It was late, and a cold, fierce wind rampaged down the dimly lit street, moaning against protesting windows, which shuddered on impact with its icy breath. It was also unusually peaceful for midnight on a Saturday evening in the downtown core, which in this particular area was normally more alive at night that it ever was during the day.

Nothing moved in the streets, and no lights were on inside the houses, all the windows were dark as though the residents feared to call too much attention to their homes.  It would have appeared that not a creature was stirring in the entire neighborhood, unless of course, you looked very, very closely; for there was someone out and about in the cold, and his name was Mariam Lynn.

From an outsiders point of view, one would assume that he was out so late simply because he himself was a creature of the night.

He was exceptionally skinny, making him look oddly frail; nearly a skeleton, held up on long, feminine legs that would make your average model turn an unhealthy shade of green with envy, and his arms had the visage of easily breakable twigs, covered from shoulder to wrist in tattoos. His face was of similar structure to the rest of him, so his features were very narrow, with a long nose and high cheekbones. His young face portrayed that of someone who has been forced to grow up before their time, and was void of the childish roundness that was supposed to cling on through the teenage years.

With skin so curiously pale, he seemed to glow faintly in the darkness; as though to hint that he was really something out of a storybook, instead of a real person. His ghostly appearance was drawn out by his shock of long black hair, which hung in pin-straight curtains around his face to his elbows, and was almost always in his eyes. Mariam would argue that his eyes, not his pallid skin tone, were his strangest feature; probably caused by the same defect that forbid his skin of any color, they were a milky blueish-white with permanently  contracted pupils, and irises encircled with a dark band. None of his doctors had ever managed to figure out the cause of it, nor had they been able to find any sign that the condition impaired his vision or mental health, so it was concluded that it was a harmless oddity.

At the moment, both were smudged in thick black eyeshadow (which he normally wore anyways) giving off a raccoon-like image, to conceal a black eye he'd received earlier in the day. Complimenting his eye makeup, and his shiner, his full lips were adorned in syrupy black lipstick even darker than the paint-like stuff around his eyes.      

He also dressed “funny” to most of the amiable sheep that made up the society around him.  People were used to “funny dressers” nowadays, but that didn't stop their heads from turning when he walked by. He had a certain knack for pushing the boundaries of what civilized people considered acceptable clothing. His current ensemble was a mix of black cloth and gauze that did not seem to care that it was on the wrong gender. People in his neighborhood thought he was queer.

Mariam didn't care about any of these things at the moment; he was running down the twisting alleys as fast as he could, his clunky combat boots guiding him down the familiar, but risky short cut. Since the whole neighborhood was dangerous, Mariam figured that if he kept to the center of the streets and could outrun anything that might jump out at him, taking a shortcut wouldn't hurt him. Taking a left turn down a particularly winding alleyway, Mariam jumped a metal fence with ease. Staggering the landing a little, he couldn't help but feel a little relief as his ancient brick apartment building loomed just ahead of him.

He dashed to the front door and bent over to fumble for his keys, which he had craftily stored in his right boot. After a few moments struggle, as his boots were rather tight, he fished the key out and unlocked the heavy wooden door, and let it slam shut behind him. He scurried across the lobby and took the stairs two at a time when he reached them, his heart racing as he hurtled towards the third floor. Clumsily, he skidded down the landing until he reached the peeling door of room eleven, where he slid to a stop.

He jammed a different key into the lock, and impatiently twisted it. He heard the click as it was undone and opened the door as wide as it would allow with all the extra chain and bolt locks, slipping his arm through the crack and groping around until he'd unlocked every last one. He tugged the key out of the lock, and it stuck for a moment as it always did, and he had to give a good yank to get it out.

Mariam barely bothered to open the door any further, his petite frame enabling him to get through the small opening easily enough. Closing the door ever so softly behind him, he automatically fit the multiple locks back into place before taking of his heavy boots.

The lights were already on again.

A little girl was sitting awake on the couch with her knees drawn up to her chest, staring wistfully into space. She looked up as the last lock clicked into place. The relief on her face was heartbreaking.

She practically flew to him, throwing her arms around his waist.

“I gotted-I mean, I got your pajamas all ready for you. They're in the bathroom.” she said, letting go and stepping back.

Mariam tousled her hair.

“Thanks, Alice. I wont be long, I promise.”

She beamed at him.

Alice was Mariam's little sister, their parents had decided to have another child when he was thirteen. Mariam had been skeptical about this at first; when he had been about six, he'd lost his twin sister Bonnie, who'd been born considerably weaker than he and had eventually died of illness. He missed her horribly to this day and had learned not to take people for granted at a very young age. He'd never thought that he could love another sibling after having his twin, the other half of him, so painfully ripped away. But it was very hard to dislike Alice, her bubbly demeanor and charm had quickly won him over and they'd been nearly inseparable ever since.

Now it was five years later and Mariam and Alice were alone. All sense of safety and security had been torn from them with the untimely death of their mother and father. Mariam could still remember the rainy day they said they were just going for a drive and could he please watch Alice, and then waiting for hours for them to come home, trying to keep Alice calm, and he would never forget when the policemen had walked up their front stairs. He'd known Mom and Dad were gone before the man had even knocked on the door to tell him they'd been killed in a head-on collision. Alice had screamed and hit the poor man who was trying to comfort them and Mariam had been in too much of a numb state shock to stop her.

The tragedy had happened the day after his eighteenth birthday, the day after he was old enough to care for Alice, own a house and inherit all the money. He'd been forced out of his parents' estate which he never could have afforded to keep anyways, and he and Alice had been on the move for almost a year now. Sometimes he could still hear Alice cry at night and he vowed to suffer in silence for his sister, who needed something to keep her grounded.

He couldn't help but think how similar he and Alice were as he changed, neglecting a shirt completely and opting for a pair of loose black bottoms. Physically, it was almost uncanny. She had the same slight figure, the same skinny legs. She shared the same mane of thick, black hair curtaining ivory skin, full lips and high cheekbones. Her eyes were a pale blue, but they were more protuberant and of normal appearance. She had Mom's nose too, like a cute little button.

She was also just as strong for Mariam as he tried to be for her, and he knew it. She was bearing the situation extremely well, and showed a maturity beyond her age. She seemed to have this unshakable trust in him, despite how he looked and dressed. She never blamed him for anything that happened to them, and consciously understood that becoming a full time guardian at eighteen years old with no outside support at all was hard on him.

He wasn't surprised to find Alice waiting just outside the door for him when he emerged.

“I missed you, Mari.” she said quietly, using her own little nickname for him, and slowly coming forward.

Mariam picked her up instinctively, as a parent would. She put her tiny arms around his neck and leaned her head against his shoulder.

“I'm sorry I was out so late. The other band canceled on us and the owner wasn't going to pay us if we didn't fill the slot.” Mariam apologized sincerely.

He was the lead singer of a band called Hansel and Gretal. Mariam knew it wasn't a prime money making job, but it was undeniably what he was best at. He'd grown up singing, though he'd never had a lesson in his life and he was an unnaturally gifted pianist, able to play extensively intricate pieces at a young age. It kept him very busy, juggling his various odd jobs, gigs and most importantly was how the combination affected Alice. He always felt awful when he had to leave Alice alone for hours, especially here. Never the less, there are some places not meant for the eyes of children, and Mariam was not going to put his little sister through that.

“It's okay.” Alice mumbled, blinking sleepily and rubbing her eyes.

Mariam smiled. “I think it's time someone went to bed.”

“Yeah.” Alice agreed sheepishly, “You.”

He laughed, walking towards the closet which Alice had requested to be her bedroom because she wanted some privacy in their grubby little one-bedroom flat and she'd made it perfectly clear that she was not going to sleep on the couch. They'd done their best to make it attractive, putting up pictures that Alice had liked in magazines and newspapers and such, but despite their effort, there was only so much you could do with a closet.      

“Of course.”

“Mari...” Alice began shyly, a pleading look in her large, nearly bovine eyes, “Could I sleep in your bed tonight? They're at it again.”

The “they” Alice referred to was the highly dysfunctional Glaswegian couple (a term Mariam would use very loosely here) that lived next door .  No one knew how long they'd lived in the building, or by what miracle or curse they were still together. They fought and drank constantly, like animals, bringing a negative, gloomy feel to the already dingy apartment.

Right on cue the female half of the catastrophe that lived a door down shrieked so loudly that her heavily accented English rumbled effortlessly through the walls, which might as well have been transparent for all the good they did to filter out sound.

“Ach, YOU'RE ONLY HALF A MAN!”

The reply was simple and just as venomous. “Then WHY are you still here, you old–”

Mariam smooshed Alice's head into his neck to cover her ears, while a steady stream of nasty words were flung back and forth as the wine bottles could be heard rolling across the floor.

“Of course you can, babe.” Mariam murmured in her ear, as soon as there was silence.

He carried her around with him as he flicked off all the lights. She was already slumped against him, and he could see her eyes drooping as she tried to stay awake. He closed the door to his bedroom awkwardly with his foot and carefully crossed the room in the dark.

He tucked her in and made sure she was comfortable before crawling in beside her. Alice rolled over and snuggled up to him, resting her head under his chin and curling her soft fingers against his chest; she was so warm. He held her close, feeling her body move against him as she breathed, already slow and even. Her childish innocence amazed him, he'd just never noticed until...well, about a year ago now.

He tried to ignore the annoying creaking and groaning of bedsprings from upstairs as the couple above went through what seemed like a nightly ritual. He wished they'd give it break, especially since everyone in the entire building could hear them.

“Mariam,” Alice whispered, not seeming to hear the activities above.

“Yeah?” he whispered back.

“I'm scared I'll have a bad dream.” her voice was quiet and embarrassed.

“You want me to keep it away?” he murmured, rubbing her back soothingly.

She nodded. “You'll keep me safe.”

Alice had been very susceptible to nightmares after Mom and Dad had died, and with no one else to turn to, she had come to him. He'd stayed up with her many nights, huddling under blanket forts with her while she checked the shadows with a flashlight to make sure nothing was there, reading stories to her at two in the morning because she needed a distraction, singing to her until she fell asleep again; it was that resilience that had stopped the bad dreams while he was around. Now he was her safety from the dark half of where her imagination met her past, a stopper in between her and a five-year-old's paranoia. Although he wasn't completely sure of the psychological details, he was happy he could help, that he could act as a sort of sanctuary for her.

“I love you, Mari.” she whispered, smiling at him.

“I love you too,” he cooed, “Now give me kiss.”

She giggled and gave him an Eskimo Kiss, which he returned, making her giggle all the more. Then he gave her a kiss on the cheek. She recoiled, squirming slightly before sighing deeply and sinking back against him. She closed her eyes, dark lashes obscuring the icy blue.

Mariam held her close, resting his own pale cheek against her silky hair, unable to close his eyes peacefully because he knew his own sinister nightmares waited for him. He inhaled deeply, Alice's familiar scent clinging to his nostrils, she smelled like home, like family.

She fell asleep in his arms, and Mariam did not let her go.