I lay in my bed, looking at the ceiling of the RV. It has been two weeks since that day.
I have a new picture added in my collection of those I had once loved. People in my life were dying left and right, each one having a special story behind it.
But the one I was scared of the most was Kyle's.
He just…disappeared when that boy said to, with no opinion or objection. He just stood there, expecting his own death. And not fearing it.
I looked in the mirror that hung on the door. It suddenly rattled from a speed bump underneath the RV, shaking the reflection. I squinted at it, looking at a little mark on my forehead that the ball of golden fire had burned onto me. It was just a small, bulky cross shape.
There was a light knock at the door, and I quickly looked up to see my manager come into the room. Donna smiled lightly and rolled her delicate hands together.
"We're almost back to New York City, Destiny. Are you ready for your next session?" She asked. Donna was mainly concerned of the fact I've been having writer's block.
I sighed and looked down at my folded hands. "I don't know Donna…I just don't have that inspiration I used to have. I mean, ever since…"
I looked down, choking on the words that were coming out of my mouth. Ever since then, I've never been able to say his name out loud. Sometimes, on bad days, I can't even think about it. People around me are as cautious to even speak about the Emmy's (that I had won), because afterward a paparazzi group kept shouting questions on how Kyle died.
Donna looked at me sadly, knowing I wouldn't finish the sentence. She furrowed her eyebrows together. "Destiny, I know that it's hard to come back to the surface after what had happened to him, but we need to move on for your career's sake."
I looked up at her, trying to hold back tears, "I know, Donna."
A smile touched her lips. "I know you do, honey. Now just at least try. For your family?"
"Sure, I'll try."
"Good. Now, we're going to stop in at a restaurant. Are you hungry?"
I tried to smile, but Donna noticed when my lips started to quiver. She tilted her head to the side, "Do you want to stay here, honey?"
I nodded, biting my lower lip. She watched me deeply for a brief second before slowly turning and closing the door behind her.
I felt guilty.
Everyone around me seemed to be at ease and on track. My mother and father have been trying to cheer me up lately, but after the first week, they gave up and shut their mouths.
My little brother just didn't say anything. He and Kyle—I shuddered at thinking the name—were best buddies. He looked at him like an older brother and always followed Kyle's lead. So Ian and I are the ones that are having the roughest time with this whole thing.
Though Ian was actually trying to make a difference in it and move on.
Meanwhile, I sit here and pity my life and my best friend.
…
"We'll be just across the street at the Chili's, so don't be embarrassed to come across the street and join us," My mother cooed.
I looked at her in the corner of my eye. I had occupied myself at the small table in the RV and was writing—or at least trying to write—a new song.
"Thanks mom, but I think I'll be fine here," I gestured toward my work with my pencil, "Besides I need to get caught up before we get to the NYC studio."
My mom smiled lightly. My father called her to hurry up. She looked at me with a deep concern in her eyes.
"Are you sure, Destiny? We can go somewhere more private about a mile away, if you like?" She asked.
"No, mom, I really can't lose my train of thought with this song. Besides, I can't eat."
She nodded once, "Alright honey, don't be afraid to come get me."
"I know."
She closed the door to the RV, leaving it to shake just a slight bit. That's what you get with an RV—constant earthquakes.
I looked back down at my paper, wondering curiously if this song I'm writing should be upbeat or sluggish. With the sad lyrics, I naturally figured it would go slowly.
I paced the room slowly, tapping my forehead with my pencil, thinking impatiently about the rhythm of the song. Would it follow the rhythm of a keyboard or a slow drumming of drums?
Okay, maybe I am getting a little too concerned with this…but I haven't made one in about a month.
I went across the other side of the RV and banged my head against the side of the wall. I groaned loudly, hoping that someone would give me a break. I closed my eyes and held both of my hands to the sides of my head, whispering to myself the same words the boy said…
That day.
"Suma nehaska puremino warrior."
"Suma nehaska puremino warrior."
"Suma nehaska puremino warrior."
"Suma nehaska puremino…"
I kept repeating it until it became one big, udder blur. The words were clinging onto my mind, in my dreams, in my thoughts. I keep hoping that it'll die down, but it keeps escalating, making me go crazy. The little mark burned every time I stepped out to get ice for the fridge or something. It burned, not at the first step, but when I went into a creepy part of a lot—like an alley or a vacant hotel or gas station.
I finally turned around, and grinned to myself, happy for what I just realized.
"If I can't figure it out, then the net will…" I remembered Kyle saying once. I was getting used to thinking his name, but it still tore at that little hole in my heart. I walked over to the small table connected to the beige wall and flipped open the screen of the laptop.
When safari finally opened, I typed "Google" quickly into the text box.
It soon opened up, and I clicked on the "advanced search". I then typed in—foreign language. And then in the other box I typed in Suma nehaska puremino.
When I clicked search, a large screen popped up. I clicked on the first one that was titled Angelic Language
I thought it would be interesting enough, because I knew that it was impossible for an angel to have a different language. Personally, I didn't believe in angels. Nor devils. Nor God or Jesus or Buddha. I just didn't have any thought of importance toward religion or my "after life".
I went down the page and saw a description—
I recently had a chance to interview a local man in the Appalachian Mountains, whom claims to be part of an angelic tribe.
There was an ancient tribe back in 100 B.C. that believed that in the mere future the world will corrupt and that God will chose one person that will be a descendent of a holy spy. This person, also known as a Warrior, will have a Protector. While interviewing this man, he said that the rest of the information is to remain a secret until the Warrior is revealed.
Marsha Williams
NEW YORK TIMES REPORTER
I widened my eyes to see that the word "warrior" was in the small explanation. I decided to scroll down to look further, seeing if there was anything else to read. There was nothing but a phone number for the NEW YORK TIMES.
I groaned, thinking on whether I should go and grab my phone and dial this number.
Maybe I should just leave it be. Maybe this is just some stupid coincidence—that none of this happened and I'm going crazy or something.
But…
The word warrior, the strange foreign language, the strange glow coming off the boy's skin, and those strange, lemon yellow eyes…
Most importantly, the death of my one and only best friend, the description….
It all fit.
"I can't ignore this…" I finally whispered to myself, reaching over to the side and grabbing the cell phone.
But right before I was about to grasp it with my trembling hand, another hand reached over mine…
It was hot, burning against the upside of my hand. I felt a lump come up in my throat, blocking whatever scream I had. I looked up to see who was holding my hand down.
And when I looked up, I almost jumped to see that there he was.
The boy with the glowing skin, yellowish eyes, and the blonde hair. Staring at me. His lips were in a straight line, and his eyes were so soft but fierce that it brought a sudden stop to my heart. He was…amazingly beautiful.
He narrowed his eyes at me, making it harder for me to breathe.
He leaned towards me.
"You don't want to do that," He whispered, his voice the same honey feeling to it.
I could feel my whole body shut off. My heart was pacing faster than the speed my mind was spinning.
I finally choked out words, trying to sound strong. But I was unsuccessful.
"Who are you…?" I asked weakly.
In a swift movement, he took his hand off mine. I could see that his little golden hue was starting to dim down, causing him to look more humane. But that was impossible for his stunning features and eyes.
"More importantly, who are you?"
I furrowed my eyebrows together, wondering why he wouldn't even know who I was if he called me a warrior. Or maybe he wasn't talking to me. Maybe he was talking to Ian or Donna, or my mom or dad. But I slowly answered, feeling my face turn hot.
"Destiny…I'm Destiny Wi—"
He cut me off with a slight shake of his head. "Wrong."
I stood up slowly, watching his calmly serious face as his eyes followed my movements. "But, that is me…I'm Destiny Will."
I saw a slight impatient glare flicker into his eyes, and then disappear. He spoke again. "No. Who are you?"
"Okay, are you tormented or something?" I asked, folding my arms.
He clenched his jaw and forced a smile upon his god-like face. "I will be soon if you don't answer me correctly."
I felt all the blood drain from my face. Suddenly I heard a slight knock at the door. The boy's body stiffened in alarm, as he took a slight step backwards.
"I'll be back."
I was alone in the empty front room of the RV.
"Destiny! Hey Destiny, we're going to go down and get some groceries at the store down the street! You want to come?" Ian asked.
Of course, wanting to see that boy again, I opened the RV door in a rush. Ian had his hands in his pockets, waiting casually.
I forced a timid smile upon my face, hoping he would fall for this little lie. Maybe half lie. "Nah, you guys go without me. I got to work."
"Okay, we'll see you later. Need anything?" He asked.
I shook my head.
"Nope. Oh wait!"
He rolled his eyes, "Yeah?"
"Get me some more paper. I've used half of mine, already."
I closed the door after my brother made a little comment on my busy celebrity life. I usually ignore him, but at times it does get a little intimidating. I walked slowly to my room. Hitting my forehead with the knuckles of my clenched fist, I hoped that the boy was just some hallucination.
Maybe he was just some memory that I re-lived. I do that often when I'm dreaming.
I opened the door to my bedroom, hoping that I would sometime wake up from this stupid nightmare. I will see Kyle sitting in the couch, laughing at little comments I make at stupid letters from fans.
Unfortunately, I'm not that creative.
I sighed.
When I came back to earth, I saw someone sitting at the edge of my bed. His hands were folded, and his head was ducked slightly.
I had a sudden flashback, and when the boy looked up, I saw Kyle. His eyes were wide and laughing. There was a smile on his face, warm and inviting. I could hear Kyle's voice in the back of my head.
But then the small memory ended.
I saw the boy, looking up at me with troubled eyes. I jumped; surprised that he was actually real. I stepped sideways slightly, gripping the closet door handle tightly in my small hands, all the while gasping for air.
I could feel his eyes on me as I bent my head forward towards the closet door.
"I'm sorry for scaring you," He finally said, softer than before.
I suddenly stopped breathing, stopped shaking, and felt a warm—not hot—hand on my shoulder. Okay, this wasn't exactly what I needed right now. To die.
"Are you okay?" He asked.
I shook my head and quickly bent forward.
I could feel his confused eyes on me as I banged my head against the closet door. "No. I'm going crazy."
"Why would you be going crazy?" He asked with true concern.
Wow, okay, I truly feel like I'm dreaming right now.
"You would know…you were there…"
The boy dropped his hand, and in one swift step, moved back. I heard a sigh and turned my head towards him.
He shook his head slightly, folding his arms across his chest, causing the sleeves of his shirt to tighten around his muscular arms.
"No. I don't know."
I looked up at him, feeling like grabbing my hair and ripping it out of my head. Was he this stupid, or just a delusional idiot? But somehow I couldn't think like that, because I saw true innocence in his eyes.
"You're an ass…" I finally murmured quietly. Not quite low enough for him not to catch it.
He quickly dropped his arms in a furious move, and I saw his eyes widen with astonishment.
"Excuse me?" He asked, incredulously.
"Never mind. Just—" I choked on these next words, "Just go."
I walked outside of the bedroom doorway, feeling an impatient yet clumsy stride in my step. I was never graceful, except when I tried really hard on stage or in front of cameras. But behind the scenes, my family had to watch out if we were on a hike or something.
I couldn't hear footsteps behind me, but out of nowhere the boy stepped in front of me in a quick and easy glide. "Excuse me. I'm not trying to seem rude, but I can't leave. Not if you don't come with me."
I swallowed hard on the solid lump building up in my throat, feeling a sudden urge to reach behind and grab a knife. But something held me back—a muscle in my arm told me to wait for him to explain.
"What are you, a stalker or something?" I managed to blurt out, with hope in making it sound strong and powerful. But all it came out was in a stained whisper, as if the air was knocked out of me.
Suddenly there was a slight twitch from the corners of his mouth, as if there was something I was missing in his little gesture of actually being here.
"Something like that."
"Why you…"
I decided to take my chances. I lifted my hand to slap him across the face. To show him that I wasn't afraid to hurt him.
But right before I was about to touch him, his hand shot up and grasped my wrist, halting it from going further. It was so fast that I didn't realize it at first. Then his hand started to burn my skin.
His eyes turned fierce as he leaned towards me, his jaw clenched with impatience.
"You don't want to do that," He murmured.
"Watch me."
He grasped my other wrist, holding both them out inches from his chest.
"Think before you do it. It will save you a lot of trouble." A smile flashed upon his face, as if he were enjoying something.
I had no hope but to struggle out of his inhumane grasp. "Let me go! Now!!"
He didn't.
I finally opened my eyes to see if he were going to give me a break. Or let me free. Or at least not harm anyone.
There was still a smile. It was more timid, and his eyes narrowed mockingly, "Oh c'mon Destiny, you can do better than that."
I scowled, "If you weren't so stubborn I would."
"You sure about that?"
No…
I knew I wasn't. I couldn't hurt anybody, let alone someone with those god-like features and innocent eyes. But I leaned my face up towards him, getting on my tip toes, our faces only inches apart.
"Yes," I hissed coldly—lying.
His smile grew wider. A sudden masculine, yet soft expression grew on his face.
"Then show me…" He confirmed, holding my wrists tighter.
I winced at the burn of his hands. His eyes suddenly looked apologetic as he, to my surprise, cooled his skin down to a hot, yet tolerable, level.
"I can't," I said, feeling the impatience show in my expression.
He lowered his eyelids slightly. "And why not?"
"Because you're too strong."
He suddenly turned serious again, his skin starting to go back to its fiery blaze on my wrists, "What if I told you I knew where he is?"
"Where who is?"
"You know who I'm talking about."
"No, I don't," I said, turning as stubborn as he is.
He let go of one of my wrists, but held the other one firmly. He traced the side of my face, from the tip of my eyelid to my cheekbone.
"What if I told you that I knew where your little Kyle was?"
I froze.
He froze.
I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the luring tone in his voice. I soon realized that I wasn't breathing, so he took that as an opportunity to go further.
"What if I said that I'm planning to kill him tomorrow night…?"
I suddenly felt a surge of rage flow throughout my veins. My pulse was speeding up by the minute, and I felt a great sensation to try and slap him again—or worse.
I held onto restraint and spoke through gritted teeth, "That's not possible. He's dead already."
"How do you know?" He asked, his eyes suddenly turning cold and gentle. His smile softened, perhaps trying to distract me.
"You were there," I scowled.
"Oh, I know Destiny…."
I swallowed hard, trying to think of comebacks I could throw back. To make him all…stupid! But all that happened was the tremble of my body as the boy traced his finger along my jaw line.
"I saw him…in the coffin…" I could feel tears of impatience come up to my eyes.
He cocked an eyebrow, brushing all his fingers lightly on the side of my neck, "Sure, the body might be dead. But does that mean that his soul is also? Could he still be here, watching you? Protecting you…?"
There was a chilly tone at the end that caused me to shiver.
"He can't."
I furiously grabbed the wrist that held the hand that was swiftly tracing my face. I threw him back, only causing him to reel backwards a step.
"Please…just stop. Its torture enough that I have to deal with it the rest of my life, but to hear that he might still be alive…and that he's out there, alone…" The tears started coming from my eyes, trickling down each of my cheeks.
I finally remembered the very sentence that got me feeling angry. The very thing that was causing my mind to break down and shatter…
What if I said that I'm planning to kill him tomorrow night…?
The next thing I knew, I leaped forward, crashing into the boy with great force. It caused both of us to fall, with him underneath and me on to. I was on my knees, sitting on chest, and could feel the anger come back as I yelled at him.
"What are you planning to do to him?! Kill him?! Don't you dare touch Kyle! Ever! You got that?!" I narrowed my eyes at him angrily, "If Kyle is still alive and he's out there, trying to find a way to escape from you…I swear I will kill you! If you want to hurt Kyle, you'll have to kill me first!!"
I was strong. Stronger than I thought I was, actually. In voice, not body.
The boy stared at me, his eyes wide with something other than fear. Something other than thinking I was insane. I didn't know if that was a good thing, because I wanted him to be afraid, but he was just…
Laughing.
He started laughing!
I furrowed my eyebrows.
He threw his head back, his eyes squeezed closed, his beautiful voice turning into bursts of soft spoken laughter. He lifted me, holding me by my upper arms, and put me off to the side of him so he could sit up.
His strength was beyond human, but that wasn't surprising, showing his beautiful features and voice.
"You're not as strong as I thought, but I guess it's because you haven't gotten angry that often…" His voice drifted, along with his small throaty chuckles.
I narrowed my eyes at him, ready to pounce again if he showed another sign of danger. "Jerk."
"Overreacting loud-mouth," He said, a small smile brightening his gorgeous lips.
I scoffed and turned my head the other way.
"How did I overreact?" I asked, still facing the wall.
"Okay…I can't blame you. I went too far."
I looked over at him. His face was sincere. I almost melted with some strange emotion when he huffed and said, "I'm sorry, Destiny."
Well, at least he was sorry. But I was still demanding an explanation from him. How could he look clueless of why I was looking at him with a twist of pain in my grimace?
"Did I hurt you?" He asked.
"What do you mean?"
He held out his hands in front of him and flexed his fingers.
"When I took you off me, did I hurt you?"
I smiled, feeling a slight bruise growing on my upper arms. So he knew he was that strong all along?
"Just a little. But don't worry about me—"
But it was too late.
He knocked his fists into the wall, causing a dent to burn in. His face was in an angry scowl. His eyes were tight, tighter than his bony knuckled fist, and his upper body trembled with anger.
All of a sudden, he quickly—but gracefully—got up.
"I'm sorry Destiny…I thought I was capable of keeping my strength under control. I am so sorry."
I felt like laughing, seeing how his great gesture went against what he was doing earlier. I closed my eyes, feeling butter flies fly in my stomach. He was more beautiful when he was furious.
"Don't be sorry. It's fine, really. I'm fine…but…"
"But what?" He asked. I could feel the aura around him calm down, but his voice was still tight with furry.
I closed my eyes and put my hands on either side of my upper arms.
"Who are you? Just before you hurt me…"
I looked up after hearing a slight angry growl come through his teeth, seeing that he had winced at me saying that I was hurt. I continued with my eyes locked on his.
"…you were saying you were going to kill Kyle. You said he was still alive. You said—"
Before I could finish my sentence, he knelt down on his knees and put a finger lightly to my lips.
"Ssshhh…I know what I said, Destiny. But that was all to get you angry."
I swallowed hard on the lump in my throat and stared into his intense eyes. I felt everything spin around me.
"What about what you did?" I asked. His finger was still against my lips so it was a little strange to talk.
He watched me with an incredulous look in his eyes, trying to figure out what I was trying to imply. I understood of course, so I rephrased it. But right before I did, he suddenly narrowed his eyes at me.
"Wait, do you mean…"
I coughed, feeling uncomfortable of where the conversation was going.
"I'm truly and deeply sorry about that, too. I wasn't trying to do anything; I was just attempting to get you angrier."
I grimaced, remembering that moment. I liked the touch. No one has touched me that gently or so personally before because of my flashy lifestyle.
"Oh."
"I didn't mean to go too far. I would never do that to you. I promise," He said, "Sorry."
I held up a hand, keeping him from continuing this little line of apologies. "Stop. It's okay. I'm used to it…"
I stopped myself. I knew I shouldn't have let that slip.
His face suddenly burned with anger, his face suddenly turned deep red, and I saw his arms spark. Literally. His lips were pressed into a hard line, and I could see his teeth dig into his bottom lip, keeping from exploding again.
As hard as he tried, I could see that he was flipping out. I tried scooting backward when I suddenly heard an evil growl come from his throat.
He suddenly stood up, and—without blinking—I saw him go out of my room in a furious run.
I couldn't even explain it.
And in about ten minutes of trying to control my heart from dying of exhaustion, I collapsed as I leaned against the wall, still sitting, and still afraid.
