"The Crossroad "
- The Death & Demon affair -
Chapter II
December 25, 2000
'Alcoholic Delights; Bittersweet sentiments.; Tragic lullabies; Meaningless Epiphanies; Violent endings. Everywhere—inevitable pain lingers behind lush filled innocent eyes waiting to pounce on them in the form of tears. If there is such a God, how cruel can he be?' she asks, voice strained as she looked up from the pews where she knelt with her face once burrowed in her cold trembling palms. She looked pale, white and contrasting with her fiery red hair. She had bruises under her eyes, faint but evident. She was exhausted, that much was obvious. She closed her eyes again, burrowing into the comfort of her palms as tears began forming around the rim of her eyes and falling gently to tease her cold-stricken palms.
She stopped her breathing, closing her eyes tightly and wiped the tears with the back of her hand, quickly reaching for a pale white handkerchief in her pocket to aid with the drying of her eyes while her free hand reached for her overcoat which gently laid on the empty space next to her. She was alone in the dimly lit hospital chapel, finding her need to pray more waning as she continued to stay there. She passed one last glance at the large Cross in the middle of the room where an embedded golden pain outlined its features. She sighed bitterly as thoughts of God's existentialism continued to battle in her mind.
It probably wouldn't matter anyway.
She'd lost hope.
She slowly wrapped her grey Chanel overcoat around her, left the first two buttons on the top unbuttoned to give her some breathing space, and clutched her hands in her pockets. She stepped out of the Church and into the busy welcoming area of the hospital, counting the people that sat on wheelchairs dragged around by nurses and the other group that included people that sat on wheelchairs and were being pushed out into the freedom of being cured for the rest of their life or until a new outbreak comes along.
She sighed at the thoughts that were filling her head and shook it lightly, tempted to go to the nearby gift shop and by at least one packet of sweet sweet cigarettes. She clutched an invisible rock in both her hands and began walking towards the nearest elevator, taking the route farthest from the gift shop and trying her best to not bump into any of the patients crowding the first floor. The reason for her dilemma was in the seventh floor.
She reached the front of the elevator in a short time and stopped to wait, watching the numbers idly descend until it finally read one. She looked back down, walked in when the doors opened and pressed the number 7 button and waited for the doors to close, seeing that he was the only occupant. The doors were half closed when a foot appeared in the middle to stop it from closing and an unbelievably attractive ebony haired man peered in with a sheepish grin on his face.
'Oh, Dear God.' She thought to herself faintly at the sight.
December 21, 2000
Jingle bells rang in the air, melodic and calming to her ears, and danced along to the scent of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and warm milk. She could just die then and there, recalling her frilly childhood of opening gifts and dancing next to the fire place while she stuffed herself with more cookies.
She grinned lightly at the memory, hugging her overcoat closer around her body, keeping herself as warm as possible. She rubbed her hands together, breathing on them and watched her breath clearly fogging in front of her. She increased her pace, looking up ahead, excited to see her home nearer and nearer.
In a few more minutes, she arrived, the door unlocked and the scent of Christmas dinner taunting her senses. She smiled excitedly, closed and locked the door behind her as she slowly walked down the hall, admiring the couple in the picture frames hanging on the wall as she did so.
She stopped by the door way into the kitchen, peering on her husband cooking the mouth-wateringly smelling dinner. She grinned as she leaned on the door frame, a small serene and elated expression morphing into her face as she watched her husband happy and content as he cooked.
"Alex," she called out.
The man turned around, his brunette locks swaying from the action as his bright blue orbs bore into her hazel ones. He smiled at her, eyes asking a 'What?' as he looked at her.
"I love you," she whispered, slightly breathless.
He grinned and put down whatever he was holding and walked towards her, held her face with his hand clad in cooking mittens shaped like a dog and cat respectively, and placed one long kiss on her lips – something she welcomed and replied to eagerly.
She giggled when she pulled away and slapped her husband's cheek flippantly. He grinned. "Fine, Rach, I love you too." He said in a mocking tone and surprised her with another kiss.
She pulled away again, giggling. "Isn't it too early for a Christmas dinner, Alex?" she asked. He chuckled at the question and shook his head. "Do you want to eat or not?" he asked back, a coy grin on his face.
"Go finish cooking unless you want me to takeover." She teased.
"Oh no! I want to make it through winter, my dear," He replied back, touching his chest with a feigned expression of hurt on his face.
Rachelle hit her husband's arm and stuck her tongue out, kissed his cheek and pushed him back in front of the stove. She left the kitchen and got changed.
December 25, 2000
( 1st Floor Elevator)
"Sorry," he interrupted the silence with his smooth sultry voice, walked in and stood beside him. He flashed a weak yet slightly nonchalant smile her way and she forced a smile of her own and nodded curtly.
She cursed at God in her thoughts, pondering once more how truly cruel this omnipotent being they succumb to really is. She silently watches the man from the corner of her eye as he stepped forward and pressed the number 6 button.
He was breathtaking, almost like a fallen angel with his devilishly good looks and the lustful sleek black suit he wore. She thought lucky enough of herself to have been in a presence of man as fine as he was.
He looked at her again and grinned, making her wonder if there was something awfully amusing with her face. She looked away and saw her reflection on the elevator walls – there was nothing on her face as far as she could tell. The man's light hazel orbs, almost a distinct golden amber, caught her emerald ones again, making her feel weak and dizzy all of the sudden.
He smirked.
She looked away and focused her attention on the ascending numbers ticking over the doors. 3 more floors and he could get off and leave her with her dignity. With this thought in mind, she sighed a breath of relief, leaning on the wall for support as she counted the seconds until the number changed to four.
It never came.
The next scene was a montage of flickering lights and shaking, followed by screaming beyond the metallic walls and horror-stricken eyes reflecting hers in the wall. The man beside her, rested his back on the wall, hand fumbling for something in his pocket as his gleaming golden orbs caught her attention back to them.
"Well, Mrs. Rachel Atkinson. How're you this morning?" he asked, husky and inviting with every fall and rise of his breath and tone.
"H-how do you know my name?" She asked nervously, frightened that she might die within the next few minutes if she didn't get out of that elevator soon.
"I can not 'cause you harm. If that is what you're worried about," he informed her, pulling out a stick of cigarette and stuck it in his mouth, held it with his lip and lit it with a curiously designed lighter. It had intricate swirls and contours on its metallic skin that she couldn't help but stare at it. He hid it back in his pocket and offered her a stick. She declined.
He nods in understanding, shoving the stick back in his pocket, probably destroying it or breaking it in half in the process. He takes a long drag, blowing the smoke into the video camera by the corner, its once red blinking light fading off slowly.
"I have very little time to talk to you, so I shall keep it short and to the point, my dear. If that is fine with you?" he informed her, waiting for her to nod in agreement- which she
did.
"I come here with a proposal, something that I'm sure would pique your interest." He told her in that seductive tone of his. "I offer you're husband a cure. A new life. "
"Are you a doctor?" she asked, voice more brave now that he has assured her that her life is safe., genuinely interested He shook his head to her question.
"What are you?" she asked, standing up and walking to the opposite end of the elevator, close to the door, to face him.
"You don't want to know," he replied, cold and indifferent as he leaned forward, eyes gleaming with a malevolent countenance to it and somehow, she could see a vague shadow of a man with horns behind him.
She fell speechless.
"Life. Happiness. Cure. All of it, just for one tiny little thing." He interrupted, waiting till she could process everything that he offered to announce the price for it all.
There was a spark of understanding in her orbs; he could tell. So, he continued.
"Your soul in my hands."
December 24, 2000
The house smelled of musty alcohol stocked in the living room. A cold sweat occupied her for a second and a gasp soon followed afterwards. She had just come home from a quick trip to the office, her editor had been desperate to get her article this late in the winter so she had no choice but to leave her already depressed husband trusting him to not do anything stupid while she was gone.
She raced to the living room, pale and tired from all that she had done today, not ready to face this emotional turmoil ready to erupt. She stared at her husband's unconscious body on the floor, groaning in pain as a bottle of vodka spilled it transparent alcoholic liquid onto her carpet.
"Alex!" she cried, racing to her husband's side and began slapping her cheek, hoping to wake her up but it was useless. She knew how unhealthy he already was.
She stood up and ran to the nearest phone and dialed 911. She tightened her grip around the phone, cursing the seconds it took the woman on the other line to answer her distress call. She looked up at the clock hanging on the wall.
11: 46 p.m.
December 25, 2000
(7th Floor, Room 723)
01: 31a.m.
She held her face in her palm, catching her tears as her husband slept, his vital signs faint but there. She pulled herself together and inched nearer to his almost lifeless body, holding onto his hand, clutching it tightly in her smaller ones, trying to pump life into it. But it was useless.
The doctors have warned them about it before. She never listened. She trusted him enough to make the right decision, to not ruin this marriage by killing himself. She couldn't help it again and the tears started falling down the side of her face once more and she gave up on being strong for the rest of that morning and wept beside her husband.
The doctors said there was little chance he could survive. The alcohol was too much in his system. If they had gotten him earlier, he might have probably gotten a stomach pump and could have been saved. But now, they could only hope that they have done everything they could have to save this man that she loved.
Everything happened so fast, she never even noticed it. She always knew that she might lose him one day, but she never expected it to happen today. Out of all the days. She never expected it. He probably didn't either. Despite how much he wanted it.
He told her. He really did love her. She felt it. She just couldn't feel the pain he felt everyday, the sinking feeling he got every second that made him want to kill himself everyday. She knew how hard it was. She knew she couldn't really help. She just had to be there.
But that was the problem. She wasn't. So she succumbed to the pain and she wept.
She wept at the odds. She wept for the future. She wept for the pain. She wept.
December 25, 2000
(3rd Floor Elevator)
The lights flickered on; the doors opened; she stared at him, pupils dilated and eyes grim. He stared back at her, face cold and indifferent as usual and waited for her answer. She fled.
He watched her walk away, looking to his side to reveal the presence of another being the woman failed to notice.
"Well, how are you this morning, Sakura?" he asked, a devilish smirk popping into his face, lighting it up and giving it a more than human glow.
"She didn't have a dying husband. Why did you do that?" she asked, looking still at the fleeing woman.
"I don't know, curiosity, I suppose." He replied shrugging, wrapping his arm nonchalantly around the smaller girl's shoulders.
"Let go of me, Syoaran!" she squealed, trying to get away, but was unable to due to the tight clasp the man around her.
"You know you can't leave until we get an answer." He replied with an impish grin and dragged her out onto the floor with him, diverting her away from the crowds to lead her into that floor's own Gift Shop. She shut her mouth after that reminder, seeing that her protests would have been rendered useless anyway.
He let go of her as soon as they were in the small shop and he noticed that the girl's attention was caught by the large array of flowers aligned on the opposite side of the store. He grinned a little at the sight and watched as the usually cold-hearted and indifferent Death was somehow enthralled by the little plants.
He turned around and looked at the different cards on one corner, looking through each one with a distracted interest. Until one in particular caught his attention. It had an illustration of a skeleton wearing beach attire while surf boarding over a huge wave in the front and the supposedly comforting words inside: Death's on a holiday; so should you! Get well soon!
He chuckled as he read it to himself again, flipping the card around to check on the illustration and look at the girl who was Death herself now looking through the boxes of chocolate they had in one aisle.
He walked back towards her, an amused grin still in place and stood behind her, towering over her in an almost threatening way and blocked her view of the chocolates with the front of the card leveled with her face.
"I didn't know death was so skinny." He said, eyeing the pink loose overcoat she wore over whatever she had on underneath. He grinned at the thought, shaking the lustful images his human consort had provided him with.
She grabbed the card free from his grasp and turned around, emerald orbs scrutinizing the picture. "That's not me." She said defiantly.
"That's what the humans think you look like though," he argued back, chuckling at the seriousness on her face. He shook his head at her failure to understand the irony of the human's way of thinking with the actuality of it all.
"I also don't go on holidays." She corrected, crumpling the still unpaid and sealed card onto the floor and stomped on it with her pink loafers.
He watched her in sheer amusement, controlling himself so he would not laugh so loud that it would attract any attention to them. But by the looks of it, even if he did no one would have noticed. Not even the clerk behind the counter engrossed in a gossip magazine.
She glared at him and turned around with a huff to resume looking at the boxes of chocolate. He stopped and smiled at her with a shake of head.
There was a long span of silence between them. None of them making an effort to interrupt it until Sakura found a rather interesting box that was shaped like a lotus flower. She beamed at it and opened it, smiling delightfully at the sight.
"I know why you did that to the girl," she said after taking a bite from it. He raised an eyebrow at her and welcomed her to continue.
"You're interested in her. You're curious as of the emotions she feels for the man, or in more common terms, how she loves the man who had brought nothing to her but worry and pain. You seem to forget that with loves come happiness. And without pain there could not be happiness." She explained, taking a bite from the lotus-shaped chocolate every once in a while.
"You're making a bet with the very little humanity she has left. You're one evil creature aren't you?" she asked back, finishing the piece of chocolate, and waited for his reaction. She received a shrug and a nonchalant nod.
"And worst of it all, you want to know whether she loves the man enough, who she thinks is dying, to venture away from God and save him by yielding to you or become selfish by keeping her soul and hope to God that he works his magic on her husbands." She concluded with a sigh and closed up the now empty box and returned it on the aisle.
He grinned at her, shrugging his shoulders and shoved his hands in his pockets. He leaned forward, their faces inches closer, and grinned at her once more.
"How well you know me, Nex." He commented, and even he knew there was bitterness in his tone.
There was a faint voice in his head. It was time. She was to answer. He smirked at her and snapped his fingers and held her hand. "Let's find out shall we." He said, excited.
The next second they reappear in a dark hospital room, the only source of light coming from the beeping monitor next to the patient's bed, with Rachelle next to it weeping.
Sakura disappears in the background, a forlorn expression on her face that he failed to notice. He smirks at the girl, looking at her expectantly. "Well, my dear, shall it be a yes or a no?" he inquired, taking a seat by the edge of the bed and looked down at her tear-strained face.
She frowned and squeezed her husband's hand, hoping to God that he would wake up and take her away from this awful nightmare. There was no reply; no pulse; nothing. She sighed and wiped her tears with the back of her arm and looked into his golden amber orbs.
"Please, just save my Alex," she answered, weeping once more as soon as the word leaves her.
Syoaran smirked at Sakura triumphantly, reaching for Rachelle's hand and placed one soft kiss, leaving his invisible mark on her soul in the process and got up. Disappeared and left.
The lights went on once again and the Vital stats on the screen sky rocketed to normal and his fingers started ticking slowly until his eyelids opened up and he started smiling at her. She jumped onto the bed and into her arms, kissing him continuously until he groaned in pain.
December 25, 2000
Syoaran sat on top of the Hospital's roof, looking at the New York City's bright night life with disgust. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, growling at the memory.
"Breaking News: Christmas Pile up – 10 dead!"
11: 59 p.m.
He felt a wave of faint wind come from behind me and he didn't have to look to find out who it was. He sighed once more and grabbed onto his hair, wanting to pull them out for some reason.
"You've grown too attached to that body of yours, Chrestox." She commented in that faint demure voice of hers.
"Oh shut up! Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, obviously aggravated by the news.
"It wasn't part of the deal. You take your souls. And I take mine. You only tell me who I'm not allowed to take." She answered back, simple and business-like.
He scoffed. And that was the end of their conversation.
12:00 a.m.
December 25, 2021
"Alex Atkinson – World renowned author- signs his Newest Best Seller – The stellar and the Starless – Come before you lose him." "The amazing American author wows the world with his second best seller, catch his book now before its sold out!" "Is Alex Atkinson really having an affair with a twenty-year-old actress?" "How much is the literary rockstar earning now that his book has topped the charts of the New York's Best seller list for two years straight: The Aftermath!"
Syoaran crumples up the newspaper in his hand, scoffing in bitter resentment and throws the ball into a nearby trash can, hugging his leather jacket to him as he looked behind him. Sakura smiled back at him, amused with his dilemma, and gives him his fedora hat.
"You're amused by my misery?" he asked her, curious.
"As you are amused by mine, I assume." She replies simply, nodding.
He chuckled at her reply, and that was the end of it.
a/n: Forgive me for the late update to those who actually read. On my homepage would be a link to my blogspot where I'm officially writing the original plot with the original characters and etc. Sorry for grammar and spelling errors. Help me out? Anyway. Review if you'd like. ^_^
Next chapter?
"Misery loves company, Nex."
"So do you, but then again, you only have me, really."
Out!