It was a long time since she'd seen Erika.
Dominique wasn't sure if she even wanted to. She was in an odd frame of mind, where she couldn't decide if she was happy or not. In times like this, she knew she was unpredictable, likely to lash out at any moment. She knew she shouldn't allow old friends into her home. But she was going to do it anyway.
- soooooo it's been a while. Would you fancy meeting if I came back to London? xxx
This was the text Erika had sent a week earlier. Dominique wasn't going to respond at first. They'd been close once, but since Erika moved away for a new job, they had no reason to keep in touch.
Frankly, Dominique didn't know why Erika was suddenly eager for a catch-up. They barely spoke nowadays, and in her opinion, that meant the friendship was as good as finished.
Frankly, Dominique didn't know why Erika was suddenly eager for a catch-up. They barely spoke nowadays, and in her opinion, that meant the friendship was as good as finished.
But Dominique had been out of sorts. Sometimes bored, often lonely. So she replied the next day with:
- Sure. xxx
She now stood on her balcony, her green wings folded neatly on her back. The city stretched before her, a sea of towers and gleaming windows, illuminated by sunrise.
She checked her watch.
7:30 AM.
She often got up at this time to watch the day begin and feel the early breeze ruffle her feathers. It was also a quiet time - the rare moment she could fly to the end of the city and back, without feeling a million eyes on her.
7:30 AM.
She often got up at this time to watch the day begin and feel the early breeze ruffle her feathers. It was also a quiet time - the rare moment she could fly to the end of the city and back, without feeling a million eyes on her.
Erika's plane would touch down at 10:30, and she'd be arriving at Dominique's at 12:00. The winged woman drummed her fingers against the metal railing. She was nervous. The powerful half-human, who saved civilians from danger on a regular basis, was nervous.
She clutched the railing, as if scared of falling over the edge, despite knowing her wings wouldn't let that happen. Sometimes her human side was good at fooling her.
Taking a small breath, Dominique went into her flat, and her gaze fell on the newspaper she'd been reading a few minutes before.
The front-page headline read:
"FOOD FACTORY EXPLOSION - LOCALS BLAME THE WINGED GIRL!"
Dominique had read the entire article, focused on it, drunk it all in. The further she'd read, the more her feathers had bristled.
"We can't trust someone who's only trying to get attention!"
"That thing's not human - it's an animal! Would you want your children near it?"
"My husband died in that fire and I blame that thing that came from hell!"
Dominique snatched the paper from the table and tore it in half, throwing the shreds across the carpet. She barely realised her wings had unfurled in her anger, and were almost touching the ceiling.
Calm. One, two, three...
Her breathing slowed and her wings folded up again. Dominique cleared her throat and moved to the kitchen area. She urgently needed tea. As she boiled the kettle, she thought to the previous night - the night the factory had caught fire.
She'd been nearby when she heard the explosion. She remembered soaring into an open window, seeing the shocked expressions as she swooped in, before she took several workers into her arms and flew them to safety.
If she hadn't intervened, it was likely the majority would have died. So why the reaction?
Two minutes later she held the hot mug against her chest, as if it would provide relief for the anxiety she felt.
She checked the wall clock.
8:00 AM. 4 hours to go. 240 minutes. That was plenty of time to prepare.
She'd be counting every single minute right until midday came.
*
When Dominique opened her front door and found Erika standing there, she didn't expect to be sent straight back to her childhood. She immediately reminisced running across the school grounds, chasing her friend with luscious golden hair.
Erika's hair was that same luscious gold, but instead of full-length, it was now a bob, curling perfectly around her jawline. She wore a well-trimmed suit, complete with a grey blazer and trousers, and a pair of large glasses sat on her nose, the frames large and rectangular.
Dominique almost forgot to speak.
"Hi," she eventually said.
Erika smiled wide, showing her brilliant white teeth. "Hi, Dommie.."
Dominique forced her own smile, standing in a kind of dazed shock. Erika leaned to the side to gaze at her wings.
"I remember those being smaller," she said with a chuckle,
As if she were ashamed, Dominique quickly folded the wings against her shoulders, like a blind being rolled up. "Sometimes I wish they were still small."
Erika chuckled. She clutched the strap of her leather satchel, then asked, "Can I come in?"
"Oh, sure, sorry."
Dominique stepped aside, and when she watched Erika stride into her flat, it was like watching a whole era flooding back into her life - a past she thought she'd left behind.
She closed the door, watching Erika nose around the living room. She'd cleaned up the newspaper shreds only minutes before.
"Cute place, isn't it?"
"Suits me well enough."
"Yes, I can see." Erika turned to face her. "And that's probably why you never left?"
"I guess so. I could never do what you did."
Erika smiled, almost proudly, as she placed her satchel on the coffee table. She was already behaving as if the flat was her own. Dominique almost forgot she was the host.
"I'll make tea."
She walked to the kitchen, keeping her wings low. "How's China these days?"
Erika laughed humourlessly. "Complicated. The job is honestly the best part."
Dominique placed two mugs on the counter and dunked teabags inside. "I can imagine!" she replied, keeping her back turned. Why was she so anxious? Her heart rammed against her chest like it wanted to escape.
"But you, Dommie." Erika's voice took on an impressed tone. "There's never a day when you're not in the news! It's incredible! You must be loving the attention."
Dominique frowned to herself. What was that supposed to mean? "I don't know about that," she replied. The kettle boiled, and she poured water into the mugs. "Do you still take sugar?"
"Two, please."
She stirred the mugs and glanced at her friend, who had seated herself on the sofa in the centre of the room. Even after so long, Erika was content to make herself at home, as if she'd never left.
Dominique's wings brushed the ceiling as she carried the mugs through the doorway.
"What I said before," Erika said as she took her mug from Dominique's hand, "about loving attention. I didn't mean it how it sounded."
"It's okay."
"I just can't put myself in your shoes. Not anymore. It's so different to how things used to be; you and your wings, and powers, and all the people you save."
Dominique took a seat and put her mug on the table. Her shoulders were hunched as she sat there, and her eyes wandered to the floor. Why couldn't she think of what to say anymore?
"The things they're saying," Erika continued, before Dominique could form words, "about the factory incident."
The tension was palpable as she took a moment to sip her tea. Putting the mug down, she then asked, "What's the truth?"
Dominique blinked. "What do you mean?"
"They're saying you're dangerous. That maybe, you're the one who caused the fire in the first place."
Something in Erika's eyes looked concerned, or sad, as if she were awaiting an answer she didn't want to hear. Come on, fess up, might have been the translation.
And it was like a knife in Dominique's stomach.
"Does it matter what they think?" Her wings shifted behind her shoulders. "What do you think?"
Erika pursed her lips, and for a moment Dominique imagined her friend behind a desk, pen in her hand, piercingly judgemental, like a headmistress. She already had the look for it, with her glasses and professional demeanour.
Then, it suddenly clicked in her head.
She closed her eyes and sighed.
"I get it," she said in resignation. You're a journalist."
Erika blinked. "Why's that important?"
Dominique could tell she was forcing her confused expression, as if to disguise other motives. A rock sat in her belly, and she could barely believe what she was about to ask.
"Is that the only reason you came to see me? To get a scoop on the story?"
The silence in the room was answer enough.
Erika licked her lips and knitted her fingers together. Now, she was the one keenly avoiding eye-contact.
"Dommie--"
"No. Stop it."
Dominique rose to her feet, marching to the other end of the room with her arms folded. "If this is all just for a story, you should be honest about it."
"I really did want to see you." She heard Erika moving off the sofa. "I would have come down purely for that, believe me. But you don't understand how demanding my job is. I have to have a story with good public interest. So, I figured, if I came to see you, we'd catch up, and I'd get a story. It's killing two birds with one stone."
Why had she been so stupid? Erika had had no reason to come back into her life so suddenly.
All at once, the headlines came back to her: accusing her of the things she hadn't done, calling her an animal, not regarding her as fully human.
The words crowded her mind, and it was blinding her. She leaned against the windowsill, short of breath, and she could feel Erika's footsteps walking towards her.
"Dominique, listen..."
"Get away from me!" Dominique shouted, turning to Erika in a fit of anger. She felt immediate regret when her friend recoiled. Her eyes were on Dominique's wings, as if she were afraid of them. Memories came to her of Erika playing with her feathers in fascination, as a six-year-old. Her expression now was so different - like all the wonder had drained out of her.
"I asked you to tell me the truth," Erika said, calmly. "No-one else. You're my friend, and all I want is to hear your side."
She may as well have been standing there with a notepad in one hand and a microphone in the other.
Dominique never thought she would feel so cornered, and so exposed, in her own home.
"No. You have to leave, Erika." She was on the verge of sobbing. Her wings were raised high, and she was resisting the urge to fly away.
"I'm still your friend, Dommie. Please, can't we just talk?"
"Not if you're going to keep lying to me."
She became faintly aware of sunlight warming her back. The window to the outside was just there. She could escape if she wanted to - out of the birdcage.
Erika, almost looking disappointed, let her arms hang by her sides. She pushed a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear, then walked back to the sofa to pick up her satchel. "In that case," she said, as she moved to the front door, "I don't have anything to say to you."
The pang in Dominique's chest was a mixture of hurt and anger as Erika refused to turn back. Her old friend opened the door and slammed it behind her, leaving the room as quiet and empty as if she had never been there.
*
That night, the city was strangely lifeless.
Dominique perched in her favourite spot, on the roof of her tall flat. So many people lived inside that building, and yet none of them knew they shared a building with the woman who'd been making all the headlines. She made sure of that, by only leaving her room when necessary.
The breeze whipped past her ears. It was cold, but not cold enough to pierce her skin and make her shiver. It was a passing whisper, gentle and barely noticed.
Sometimes it made Dominique feel better to feel fresh air around her shoulders. Her heavy costume protected her against any dangers, like traffic, guns, knives, or even aircraft in the skies.
She was passing the time by observing the city, hoping a situation would arise where she was needed. It happened all the time, after all. And when the time came, she would prove she wasn't the instigator of terrible events, but the person who tried to stop them. After that happened, maybe the nicknames would start to disappear.
Winged girl. Animal. Thing.
Dommie.
Just make them all go away.
But when she waited for her chance, the city didn't even give her one. She plucked her feathers out of boredom as the hours went on. She never got that sense that something was wrong, or anything needed fixing. Not even a burglary or mugging. It was London. There was always something to stop.
But the moon was low and bright, sky pitch-black, and nothing attracted her attention.
Erika would be on the next plane back to China by now. There was no reason for her to stay.
As she moved her wings back and forth, slowly, not enough to make her airborne, she thought bitterly of golden hair and green eyes, and how her childhood was nothing more than a fantasy.
*
"How big do you think they'll get?"
Erika watched with glee as the wings fluttered. They were like a bird's, thick with feathers, sticking out of the perfect holes in Dommie's shirt. Apparently they would grow as she grew, and it excited Erika to think about it.
"No idea. Pretty big, I guess."
They were doing the usual walk to school together, still bleary-eyed from the early start. Erika noticed the more they went to school, the less Dommie seemed to look forward to it. The other kids would often be staring at her, confused at the sudden change their classmate had suffered.
Perhaps Erika was being selfish, but she always assumed the others found her as fascinating as she did. After all, who wouldn't a pair of wings to show off? She looked amazing like that!
"When I start writing for the newspaper, I'll do a report on you!" she suggested, overcome with excitement. Dommie looked uncomfortable when she placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'll tell people how amazing you are, and then you won't have to worry about being in public! Everyone'll love you!"
"You don't write for the newspaper yet, Erika," Dommie replied, glancing only slightly in her direction.
"Oh, don't worry. I will!"
"Please don't write about me." Dommie stopped and turned to her with a desperate look in her eyes. "I can't deal with people talking about me anyway, but if it was about THIS?" She raised her wings and gestured to them with her hands. "I'd hate to be in the spotlight like that."
Erika was taken aback. She really meant it, didn't she?
"Well, if it's that important to you, I won't," she said with a shrug. Though she didn't know, in her heart, if she was telling the complete truth.
"Thank you."
Dommie looked sad as they continued the walk to school. And Erika found herself staring at those wings hanging there, with their vivid greens and blues, more often than she realised.
*
Dominique felt ill when she read the headlines the next day.
'WINGED WOMAN A DANGER TO SOCIETY.'
'Report written by Erika Miller.'
She took a second to sit down, the newspaper in her hands, processing the words in her mind like a movie reel. It wouldn't sink in. It just wouldn't sink in.
Memories of running across the grounds, wrestling each other to the ground. 'Dommie' would use her wings to fly away. Erika would scream, 'No! No! That's not fair!'
They trusted each other back then. And now Dominique stared at her wings like they were an inconvenience, her bitter eyes looking back at her in the mirror. Now, she didn't think she would trust anyone ever again.
Taking a small breath, Dominique went into her flat, and her gaze fell on the newspaper she'd been reading a few minutes before.
The front-page headline read:
"FOOD FACTORY EXPLOSION - LOCALS BLAME THE WINGED GIRL!"
Dominique had read the entire article, focused on it, drunk it all in. The further she'd read, the more her feathers had bristled.
"We can't trust someone who's only trying to get attention!"
"That thing's not human - it's an animal! Would you want your children near it?"
"My husband died in that fire and I blame that thing that came from hell!"
Dominique snatched the paper from the table and tore it in half, throwing the shreds across the carpet. She barely realised her wings had unfurled in her anger, and were almost touching the ceiling.
Calm. One, two, three...
Her breathing slowed and her wings folded up again. Dominique cleared her throat and moved to the kitchen area. She urgently needed tea. As she boiled the kettle, she thought to the previous night - the night the factory had caught fire.
She'd been nearby when she heard the explosion. She remembered soaring into an open window, seeing the shocked expressions as she swooped in, before she took several workers into her arms and flew them to safety.
If she hadn't intervened, it was likely the majority would have died. So why the reaction?
Two minutes later she held the hot mug against her chest, as if it would provide relief for the anxiety she felt.
She checked the wall clock.
8:00 AM. 4 hours to go. 240 minutes. That was plenty of time to prepare.
She'd be counting every single minute right until midday came.
*
When Dominique opened her front door and found Erika standing there, she didn't expect to be sent straight back to her childhood. She immediately reminisced running across the school grounds, chasing her friend with luscious golden hair.
Erika's hair was that same luscious gold, but instead of full-length, it was now a bob, curling perfectly around her jawline. She wore a well-trimmed suit, complete with a grey blazer and trousers, and a pair of large glasses sat on her nose, the frames large and rectangular.
Dominique almost forgot to speak.
"Hi," she eventually said.
Erika smiled wide, showing her brilliant white teeth. "Hi, Dommie.."
Dominique forced her own smile, standing in a kind of dazed shock. Erika leaned to the side to gaze at her wings.
"I remember those being smaller," she said with a chuckle,
As if she were ashamed, Dominique quickly folded the wings against her shoulders, like a blind being rolled up. "Sometimes I wish they were still small."
Erika chuckled. She clutched the strap of her leather satchel, then asked, "Can I come in?"
"Oh, sure, sorry."
Dominique stepped aside, and when she watched Erika stride into her flat, it was like watching a whole era flooding back into her life - a past she thought she'd left behind.
She closed the door, watching Erika nose around the living room. She'd cleaned up the newspaper shreds only minutes before.
"Cute place, isn't it?"
"Suits me well enough."
"Yes, I can see." Erika turned to face her. "And that's probably why you never left?"
"I guess so. I could never do what you did."
Erika smiled, almost proudly, as she placed her satchel on the coffee table. She was already behaving as if the flat was her own. Dominique almost forgot she was the host.
"I'll make tea."
She walked to the kitchen, keeping her wings low. "How's China these days?"
Erika laughed humourlessly. "Complicated. The job is honestly the best part."
Dominique placed two mugs on the counter and dunked teabags inside. "I can imagine!" she replied, keeping her back turned. Why was she so anxious? Her heart rammed against her chest like it wanted to escape.
"But you, Dommie." Erika's voice took on an impressed tone. "There's never a day when you're not in the news! It's incredible! You must be loving the attention."
Dominique frowned to herself. What was that supposed to mean? "I don't know about that," she replied. The kettle boiled, and she poured water into the mugs. "Do you still take sugar?"
"Two, please."
She stirred the mugs and glanced at her friend, who had seated herself on the sofa in the centre of the room. Even after so long, Erika was content to make herself at home, as if she'd never left.
Dominique's wings brushed the ceiling as she carried the mugs through the doorway.
"What I said before," Erika said as she took her mug from Dominique's hand, "about loving attention. I didn't mean it how it sounded."
"It's okay."
"I just can't put myself in your shoes. Not anymore. It's so different to how things used to be; you and your wings, and powers, and all the people you save."
Dominique took a seat and put her mug on the table. Her shoulders were hunched as she sat there, and her eyes wandered to the floor. Why couldn't she think of what to say anymore?
"The things they're saying," Erika continued, before Dominique could form words, "about the factory incident."
The tension was palpable as she took a moment to sip her tea. Putting the mug down, she then asked, "What's the truth?"
Dominique blinked. "What do you mean?"
"They're saying you're dangerous. That maybe, you're the one who caused the fire in the first place."
Something in Erika's eyes looked concerned, or sad, as if she were awaiting an answer she didn't want to hear. Come on, fess up, might have been the translation.
And it was like a knife in Dominique's stomach.
"Does it matter what they think?" Her wings shifted behind her shoulders. "What do you think?"
Erika pursed her lips, and for a moment Dominique imagined her friend behind a desk, pen in her hand, piercingly judgemental, like a headmistress. She already had the look for it, with her glasses and professional demeanour.
Then, it suddenly clicked in her head.
She closed her eyes and sighed.
"I get it," she said in resignation. You're a journalist."
Erika blinked. "Why's that important?"
Dominique could tell she was forcing her confused expression, as if to disguise other motives. A rock sat in her belly, and she could barely believe what she was about to ask.
"Is that the only reason you came to see me? To get a scoop on the story?"
The silence in the room was answer enough.
Erika licked her lips and knitted her fingers together. Now, she was the one keenly avoiding eye-contact.
"Dommie--"
"No. Stop it."
Dominique rose to her feet, marching to the other end of the room with her arms folded. "If this is all just for a story, you should be honest about it."
"I really did want to see you." She heard Erika moving off the sofa. "I would have come down purely for that, believe me. But you don't understand how demanding my job is. I have to have a story with good public interest. So, I figured, if I came to see you, we'd catch up, and I'd get a story. It's killing two birds with one stone."
Why had she been so stupid? Erika had had no reason to come back into her life so suddenly.
All at once, the headlines came back to her: accusing her of the things she hadn't done, calling her an animal, not regarding her as fully human.
The words crowded her mind, and it was blinding her. She leaned against the windowsill, short of breath, and she could feel Erika's footsteps walking towards her.
"Dominique, listen..."
"Get away from me!" Dominique shouted, turning to Erika in a fit of anger. She felt immediate regret when her friend recoiled. Her eyes were on Dominique's wings, as if she were afraid of them. Memories came to her of Erika playing with her feathers in fascination, as a six-year-old. Her expression now was so different - like all the wonder had drained out of her.
"I asked you to tell me the truth," Erika said, calmly. "No-one else. You're my friend, and all I want is to hear your side."
She may as well have been standing there with a notepad in one hand and a microphone in the other.
Dominique never thought she would feel so cornered, and so exposed, in her own home.
"No. You have to leave, Erika." She was on the verge of sobbing. Her wings were raised high, and she was resisting the urge to fly away.
"I'm still your friend, Dommie. Please, can't we just talk?"
"Not if you're going to keep lying to me."
She became faintly aware of sunlight warming her back. The window to the outside was just there. She could escape if she wanted to - out of the birdcage.
Erika, almost looking disappointed, let her arms hang by her sides. She pushed a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear, then walked back to the sofa to pick up her satchel. "In that case," she said, as she moved to the front door, "I don't have anything to say to you."
The pang in Dominique's chest was a mixture of hurt and anger as Erika refused to turn back. Her old friend opened the door and slammed it behind her, leaving the room as quiet and empty as if she had never been there.
*
That night, the city was strangely lifeless.
Dominique perched in her favourite spot, on the roof of her tall flat. So many people lived inside that building, and yet none of them knew they shared a building with the woman who'd been making all the headlines. She made sure of that, by only leaving her room when necessary.
The breeze whipped past her ears. It was cold, but not cold enough to pierce her skin and make her shiver. It was a passing whisper, gentle and barely noticed.
Sometimes it made Dominique feel better to feel fresh air around her shoulders. Her heavy costume protected her against any dangers, like traffic, guns, knives, or even aircraft in the skies.
She was passing the time by observing the city, hoping a situation would arise where she was needed. It happened all the time, after all. And when the time came, she would prove she wasn't the instigator of terrible events, but the person who tried to stop them. After that happened, maybe the nicknames would start to disappear.
Winged girl. Animal. Thing.
Dommie.
Just make them all go away.
But when she waited for her chance, the city didn't even give her one. She plucked her feathers out of boredom as the hours went on. She never got that sense that something was wrong, or anything needed fixing. Not even a burglary or mugging. It was London. There was always something to stop.
But the moon was low and bright, sky pitch-black, and nothing attracted her attention.
Erika would be on the next plane back to China by now. There was no reason for her to stay.
As she moved her wings back and forth, slowly, not enough to make her airborne, she thought bitterly of golden hair and green eyes, and how her childhood was nothing more than a fantasy.
*
"How big do you think they'll get?"
Erika watched with glee as the wings fluttered. They were like a bird's, thick with feathers, sticking out of the perfect holes in Dommie's shirt. Apparently they would grow as she grew, and it excited Erika to think about it.
"No idea. Pretty big, I guess."
They were doing the usual walk to school together, still bleary-eyed from the early start. Erika noticed the more they went to school, the less Dommie seemed to look forward to it. The other kids would often be staring at her, confused at the sudden change their classmate had suffered.
Perhaps Erika was being selfish, but she always assumed the others found her as fascinating as she did. After all, who wouldn't a pair of wings to show off? She looked amazing like that!
"When I start writing for the newspaper, I'll do a report on you!" she suggested, overcome with excitement. Dommie looked uncomfortable when she placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'll tell people how amazing you are, and then you won't have to worry about being in public! Everyone'll love you!"
"You don't write for the newspaper yet, Erika," Dommie replied, glancing only slightly in her direction.
"Oh, don't worry. I will!"
"Please don't write about me." Dommie stopped and turned to her with a desperate look in her eyes. "I can't deal with people talking about me anyway, but if it was about THIS?" She raised her wings and gestured to them with her hands. "I'd hate to be in the spotlight like that."
Erika was taken aback. She really meant it, didn't she?
"Well, if it's that important to you, I won't," she said with a shrug. Though she didn't know, in her heart, if she was telling the complete truth.
"Thank you."
Dommie looked sad as they continued the walk to school. And Erika found herself staring at those wings hanging there, with their vivid greens and blues, more often than she realised.
*
Dominique felt ill when she read the headlines the next day.
'WINGED WOMAN A DANGER TO SOCIETY.'
'Report written by Erika Miller.'
She took a second to sit down, the newspaper in her hands, processing the words in her mind like a movie reel. It wouldn't sink in. It just wouldn't sink in.
Memories of running across the grounds, wrestling each other to the ground. 'Dommie' would use her wings to fly away. Erika would scream, 'No! No! That's not fair!'
They trusted each other back then. And now Dominique stared at her wings like they were an inconvenience, her bitter eyes looking back at her in the mirror. Now, she didn't think she would trust anyone ever again.
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