Chapter 2
A man sat on his seat facing a very upgraded and advanced computer monitor, pressing some keys on his keyboard. Sets of codes appeared on the screen until a sign appeared.
ERROR: CODE 432! ALERT!
"Tch."
He took his phone just next to the computer, dialed a number and turned away from the monitor. A series of dial tones oozed from the phone until finally the number on the other end picked up.
"Boss? Yes, this is me…I've done what you told me. The file's locked with a security code, I can't hack it without the password." The man turned to the screen again. "Mmm-hmm, that's not impossible. We can find her; we just only need one other fragment in the plan. It'll succeed I'm sure of it." He began typing again. "The other fragment? Don't worry about that. I'm still searching about the perfect person for the task. Yes, it'll lead us to her. You better get that billion ready for me…and her, yes."
After a few more typing, the person in the other end began talking again. The man smiled and nodded.
He pursued another typing and finally a data appeared and he smirked. "Yes, this person is perfect. He'll be good. You say that he's an aristocrat? Perfect."
He stood up and dusted his black pants, grabbed his black and white coat and black hat. He lit a cigarette in his mouth and went to another room. The computer gleamed and the data showed:
Name: Oz Vessalius
Age: 16-17
Birthday: November 17, 1996
Appearance: Emerald green eyes, blonde hair
Description: Born in the Vessalius aristocracy/duke house.
The people I saw were either jogging or doing some sort of exercise that I haven't seen in a while or even before. So much has changed since I left and it turns out that I didn't get that much of a sleep. I'm now sitting on a branch of a tree cross-legged. Nobody had seen me though and I was really sure that they'd be looking for me now or inside their houses, locking up doors and windows and police and their fancy cars roaming throughout the neighborhood. I guess I was wrong, huh? But what I don't get was why they hadn't posted the notice yet. Do they really think I'm just a plain sixteen year old? Had they forgotten what happened last night?
I haven't. In fact, last night was one of the most memorable nights I had. One because I'd escaped; two because that's the first escape that succeeded; and three because I'm angry that I'd to shut off the lights of the big old place where that wonderful winter wonderland stood. Ugh, I hate that idiot.
Oh, now I remember. There's also a number four: because I met that charmingly not charming idiotic blonde boy with emerald green eyes. It's not like I like him but…I hate him and curious of him. Well, not like THAT curious; just plain old, same old curiosity like what they say in the quote: 'curiosity kills the cat'. Yeah, that curiosity. What, you don't believe me? Fine, think what you think, I don't blame you have that stupid brain that doesn't function well. (A/N: Sorry, guys!)
I look like a cheetah. Seriously, me in a jumpsuit and sleeping in a tree look like a cheetah. The only thing that is missing is the spots and no way in hell I am wearing a jumpsuit with spots even if my life depends on it. Or even if I die, I'll die as a woman with dignity.
I'm going crazy—insane. In no time sooner, with me being crazy, someone is going to probably find me and I'll end up inside the cell again, much more worse is that I'll have to face severe punishment for escaping. Then, years later, I would probably do the same thing and then the cycle begins again only at that time, I wouldn't be caught. "Same things don't happen twice," as someone had said. And you might think that I turning myself in would possibly cause those effects and give me happiness in years later, yes, but I don't want to. Why? Do I look like I want to spend another day—another minute—inside that hell hole? And there's no specific time to when I'll escape knowing that when I'd escaped now, they'll be sure to look out for me because they won't know when I'll escape again and they can't have that. And that specific time, I could be thirty, or forty, or maybe fifty, and then what? I would've spent ¾ of my life in that prison if I were to turn myself in. Get the point?
Oh, what am I talking about? Of course, that would NOT happen, not in my life, that is. And I'll make sure that that won't happen even if I die.
Even if I die, huh?
Death; such a wonderful word to me. It reminds me of my parent's death, my sister's. Just the word makes me sound and act like a hypnotized person. If someone were to say that to me, in sheer mock, I'd have to release the urge to kill them. And it's not because that I'm angry that my parents died. Don't get me wrong but I was relieved that they did. But then regret comes in the journey and I hate it. It ruins me; it rips me apart. You know, even me a lunatic killer regrets. I regret the fact that I'd to kill Will for my own reasons. But she would've loved it, anyway. We both hated our parents, despise and loathe, all the same. But I had to do it. Will was even willing to. And you know what she said to me the night she died? She said, "I would have loved it to see their faces." And she smiled. She smiled cynically and maniacally just like I did when I showed it to them.
Gee, I'm mumbling again. Well, so much for that memory progress. Ugh, why can't I have a moment to not thinking that?
"Oh, isn't that nice? A young girl on a tree enjoying the view of the park and the city! I should take a picture of you, you know?" That voice again. I looked down from the branch and there he was, all in his glory looking up to me. Literally, not figuratively. His features were the same as yesterday's still but his hair was less greasy and…more shiny? He's wearing another outfit, polo shirt and jeans, sneakers on his feat. Glasses were positioned on his head and headphones around his neck.
It's not like I'm checking him out! I just thought that I should…know what he looks like in case he reports me to the police, and then I'll be sure to kill him. Yes, that's it.
"What do you care?" I snapped. I did not know why, though.
"Umm, you?"
"I'm not a what, I'm a who! If anything, people can see that I'm a who."
"Well, okay, then, if you say so."
I rolled my eyes. This guy's insane.
A pregnant silence passed through us. I just can't—no; I still can't believe that he made me talk. Damn, why did I? It's not like he's possessing my mouth or something. What's happening in my life? Well, that's a dumb question. Is that all you can come up with, brain? You are so dumb.
But if it's dumb, then so are you.
Shut up conscience.
I can't since, as you say, I'm your conscience.
Oh, so you finally decided to talk, how nice.
Hey, it's not my fault that your parents are stupid idiots. I was blinded by rage.
You mean "OUR" parents.
Same old, same old.
Whatever.
And I'm sure you could say that Will.
Don't you dare change this damn subject! Much more or less to Will.
"Hey, kid in a jumpsuit!" I shot my eyes to him. Blondie decided to talk again, eh? "Are you talking to yourself? 'Cause I'm pretty sure that's a sign of insanity." What, first he's all, lollipops and rainbows and now he's, Mr. Sarcastic and Stating the Obvious? What kind of world does he revolve in?
"I'm already insane, thank you, as you have learned that I am criminal, yesterday." I flipped my hair. It's a habit so don't judge me.
"You didn't do anything wrong, did you?" He asked.
"Of course I did. Gee, I've explained everything yesterday. How dumb can you get? Let me summarize it for you then, I killed my sister. Okay?"
"You didn't say anything like that. And you did?"
"I didn't tell you? Well, now you know, so you better get out of my life. And of course I did."
"Well, I'm pretty sure that you have your reasons." This kid is weird.
"Yes, I have my reasons. The end."
"Mind telling me what they are?"
"Yes."
"Come on."
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"For a friend?"
"Wait—"
"I won't bite."
"No—"
"PLEAAASSEE?"
"SHUT UP!" I screamed. He looked at me. "Geez, you do realize that I just met you last night, right? That hardly makes any reason to call me your friend. And besides, who are you to tell me to tell you about those reasons? For all I know, knowing me killing my sister is crime enough to put some sense in your useless brain to…I dunno, call the police or something." I glanced at him. "And besides, if I tell you to scram off, you'd do that since I'm a killer."
He processed this for a moment. "But do you like it there?" I raised an eyebrow. "I mean, if you were to go to prison, you'd like it there—or, do you like it there?"
This guy should be a lawyer or a psychologist. He's really, really good at asking questions. Unconsciously, I shook my head. He's got a point, you know. The prison is really stinky with bloody stenches and other stenches that I'm not familiarly familiar. It really does STINK. It's a mix between a smell of poo, pee and blood, and something….
"Well, if you don't like it there, then I won't call the police." He smiled. "After all, what's a life without comfort? And it would be too...unfair for people to have others luxury and them not. I mean, there's the government for peace, you know? And putting people in prison to see those free men outside is unfair."
I closed my eyes. This a continuation from yesterday? Yes, I guess so. "You know, you sound like one of those crappy heroes in TV. They just think they're the boss and justice is served. You don't know my life so it would be best to just stay out of it."
"I'm trying to help you."
"And I'm trying to save you." I faced him. "Make this a favor that I won't repeat in possibly a life time. My life is filled with different jokes, different problems, and different puzzles to solve. And each of those has a price to pay. It could be freedom, life, or death. Nothing's going to help me especially you. I've injured many people already and I can't bear to see everybody suffering because of me. Do you think that I'm some heartless criminal? If you did, well you thought wrong."
Another silence erupted and I settled on the trunk of the tree, crossed my legs and began playing with some of my hair. Gee, I've never said that to anyone in my life before. I'd kept it inside of me for long before I could remember. Long before I my eyes were opened to puberty. I'd kept it inside ever since my parents decided to try to disown me. Me and Will.
And I could still remember the day that it started.
"What are you two doing?" My 'mother' snapped.
Will looked down in shame at the broken cookie on the floor. "You worthless little insignificant brats! Do you know how much time it cost me to clean the floor? And yet here YOU are ruining my perfect home! Get out here you worthless pests!"
I just sat there looking shocked. She was the one who raised us and we had thought that she'll be the most perfect human mother anyone could dream for. I guess it was just a misunderstanding. But she seemed to love us before; why change now?
The doorbell rang and my - our mother huffed opening the door. Father came in. Both of them had a whispered conversation together until they both entered the room. Guess what they did? They took mine and Will's dolls from our hands and tore them apart. BIT by LITTLE BIT. BEFORE OUR EYES. Those two dolls were our favorites. Sure, they were ragged and ugly but they were our favorites nonetheless. And they knew it.
They took two scissors...and they cut the dolls' heads. I could hear Will yelp in pain. Anger boiled inside me.
When they were done, they put the scissors away and let the two stuffed toys fall to the ground. Will was already trying to refrain not to cry.
I won't cry. Crying is for the weak, I kept telling myself.
And there's no such thing as weak in me.
So, you already know the details. Me killing my sister after the hardships and all. Made any sense yet? Well, if you doesn't, try figuring that out yourselves unless you want my self get another temper of explaining obvious things to you.
...
...
...
"Hey, are you hungry?" I looked down again. He was still there? For a minute, I'd thought that he'd left, like what most conscious people do - the people with brains. But what's to be expected with an idiot, huh?
But to answer his question, my stomach gurgled. Wrong timing, food basket, wrong timing.
He smiled. He took out his hand and I'm pretty sure that he's expecting me to grab it since his expression turned to confusion the next moment.
Well, I am pretty hungry, though. But I won't give it as an advantage to trust with this guy.
But maybe...
No.
Maybe...
No.
But...
No.
Look, it's either you die or continue escaping until your plan succeeds, Alice. And I'm not sure about the latter.
Hmm, got a point there. But no.
Hmm, food sounds tantalizing, though. You hadn't had regular food in a while, right, Alice?
That hand was persistent and it was taking a while to decide...I'm NOT narrating about the war in my had, OKAY?
You could ditch him after you've eaten, Alice, just go!
UGH! I can't believe I'm doing this.
"Ms. Rainsworth," the man in the hat greeted. He lighted a cigarette from his pocket and held it with both hands. Blowing a puff of smoke, he glanced up at the figure in front of him.
A young lady, looking more like in the middle of her teens, bowed lightly, her dress made of soft silk and laces, crumpled slightly. This, she smoothed out later and sat back down with grace and sipped a cup of Mint Tea.
"Is the plan ready, Gil?" She asked. Her dainty little pinkies put up as she ate a slice of sandwich. It was three in the afternoon and the young lady was always trained to have tea time at that time.
"I don't think if it's ready yet or not. Only you can say that." The man, Gil, took off his hat and settled in front of her. The chair was comfortable, made of soft pillows and cushions. The sheets were of silk and cotton. It was an expensive chair, but what do you get when you're one of Britain's important figures?
"True, true," the woman replied. She snapped her eyes open. "I have arranged a meeting with Principal Oscar, the...manager of the Vessalius' family school."
"Ah, already?"
"Well, at times like these, I would want to help the person carrying out the plans for the conductor, yes?"
"You really are something, Ms. Rainsworth."
"From the blood, Gil. We Rainsworth have been the most intelligent dukedom in Britain. It is necessary to be prepared."
"Surprisingly not."
"Now, enough chitchat. Your appointment starts tomorrow."
Gil began to stand up. Ms. Rainsworth set down her teacup, from China, might I add, made from porcelain. "Oh, and, Gil? Try not to get carried away from the plan, yes? You are not there to teach - well, partly - you are there to infiltrate the Vessalius dukedom...and when we are done with that, we'll move on to the Baskervilles."
At the name, Gil turned around. His face was with confusion. "The Baskervilles? But they have been dead for at least 7 years now. Are you sure about that, Milady?"
"The rest have. One didn't. That girl, Gil, has survived. From the secured government data I've managed to hack into, there's this girl - a Baskerville - whom they kept into captive. We need to kill her, else our plan will fail and the Nightrays and the Rainsworth will no longer be out of the prophecy. And we can't have that, can we, Gil?"
He smirked.
Oh, no, they can't.
haha, sorry for the late update! School's been threatening me lately and it's the new term...Dammit for being early. SO, I had my birthday and here's having a typhoon. I"ll update as soon as I can. :)
Laters!
LUV YALL! Chira somes! ;)
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Cutiepie120048: Thanks...hope you read this.
Catrina7077: Thank you ;) I naturally hope you read this chapter and everything.
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SOOO CATCH YA LATER!