Chapter 4:

Moonlight

It was around seven at night when Mireille arrived in the apartment. The moment she squeaked open the door, she looked and listened. Now . . . to see if she's still here. So far, I'm inside and no signs of reactions.

Mireille flicked off her black boots and started walking cautiously down the hallway that led to her pool table, hand ready to grab her gun out of her purse. She assumed Chloe was hiding in order to strike first.

Yet, two minutes later, after scavenging the area with her gun aimed, it was clear that Chloe was gone. Mireille's heart fluttered with relief and rejoice. She exhaled, smiling. No signs of life.

Quickly, yet lazily, she fetched her pink fuzzy bathrobe, undressed, and slipped into it.

Now that she's gone, I can feel security and privacy again in my own abode . . .

Mireille grabbed a new magazine to read from her mail box. The place has been running cold for a while. She left a long time ago.

She sauntered toward the bathroom. Wow. It feels good to be free of Chloe and Valerie . . . no Soldats . . .

Once inside the bathroom, Mireille slowly slipped out of her bathrobe as if opening wings of renewal.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Huh? Did I put the shower on?

Drip. Drip. Drip—PSHHHHH!

Staring, Mireille grabbed hold of the shower curtain and ripped it aside. Sprays of water covered Chloe, who slowly rinsed and cloaking herself in shampoo and soap.

Scared half to death, Mireille whipped her magazine in front of her to shield her nude body from sight. She screamed, "CHLOE! GET OUT OF MY SHOWER!"

Chloe stared at her, then continued combing water and shampoo through her hair. "You've been gone for a while, Corsican—"

"Nuh-uh! Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, WRONG!" burst Mireille, retreating behind the shower curtain. After putting on her bathrobe, she threw a towel at Chloe even though the girl was still showering disrespectfully. "Get out! Stay out of my shower, stay out of my apartment, stay out of my life!"

"What's wrong, Corsican—never seen a nude woman before?" said Chloe rather blankly, numb by the situation.

"Not until now, and I don't plan to from now on—now, out!"

After Chloe coiled herself in the towel, Mireille pushed her out of the bathroom, demanding that the girl throw her burlap cloak and black suit on again.

"I've done it before with my other half—"
"Good for you." Mireille pushed Chloe out of the apartment and into the hallway after the assassin finished dressing. "You're out here for the night."

"Anger management issues," said Chloe, brushing her warm, wet, maroon bangs from her eyes.

Mireille slammed the door in Chloe's face. Then, she slowly slid down to the floor. It wasn't Chloe mentioning bathing with Kirika nude that overwhelmed her—it was that she had to tend to Chloe's needs. She didn't waste her time feeding Chloe, so she certainly didn't want to meet the girl's needs in any other way. If the cloaked assassin wanted a shower, she should buy her own shampoo and new clothes and maybe her own house.

A tear fell. ". . .This is so stupid. I hate it, and I hate her." Mireille hung her head. "Kirika . . . help."

Even when Mireille never acknowledged it to Kirika, she had always known about Kirika's silent attempts to console the Corsican. Why Mireille didn't respond or reach out first hurt even more, as she reminscenced back on the most insignificant quiet moments between them.

I don't know what to do . . . I don't want her to be here.

Chloe, who laid against the wall in the hallway, blinked, adjusting her eyes to the moist, black velvet-like darkness engulfing her. She sighed, holding a strand of her wet hair in her finger. I don't know where to go. I don't want to be here. I guess . . . I'll just have to sleep out here for the night.

As Chloe got comfortable, her mind flew back to Kirika's time of death. After all, the only person she could ever think of, besides Altena, was Kirika. And now dreading over the painful truth that Kirika was gone and not Noir with her, troubled Chloe.

Why . . .? Why'd you do it?

"Why?" whispered Chloe as Kirika gave her last effort to breathe her last words, words that brought and ended this chaos.

"Because . . . hatred can . . . never save."

"But why? Why for HER?" Chloe nearly screamed out her words of confused pain. She clenched her teeth, nearly banging her head against the wall behind her.

Inside the apartment, Mireille buttoned up her nightshirt. She tried to console herself. I've been crying too much. I should get some sleep. The blonde flopped herself onto her bed, nesting her arms behind her head, glaring at the same ceiling. And I need to get rid of her. It's the only way I'll be free from my pain . . . she just acts and looks like Kirika too much.

Chloe lifted her heavy eyes, noticing how they were bblinded by a distant, silver light. At the far end of the hallway, pearl-like light washed into the room, painting a silver reflection of the window it passed through. Chloe's eyes brightened up with joy and tumbling emotion at the sight of the clean belly of silver.

Chloe smiled as the silver smiled back. "I remember. The moonlit tea party. My dear, are you . . . smiling?"

If that moon is you smiling, Kirika, then I guess it means I can sleep in peace, thought Mireille, as she peered over the wall that hung over her small bed at the moon through the window.

. . . As long as you sing me a lullaby and watch over me as I sleep. Chloe settled herself underneath the window that captured the moon's image. The moon blanket her into a loving, silvery cradle, humming its lullaby inaudible.