowned. He had taken from my earlier answers that I was an orphan- like him. I would have to break off ties with him soon. ‘Orphans are not to be trusted,’ Dad had said, ‘They will betray you for no more than a week’s food.’ I didn’t feel that I entirely believed him, but then again, I didn’t want to get into trouble.

     I would just slip away from him on the next street. There were certainly enough bodies around that I would simply pass away without notice for a few moments. I resigned my thoughts from the conversation, realizing I would never pick anything useful through his heavy Italian accent.  Instead I let my mind wander to where we would go to where we would go to next. I was looking forward to returning to Russia. My quiet nostalgia was temporarily interrupted as I ducked away and to the left of the orphan, retracing my steps on a parallel road. Perhaps for my next birthday, I could wish for the trip, and we would go. I had nearly always gotten my wish on my birthday, much to my surprise. Even on my last birthday, my twelfth, when I had spoken it to no one, I was given a sling shot, just as I had wished. I let the thought flit away in my boredom.

     I yawned, and fished into the wool pockets of my coat to find something to entertain me. I was certain I had left a chain or bracelet in it, generally to keep my hands preoccupied. The sun had just about to reach its peak in the sky, and I frowned. Most likely, this would mean a waste of a day. Dad had a tendency to work during rainy days. I didn’t understand why, but Dad was a smart man, and I was sure he had his reasons. With a quick ruffle, I readjusted my coat and took the final turn to my house.

     We had moved in last night, and I had yet to actually see the building. It was tall and slender, but very from the alleys on either side, I could tell that it had some depth. The grey bricking that made up the face of the structure was outlined in beige, leading to its reddish capped shingles. It wasn’t the biggest house we’d owned, nor the most expensive, or tasteful, but it was homely.

     It wouldn’t matter. This house would most likely be sold soon for a new one. Such was the life of our family. My dad, for the longest time had worked for the upper class, and was paid to reflect such. I had never asked what he did, I assume some form of art, and knew it wasn’t of great importance, or I would have been spoken to. I took a step towards my temporary home, and into the sunlight peeking between the walls at a sharp angle. As my foot fell, so did another.

     A man, quite taller than myself, appeared in the entrance of the alleyway. He was tall, with broad shoulders, as his heavy wool coat revealed. His clean shaven face gave no trace of hair, and his bulbous hat shaded his eyes. I was unsure of his intentions, but from his sharp movement, it was obvious that they involved me. I stopped, staring at the man for a moment, examining him from head to toe, and then stepped aside in respect. The man made no move to pass by me, but rather stepped closer. His mouth opened, as if to speak, and very quietly a whisper tore through his lips. The sound was quiet, and somehow, piercing.

     “…Demitri?” he asked, my ears only picking up my name. I nodded, in confirmation. I didn’t recognize the man, and my stomach jumped. I began breathing a bit faster, and a flash of his eyes revealed he had noticed. I waited a moment to recompose myself.

     “Yes,” I responded, stupidly, not knowing what the rest of his question was. He nodded, placing his hands behind his back, folding one at an angle to clutch the elbow of his other. His lengthy coat parted below the button on his chest, revealing his upper class attire beneath. The coat draped over pressed blue pants, and a blackened leather belt. He wore a white shirt, tucked in and partially covered by a matching blue vest. It was now that he looked to one side, glancing back towards my home. Sunlight reflected from his rounded gold glasses in front of his eyes.

     I sighed in relief at the man’s clothes. I was sure he was no swarthy crook, now. I flashed the man a smile to show my contentment. The man turned back to me, attempting to speak in newly learned English.

     “You live… here?” he asked, throwing another nod in the direction of the house. I nodded, in understanding. He nodded, and thought again. “Your father is home?” The question came across awkwardly, and my father’s voice rang out in my mind. ‘Not to be trusted’. I shook my head, quickly frowning. He smiled, seeing through my lie. There was a moment of silence as he stared across the gap between us, that I was beginning to feel was too small. I involuntarily took a step backward.

     “Who are you?” I asked attempting to dissolve some of my creeping tension. The man only smiled, and shook his head. He took a deep breath and thought about the word.

     “Killer?” he blurted, as if finally finding the word. My eyes opened in horror, and I took another step back. He smiled wildly, showing his teeth, squinting. His eyes very nearly disappeared behind his glasses from his cheeks. That could not have been the right word. He is obviously new to English, and has made a mistake. I gasped suddenly, forgetting to breath. The man brought his hands forward, holding one out to take my hand. I stayed perfectly still. From his other hand at his side, I could see a glint of light; a watch, perhaps? I hoped.

     “Killer,” I repeated, in sudden anxiety. The man nodded. His free hand dropped from his sleeve, revealing a small silvery dagger. The handle, wrapped in leather was very nearly covered by his hand. It was a small blade, nearly unnoticeable. I shivered for a moment.

     “For you,” he whispered, holding up the blade. He rotated it slowly, allowing me to see the entirety of the tiny razor. A whine left my throat without asking me. The man chuckled, then began a quickened pace towards me, as if he were simply doing a chore before dinner. His hand rose, for a moment, and then shot towards me. I instinctively flinched back, nearly leaping at the action. I stumbled backwards, and fell. The man took another step, aggravated that I had escaped the first strike. He brought his hands up, both sets of fingers clutched tightly around the grip, then brought it down upon me.

     I clenched my eyes tightly and lowered my head in my arms. Nothing happened. I opened my eyes, blurry with tears, and looked up. My cheeks began to twitch from a new rush of emotion. The man was still above me, his dagger just above my head. His eyes were opened wide, mouth agape. I waited for a moment, trembling with… fear? I don’t think that was the feeling. Then blackness clouded my vision, and I fell into it. A massive hole opened under my consciousness, and I fell away from my body, watching it through the shrinking hole above me.

     I wanted to go back to it, but my mind was weighted down by something. I tried to call out to my body, begging it to reach for me, but I couldn’t. Then, as if recognizing me, my body turned to look at me through the hole, rimmed by a sea of blackness. But, it wasn’t my body… or it was, but it wasn’t ME. My eyes stared back at me, beneath my short black hair. They were vicious looking. Wild, even. He- I grinned and breathed in, deeply shaking as I did. My body turned away from my consciousness, leaving it- me, to drown awash in the blackness. The circle above me, the only light, the only view of my body, my world, disappeared in an instant. I was alone, falling, into nothingness. It was cold, lonely.

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