Chapter Text
The sounds of piano music played in a soft symphony of notes. Light shimmered in from the space between tree branches. A old but strong hand stroked the hair of a little dozing girl in a gentle motion. From the open window came the beautiful music that gave every being within earshot a sense of peace and appreciation for the simple moments of life. All was calm in that moment and for just a second, everything is was simply perfect.
"Abel! Abel! Stop sleeping and get your butt out here! We've got the dinner rush coming in!"
Bright blue eyes opened, the soothing vision vanishing as Calista Abel woke from her daze. She'd been resting her head on crossed arms, trying to get a moment of rest or at least serenity before the living embodiment of a pesky fly interrupted it.
Taking out one of her earbuds, Calista said in a monotone voice she'd learned to summon on command, "I'm on break. I've still got ten minutes left."
Her boss, Mr. Emerson, rolled his big brown bug eyes and said in his grating voice, "And I've got one cashier dealing with twenty hungry customers. We don't all get what we want, so move it!" With that he returned to his office to whine about the complaints he got from said customers.
"Maybe if you hired more people and didn't treat them like disposable gloves, we wouldn't be so overwhelmed," Calista muttered to herself as she stood up from where she'd been sitting at one of the break room tables. The chair croaked like a dying toad, signaling its age, while Calista redid her dark brown hair into a messy bun. It was a few inches past shoulder length and would need a trim soon, but haircuts were expense these days. And her job as a fast food worker didn't offer the best pay.
Still, it was close to her shoddy apartment and, with how tough the job market was at the moment, it provided her with something akin to financial security. If albeit enough for her to live day by day.
Dropping off her Ipod in her locker, Calista made her way out of the break room, all attempts to recover what little mental stability she had pushed down until further notice. As much as she hated her job (and her boss especially, how on earth do people like him get managerial positions?) she knew she couldn't lose it. At least not until she found something better.
She walked through the doors, sidling past the cooks at the fryer and stepped to the front. After swiping her employee card to unlock the register, she forced a smile onto her face and said the infamous words, "I can take who's next!"
When the next 'Karen' came up huffing and puffing about the ridiculous wait, Calista simply gave a tight smile and waited for the order. Kathleen, her coworker of the day was doing her best to rush through each and every customer. She was still somewhat new, not quite having the fluid motion ingrained into her yet. That was probably the real reason why Mr Emerson pulled Calista back out. Calista gave Kathleen a week more before she'd consider quitting, if not leave altogether.
Not that she blamed her, the minute Calista was secure with another job, she'd turn in her two weeks and never look back. But who knows when that'd be.
Living in the city was not as glamorous or high energy as everyone made it out to be. Everyone was a hollow version of themselves as they went on autopilot while getting to and from work. The place reeked of multiple smells, a diluted combination of aromatic foods from restaurants and, well, drugs and garbage. Someone was always honking their car horn, people crowded sidewalks, and nearly on every corner was someone homeless. In truth, the only high energy came from the speed at which people moved around one another. And the glamor from the overexpensive goods in shops.
It was nothing like the suburbs, where Calista had first lived. When she was born, both her mother and father gave her up to her grandparents, stating they didn't want to be parents.
"We want to keep our freedom," they apparently said.
"A baby just gets in the way," they'd stated.
Calista still didn't know how to feel about that. Maybe she never would. But she did know she loved her grandparents. They immediately took her in and raised her, telling Calistas parents they'd regret saying those words in time.
They'd never know if that would be true, as Calistas parents died a year later. A car crash during their travels.
That knowledge was also something she still wasn't sure how to process. Some days she was angry at them, other times she was sad for the missed chance for them to change and come back. She sometimes regretted not having that opportunity to truly know them, but then the next day claim it was their own fault, that they missed out. She even felt apathetic about it at times, or at least that's what she told herself.
In the end, she decided the whole ordeal left a tornado of emotions and thoughts, even coming and going as unpredictably as one. It didn't help that around eight years old, her grandmother passed away with her grandfather following less than a year later. And with no next of kin, she'd been passed from an orphanage to foster families.
Calista blinked her eyes, feeling tears rise at the hint of those memories coming back. But now was not the time or place. In an attempt to drown out those thoughts she forced all her focus into her work tasks. Thankfully she was experienced in suppressing her feelings, so within a few moments there was no sign of her possible break down.
Hours passed as Calista worked the lunch shift and dinner shift, even working some late night hours. Despite downright loathing her job (and her boss even moreso), Calista knew the more money she made and saved, the better she'd be in the long run.
Besides, what was she going to do in her free time? She had no friends, few hobbies, and any activities these days cost more money than she was willing to part with. Especially with the growing rent and cost of everyday things. Most of her belongings were hand me downs or second hand items.
Clocking out, Calista let out a breath. She had the next day off and the mere knowledge of that fact brought the hugest sense of relief to her. She grabbed her belongings from her locker and headed out. Though her legs and feet hurt from standing all day, she ignored the pain and started walking home. Her apartment was only a few blocks away, and the walk always helped her de-stress.
She'd had a bicycle when she first got her apartment, but shortly after she'd crashed it. She'd been biking in the park nearby, careful of the pedestrians, but unfortunately things happen. A couple of teenagers walking their dogs hadn't had a good grip on their leashes, causing Calista to swerve when said dogs gave chase to something-a squirrel or birds perhaps. She'd ended up hitting a large metal public trash can and the front wheel and chains were beyond repair.
The group of teenagers had immediately ran, shouting out an apology. Clearly they didn't want to be caught or risk possibly having to pay for any damages.
Calista remembered it clearly. She'd been hopeful about her future, crying a few days before she'd moved into her apartment. She'd worried that she'd have to live on the streets the moment she'd turned eighteen. So when the approval for her application to move into the apartment came, she'd believed things were going to be okay.
When she saw the damage done to her bike, she'd felt a familiar sense of sadness and hollowness. She took her bike to the apartment complex dumpster and just stared at it for a moment. It had been the closest thing to personal owned transportation she'd had and it had been with her for years. She'd gotten it at a discount price with money she'd saved up. It had brought her hours and hours of joy and freedom.
Now it was just gone.
She wished there was something she could take from it to remember by, but all she had was photos. In them she'd had the biggest smile. One was of her riding down a hill, not even pedaling, letting the natural slope carry her down. She'd loved the feeling of wind in her hair, the speed at which she went. It reminded her of when her grandfather took her horseback riding or biking.
She pondered holding onto the chain, but it would only cause problems and mess. In the end, she gave it one final pat before trudging up to her apartment. As soon as the door closed behind her, she'd collapsed to the ground, crying.
Even now, she missed her bike. Going from orphanage to foster homes had taught her to hold onto what little treasures she'd had. So any loss hurt more than she wanted to admit.
Calista sighed and tried to not let her mind careen down that tunnel. At least, not until she got into the privacy of her own home.
Calista moved to touch the bracelet she had, a habit she'd picked up since she got the accessory, though she didn't recall where she'd obtained it. It was made of metal, perhaps some sort of jade, with a gold rim and band. There were some lighter green markings, just squares, that shimmered in the light. It...while it didn't make her feel a hundred percent better, but it offered some sort of comfort, along with a bittersweetness. Originally the thing had been an arm band, but as she'd grown, it became a bracelet, and she rarely took it off.
Eventually she got to her shoddy apartment complex and passed the owner at the front desk, giving him a polite wave. Mr Ashford was an older gentleman with an apathetic personality, not caring about his residents, especially if they didn't pay their rent on the dot. Even a day late and you would be kicked out. Calista had never been on his bad side but she often wondered if he even had a good side.
She climbed the stairs to her third floor home and froze. There, she saw the signs of a damaged door.
Someone had broken into her apartment.
It wasn't just her apartment. A few of her neighbors had similar signs of forced entry. But Calista didn't register that at first, instead she charged into her apartment and stared at the state of her small living space.
All the drawers were open, with things scattered across the floor. One of the glasses she'd left on the counter that morning was broken, perhaps fallen to the ground as the intruder (intruders?) rushed around.
Calista felt her breath come in rapid succession, her blood running cold as she mentally couldn't believe what she was seeing. All noises felt loud but also dulled as she tried to sense if anyone was still inside.
She carefully trekked to the kitchen drawers and pulled out a tiny knife. It wasn't much but it was the only thing she had for protection. Holding it up high, she patrolled her small home, observing any indicators of another or multiple persons nearby.
Her survey showed no signs of that, but she didn't feel much better. She still clutched the knife as she ran to her bedroom and checked for her belongings. The few books she had were still there, albeit half were on the ground. Her chargers were still plugged into the sockets, her photobook and diary still in her desk drawer.
She didn't have much jewelry, just a few earrings she got from previous gift exchanges, but they mattered little to her. Those were gone, no surprise. Jellybean, her stuffed rabbit, no longer sat guard on her bed, now flown across the room as her bed mattress was lifted onto its side. She picked up the pale furred plush, holding it close for any comfort it could provide.
Thankfully, the important documents she had, like her birth certificate, resume, rent agreement, and etcetera were still in the room. They appeared to have been tossed to the side while the intruder(s) had looked through her drawers.
And her most prized possession, the ocarina her grandfather gave her, was intact and safe.
Calista picked up the deep blue instrument, checking for any cracks or signs of damage. Seeing none, she blew into it, hearing the air flow perfectly. She clutched it close to her, next to Jellybean, and fell to her backside, breaking down, dropping the knife in the process.
She cried softly and quietly, something she'd learn to do long ago. Curling in on herself, Calista breathed heavily and tucked her knees in close. Her face felt hot as tears flowed down. She felt violated and scared and no matter how hard she wrapped up herself, she no longer felt safe in her bedroom.
Knowing she couldn't stay in her current position, Calista began to get up. For a moment, she tried to tidy up, but then wondered if she should call the police or tell Mr Ashford.
That brought a new worry she hadn't thought of prior. How could she stay here with the door not intact? It hung from the hinges and it was too late to call a repairman.
Without any idea of what to do next, Calista went down to Mr Ashford and explained the situation.
The man had simply blinked and said, "Well what do you want me to do about it?"
Flinching at the lack of concern, Calista suggested, "Could you call the police?! A crime was committed!"
Mr Ashford rolled his eyes and explained, "Calista, if I called the police every time this happened, they'd live here. You just got unlucky tonight."
Calista bawlked and cried, "They broke down my door! How is that normal?!"
Still, Mr Ashford didn't seemed fazed, "Huh, yeah that's new. Well, was anything important stolen?"
"Well, no-"
"Is anyone still in there?"
"No! But-"
Mr Ashford interrupted her, "Then there's nothing else to do. If you want to go file a report at the station by the park, be my guest, but I'm not gonna keep adding police records to my building. I'll be outta business."
With that, Mr Ashford seemed done with the conversation, rolling down the shutter as Calista stammered. For a moment, she simply stared at her reflection in the glass, digesting what happened. Then, moving on autopilot, she climbed back up the stairs to her room. Standing in the middle of the tiny apartment, Calista tried to think of what to do next.
She couldn't stay here, with the door broken. What if the intruders came back? But she didn't have anyone she could stay with. She wasn't on friendly enough terms with people at her job or in her history to spend the night on a couch. And the nearest homeless shelter would take all night to reach.
Calista sat at her kitchen table and thought of any options she had. The neighbors were out of the question, they didn't really talk to one another. Mr Emerson wouldn't allow her to stay at the work building, even for one night.
Even though it was futile, she looked through her phone contacts. Only a handful of names were in them, she had a habit of deleting people the minute she knew they weren't going to keep on touch with her.
She supposed she could try to reach out the foster family she'd last been with before turning eighteen. Despite them telling her she had to move out, they had always been nice. Perhaps if she said she just needed to stay for one night, they'd take pity on her, allowing her to figure out her next steps...
Her finger twirled on the call button, debating. It had been years, with her being twenty one now, and they had never reached out to her in any form of media or contact.
Sighing, Calista closed the call button and looked up the police station Mr Ashford mentioned was nearby. Maybe they could be of some help.
"There's nothing you can do?!" Calista cried.
The officer looked at her in pity and said, "I'm really sorry, miss Abel, but while we can investigate who intruded on your home, we can't really do anything else," he paused before saying, "I can have a cruiser hang outside the building for the night, if that helps."
Calista wanted to cry, scream, shake the police officer to do anything else. But that wouldn't end well. Instead she said, "No. No that will only piss off Mr Ashford," thinking quickly, she asked, "Can I stay here, by any chance? Is that an option?"
The officer hesitated and Calista tried to persuade him, "I could sleep in one of the cells! I won't make any noise or throw a fuss! Just one night!"
The officer sighed and shook his head, "I'm afraid I can't allow that. Only felons are put there."
Calista genuinely considered committing a small act of crime that would require a night in the cells, but decided against it. Any kind of record could damage her history and, with her luck, she may end up losing her job because of it.
Distraught, Calista whimpered out, "I...I don't have anywhere to go."
It wasn't completely true, she could just go back to her apartment, but she no longer felt safe there. But outside of that, she didn't have a place to crash.
The officer looked at her with pity and apologized, "I'm sorry, miss. But there's nothing I can do."
Calista leaned back in her chair, just digesting what hit her. In her arms was her backpack, bulging from all her belongings. She'd learn long ago how to carry everything in one bag and keep it close. She had a smaller backpack by her feet, but that only contained some clothes she stuffed in there.
The officer gave her a moment, a practiced look in his demeanor. She had no doubt he dealt with this often. He started to say something but Calista didn't hear him, sounds dulled and everything seemed to move a tad bit slower, almost alien like.
Her body moved on autopilot again, grabbing her bag and going to exit the station. The officer behind her didn't stop or call out to her.
It was when the wind from outside hit her that she began to cry again, though less intensely as before. Thankfully the darkness of the night helped hide her face, not that there was anyone really around.
Unsure of what to do, Calista looked forward and saw the park across the street. She'd always loved the park, the trees and plants reminded her of life before her grandparents died. She headed towards it, seeing an open bench just at the edge of it.
Upon reaching it, Calista sat down, placing the bag carrying her clothes next to her. She looked up at the police station across the street and felt helpless, but also furious. Why did this have to happen? She had nothing of value! She was a nobody! So how did she end up in this situation?
She didn't know what to do. Normally she'd be in bed after eating whatever she could call dinner, doom scrolling on her phone, trying to fill the silence with noise of any kind. But now...
Calista found herself thinking of the night before, how she wished she could go back to it. Maybe go to sleep and wake up to find it all a dream. That she'd just imagined the broken down door and torn apart room.
A cold wind blew, reminding Calista that it wasn't a dream. It had been real, and there was no escaping that, no matter what she wanted. Her heart began to pound and she felt her breath coming in rapidly. She needed to calm down, panicking never helped her.
She thought about distracting herself, but how? She didn't want to use her phone to watch videos, she needed to save its battery till she found a public charger. The same went for her Ipod. Reading was out of the question with how dark it was. And the pack of cards she had would only get blown away. And she felt too exposed to write in her journal.
She supposed she could play her ocarina...
Calista pulled out the instrument. It was a beautiful deep blue, with a gold triangular symbol on it. She ran over the carving and recalled how her grandfather gave it to her. He'd play it when she had trouble sleeping, or had been ill, or when he was with the horses, on rainy days and perfect days. It had been passed down through the family and Calista had been instantly fascinated by it.
Seeing her curiosity, her grandfather had taught her how to play it, being very firm that she was to hold it carefully. She recalled how, when she first started playing it, she'd put a pillow under her. So if she'd dropped the ocarina, it would land on a soft surface.
When her grandmother died, he'd given her the ocarina, saying it was hers now. Calista wondered if it was because he knew he wouldn't live much longer either. Perhaps he couldn't find the joy in playing it after his wife died.
Lifting the flute like instrument, Calista played a few common songs to warm up. Simply doing that greatly calmed her nerves, though she was still jittery. She started to do other songs, ones that her grandfather taught her. Mostly lullabies.
Oddly enough, one danced on the edges of her mind. It was a simple tune, not involving many notes. One that sped up the more it played on. But Calista just couldn't think of it. It irked her, ruining the calm she had slowly recovered. She put away the ocarina, uninterested in playing anything else.
Exhausted, Calista then lay down on the bench, using the bag with her clothes as a pillow. It wasn't her first time sleeping on a bench, but it was still rare for her. She pulled the backpack of all her personal items close, doing her best to stuff it under her jacket. Once settled, she kept her gaze to the police station. She hoped that by being closer to it, she wouldn't have any issues from possible thieves or homeless or mentally unstable people.
Wrapping her arms around herself, Calista closed her eyes and tried to rest. She hoped that the morning would bring her something, anything to figure out what to do.
The weather was nice. A gentle wind caressed Calistas cheeks. She was playing with some action figures she had. Behind her, her grandmother urged her to sit still while she brushed her hair. Calista sighed and fought the urge to pull away as the tangles in her hair were worked through.
Her grandfather beside them, reading a book, chuckled. He commented on how he'd seen a rats nest look more smooth than her hair. Not quite understanding what he meant, Calista stuck her tongue out at him. Then, funnily enough, her grandfather had done the same, making them both laugh. Behind her, her grandmother rolled her eyes and called them both children, though it was said fondly with a smile.
Something caught Calistas eye, and she turned to see the owl statue her grandmother had put there. She swore she thought she saw it move, especially with how it's eyes seemed to be boring into Calista.
Calista commented on how spooky the owl looked, but her grandmother reassured her that owls were not aggressive creatures. Then her grandfather added that his ancestors claimed that owls often carried wisdom, or even were indicators of you going the right way.
Calista wasn't so sure about that, the statue seemed to have inched closer, making her more nervous. She barely noticed her grandmother brushing her hair anymore.
Then her grandfather explained that, apparently, his ancestors even learned a song from them. Hearing this, Calista asked if he was going to play it on his ocarina.
Her grandfather gave her a smirk and pulled out the blue instrument, making Calista squee in excitement. He played a simple tune, surprising Calista. Usually the songs he played were much longer. Her grandfather patted her head and said if she ever got lost, to play that song and she'd find her way home.
But when Calista opened her eyes, both her grandmother and grandfather were gone. And in front of her was the owl statue with its intense gaze. It frightened her, and Calista called out to her grandparents, but there was no answer. The same tune her grandfather played began to repeat, going faster until-
Calistas bright blue eyes snapped open as she gasped. She felt her heart pounding with a cold sweat. The light of the police station seemed really bright and she tried to cover her eyes as she caught her breath.
She pulled out her phone to try and get a grasp on what time it was, only to be more confused when she saw it had only been a few hours. The sky was still dark with no signs of dawn coming.
Calista didn't want to go back to sleep, the intense gaze of the owl statue haunting her memory. Deep down she knew it was silly, just a harmless piece of rock, but at the moment she was shaken.
In an attempt to decrease the speed of her heartbeat, she counted backwards from thirty. Counting down had been a trick she'd learn from a social worker that had taken the time to get to know her better. And it helped. Calista always felt as if the issue was getting smaller and less stressful as she got to zero.
But even though she did it twice, she still didn't feel okay with going back to sleep. She felt calmer, but still unsettled.
Given how her situation was the same as before, Calista really didn't have many options. Though she was more tempted to use her phone this time around.
That's when she recalled the tune she'd heard in her dream. She couldn't figure out if the dream was based off a memory or just made up in an attempt to recall the music she'd once heard. Either way, it was fresh in her mind, almost ringing inside it.
Pulling out her ocarina, Calista pondered how to play the tune. She played a few notes to cement which ones were in the song, until finally getting an idea of how it went.
Lifting the ocarina to her lips, Calista paused. She had a strange feeling that...if she played the song, something was going to happen.
For a moment, she considered putting away her ocarina and just going back to sleep. Just ignore the dream and try to get more rest. But another part of her, the one that was winning the debate inside her, urged her to play the song.
She recalled how her grandfather stated that if she was ever lost, the song would bring her home. Granted it could have just been part of a dream, but what did she have to lose?
Dream or memory, Calista wanted to believe her grandparents had, in some way, answered her. So she took a breath and played the tune.
She played it like on her dream, speeding up each time she repeated the same six notes. And when she put the ocarina back into her lap, nothing happened.
Calista waited a few seconds, and seeing no signs or change in anything, rolled her eyes and muttered, "I'm an idiot."
But then she felt something on her back. Calista turned her head and saw two large white wings almost glowing. She grabbed her packs and tried to cry out, to run, but she was muffled as the two wings wrapped around her tightly, in a way they could never naturally do.
Then she felt herself spinning, going faster and faster till she thought she was going to be sick, getting dizzier by the second. She no longer felt the ground beneath her, or the bench she'd been sitting on.
Everything went white and Calista passed out.