Angelic Voice
By Hachi Mitsu
09.08.00 ~ 09.26.00
Phase One
NOTE: SEQUEL TO
"BLOOD RED"
The breeze still blows about,
Carrying your voice far above,
The chaotic world burning beneath.
Confusion, hatred, anger, seethe.
But only your words still remains clear
Only you, I still can hear
Above all other noise
I still can hear your
Angelic voice.
[Dream]
I was *there* again. That place.
Trapped. All
around me. Water. Pressing against me. I can't open my eyes. I can't hear
anything but the sound my own breathing. The sound of my heart beating.
I
couldn't take it anymore. I wanted to get out. To breath fresh air. Instead of
the artificial one fed into my lungs by the thick plastic tubs. But I can't
remember anything but being here. In the water. Surely there must be a better
place than this. A better future, than to stay here forever.
I reached
out my hands. But the only thing they encountered was cold hard glass. Even
colder than my heart. Glass all around me. Keeping me within . . .
I had to
get out. Out of this watery grave. Yeah. That's what this is. A grave. I tried
to open my eyes once more. I don't know why I even bothered. I know what I'll
see. Thick bluish green. Color of the water around me. No lights. But I tried
anyway.
But this
time, it worked. With my last bit of strength, I lifted my heavy lids. But it
wasn't what I had expected to see.
The water
continued to press against me, but that was forgotten. Because through the long
threads of my wavy hair, floating before me, I could see a . . . person? He had
the nicest brown hair. Cut short, unlike my impossibly long locks. And the
eyes. So blue. So intense that it seemed to penetrate through the heavy water.
Somehow,
I found the strength to raise my hand, placing it against the glass. A smile
formed on my lips as I saw him look up in surprise. I wanted to reach through
the boundary. To touch the other's hair. To feel texture other than the
sluggish water and cold glass.
He raised
his hands too, pressing it against the opposite side of the glass wall, right
where my hands would be, if the glass didn't exist. I felt my eyes widen, as a
small smile appeared on his lips. For the first time I can remember, my heart
was filled with warmth.
[End of dream]
I
sloooooowly pried open my heavy eyelids . . . Then immediately snapped them
shut again as they encountered the harsh noon sun. Itaiiiii . . . wait a
minute. Noon . . .?
"AHHHHHH!!!!!"
I flung
off my covers as I suddenly realized the time. Aw, shit. It was only the 2nd
week of school and I've already been late 5 times. Dammit, I'm soooo dead. I
bit down a whine as I grabbed a towel. Save the wining for later Maxwell, cause
when Baldy sensei gets through with me, that'll be *all* I'll be able to do.
Whine about the various broken bones in my body from the nearest ICU.
After a
quick shower, twisting my hair into a somewhat decent manner, and stuffing the
toothbrush into my mouth a few times, I streaked out my door like a banshee on
the loose, complete with an early monsoon, care of my still dripping wet braid.
Crashing
through the door of the oh-so-dreaded statistic class, I tried to stammer out
some believable excuse for my 5 hour lateness. Ok, forget the believable part,
I'll be happy if I can just talk him into a daze, leaving me enough time to
slip into my seat.
After a
5-minute ranting marathon, I slowly halted to a stop.
Waaaiiiit
a minute, I can't seem to recognize a single person in the class, except baldy
of course.
Blink.
Blink.
"Mr.
Maxwell, I am aware that you missed your class, but might I clarify that it was
first period, which ended about 4 hours ago."
Blink.
Blink.
"Gomen
nasai bald- anooouu, I mean Baldry sensei! It won't happen again."
Without
clarifying *what* won't be happening again, I *slowly* began to back away.
"Good!
Now I think you should exit. This class does not need any further disturbances.
Unlike you, they are here to *learn*"
"Well,
and a good morning to you, too." I muttered under my breath. The door was only
a few feet away. Almost there.
"And to
you as well, only it's about 1 in the afternoon."
I bolt
for the exit.
***
It wasn't until later; during
creative writing class did I finally remember my dream. Hey, the class might be
a total waste of time, but the brainstorming exercises they mad use do, does
wonders for remembering useless information.
I nibbled
on the end of my braid as I gazed out a nearby window. For some reason, it
seemed weird that a dream could bother me so much. No matter how much I
searched through the musty cavern of my memories, I couldn't place the dream to
any even that might have occurred. Which then leaves me wondering why I even
cared. It was just a dream, right? Right. And dreams don't mean a thing. So
there!
I sighed,
rubbing my poor abused eyes with the back of my fists. I sneaked a few furtive
glances around the room. No teacher in sight. With a yawn big enough to put
Sleepy - from Snow White and the Seven Dorks- er . . . dwarfs- to shame, I
buried my face in my folded arms.
Time for
a nap.
"DUO
MAXWELL!!!"
"IYAAAA!!!"
"I literally
leapt from my chair to face my really pissed off teacher.
"Duo
Maxwell, what do you think you're doing?" She barked, impaling my sparkling
white- and empty- notebook with her 2- inch ling *glowing* red nail. Whoa, dun
wanna mess with her.
"Anooo .
. . eto, isn't the best way to be creative when one is on the verge of sleep?"
"Oh
really? In that case, you must have forgotten the assignment all together!"
She said with a half ass attempt to control her laughter.
Glad someone's amused.
Actually,
I didn't even remember *hearing* the assignment, but then it occurred to me
that telling that to her would be jumping from the frying pan and straight into
the fires of hell.
With a
small eep, I took a step back. Why is that, you ask? Well, if you were faced
with a creative writing teacher that looked like she just downed about 5
gallons of sake, with some beer to boot, you'd be terrified too. Besides, she
had her nail from hell pointing at *me* now. And frankly I had no desire to
suffer the same fate as my poor notebook.
"Er . . .
what *was* the assignment?" I tried to be as charming as I could, but was only
rewarded by another round of barkish laughter. Hm. I gotta say, she does a hell
of an *impressive* imitation of a braying donkey. Heh.
"Baaaaaka!"
she drawled, tapping my head with an overgrown nail. "You were suppose to write
about your family, and what it is like to live in a boarding school away from
them."
I froze,
partially from shock, but mostly from the pain that suddenly branched from my
heart. Forcing out a sad attempt at a chuckle, I joked. "Oi! That'd be easy. I
don't miss them at all because I never met them. And even if I did, its not
like I would actually remember!"
She
paused, but then continued unfazed. "Quit joking around. What about friends
then? From where you transferred from."
The
school where the shooting occurred was temporarily closed down. I had expected
to be sent off to an orphanage because there was no one to pay my fees if I
were to transfer to another school.
But surprisingly, I was told
that someone had paid for me to attend a new school, this one. They even gave
me a monthly 'allowance'. Enough to pay for all my classes, clothes, wants and
needs. It left me more than a bit suspicious. But I guess in my state of mind,
I just really didn't care anymore.
Suddenly, I felt tired.
"Gomen
Fusuchin sensei, but I really don't know what to say. Maybe they haven't told
you, but everyone I know is dead." The pain, from before, had washed over me.
But I felt strangely numb.
"Fusuchin
sensei, he's telling the truth.
"Haven't
you heard?"
"He has
amnesia."
"The
shooting."
"All
those people dead."
Soft
voices from all around the room. I couldn't catch half of what they said. It
was hushed, sad.
God, I
couldn't' stand this anymore. I looked around me. Sensei coming closer. Her
mouth moved, but I couldn't hear what she was saying. Or maybe I just didn't
want to hear.
Dead.
Dead. Dead.
The
mantra seemed to crawl through my mind, leaving layers of cobwebs and dust.
Everything looked as if I were behind a smoked glass. Dark, blurry. Swirling
together until all I could see was fog.
Then,
four shadows. Clustering voices that mixed together until I couldn't only hear
white noise. But even as their words vanished, their image became clearer. They
looked young, my age. One with golden hair, one with black. Another with brown
bangs over one of his intense, yet lost green eyes.
But it
was the last that caught my eyes. Mused dark brown hair, narrowed Prussian
eyes.
It felt
like I was on the verge of remembering something important, but no matter hard
I tried, I couldn't step over the line and actually *remember*.
Suddenly,
everything fell apart, like shattered glass. I felt myself sink into painfully
bright whiteness.
HEEEERRROOOO!!!
***
I felt a hard jerk
on my shoulder, pulling away, I saw myself still surrounded by the sympathetic
students. I felt trapped. The door was all the way across the room.
I felt myself
tense as they got closer and closer.
Screw the
door. In one quick and fluid motion, I leaped from where I had fallen beside my
desk and out the window.
***
The entire world rushed by me as I ran through the thick
woods towards . . . well, nowhere in particular.
I just needed to get away from there, get away from *myself*. The
way I figured it, as long as I keep running, my brain wouldn't get enough
oxygen to think. And as of this point I was positive that too much thinking
would only land me with a one-way ticket to the hell knownth to the worldly
realm as the psychiatrist's office.
After being forced to spend 6
joyful afternoons during my 'recovery', in the clutches of that devil, I've
become fully convinced that another visit would kill me.
"ITTAAAII!"
I
stumbled over another yet another overgrown root; only a quick grab of a nearby
branch saved my head from an intimate moment with rough bark of the oak.
Dammit. Anymore of this and I won't be able to see straight.
I choked
in another gulp of the sake that I had snagged from the teacher's lounge a few
days ago. Hey, I think that dying from despair is as good of a reason as any to
drown myself in this junk.
Tipping
back my head, I took a long swig and started running again.
***
I t took
me a while to realize that I had slowed down to just a swaggering walk.
Glancing around me for the first time, I realized that I was no longer anywhere
*near* the school. Peeking over my shoulders, I noticed that the woods I was
hiking through was over shadowed by the descending night.
I paused,
wondering if I should go back. The opening was desolated. The only other thing
in site was a relatively large, 1 story building resting on a thick carpet of
gravel, dirt and weeds. How welcoming.
For some
strange reason, I began to stagger forward, towards the little house of doom.
No kidding. The place was a mess. All its windows were shattered, its only barn
like door hung on one of its huge metal hinges. The outer walls were of a rusty
metal, with graying flakes of paint clinging desperately to its rough sides.
The
inside was worse- I was soon to realize as I stepped in. Ripped police ribbons
draped from wall to wall, making the place look like someone's sad attempt at
giving the place an air of festive. The mold and moss that clung to it – and
everything else- suggested that the place was long forgotten.
As I
walked around, I was hit with the surprisingly familiar stench of blood and of
various rotting things that I didn't *really* want to know of. But that wasn't
what had bothered me the most. The place in *general* seemed familiar.
Oh God!
I fell to
my knees in disgust. I was *there*! Somehow in my fit of anger, my legs had led
me to the last place I would ever want to be.
"Traitor"
I muttered, choking back a sob of hysterical giggles. I loosing my fucking
sanity here. Not good.
Leaning
against my unfortunately empty bottle, I clawed against the wall, trying to
stand up. I had to get out of here. And pronto.
Alas, I
decided, someone up there *really* didn't like me much. The glass bottle
cracked, burying its silver splinters in my hands and arm, as my weight came
crashing down on it. It didn't hurt nearly as much as it should. But
considering how out of it I was, I shouldn't be surprised. Ok scratch that, I
don't think I *can* be surprised. My mind was too numb in general.
So I lay
there for God knows how long. A little bundle of misery, soaked in blood, tears
and the rainwater that had gathered on the damp floor, dripping through cracks
in the roof. My cheeks pressed against the cold ground, warmed only by the
blood that leaked from cuts embedded with shards of glass. It's funny. How
beautiful things are so painful – I smirked, or not.
Damn.
I've sunk too low. I pressed my eyes shut, trying to ignore the insistent
pulling at my shoulders . . . huh?
"Duo.
Wake up."
I
gathered enough strength to form a sad attempt to push the person away.
Muttering a few words that probably never left my lips.
"Leave me
along. Why can't you just leave me alone?"
I didn't
even bother to form questions like who are you and why the hell do you know my
name. It seemed too trivial.
Someone
was bandaging my hands. Wrapping my torn skin with gauze, cleaning out the
wounds on my face. Soft hands brushed against my cheeks, gathering back my
loosened hair.
The last
thing I saw before loosing my grip on reality was a pair of familiar blue eyes.
They were like the glow of hope, coming to a lost ship from a light tower. The
soft embrace of loved ones when the journey has finally come to an end. The
pure emotion of relief and happiness.
I sank into the warmth, feeling
all my strength drain away.
Then
everything faded again. Into colorless oblivion, filled with nothingness. But I
felt strangely safe. For the first time, I felt like I was home again.
***
"Duo!
Duo! Wake up!"
I buried
my head under my blanket, refusing to submit to the voice calling me from
beyond. Nope, I've learned my lesson. From now on, I *stay* in bed. Nothing
short of hell on earth could get me up now. And as far as I'm concerned, even
if that does happen, I'd be burned into a happy pile of ashes before even
attempting to crawl of my little nest.
"OI!!!"
Someone
yanked the blanket off my face, replacing it with the sound slam of a pillow. I
reached out blindly, trying to push the person away.
"DUUUOOOOOO!!!!"
Itai! I
rubbed my ears, trying to get rid of the ringing sound. Even *I* can't scream
that loud. Which says a lot. I opened my eyelids, just a crack.
"Whacha
want?"
"Hehehe.
So you *are* alive!"
My eyes
finally gained full vision. Which immediately went unfocused as I jumped back
in surprise, and fell off the bed. Itaaaaaaiiiii. I whined for the second time in
2 minutes as my head cracked against the floor.
Suddenly,
a worried face peered up from the bed. She had wheat blond hair and cornflower
blue eyes. Pretty, in a childish way.
"Who the
hell are you?!?" I reached to my nightstand, grabbing the nearest weapon.
"I'm
Relena, remember? And what are you doing with that hairbrush?"
I glanced
down at the 'weapon' in my hand. Ok, so it wasn't exactly the best choice. Iya
. . .
I turned
my attention back to the intruder. "Screw that, I really don't care who you
are, just tell me how you got into my room!"
Her eyes
widen a bit. "Pargan found you in front of the building, unconscious, one of
the students showed us your room. We sorta assumed that you might want to sleep
in your own room, and not in the bushes outside."
ACK!
Suddenly, I remembered my little run. But I ended up, *miles* away, how did I
get back? Unless . . .
"Hey, did
you by any chance see some guy when you found me?"
She gave
me a weird look, shaking her head. So either the guy disappeared or only
existed in my mind, making me down right crazy. Ok. I've decided that I did
*not* like her. Grrrrr. Deep breathe, Maxwell.
I opened
my mouth to speak, but her high-pitched voice cut me off.
"Oi! Have
you seen Heero by any chance? My stalke- er . . . friends, couldn't find any
traces of him and figured that you'd probably know." She paused, taking a deep
breath before starting her ramble again. "Actually, you were the *only* pilot I
could locate. The other just seemed to have disappeared."
It was my
turn to give her the weird look. Ok, so she's over the line, probably a lot
more than me, but considering the fact that she did help me when I was
unconscious, I guess I should at least be polite.
"Er . . .
ojousan. What in the world are you talking about?"
Silence.
She blinked. I blinked. And after a five minute starring contest, she finally
broke the silence.
"Oh my.
I've heard about you getting amnesia from different sources, but I just assumed
it was a cover up."
Pushing
herself into a sitting position on *my* couch. She dragged her army sized
backpack over *my* table. "And since Heero apparently isn't here, I guess it's
lucky that I came around."
Yeah.
Real lucky. I rolled my eyes, but kept from voicing my complaint. Instead, I
gave a longsuffering sigh and peeked over her shoulder. At least she'll be able
to tell me about who I am. I saw her pull out some pictures and papers.
"First of
all, my name is Relena Peacecraft, I'm the queen of the world, no da."
Oi . . .
this is going to be a *long* day.
***
I laid
underneath the willow tree. It's still-green leaves swayed over me like
thousands of silk scarves. Resting against the bark, I closed my eyes, trying
to gather my pervading thoughts. Which is a *lot* easier said then done,
considering the fact that I didn't even have my sanity left to help.
Relena
left a few hours ago, after giving me a basic overview of my life. I guess I
should be grateful . . . but it only left me even more . . . sad.
I looked
down, eyeing the photo in my hand. It was a picture of 5 teenagers, standing in
front of some boarding school. It must have been one of the scarce times when
the 5 of them . . . iie . . . the five of *us* had been together.
Wufei
Chang.
Trowa
Barton.
Quatre.
R. Winner.
Duo
Maxwell.
And . . .
Heero Yuy.
That name
struck familiar. It was warm and golden, like honey, peppered with vague
memories, trapped in its sticky sweetness.
It hurts.
Really. Something I just couldn't explain. It hurt more than the cuts that
decorated my face and arms. It hurt more than those weeks recovering from the
bullet wounds. It hurts like . . . well, hell!
Rain
started to patter down. Droplets spilling on my face, mixing with the hot
saltiness that spilled from my eyes. My vision blurred with tears that I
refused to acknowledge.
Suddenly
a burning sting hit my right arm. Ok, *this* hurts like hell!
Growling,
I reached out my left hand, trying to find what had hit me. My rain slick
fingers encountered a small . . . glass cylinder? Yanking it out showed that it
was attached to a long thin needle.
"A tranquilizer dart?" I
muttered as I felt the ground shift beneath me. It drug might be taking in
affect. Either that or the end of the world is here.
My eyes began to feel like lead,
but before they finally left me in a world of darkness, I caught sight of a
figure in black. The first of the 4 horsemen?
Before I could attempt to answer
myself, my mind began to slooooowly sink into a world of muddy nothingingless.
For the *third* time today, I found myself lost in the darkness that I have
grown to know, though not exactly love.
***
It was
cold. The kind of cold that reaches down to your very soul, giving you a hard
shake. I let out a small whimper, trying to pry open my eyes. It was about as
hard as trying to pry Relena off Heero once she gets a good grip. Wait... where
did *that* come from? I paused in my little train of thoughts. Recently, I've
been finding myself making comments, then realizing that they make absolutely
NO sense.
I shifted my position, and felt
something cold dig into my arm. Ok, I can worry about that later, but right now
I *really* need to open my eyes.
When I
did eventually regain my wonderful skills of vision, all I could see was pale
bars of light seeping through a window that was covered by glass that *really*
needs some polishing. Oh joy. To make a long story short, it didn't take a
genius to figure out that I was in some sort of a prison. Adjusting my eyes to
the darkness around me, I tried listing all the possible reasons why I *would*
be in a prison and not falling asleep in class. Then the memories came back.
Meeting that strange girl. Then getting drugged.
A soft moan
slipped through my lips, echoing through the large metal room. I didn't know
how long I've been out. It seemed like an eternity. Crawling to my knees, I
attempted to stand up... only to end up flat on the floor again.
"Itaaaaaiiiii."
Ok, I was
*not* going anywhere for a while, no matter *how* excited I was to explore
every corner of this dark musty hell. And why, you ask? Because my hands were
cuffed together with one of those things they use in military prisons, the ones
made from the strongest alloy metal, covering your entire lower arm, instead of
just your wrist. In other words, breaking or even just picking the locks open
were out of question.
"So
you're finally awake."
I was so
lost in my thoughts of self-pity that I didn't even realize that there was
another person in the room. Gathering what's left of my dignity and pride, I
threw back what even *I* would call a pathetic attempt at a retort.
"Yeah,
what's it to you?"
I heard a
soft chuckle. A good natural one, but it still left me pissed like hell.
Forgive me, but somehow I don't see the humor in being locked in some rat hole,
with my arms encased in metal, chatting with Mr. Shadows over there.
"I
see. You seem to have no recollection of me. It was suppose to be that way. I
truly would have preferred for you be able to live a 'normal' life. But as you
can see, I no longer have a say in the matter."
Huh? His
voice *did* seem familiar. But I couldn't get a clear enough look at him to
quite recognize him. All I could see was a dark silhouette against the pale
light leaking from cracks around what must be the prison door. His height and
the deepness of his voice suggested that he must have been at least 20 or 30.
That was
all I could think of to say. There was something about him that was screaming
to be recognized, placed with an event in the past. Perhaps not so much as a
'good' memory, but one nonetheless.
"Who
are you?"
"An friend? A stranger? A
lost link to the past? What answer do you seek? My name is Andre, but I think
you seek a more meaningful answer, am I wrong? "
I shook
my head, even though I was positive he wouldn't see it. "I want to know
why you are here. I want to know whatever you can tell me about *myself*.
Apparently, you know a lot more than me."
"That,
you are right about. Do you want to know the story? The real one?"
A part of
me wanted to say 'no'. That things are bad enough the way they are. That I
didn't need anything else to confuse me. But then I remembered that moment in time,
forever lost in a sea of images. Forever embedded in my mind. It was an image
of a blue-eyed angel. An angel of mercy, who will finally save me from...
myself.
I nodded.
"I need to know. Once and for all, I need to be myself again. I don't know
how to say this, but there's enough- no *more* than enough- ghost of the past,
haunting me. I- "
"I
understand. Perhaps I should have told you long ago. Maybe that would have
changed the situation now. But the past is not worth a future of regret
[1]."
I sighed.
Leaning back against the cold wall, I let the words sink into my mind. I've hid
from my problems enough, now its time to face the music.
"If
you're ready to hear the story, then I shall tell. Just don't regret it."
I saw his shadow change position as he took a seat across from me.
***
[POV switch]
"I was
still little at the time. Though a bit older than you. I remember that day as
if I were there at this moment. I had a research project to do, for class. It
was a summer morning, I remember stepping into the library. The topic was on
any major event of the past, which had to do with human rights.
"I still can smell the musty
leather bound books, the old newspaper, rattling as I flipped through them. And
then... I came upon that article. It was from centuries ago, and told of a
group of scientists gathered together with a certain goal.
"Now during that time, a severe
war was at hand. Thousands upon thousands of men died regularly, much like the
way things are today. Realizing the situation, the scientist were attempting to
take the cells of humans, and manipulate them into what can be called the
'imitation soldiers' with stamina, reaction rates, and other qualities far
beyond those of normal soldiers. But not only were they by far better fighters,
they were *replaceable*. It didn't matter if they died. Because for every one
that was killed in battle, another 5 would be 'born'. I was completely
entranced. The situation seemed at once wonderfully ingenious, yet horrifying
and inhumane at the same time.
"Completely enraptured upon the
subject, I searched for more articles... But, I found none. Not another scrap
of information. That truly perplexed me, for how could such a thing not rise
countless oppositions, and debate. An occurrence that should have been the
event of the century left no traces upon the graying newspaper and records.
"But what disturbed me even more
was that when I questioned the librarian and then later on, as many historians
as I could contact, they claimed that such a thing never happened. When that
happened, I immediately returned to the library to find that newspaper once
more, but it was gone. The librarian, who had helped me find it, was reported
to have died from a car accident.
"One by one, all the people whom
I had approached began to die off for various reasons. Drowning, fire,
accidental poisonings. All seemingly innocent and non-related causes. But it
only caused me to become more interested. I always stayed with a crowd, making
sure that there was no possible way for me to follow the fates of all those
unfortunate people.
"But since that discovering at
the library, I could only find small scratches of information. I had learned
from old diaries and letters that there was a human rights group, called the
Sanq, had uncovered the experiments, bringing it to court. The government,
desperate to win the war, sided with the scientist. This action infuriated
Sanq. Teaming up with the opposing country, they managed to infiltrate the
laboratory, destroying everything. There were no survivors.
***
I didn't
know what to say. I just sat there, waiting for all the words to sink deep into
my mind. Part of me wanted to laugh, and take none of it too seriously. I mean,
it's possible that his brain is just a bit screwy from spending so much time in
the hellhole that we were currently chatting in. Besides, what did that story
have to do with me?
But... I
couldn't. Call me crazy, but somehow I *knew* that he wasn't lying. I gave my
head a little shake. Then again, *my* brain might be a little screwy too.
"Then
what happened? Did you find more information?"
He shook
his head; the light behind him flickered a bit, like the wings of some glowing
moth. "That's not important now. What *is* important is that we're in danger
right now. After destroying the plans of the scientists, Sanq 'disappeared',
along with all traces of its actions. Using its endless supply of money, they
quieted the media, and bribed their way out of any difficulties. It was only
about 5 decades later, did then reemerged as a kingdom dedicated to peace. And
peaceful they were until- "
"DUO
MAXWELL"
I
suddenly realized that the doors behind us had been flung open, three figures
stood in the doorway. I'm not sure *how* I could've missed something like that.
Really. If it weren't for the situation we were in, I'd seriously begin a long
debate about whether I have *any* scenes at all.
But
anything thoughts on *that* was cut off as two of the figures strolled into the
room, right past Andre who seemed to have melted into the shadows.
"You are
to come with us now." One of the figures still stood by the door; the light
behind him cast his hair into a soft golden brown glow. It looked almost like a
halo.
"Itai!
Can't you be more careful?"
My attention was brought back to
the problem at hand as the two reached down, dragging me to my feet. Somehow,
one of my legs got caught on a chain. Now, I'm not exactly *delicate* or
anything, but as the blazing hot pain shot up my legs, the only thing I could
think about was how much I was going to KILL the next person I get my hands on.
I sighed as they dragged towards
the door like a sack of potatoes. Oh I feel *real* special.
Blinking, I adjusted to the
bright lights outside the cell. The other guy had turned away before I could
get a good look at his face.
"Where are we going?"
Silence.
Ok, I reeeaaaaally don't like
being ignored. Whatever happened to common courtesy? I glanced back one more time
to catch a glance of Andre, but all I could see was darkness. For some reason,
I couldn't help but think that any moment now, I'll wake up and find myself in
Baldry- sensei's class, helplessly tortured by his endless lectures.
I glanced at either side of me.
The two guys really look like they stepped out of some old zombie setup. And
we're talking about absolutely NO emotions on their face. I sighed again,
pursing my lips into a pout. Statistics is really starting to look good. [2]
----------------------------------------------------------------------
[1] I remember a friend always telling me that. I can't
remember the exact words, but it goes somewhere along those lines.
[2] school... ::moans in
distress::
note: incase you missed it in the beginning, this is a
SEQUEL to 'Blood Red', it'd be really really confusing if you havn't read it.
AN: hehe like? Please review!! =D
