Youthful Sacrament
Valerie Fowler
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Rated: PG
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Author's notes: This idea was in my head for some time, and I decided to get it OUT of my head since I'm sick of it swirling around when I'm trying to write other stories! Anyhow, it's very short, but pretty sentimental as far as my emotional writing capacity is concerned. ; Right...Enjoy.
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Love's the funeral of hearts,
And an ode for cruelty,
When angels cry blood
On flowers of evil in bloom.
The funeral of hearts,
And a plea for mercy,
When love's a gun,
Separating me from you.
-Funeral of Hearts/HIM
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He didn't remember how it had happened... all he could remember was her face, pale as a ghost as she lay in a puddle of crimson, steadily increasing in width around her frail body. Everything had turned to black in that moment. Every dream he'd ever had, any things he'd said, or thought disappeared to be replaced with an unfathomable rage. He'd lounged apon the attacker, felt the sting as his fists hit bone. He didn't hear the screams for mercy or the screams from his friends. He didn't feel them pulling him off, or throwing him aside as darkness crept around the corners of his vision. Tears blurred what vision he had left, and after that, he remembered nothing but black.
But he did remember the gun, and the boy who'd held it so jokingly. Memories collided with reality as he stared at the whitewashed ceiling, curled up on a small chair. The boy's face still burned into his eyes, that smiling face and eyes that told of nothing but evil. Tears came to his eyes at the thought of it. He didn't want to remember anymore...
"What, afraid of a little toy gun?" The boy had said, laughing heartily as the kids next door backed away several steps. They had met the kids at their headquarters. His brothers and sisters laughed as well, some with less spirit than others. None of them had been thoroughly informed about this new mission they where on, except for their brother. On the other side of the line, Numbuh 1 cocked an eyebrow.
"Fake? Looks real to me..." He delegated, but the blonde boy simply shook his head, laughter dying with his next words.
"Totally fake. But, I do have one that is truly real." He pulled out another metallic object and pointed the barrel level with Numbuh 1's head. "And, if you don't come with us, I may be forced to use it."
"You're lyin'." Numbuh 4 spat, clenching his fists. He'd have this boy on a platter soon enough. The boy, however, started to laugh once more. His sisters and brothers followed suit. Perhaps these lines wheren't practiced, because they just didn't have the same unison as usual.
"Am I?" He tilted his head to the side. Numbuh 1 put up a hand for Numbuh 4 to shush. The blonde boy's eyes narrowed, and he pointed them both forwards. "Well why don't you try me, then?" None of the kids next door moved from their spots. Had their Father gone mad? Was he truly that far bent on catching this unit that he'd send his 'children' out with guns?
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"It's all my fault...I shouldn't have, but I did...and now you're gonna pay for it..." He mumbled, curling into a smaller ball and burying his face in his sleeves. Her body lay like that of a body on a deathbed. He could no longer stand to look at her, but his soul forced him to look up at her in that instant. "It should be me up there! Not you...." He sniffled, letting his tears fall unchecked. He bit his lower lip to keep it from trembling, whipping his eyes. "You can't leave me..."
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"Look...just put that down...and....and we'll come with you, alright?" Numbuh 1 reasoned, backing away one more step as the fake gun clicked as well as the real one. Nobody moved, nobody spoke. Numbuh 1's eyes where narrowed in rage, and Numbuh 4's fists where clenched and ready to throw. The boy smiled maliciously. His siblings simply watched from behind him. He knew the truth. He knew that both of the guns where fakes. Father would never give his children guns.
"Hey guys! What's going on?" A little voice chimed from the headquarters front door, followed by a raven-haired little girl in a shirt far too large for her. The boy looked up and pointed the gun in her direction with a jerk. Numbuh 4 took the opportunity. He took a leap at the blonde boy, knocking him back with his fist. The sound of a gunshot filled the air, and the siblings all fell to the ground with their hands over their heads. The kids next door fell to the ground as well as a second and third shot rang through the air. Numbuh 4 fell back against the grass. Everything felt slow in that moment. That minute seemed to last an hour. And in that hour, Numbuh 5's scream echoed through the air; a bloodcurdling scream of fear.
"Numbuh 3! Kuki! Kuki...help! She's hurt!" She screamed as Numbuh 4 caught his bearings again. Her name...he'd heard her name. His eyes darted towards the boy who now sat on the ground, staring at the real gun in his hand with eyes wide in terror. He threw the gun from him, backing away from it as if it where some kind of ferocious animal. The siblings looked on with the same looks. The gun...the gun was real...why had Father said it was fake? Why had Father lied to them?
Numbuh 4 picked himself off the ground, dreading the moment when he would look apon her face. She lay still in the grass, a small puddle of blood growing around her body where the three gunshots had hit her. Numbuh 5 sat beside her, running a finger through her hair and mumbling something. Numbuh 2 had run off to call the ambulance. Numbuh 1 stood dumbfounded. His eyes turned towards the boy on the ground. Numbuh 4 couldn't breathe. He only reacted, leaping apon the boy with all that he had, kicking and screaming. He heard a sickening crunch as his fist made contact with the boy's nose, and only saw the blood running down his face as he was forced off. Kuki...
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"I'm...I'm sorry...If I hadn't done that, you wouldn't be here..." He spoke quietly, the tears still running down his cheeks and making a small puddle in his lap. She lay silent and still as he spoke...and could not hear him. A figure in the doorway startled him. He wiped off his face as Numbuh 1 entered the room, the same look apon his now stress-worn face. Numbuh 5 entered slowly afterwards, wearing her black dress that her mother had bought her.
"It's alright...it wasn't your fault." Numbuh 1 managed to choke out, as he looked apon the girl that had taken the three shots. She looked so peaceful laying there, as if she'd found her place in life. Numbuh 4 stood to his feet, anger filling his tearing eyes.
"It is my fault! If I hadn't..."
"There was nothing you could have done!" Numbuh 1 interjected quickly.
"I could have stopped it..." He muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets as the tears fell once more. Numbuh 2 entered the room, but did not look apon the face of the girl lying there. He could not bear to see her so quiet. All of them expected to see her jump up and laugh, but she did not move. The adults entered the room a bit later, along with a man with a white collar. They closed the blue-trimmed coffin as Numbuh 4 watched. They took little girl away to her final resting-place as her parents bowed in reverence. They seemed somehow to accept their child's death as a sign from somewhere.
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The spot was marked with a cross where he stood, and there he'd stood for several hours. The wind blew gently, picking up the tree branches and blowing his bangs gently about. Numbuh 1 had gone by and given him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, and afterwards went back into the headquarters with the rest of the kids next door. That was three hours ago.
"Kuki...I...I can't believe this happened...It's all my fault," He began, coming to his knees to confess his problems and woes to the only one who'd understand him. "I know I could have helped you...I just..." Tears began to spring up from his eyes again as he sat there with the sun gently shining above him. Every night the same dream haunted him, a dream of that day. Every night he saw her face, ashen and deathly. Every night he saw her in her coffin, eyes closed in a peaceful and eternal slumber.
He'd wanted so badly to tell her before then. And now that he was here, he wished he'd gone back and told her a thousand times before. He could have confessed when he was asked, and been happy about it. He could have had a real friendship with her, and maybe even more...But all of that was gone, blown away by a gunshot that constantly woke him from his nightmare.
"I...I just..."
He remembered the night when the girls had had their 'girls-only' mission. He'd been there when they asked the question, and he could barely believe his ears when she'd begun to reply. Perhaps he wasn't completely daft. Perhaps she had felt the same way about him...and there he sat, knowing that none of this would ever come to pass. He'd waited to long, and his chance was gone. He willed her back from the grave, but she never came back. She'd even been replaced by another operative who was being particularly flirty with the leaduh. He hated her with a passion, and her face came to mind as he sat there and cried. It was almost more than he could stand.
He'd thought about ending it all, even wanted to attempt it. He'd had a rope hanging in his closet at just the right height, but his common sense had pulled him free at the last moment. And again, he sat there and remembered all of this as he stammered the things he'd never been able to tell her before. This one last thing...he had to tell her this one last thing before he forgot about her forever. He sighed heavily and got to his feet, taking the flower out of his hoodie and placing it against the grave. He took one last look at the spot, turning his eyes towards headquarters. The other kids would be waiting for him.
"I...I love you."
-end