Page 1 of King

One

Darkness surrounds me.

The air is hot.

Scorching. Suffocating.

There’s no clarity even after rubbing my eyes and when I call out, I realize I can’t breathe.

I’m choking.

Gasping.

I’m too disorientated to find a way out.

Mom, dad, Willow.

The life I’ve always known flashes on my lids before the darkness eats me whole.

“Eden Gardens!” the conductor’s voice booms through the overhead speaker. Jolted from another nightmare, my eyes open, cheek against the cold glass. “The stop is Eden Gardens!”

A literal weight lifts off my shoulders and I pull my head off the window to see Willow rub her eyes. My little sister squints under the train’s yellow lights, looking into the grey aisle. There's a crease on her sandy-brown cheek, her fried-straight hair a mess on her round head. The way she looks tells me I should check my own reflection. When I do, I confirm my state. A damn mess.

My curls are in knots, scrunched against my head, dark circles under my eyes somehow look worse than when we left. Taking my fingers to my hair, I detangle the mess as the train comes to a stop in the dark tunnel.

Passengers stand and shuffle about, the car getting louder with clacks and chatter. I pull on my leather jacket, a treasure from my dad's closet before turning to my sister. As passengers start to make their way off the car, I give her a weak smile, “At least we both look like shit.”

Willow matches my smile with an even weaker one, her eyes doing that thing they do when she’s barely awake. One open. One half-closed. When everyone is almost off the car, she gets up while I pull my beat-up Jansport from under the seat. Once I'm on my feet and in the aisle, she hands me one of two lumpy trash bags from the overhead. She takes the smaller one before I usher her towards the exit.

With a thank-you to the attendant, we make our first steps off the train and into Eden Gardens. The place we once dubbed, “No Man’s Land”.

It’s a short walk down the platform and up a set of stairs before the station opens up into a miniature Grand Central.

“Woah.” Willow’s awake now, her brown eyes wide, head whipping around.

Light pours in from arched windows near the roof. Long brick columns lead my eyes to them. A large board with arrival and departure times hangs in the middle of the massive space. If it wasn't for that and the ticket booths, I would have mistaken the station for a cathedral.

There’s a mix of flowery perfume and pastries in the air. It’s unfamiliar. New. But considering the station we came from smelt like roasted meat and piss, Eden Gardens is already an upgrade. A few men in expensive-looking suits wisp by, strong cologne encompassing them. Around them are women in colourful dresses. They all have matching handbags or heels that clack against the polished floor.

I look down at my boots and cut off denim shorts. My ripped Nirvana t-shirt hangs off my frame under my jacket. I pull my sister close, she's not too far off in a black oversized hoodie and baggy leggings. I try not to draw too much attention to ourselves, but we already stand out like weeds.

“Well, we're definitely not in The Grove anymore...” Willow’s jaw hangs as I lead her to a set of shiny wooden benches.

My eyes wander the space as we move. A giant brass clock stands in the middle of the main concourse, time on each of its four sides. I take a look at my dad’s gold Rolex confirming the time. Minutes to six.

“Still got time before Daddy Warbucks arrives?” Willow sits on the bench, her trash bag falling to the floor. With an elbow to her knee, pointy chin in her palm, I can tell she’s as thrilled as I am.

“Just enough time to grab a snack!” I plop my trash bag on the spot next to her before I try forcing another smile. “And I smell donuts!”

She sits up for a second before her shoulders drop. “Nah, it’s okay. You don’t have to use your cash.”

“Hey, we’re in Eden now!” I sling off my backpack, putting it on the bench before spreading my arms wide. “We deserve to splurge a little. Wait here.”

I head towards the smell of sweet dough and try my best not to get lost. Down a long corridor, the smell heightens and I see a display of donuts and pastries behind a glass wall. There’s already a crowd in front of the counter and I join it, my eyes on the colourful pastries in the display. Cupcakes. Croissants. Things dripping in chocolate.

Standing on my tiptoes, I scan the menu ahead. My shoulders fall. “Five dollars for a donut?” Groaning at my first taste of Eden prices, I rummage through my jacket pocket. Pulling out enough crumpled bills, I'm relieved I have enough for what I promised.

It takes a few minutes, but I finally get to the front, a short barista in a black hat pursing her lips my way. I’m about to order a Regular Glaze when I’m interrupted by a wide man in a black suit, “One cappuccino and a pesto panini.”

---