Do cats count?
Stifling a giggle, I crawl on the couch, unable to turn the lights on lest I risk the awakening of my parents.
Or so I think.
"Young lady, do you realise what time it is?" The sudden illumination painfully blinds me.
I spin around, snarling a retort. "My name isn't 'young lady', and it's only 10:20!"
"Twenty minutes late! What were you doing, vandalising shit?" My father roars.
"Darling, shut the fuck up!" Mother's voice interrupts him from taking another breath. I shoot her a grateful look, but it goes unnoticed. Father glowers at me and heads back upstairs whilst muttering, announcing the end of this meeting with a slam of a door.
I run my fingers through blonde strands of hair, counting myself lucky for the feeble confrontation. My hands slightly shaking, I grab my laptop and check my mail.
(1) new message!
Books required for BSc(Physiol) 3 hours ago
My heart drops. An email from one of my lecturers before Christmas? I warily open the email.
These are the books you must purchase before the start of your course.
HUBS148 Human Body Systems 1 by XXXXX XXXXXXXXX
PHSL745 Neurophysiology by XXXXXXX XXXXXXX
God, this is one hell of a lecturer. Not even a 'Hello' or 'Greetings'. I yawn, unable to plough any further into the list. Trudging into the kitchen, I open several drawers until I find my sleeping pills and a mug. I pour myself a glass of water and swallow the pill.
I tread upstairs, to my bedroom, leaving the door open. As I drift into a deep sleep, dreams of inky words, bittersweet poison, indistinct murmurs, and a single strand of a nostalgic melody infiltrate my mind.
I'm dreaming, dreaming, blackness.
Christmas. A strange holiday Sai does not understand. This is his first Christmas outside home. His fingers brush away the condensation on the windows, leaving tears in its wake.
"Are you listening to me?" An ugly girl he met in Aya's party sighs, drinking her coffee. He remembers this girl's name. Mizuki.
She clung to him during the party as if he was her lifeline after his confrontation with Aya. Sai does not like her but lacks the knowledge to deter her.
"My apologies, Mizuki." He smiles. "What were you saying?"
Her face turns scarlet, the same reaction that many girls display whenever he talks to them. The awkward silence fills their conversation as Mizuki fidgets around. Perhaps I should read more books about the minds of girls, he thinks. The only thing he knows what to say during a conversation with men (excluding his father) is that their penises are small.
"I-I was wondering where else we should go today…" She mumbles. "What about the park?"
He nods, keeping his smile even though she left no time for him to suggest a location. Smiles are the best way to get out of terrible situations, he reminds himself.
They both leave the cafe, into the wintry landscape. Mizuki walks closer to him, a strategic move. Is this what they call a date? Sai muses. He isn't in the slightest bit interested in her.
"Your fingernails are dirty." She comments.
"It's ink." He corrects her. A spark of heat flares in his chest. Another emotion?
"Painting?"
It blazes when he registers her question.
"Calligraphy."
"Cool."
Anger. So that's anger.
Sasori scowls. This is the mildest sign of anger he could allow himself at three in the morning. He stares at the surface of the desk, wondering where the marionette is.
He curses himself for indulging in the luxury of attaching himself emotionally to his creations. Especially the marionettes he based on certain people.
What a waste of time, he thinks, racking his head for any memory to resurface, to show him a subtle hint as to where it could be. A flash of a limb carved out of oak. Chisels, some glinting, some dull. Wood chips scattered everywhere.
In other words, nothing.
Nothing, and he has a lecture to orchestrate in the following eight hours. Sasori rearranges his desk, putting back the wood blocks in a cabinet along with his carving utensils. He slams his notes on the cutting board and glares at them, daring the words to disappear. On the brink of terror, they stay on the pages, stiff.
"Bloody hell."
Apathy begins to seep into his voice, smothering the irritation, persuading him to forsake the notes. He surrenders and sits on the bed, glancing at his watch.
3:14 AM
The 4 winks at him, and is replaced by a 5.
A/N : Weird. It wouldn't let me write his email. Worry not, this is also available on Wattpad :P
