Glowing red eyes in the night. Flash of red amidst a fight. Blood that stains the pure white snow. I see the color red, you know.
I See the Color Red
Eyes that glow in the night
Streak of Crimson in a fight
Splash of blood that soils ground
Taint the snow all around
I See the Color Red
Now, sleeping as I do on the bottom half of a bunk bed, to shoot up panting is not a wise idea. But then again, I never said I was anything close to wise. Cursing under my breath, I roll out of bed and manage to bang the back of my head on the bunk above me as well. Letting out yet another stream of colorful words, I stumble around my dark room trying to hit the light switch.
Once on, the bright light blinds me for a moment before my eyes adjust. A quick glance around the room reveals that my room is a mess. Yes, I take full responsibility for this dump. Especially considering no one sleeps on the top bunk.
Well, at least, not anymore that is.
With a quick glance at the top bunk, I swim towards my closet and pull out the closest set of clean clothes. Pulling on a pair of vanilla colored pants and an over-sized black T-shirt, I hop over all the obstacles littering the room and somehow get to the kitchen.
My twin brother Crimson would never have let this place become such a wreck. But then, Crimson never could stand not having anything to do. He was so good with his hands he always had to be doing something, so he cleaned. So how such good person got caught up in the kind of mess he did, only the Fates know.
I pour myself a cup of coffee and drain it in one gulp. Leaving the empty mug on the counter, I swoop down and snatch my backpack off of the floor where it lay leaning against the wall. Without missing a step I make a bee-line for the door, checking to make sure I have my keys before I lock the door behind me.
I still find it strange that even without my brother to remind me, I do everything as he would expect me to. Well, everything but clean my room. But that's only because no one is going to see my room anytime soon.
Casually, with my bag slung over one shoulder, I stroll the short distance to the bus stop. It's not that I can't drive or don't have a ride or anything, it's just that the bus is cheaper, especially taking into consideration gas money, which I'm short on. And the fact that finding a parking space in the school parking lot is near impossible in itself –much less expecting to get in or out of the lot any time between ten to twenty minutes.
As for walking, I prefer not to. Even considering that compared to hiking around the farm back home this is a piece of cake –wait, that's a bad example. Do you know how hard it is to bake a piece of decent cake? Much less a whole cake.- No, this was a stroll in the park, -not that I tend to take many strolls in the park. But you get my point.- Really, I don't much care for walking, especially since Crim's been dead. It's dangerous on those streets I tell you; dangerous.
The last thought I think before I climb onto the bus is how much I miss Crim before I force my mind to concentrate on getting a head start on today's lessons. English was my first class and knowing my teacher, we would be reading the next chapter or two of the required reading book. This action being done in complete silence where everyone reads to themselves at their own pace. Mr. Jennings loves his reading time. That, or we would be discussing the chapters we were assigned yesterday. With any luck I can get through what remains of the book to be read early and get to work on the predicted science homework.
Now don't be thinking me a nerd or anything. I have my reasons for keeping one step ahead of my teachers. The first, I admit, is that I find it fun. The second however, is of more importance. I have an after school job with long hours. I tend to come home so exhausted that I only have enough energy to take a shower and collapse into bed. Most of the time I do my best to complete my homework during class, and what I don't finish is crammed into the times I find myself without a task needing to be done at work.
Sliding into my regular seat, I pull out the reading book from my backpack and flip to the page where I had left off. As soon as I find the exact spot I need to start reading at, my mind becomes oblivious to all surrounding senses. I am in a completely different world. Handy ability if I do say so myself. Can practically zone anything out, that is, if I want to.
When I'm reading on the job, my mind works the opposite way, where I can pay enough attention to what's going around me to know when I need to stop reading and get back to work, most of the time before someone can open their mouth to tell me so.
Even when the bus stops, my nose is still stuck in the book, trying to get as much reading done as possible. Only when the entire bus is empty of all its previous occupants do I stand up and almost subconsciously pick up my bag and glide off the bus. I swear, I could be mistaken for a zombie if it weren't for the book in front of my face. Not that anyone notices anyway. People at this school tend to ignore me. They used to call on me when they needed help. Key phrase: used to.
That was before I got a job and started working harder. Everyone kind of drifted away from that point on. Everyone, that is, but Crim. He would always tell me things like: "Hey, you gotta study for me too, okay? I can't go to school 'cause I'm working full time and all, but you can study for the both of us." Ch, my bro never did bother to study. Said it was my department. He was just good with his hands and that was all he ever needed. Such a bright eyed, naïve, innocent kid. Ah, listen to me, I sound like some old geezer now.
Without even looking to see where I'm going, I slip into my seat in the back of the room. See, my English teacher's weird that way. He put us in alphabetical order by last name; backwards. And considering my last name is Breaks, I happened to have landed a spot in the back of the room. On my left is Karren Dykes. She's one of those quiet types. At least in class. As for who sits on my right. Well, I'm lucky in that prospect. It's an empty seat. My English class comes to a total of thirty-three students, one off from the maximum class size for my district.
As you can guess, I still have my nose stuck in the book, even as the bell rings and the morning announcements are rattled off with the occasional verbal stumble. I sigh. This is why no one really listens to the morning announcements. If anyone's truly curious, they can stare at the hard copy postings in most of the classrooms, in front of the office, or on the library door.
Remember when I mentioned I could read and still pay attention to what goes on around me? I bet you already figured out I was doing that while finding my seat and all that. Well, what I fail to notice while I'm busy being a bookworm is that during the announcements, some new kid slips into the room and starts speaking with the teacher quietly up in the front. I do however pay attention to what Mr. Jennings says when he introduces the exchange student.
"Class, allow me to introduce our new student, Shuichi Minamino. He's a transfer student from Japan and we should be honored to have him join us. I expect each and everyone of you to make him feel welcome. Now," Mr. Jennings pauses, probably scanning the room to remember the layout of this period's class. "If Ms. Brea-" Say no more, my hand is up in the air and pointing to the empty seat on my right. Whether or not I put my book down is irrelevant as far as I'm concerned, because I have no intention of making friends with the new kid, and I know that Mr. Jennings is perfectly aware of my study habits. "-ks, ah, of course I wouldn't have to ask, she's already raised her hand." I can almost hear him smiling warmly.
This said, I let my hand drop down to my book again as I turn the page. Next to me I sense the new guy sitting down on my right. I don't even bother to look up.
Meanwhile, Mr. Jennings starts class. "Well, class, since we have a new student today, I believe we'll have another one of our just read days to allow Shuichi time to catch up with the rest of us."
Just like I told you, read time. With the confirmation of today's lesson plans, I continue to read undisturbed and manage to finish the book a few minutes before class ends. I stare at the last page for a moment, knowing that if I were to put the book down now, I wouldn't have enough time to work on anything else.
With a glance at the clock in the front of the room, I figure a little curiosity never hurt, so, still holding the book up as if I were reading, I let my eyes wander towards my right. What I see puts me on edge, and I immediately stiffen.
Him.
There's no mistaking it. My eyes narrow as I take in his appearance. Proper posture, lithe frame, calm expression, and most incriminating of all, that long red hair. No two people in the world could possibly have the same bright red hair. A shade so rare as that is unlikely to be replicated by any dyes known to mankind. I hate that color.
I dislike the color red in general. But that shade in particular I loathe. It must be him. I can still see it as clear as day, disregarding the fact that it was nearing eleven pm and snowing that night.
How can that murderer be sitting so calmly next to me, like he has any right to be there. Even better, why is that heartless bastard here at all?
Luckily, the bell rings, reminding me it isn't wise to just sit and glare at your brother's killer for any length of time. That's right, Crimson Breaks died at the hands of that redhead. I refuse to acknowledge his humanity with a name.
As casually as possible, trying not to appear suspicious, I put my book away and sling my bag over my shoulder, allowing all the other students in my row to leave before me so I would have a clear path to the door.
"Um, Ms. Breaks. A word please." Mr. Jennings' voice prevents me from gliding out of the room.
Stopping in my tracks, I do an about face and raise an eyebrow at my teacher. "Yeah...?" I drawl out hesitantly, dreading what I suspect he's about to say. While waiting for a reply, I notice that the room is now vacant of all students and the Akage is standing just outside the door, as if waiting for something. I narrow my eyes considerably.
"Ms. Breaks, if you wouldn't mind," which I imagine I would. "I was thinking you could show Mr. Minamino around campus."
"As a-" I am cut off before I can say otherwise.
"Thank you. I knew I could depend on you." Oh Lordy he's shaming me into it. I twitch as he turns away and goes back to grading papers.
Doing my best to refrain from kicking a desk or walking into a wall, I storm out of the room, not caring to hide the fact that I resented this assignment. Outside the classroom, I stop next to Akage and look the other way, staring out the wide windows over looking the courtyard on the other side of the hallway.
"Schedule." I hold out my hand to him, making it clear I don't care to be helping him at all.
Without a word, the schedule he had been holding in his hand is placed in mine. It doesn't take me long to begin glaring at the yellow slip of paper as if I expect it to catch on fire. English, History, Science, Math, Lunch, Japanese, and PE. My exact schedule. Although, I will admit, the boy doesn't have the same PE teacher, but just being in the same period can guaranty a run-in at least once a week.
A flick of my wrist and I let the flimsy square of paper slip through my fingers, not caring whether or not the owner manages to catch it before it flutters to the ground. With that, I jet off through the hallway and into the mob of students, all making their way to their next class. I take off at full speed, weaving in and out of the crowds in a way only someone who is always in a hurry can. That, and I'd spent half my life dodging the erratic and potentially dangerous movements of my younger siblings.
Anyway, I don't bother to look back as I make my way to my- er, our next class- in the hopes of loosing the stranger who killed my brother. Too bad my plan doesn't quite work out.
As I stop in the doorway, I can sense my ward is right behind me, how he kept up with my pace I do not know. "History," and with that word, I leave him to fend for himself. At least for the next fifty-one minutes.
I slump down in my seat in the corner without another glance at him, doing my best to ignore his inquiring expression. As I pull out my history notebook and a pencil, I realize the desk adjacent to mine is vacant. Mrs. Hernadez never did like rows. It makes the room feel so much smaller than it was. So she pushes the desks together in pairs, making right angles of their surfaces.
I narrow my eyes. The desk on my left is one of the three empty desks for my class. The head count coming to an odd thirty-one. But now, with the addition of our latest exchange student, those numbers will be evened out. And no doubt Mrs. Hernadez will see fit to place the Akage in the seat next to me, in case he needs a bit of help catching up.
I groan. Crim, what's the world got against me? Is this retribution for being such a loner or something?
I watch as my suspicions are confirmed and our new student is asked to sit on my left. Well, there goes my treasured personal space. At least when you have rows, even the person next to you isn't really next to you. Ugh, I can't believe I have to work with this killer.
Using my notebook as an excuse, I ignore his presence with the pretense of opening said notebook and adding unnecessary notes to the pages. Fortunately, the tardy bell rings and Mrs. Hernadez begins class.
Midway through second period though, the boy asks to borrow an eraser. And of course, being the practical person I am, I had laid out an eraser right on my desk.
I glare at the eraser as if blaming it for my troubles and hand it over to the killer with my right hand, wondering if there were any other unusual habits my classmate has other than murdering innocent teenagers in the middle of the night. Maybe he's a demon, he's already a monster in my eyes.
I watch him out of the corner of my eye. When he's done with the eraser, he makes to return it. I have no desire to possess that which has been tainted by his touch, however.
"Keep it."
I watch as he pauses, the eraser still raised to return it to me. Then he withdraws his hand and examines it a bit before placing it on his own desk, to use later.
In science I'm used to sitting across two stools, with one leg on each stool and my body sitting between. I sit in the back you see, and Mrs. Ladey has extra stools, so I just sit at the end of the lab table sitting across the stools and enjoying my personal space. Of course, now with the redhead joining up, I'm forced to relinquish both the extra stool and yet more personal space. Gr, I hate being confined to one side of the table. You don't see as well, I swear.
As for math, Mr. Richardson sees fit to rearrange the entire seating chart, having had problems with a couple of rowdy boys, a few talkative girls, and Anne over there who needs glasses badly. And thus, I now sit behind my brother's murderer in math. Ugh, now I have to stare at that horrible red hair every day.
Ah, now it's time for lunch. Just as always, I jet out of the room as fast as possible. Of course, I realize attempting to lose my shadow at this point would be nothing short of a miracle; considering he's kept up with me for this long already. But that's not what I'm trying to do this time.
No, this time, I'm just trying to get in line for lunch before it stretches out the door and starts looping around the campus. Contrary to popular belief, not all school lunches are bad. This school's lunches actually manage to taste good. Oh, the shock, I'm sure.
The mob of students all heading towards the cafeteria can only be described as a stampede for any unfortunate soul who makes the mistake of not going with the flow or getting in the way. Luckily for me, my skill at weaving through crowds helps me yet again. I squeeze my way passed all competitors, manage to make it to the cafeteria and into line even before some of the track members, and promptly slide into my space at the table in the corner. It's in rather bad condition, with a loose wheel, an unstable leg, and a carved up surface, but it's all mine just for the fact that no one else wants to sit on the thing.
Once again, I value my personal space.
I survey the room as I begin consuming my lunch, noting that my red headed shadow is standing in line not too far from the cashier. I continue to observe him as I eat, speculating as to his motives for being here. I have long stopped wondering why he did it; that is not a question you ask yourself late at night.
As my mind wanders, I don't notice as he gets out of line and heads towards me. Of all the places he can sit, he chooses here. Then again, even I would prefer to stick with people I know, and it seems other tables have their fair share of occupants by now. Well, I am so spaced out, I don't notice his approach until it's too late. My ward sits down on my left, and I tense as I feel the change in weight and the invasion of personal space.
I'm sure he noticed, of course he noticed, he's just that type of guy. We eat in silence and I start to pick at my food, too self conscious to do otherwise. This continues for sometime until the green eyed killer speaks.
"Do I seem intimidating to you?"
"Is there a reason you should?" I grace him with the standard sarcastic teenage response to such questions.
"I won't hurt you, you know." Yeah, tell that to Crim. Oh wait, you can't; he's dead.
"Ch, too late for that Akage."
I get up and throw my half eaten lunch away, ending the conversation. I'm certain he will follow me, in fact, I know he will follow me, but he will also give me space. He's a smart one, he must be to not have tried to start the kind of conversation one enacts when they try to get to know you. This guy is perceptive.
In case you're wondering how I know that "akage" means "redhead" after all the time I've been using it to describe him, our next class should provide the answer. That's right, I take Japanese.
Why? Well because I know their customs are interesting and such defined structure and manners are what my upbringing lacked. In this class, my shadow sits next to me in the front row. Over achiever to my right.
Finally last class rolls around and I get a respite from Akage's presence. PE is the only class we don't share, and even though we might see each other on the track, I can always out run him.
See, I'm from the country, open air, lots of ground, exercise is easy for me. I'm easily the fastest runner in my class and possibly out of all my peers too. When we reach the gym, I stop in the doorway, as I have all day.
"Girls'," I point to the blue double doors on the right that guard the locker rooms. "Boys'." Opposite the girls' locker room on the other side of the gym are the double doors to the boys locker room, a mirror image to the girls' side, only labeled 'boys' in tape. "Meet Ms. Walters on the tennis courts outside. Have fun with the Crazy Walrus."
Before he can ask what I mean, I push open the left side door to the girls' locker room and enter, letting it swing shut behind me.
Once changed and out on the black top, I hear from Mr. Karter that we're running cross country with Walters' class. Inwardly I groan. Some higher being up there has it in for me, I swear. Grinding my teeth I make the best of it by running at my top speed, leaving my classmates in the dust. Apparently my fast pace wasn't fast enough.
Before I know it, the Akage pulls up beside me, looking very casual in his movements and graceful at that. I suspect just to piss me off, he turns towards me, waves, and runs ahead of me. I'm left stopped in my tracks in surprise. Damn him!
Luckily, that's the last I see of the killer for the rest of the day. Once I get home I take a shower and get ready for work.
Snatching the keys off the kitchen counter as I walk into the kitchen, I pour myself another cup of coffee, and glide into the garage almost without a thought to where I'm going. My day to day routine has become a matter of habit to me, like clockwork. I hop into my dark blue truck with its sparkling glossy paint and start the ignition, driving off to work just like any other day.
And where do I work but the local MechMed. For those of you who don't know what that means, it's a huge repair shop chain. Only the best of the best can claim to be a true employee of MechMed. And we don't confine our services to just automobiles either, any form of mechanical failure, be sure, we can handle, and if we can't, then there's no charge. See, the way our services work is that each technician is paid based on commission. What kind of job it was, how much time it took, and the numbers of jobs completed within a week are all factors going into our pay checks. So all the technicians do their best to satisfy the customers, because they have a choice of selecting which technician they would like to work on their machines based on past experiences and recommendations.
I drive up to the employee parking lot and smoothly bring my truck to a stop in my reserved space. Every employee has their own parking spot. Just goes to show you how good this place is. Hopping out of my truck and grabbling my tool box out of the back, my co-workers greet me grudgingly as I wave towards them. They're all working away on their current project.
They don't much like me. I used to be just the average mechanic. Crim on the other hand, was the best there was, until he died. Now that he's gone, I seem to have gotten better at fixing things, so my advancement in popularity has everyone else grumbling.
After six hours at work, I get home and take yet another shower. I tend to take showers often because of my line of work. All that oil and grease. Getting ready for bed, I change into my pajamas and all that other good stuff. When I'm done I make sure to turn off all the lights in the house before returning to my room.
Before I can climb into bed though, I have to remind myself where all the junk on the floor is so I don't step on any of it as I make my way across the room after I turn out my light. Scanning the room to make sure I know where to step, I turn out the light.
As a habit, I look out my window that overlooks the backyard. The house behind the low fence is for sale. I can just make out a few branches of the tree from here. But this time, I see something different.
Glowing red eyes.
Accidental.Enlightenment in the present tense.