Sabine - Chapter 2

Sabine remembered that day as if it were happening over and over every moment of her life.1

It was a bright, sunny day, the day Sabine was Forgotten. One of those days that brings out the smiling beach-goers and picnickers. The sun beat on her mercilessly as tears streamed down her face. That morning, she and Corydin had had a fight, the worst they’d ever had before. Sabine had been so very angry, and in retrospect she could see clearly how wrong she’d been, but it was too late to take back the vicious words she’d shouted at him.2

It was simple really, one of the most common and ridiculous fights a couple could have. He’d been out late drinking, et cetera, and had stumbled in at some ungodly hour of the morning looking frighteningly disheveled. Of course, Sabine had assumed the worst, that he had been with another woman, and eventually stormed out of the apartment to get some air.3

She’d run to Golden Gate Park, the tail end which stops with the panhandle on the corner of Haight and Stanyan. She’d run past the happy picnickers and smiling soccer players, and cursed the sun for its unrelenting heat. Eventually, the tears had slowed to a mist in her eyes, and she had realized all at once how stupid she had been. Not knowing the consequences of her rage, not knowing that it was too late already, she ran back to the apartment she shared with Corydin, prepared to shoulder all the blame and take him in her arms.4

When she arrived at the door to number 1835, there was a stillness to the air, a hostility that seemed almost like an invisible barrier keeping her out of her home. The door was slightly ajar, so she pushed it slowly open and entered.5

That scene would be forever imprinted on her mind. The half-drained bottle of Jack Daniel’s on the floor beside the sofa; Corydin’s green shirt tossed carelessly over the back of an armchair she’d found at a garage sale. “Corydin, I’m sorry,” she’d begun. The figure sprawled out on the futon had sat up abruptly, a look of shock on his face. “Uh, I think you must have the wrong apartment,” was his confused response. These words hit Sabine like a baseball bat to the back of her head, and she replied, “Corydin, it’s me. Why are you doing this?” He had stood up and come towards her. “Look, lady, I don’t know who you are or how you know my name, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave my apartment before I call the cops.”6

Choking back sobs, Sabine ran down the stairs and out on to the street, unable to see through the tears that had completely clouded her vision. She’d stumbled against a wall and fainted, not coming to until the middle of the night, when the only sounds were the humming of a neon sign in a shop window, and… whispers.7

“Looks like she’s comin’ ‘round,” said a gruff voice, “Here drink some o’ this, it’ll clear yer ‘ead.” Someone forced a forty ounce bottle of malt liquor toward her, and she’d drunk thirstily. “Hey, hey,” the voice had scolded, “save some for us, why don’t ‘cha!”8

As soon as she could make them work again, she forced her eyelids open to examine her rescuers. The rough, damaged voice belonged to a tall man with bad teeth and combat boots, and the other, softer voice was that of a smaller, but no less frightening man. “Excuse me, who are you,” Sabine asked groggily, letting her head fall back against a brick wall, and finally noticing the prevailing aroma of human urine. The gruff voice answered, “I’m Johnny, but that’s Crossbones to you, and this ‘ere’s Boris. I play in an oi band, and Boris ‘ere’s a nihilist. You look like your down on your luck, or life, or both, so Welcome to our humble abode.” He gestured at the surrounding sidewalk, littered with cigarette butts and garbage. “Thank you, I suppose,” yawned Sabine, “I fought with my boyfriend and he kicked me out, so I’ve got nowhere to go.”9

Heels clicked on the concrete a block or so away, and were eventually followed by a woman all in black, who sneered at Sabine territorially. “Who’s this, Johnny, another one o’ your runaway kids that’ll go back to ‘er townhouse in a week or so?” she snarled. “bunny, Lia, I told you a thousand times it’s Crossbones, and no, she ain’t no rich kid. She’s down on ‘er luck, and we going t’ look after her, y’see,” was Johnny’s agitated reply. “This is Lia,” he said, squatting beside Sabine, “’Er bark is quite a bit worse than ‘er bite, don’t ya worry. She fancies herself a vampire or summat.” He said the word “vampire” as if expressing disgust with a child’s silly games. 10

“Not a vampire, Johnny, a poet,” scoffed the woman, drawing out the word as though taking a long drag on a cigarette. She sat down against the wall next to Sabine. “Wot’s yer name then, girlie?” she asked, with a slight British accent Sabine hadn’t noticed before. Sabine felt uncomfortable divulging such information to these strangers in the middle of the night, so, thinking quickly, she replied, “Tori. It’s Tori.” 11

Perhaps if she had told Lia her name, if she had trusted these people who would grow so close to her in days to come, she could have saved herself. But Memory would have her victim, another grain of sand for her hourglass of Past.12

Over the next few weeks, Johnny and Boris became Sabine’s mentors. They taught her to spare for change, and she listened to the repetitive lyrics Johnny would scrawl down for his oi band, and humored Boris’ explanations of why nothing really existed, and all they had left to do was mourn their dead souls. Lia stayed aloof, but brought Sabine back small pouches of weed when she came back from mysterious expeditions across town, knowing that she would refuse the harder drugs. They were kind to her in a selfless way, never asking any more about her background, simply accepting that she needed their support.13

Then one day, it all changed. Sabine had fallen into a routine with her rag-tag family of gutter punks, and sometimes even forgot about Corydin, and left the pain behind. But she could not run forever.14

One night, when Johnny was playing his bass for them, and Lia was dancing drunkenly in circles around him, a woman appeared out of the April mist. A woman, but not quite. It was Memory, and she took Sabine’s hand firmly and led her away.15

The enchanting voice began, a speech Sabine would never forget. “You have been Forgotten. No one knows the name Sabine Mimameidr, no one will speak it, and no one will ever miss it. You will dwell in the half-realm of Memory, among the others who Time has forsaken. You will be unable to contact anyone you may remember from your life until now, and you will feel no kind of real contact with the world of the Known. Say your farewells, and follow me to my home,” she drawled, with a malicious glee that made Sabine’s blood run cold. And that was it. With those brutal words, Sabine was wrenched away from her new life and friends, and the eight blocks of Haight Street she had begun to call “home”.16

“Oi, Johnny, where’s that chick, that uh… can’t quite remember ‘er name, but you know the one. She go back t’ ‘er family or somethin’?” said the drunken Lia. “bunny, I dunno, prolly some trust-fund kid anyways. Who needs ‘em, eh? We the bunnyin’ revolution!” shouted Johnny to the empty street, and they never thought of Tori again.17