Around Two - Chapter 3
[With Editorial Commentary Below]
Come on, bus. It’s already 2:02:53! What’s taking so long?
“Hop in, Miss D, fare’s paid again today.”
I startle at the voice. How had I missed the screechy halt of the bus in front of me? 2:03:28.
“I should hope so,” I snapped at Mr. Crichton.
“Pard’n me, ma’am. Late start today, real late. There was a fire at my first pickup.”
I shuddered, hands sweating, arms curling over my head. Last time there was a fire was...
“You okay back there, ma’am?”
I nodded, opening my eyes again, and the bus rumbled forward. 2:04:39. I had less than five minutes left.
“Not gonna make it...”
“You’ll make it today, ma’am. I’ll see to it.”
I sat and swayed as the bus barreled forth toward my alley. 2:05:13. I should be there! He’ll be looking for me!
I took out the note and unfolded it. So tattered, so old. How long have I stared at this note? I traced my finger over the T at the end, my long fingernails scraping the paper.
I looked out the window, not seeing past my own grotesque image. I scowled at the girl in the reflection. That’s not me. That’s not me! I’m me.
Screech!
“That’s you, Miss D.”
“No,” I whispered my protest. Then I looked up at a very concerned Mr. Crichton. I shook the unwanted thoughts out of my head and scrambled off the bus.
Run! The alley seems so deep today, so far! 2:08:57. 2:08:58. 2:08:59.
“I can’t!” I gaped at the fire escape as I clasped the bottom rung. Come on, hands, climb! 2:09:06. One hand in front of the other, climb up! MOVE!
I look over at the bus. Yes, it’s safe on the bus. I won’t have to jump today. 2:09:11. I have to go back.
I ran for the bus, flames licking my feet, and leapt inside for cover. I crouched as small as I could, gluing myself to the floor next to the driver’s seat. I caught myself rocking and stopped, just holding my head. Don’t rock, you’re not a nutcase!
“Just go ahead, I’ll take her from here.”
“You sure, sir? I can wait if ya need. Miss D’s a preferred customer in my book.”
“That’s okay, thank you.”
No, where’s the bus going? Why am I still on 5th? No, no, no! This isn’t how it goes!
“It’s okay, Marta. You’re safe.”
I took a cold glass of water from the man’s hand. “Misty.”
“Pardon?”
“Misty. Mr. Crichton calls me Misty.”
“No, he’s saying --” the man froze. “You’re remembering names now?”
“Not your name,” I sipped at the water, looking out the office window. 2:23:03.
To Be Continued…
[Comments: The bus arrival and departure times are unclear and inconsistent.
Who keeps paying her fare?
Aren’t there any other passengers on the bus?
The bus driver’s accent is a bit vague.
She is disgusted by her appearance. Could she have burn scars?
Actions: Solidify the bus schedule since there’s a strong emphasis on time.
Mention other passengers in close proximity to Miss D/Marta. Fill in sensory details.
Make Mr. Crichton’s accent more specific to a region and/or toned down. Less is more, and readability is more important.
Her visceral reaction to the word “fire” works well to characterize her and could be foreshadowing something at the same time. This needs to come back into play later.
Mr. Crichton seems oddly protective of Miss D for a mere acquaintance, and consequently, she feels safe around him. There should be a reason for this, even if it’s as simple as them having a friend in common.
It’s clear that she has trauma. Any symptoms mentioned should line up with one or more specific conditions. Referring to herself as “not a nutcase” speaks to a fear of judgment, so she must sense that she’s different.
Details to remember:
Characters: The man in the alley
Locations: Fifth (Street?), the man in the alley’s office
Miss D doesn’t know her first name is Marta, and assumes the bus driver is calling her “Misty”
For some reason, she remembers that the bus driver’s name is Mr. Crichton
Her daily routine is interrupted by the man bringing her to an office
He’s taking note of her memory function, implying that he could be a care provider for her
Fire and jumping from the roof are related in some way
Marta has body dysmorphia strong enough that she can’t recognize her reflection
