Mercy, Page 3

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  On Friday Mercy spent the day alone. She had roamed up and down the area she met Alex the previous two days but she couldn’t spot the girl, and her sixth sense never directed Mercy to her. This concerned her, but perhaps Alex needed some space. It wouldn’t help her cause if she appeared to be some weird stalker.

  At night she had talked to her parents, and much as she had anticipated, they asked her questions she didn’t know the answer to: Why she was still there? What was she supposed to do? When would she be home? Their concern had mounted exponentially since the prior night, and Mercy could do little to ease it.

  All night a dull throb persisted in Mercy's chest. It wasn't enough to stop her from functioning coherently, but it wasn't ignorable either. Each pulse made her weary yet also antsy. She wished she could read Alex's emotions, or identify the source of her pain. Yet, all she received were muddled perceptions and flickers she couldn't comprehend when she talked to her. Even now Mercy could not tell if the pain in her chest was acting as a reminder, or if Alex herself was in discomfort. This unknowing made her want to scream and lash out in frustration at the enigma of her presence here. Her mind replayed the two conversations she had had with Alex trying to find hints of the cause of her agony.

  Saturday was bright, sunny, and warm. Mercy traded in her black jacket for a light black sweater, and wore a black tank top with blue jeans and of course her black boots. Purposely she left her hood down to not conceal her white-blonde hair that would be unmistakable to Alex. Within 20 minutes of perusing the festivals at the park, she heard someone call her name.

  Turning she could see Alex by a stand about 30 feet away, and accompanied by her parents. Mercy waved back and sauntered over.

  “This is my friend Mercy!” Alex beamed.

  “Hey,” Mercy smiled. Alex’s mother offered not much more than a tight-lipped smile. It wouldn’t have mattered if Mercy pranced around in a pink floral dress, she would still elicit the same reaction as a kid with a Mohawk, in ripped jeans with a leather jacket.

  The stepfather, on the contrary, was gawking at her very cautiously, and Mercy noted how he clenched and unclenched his hands. When Mercy met his eyes they glared back at her and she found them so unsettling that a chill ran up her spine. Which was strange to her since she never found people unsettling, it was people that found her unsettling.

  The parents were a bit of an odd looking couple in Mercy’s opinion. Alex’s mother was a short woman with wide hips, short dyed blonde hair, but had the same shade of brown and large eyes that her daughter possessed. She wore light coloured capris with a bright belted multicoloured shirt. The stepfather loomed over the mother and Alex, he was at least a foot taller than them, and his dark blue eyes were small and pretending to look off in the distance, but Mercy could feel them watching the three of them. His clothing was plain browns and tans that hung loosely on his doughy frame, and he seemed to subtly drift behind Alex and her mother.

  “Can I go hang out with Mercy please?” Alex asked her mother with large brown eyes. Her mother studied Mercy carefully.

  “I suppose… Are you here with your parents Marcy?” the mother asked.

  “Yea my mom’s over there by the cotton candy stand.” Mercy smiled motioning broadly in the direction behind her. Alex’s mother squinted her eyes peering into the crowd, but didn’t question Mercy. Before leaving with Alex, Mercy eyed the step-father and again felt a sense of uneasiness about him.

  After heading in the direction she told Alex’s parents her mother was, she grabbed Alex’s wrist and steered her down to a less busy picnic area once they were out of sight. She rounded the table and plopped down on the bench to see Alex gazing at her with giant round eyes as she clutched the wrist Mercy had been holding.

  “I didn’t hurt you did I?” Mercy frowned.

  “How did you do that?” almost inaudibly Alex whispered.

  “Do what…?”

  “You made the… I… you made me feel better.” Alex stumbled over her words, but she also gave Mercy the sense she hadn’t said exactly what she wanted to say. Briefly, a wave of panic washed over Mercy, and she was careful not the let it reach her face. What if I’ve been wrong? What if Alex was really sick and I’m not here to save her? This twisted in Mercy’s heart much more painfully than anytime the fates had viced her.

  “What do you mean?” Mercy asked pretending to be oblivious. Instead of answering Alex pursed her lips and sat slowly, then began tugging at the end of her sleeves. It wasn’t until that moment that Mercy noticed that the girl was in long pants, and a long shirt while most people were in less attire. The only reason she had kept her sweater on was because her pale skin burned easily.

  “Have you ever felt like there was something bad happening and nobody understands? And you try to get your mom to and she won’t? And you’re so afraid to tell anyone else…” Alex said quietly unable to meet Mercy’s eyes. Mercy could relate to this feeling, it was her life.

  “Yes, every day.”

  Then a dangerous thought crossed her mind. The possibility that Alex was like her, and maybe she had been brought here to help Alex come to terms with her own curse. Maybe she too felt the call, the painful howl that screamed and begged to be freed of its anguished flesh.

  “I don’t know how much longer I can take it. I don’t know if I can keep going…” Alex’s pained voice cracked. Without even thinking Mercy extended her hand and placed it on one of Alex’s forearms that were resting on the table. A rush of fear, grief, and desperation stung Mercy’s hand and she had to force herself not to gasp or withdraw away. The girl’s head shot up, her eyes sparkling with tears waiting to spill over, and slowly she drew her arm back from Mercy.

  “Alex, I’m here for you. You can trust me.”

  “You can’t protect me.”

  “Protect you? Protect you from what?” Mercy questioned. Something cold slithered in her stomach, and she couldn’t get a grasp on the conversation. Again she felt the need to reach out and comfort Alex by touching her.

  “No Mercy, please don’t touch me. I’ve already told you too much. You make my head fuzzy and you dull the –“ Alex choked back a sob and reached up her hand to wipe the tears from her eyes.

  Mercy froze, swallowing back her anger and shock. The girl’s suffering was revealed as Alex had lifted up her arm, her sleeved pulling itself down to reveal the truth: a black, blue, and welted tiny wrist.

  “Alex…. What happened to you wrist? Who did that?” whispered Mercy desperately. She received no response.

  “I have to go.” Alex proclaimed as she shot to her feet and then bolted.

  “Alex! ALEX!” she yelled and moved around the table. Mercy tried to chase her but Alex’s tiny body easily vanished into the throng of festivals goers.

  There was nothing Mercy could do right now, she felt it, which made her all the more worried. Equally concerning, was how was she to save an abused girl? Mercy held her hand to her heart, and realized the throbbing pain was her own.