"You are an embarrassment to our whole family!" The king's voice dripped with averseness as he walked in front of me to the third floor. We'd taken the backside route so that nobody would intercept our path, or in other words interrupt the king in what be was going to do. I, walking after him like a leashed person, did everything that I don't say anything to give him further satisfaction. "To think you'd take a liking to a Five was already too much, but to give her the book that has the most indispensable information of our country just like that to impress her was over the line. And to defend her! I should have eliminated her a long while ago."
I said nothing, just kept my head high and back straight. My back flexed on its own accord, reminder of all the lashing it has endured, yet this time felt different. This time I wasn't afraid. Yes, I was still terrified, but just because for a moment I'd envisioned America in my place.
I would abide with thousand such beatings than have America in my place.
"What else does she know?"
"What are you talking about?"
"The books, you idiot child! How many books did you give her?"
"Just that one."
"Did you read it first?"
"No. I didn't find it to my liking." That was the truth. I'd taken that particular diary and a few others when I was young to read it but stopped after reading a couple of pages. I'd found it quite boring and I had many other important things to do, such as roam the world before the burden of the kingdom falls on my shoulder.
"Well, I take the credit for that particular thing. I should've made you read them in the first place."
"What are they about?"
"Something you'll learn only by reading them." He turned and gave me a puzzled look. "You know, I always thought Amberly was going too loose on you by letting you do anything you want. Befriending your butler was fine, but stopping you from taking over your duties wasn't. I shouldn't have done it. And now look at what you've done. Protecting a Five who isn't worthy of your protection in the first place!" his voice increased in pitch as he finished it.
"That's my place to decide." I murmured , my voice steady.
He chuckled. "There is still so much you have yet to learn, boy."
We took the final turn that took us to the hallway where his office was. He opened the door and mentioned for me to go in first. The room was completely covered in darkness, the only light coming through the open curtains. I heard the door close and soon enough the lights were everywhere. For the moment the darkness was more soothing than the heavily lightened room.
I heard a chair scrape against the floor and a cork opening. Still I didn't turn. My eyes were fixed on my favourite spot in the whole room. It was a small sculpture of a man holding his child with his finger as they walked. Everytime I looked at it, I always imagined what my father should have been: like the one in the sculpture. Loving, caring; with a big smile on his face as he looked at his son. I had that when I was Five. This sculpture was gifted to us by my Godfather, Eulond Wolfé. We'd went to Germany for a three day holiday.
Somewhere along the way I'd lost my Father. What I now had was just a shadow of him. The king had devoured my Dad. There wasn't a day when I didn't miss my Dad, but for the first time I wished my Dad was actually here rather than the king, who'd sit by my side and tell me where I was wrong rather than showing me what happened when I was wrong.
"Is there something else that you'd given her," he murmured from behind me, his slurry, deathly voice tickling my neck in anticipation, "as a gift or a souvenir?"
"Does it matter?" I said instead of answering. "You're going to eliminate her anyway."
"Careful, boy. You're crossing a line."
This time I laughed. Waving a hand I started removing my coat. "Can we get over it already?"
"Why so impatient? Are you going to meet her tonight? In the late hours?" When I said nothing, he chuckled. "Did you really think you were unnoticed everytime you went to meet her in the late hour? I always have my eyes on you."
"What do you want me to say?" I shouted, turning around. My temper was getting loose. Everytime I'd opted for silence when I was around him, giving him the upper hand myself, but not today. I was done cowering. No longer would I be afraid of him who never thought about me as his own child but just a means to an end. "That I'm sorry for that? Because I'm not! Or are you pleased that we're not on talking terms now? Then gloat already."
"Oh, I'm merely showing you my curiosity, boy. Don't waste your temper on that."
I chuckled, unbuttoning my cufflinks. "Oh, yes. Because that's what you do everytime, don't you? I asked you just for one thing: to be my father for one goddamn day, but I forgot who I was talking to!" in trying to remove the cufflinks, they broke and fell on the floor, the sound reverberating in the else silent room.
"Don't give me that crap, Maxon! You always do stupid things and I have to clear everything out, every single time. And this time you crossed a line. Giving her the book—"
"What is in the damn book that you can't even listen to me for one single second?" I yelled.
"Something important."
"Oh right, I forgot you don't trust me to keep your secrets." I finally unbuttoned my shirt and it fell on the floor as I removed it. Taking my usual position, I knelt in the middle of the room. "Just start already. Before Mom comes here to find you."
"As you wish, Your Highness."
My lips curled into a snarl but I kept them sealed to not show any expression.
A wardrobe opened and closed. The sound of a metal clinking against the wall echoed in the room as it was tested. The belt slashed and a trial lash made me flinch, even when I was trying to remain void of every emotion or thought.
"We can avoid this, you know," The king suggested. I couldn't look but I could feel him close to me. "All you have to do is punish that Five for what she did today and you'll be excused."
"Never!" I would much rather never see it like that.
He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. The sound of the leather belt cutting air was enough to prepare me for his answer. It stuck my back, slashing from my shoulder to waist, and my back flinched again, crying to agony. I didn't utter a word, remained silent, my eyes seeing America's face behind the lids. Anything for her but not this.
"Only if you'd taken my word and act accordingly, you would've never felt what it feels like."
I said nothing.
He took my silence as encouragement and lashed out once again, this time striking from my shoulder blade to my hip. My deep inhale was the only response he got from me.
"You ask me what you did wrong. This is where you're wrong." He slashed again. This time over the first wound that it became difficult to keep my breathing from shaking. "Protecting a girl at the cost of getting yourself hurt in the process."
My lips remained closed even when all I wanted to remind him that he would've done the same thing for Mom.
"I asked you just for one thing." He slashed again. I jolted as the pain grew. My breathing was getting more loud. "Don't do anything stupid, and all you do is defying me everytime."
He slashed again. The belt cut the air as it landed on my back, cutting my other shoulder blade to my mid-back. I jolted as it stuck home.
"Do you have any idea how much I hate to do this to you?" he murmured conversationally as he stuck again to show what he was taking about. "But you never gave me another choice. You always messed everything up. Never cared for rules! Never cared for what you represent!" Another slash before I could take a deep breath to recover from the previous ones. "All I wanted to do was prepare you to become a good king, a king that this country wants," another slash, "and you couldn't put effort to learn anything."
Another slash.
I jolted.
It was becoming difficult to stay on my knees anymore. I was already swaying on my knees, trying desperately to regain some balance but the pain was too much to do anything.
"Just go!" He said. For good or for worse, he sounded tired. "You have to prepare yourself for tomorrow when your favourite will be eliminated."
With great effort I stood up and regained my balance. My back was screaming with pain, my breathing too hard and difficult.
As I slowly started to clothe myself again, he sat on his chair, a tumbler in his hand filled with whisky. He drank it in one sip and refilled it again.
Soon I fastened my coat after a little difficulty and was ready to go the hell out of this room. "Not so soon, Maxon." The king ordered. With a click of his wrist, he motioned for me to sit. "Sit. I won't bite."
Was he trying for humour, because it was cringe worthy?
I didn't follow his order. I stood by the gate, waiting for him to finish with whatever he wanted to do.
"The books...you asked me what was so important in those books. The answer to that is in those books itself, so I guess it's a good time to go back up in the library and read them."
"And if I won't? Will you answer me directly then?"
"I wasn't making a request, Maxon. This is something that was supposed to be done a great deal of time ago, but it's never too late. Go and read them tomorrow itself."
I gave him a short nod. Without waiting for his order, I was out of his office.
Leaning against the wall, I took a few breaths and tried to calm myself. It wouldn't help if I wasn't calm. Soon Mom or Justin would come looking for me. They can't see me like this. I refuse to let the king hurt my Mom or friend.
Taking a deep breath, I braced myself. My back was screaming, yet I made my way to the room on the first floor in the hospital wing where my emergency kit was always kept and updated by my nurse Katherine. The floor was empty, which meant no distractions or obstacles. I made my way to the room. Once in there, I leaned against the wall once again, taking a few deep breaths.
Today had been worse. The lashes were too harsh, too many. The scars were screeching like nothing, my back in so much pain I could hardly stand. And everything because he felt he could do it just because something wasn't going like he wanted it to. I could feel him in every lash. It was his way of projecting his anger. Not just towards me or America, but also towards the rebels against whom he couldn't do anything.
That doesn't make me any less of a pawn.
Taking another deep breath and exhaling it slowly, I straightened. My back was demanding of me to lie down or sit but I refused. I couldn't handle the pain, least of all sitting or lying without treatment.
I felt the wall until I found the switchboard. Switching on all the lights, I relaxed slightly as the room bathed in light.
The room was much or less a storage room. My kit was usually hidden here under and behind the cartons. It was Katherine's duty to check it everytime and update it as per need. She was the only one who knew something about why I always needed these ointments and bandages, but even she didn't know the whole truth. I had no idea how she will react when she does. Sitting silently was not it.
Once I found the kit—a metal box with all the things I'd require—I made my way out of the room...
...and collided with America.
My heart jolted in happiness on seeing her all good and fine. Also angry on her that she did what she'd done today. Mad on why she didn't tell me earlier, and sad because this would be the last time I'll be seeing her. My mind was overwhelmed with all the emotions upon seeing her that along with my pain, I groaned leaning against the wall.
"What are you doing out of your room?" I asked, hoping she doesn't catch how hard it was for me to form coherent words right now, as I bent down slowly to pick up my first–aid box.
"I was going to the gardens." She gave me a small smile. "I'm trying to figure out if I did something stupid or not."
I chuckled as I stood up, slowly and carefully to not jostle my wounds again. "Oh, I can assure you it was stupid."
"Do you need help?"
"No!" I answered too quickly. Taking a deep breath, I tried again. Without looking at her, I said, "Just heading to my room. And I suggest you do the same."
"Maxon." There was so much pain in her small voice I couldn't help but look at her. "I'm so sorry. I was mad, and I wanted to...I don't even know anymore. And you were the one who said there were perks to being a One, that you could change things."
I rolled my eyes at her applied honesty. Of course she would find a way to do it herself, without caring about what she was doing or her consequences. "You're not a One." Both of us were silent for a minute, looking at each other. She looked away first. "Even if you were, did you not pay attention at all to the way I'm doing things?" I murmured, trying to fill in the silence as well as make her understand something important. "It's quiet and small. That's how it has to be for now. You can't go on television complaining about the way things are run and expect to have my father's, or anyone's, support."
"I'm sorry!" she cried, searching my eyes. "I'm so sorry."
I took another deep breath. My back was screaming in pain but I couldn't leave her here another without a good closure.
"I'm not sure that—"
We both heard the sound at the same time. It felt like someone was crying for help.
She looked at me. Gazing into her eyes, I shook my head. Stepping in front of her, we ventured ahead to see what was going on.
What was going on, I wondered. If a fight broke out, or it was something big...
A few more steps and we were near the main hallway, from where we could hear things more clearly. As we got more closer to the intersection of the main hallway and the doors to the gardens, we saw guards come flooding toward the area.
"Sound the alarm!" Someone yelled. "They're through the gates!"
"Gins at the ready!" Another cried, giving orders.
"Alert the king!" Another guard shouted, running towards the garden gates.
It was a mess in here after that. Things started flying out of nowhere, hitting everywhere and everyone. A guard got stuck with a wooden stick on his leg and fell down, striking whatever he can with his gun. Something else was thrown—a glass piece—which found its mark on a guard's chest and he fell back, screaming in pain.
America shouted as the guard fell, trying to run to him for help, but I made sure she remained behind me.
Because it wasn't just a fight but a massacre in here. A rebel attack.
A Southern rebel attack.
And it was just about to get worse.
And worse of all, we were here in the middle.
We have to hide now. Go in the safer room before it's too late.
But how? They were everywhere.
And the way the slaughter was happening...
A guard must have seen us as he ran to us. Panting, he said, "You have to get downstairs now!"
Without another word he put his hand on my throbbing back and turned me around, pushing me forward to the empty corridors of the hospital wing. The pain was so severe I dropped the bag as a loud grunt came out of my mouth. The guard hesitated, and gently put his hand on my elbow, guiding me to a direction I didn't know. All I knew was that America was following me with my bag on her hands and the shouts of the guards as they fought the Southern rebels.
A few steps more and my back screamed in unbearable pain. I could feel blood dripping from all the scabs on my back and sweat on my temples. "I won't make it."
Before I could tell him to protect America, he looked at me and nodded in understanding. "Yes, sir. This way."
As fast as he could take us, he took us to a corner that was almost deserted. There was no passage leading away from here, which meant a safe room. He felt his way through the wall until he found the switch and the safe door behind the painting opened. The door opened to show a dark room, with next to no furniture visible under this dark. It was one of the guards' safe room.
Without hesitation, I went in. I heard America follow me.
Turning around, I told the guard, "Tell my mother that America and I are safe. Do that before anything else."
He nodded and gave me a salute. "Absolutely, sir. I'll come back for you myself when this is over."
The siren finally made a sound. With everything in me I hoped everyone was safe. Mom, Father, the Elites and all the guards and staff as well. I didn't want to lose anyone else to these monsters.
I gave him a nod in farewell and he shut the door close, hiding us from one of the most horrifying rebel attack.
There was nothing now but wait for all of these to be over.
I felt my way through the wall until I hit the switch board. Flicking on every switch, the room bathed in a dim light. The room was as every guard's safe room was to be. A big enough bench to support five people, a sink in the corner, along with a small toilet. And a few shelves, holding medicines, necessities, blankets and bedrolls. There were a couple hidden guns and pistols in the floorboards, and a couple shafts lined up beside the shelves.
"At least this is one of the good ones." I didn't want to get stuck in a room with no lights or equipment.
It was getting difficult to stand, and more difficult to walk. Hobbling, I reached the bench and sat with great care.
"What's wrong?" America asked, concerned.
I wanted to laugh at her rhetoric question. Everything was wrong. There was nothing right about any of what has happened this day or the past month. Still I said "Nothing." There was no need to worry her anymore with my family drama or what I was facing as a prince.
With my elbows propped on my knees, I bent forward to change my posture, hoping it will provide me a little relief. My shirt was sticking to my wounds, creating unwanted friction. As I closed my eyes, I could only see the guards attacked and in agony, fighting the guards or fighting for life. I wondered if the guard who were hurt will be able to live another day? Or if the guard who sent us here in this safe room was safe or not? If he gave my message to Mom or not?
Everything was horribly wrong.
She sat beside me, placing my box in front of us. "I'm guessing those were Southern rebels?"
I nodded. I couldn't form any coherent words. My breathing was becoming too fast again.
I wanted a distraction. From all of these.
Luckily for me, America helped me in that.
"Are we safe here?"
"Yes. This is one of the places for servants. If they happen to be down in the kitchen and storage area, they're pretty safe as it is. But the ones running about doing chores might not be able to get there quickly enough. It's not quite as safe as the big room for the royal family, and we have supplies to survive down there for quite some time; but these work in a pinch."
"Do the rebels know?"
"They might." I tried to sit straight, but ended up wincing. "But they can't get in once the rooms are in use." A deep breath. "There are only three ways out. Someone with a key has to activate it from the outside, someone with a key can activate it from the inside"—I patted my pocket to where the key was always present, which meant we could go out as per our wish, the only drawback being we have no idea how the condition outside was. The rooms were so brilliantly made that no sound penetrated these walls. Once shut, there was no way for the rebels to know a safe room was here if they had no idea where to look.—"or you have to wait for two days. After forty-eight hours, the doors automatically open." My breathing was getting hard again. The pain again becoming unbearable. "The guards check every safe room once the danger has passed...but there's always a chance they could miss one; and without the delayed-unlocking mechanism, someone could be...stuck in here forever."
With a desperate try to change my position, I leaned forward, hoping bending will help, but it ended up fruitless as I couldn't help but grunting in pain.
She muttered my name, worry lacing the three syllables.
"I can't...I can't take it anymore." There was no other way around. "America, help with my coat?"
Flexing my arms was more difficult than I thought it would be. It felt like my whole body was in ice and fire altogether. She helped me take off the coat. Once done I let it drop on the floor and started working on the vest. I found another set of hands helping me. Once undone, she started working on my shirt.
That's when I remembered that she'll see my scars for the first time.
I'd always thought whomever I'll tell will be in a special way and not in these circumstances, but...
Grabbing her wrists in my hand, I gazed in her eyes, because this meant so much more to me than she'll understand.
"Your record for keeping secrets isn't that impressive right now." I murmured, my eyes fixed on her. She swallowed, her eyes asking mine to trust her. "But this is one that goes to your grave. And mine. Do you understand?"
She nodded. Releasing her hands slowly, I let my hands fall.
She started working on my shirt, being gentle. I remembered how I'd imagined this day would come and how. In my dream world, it would have been happening just after she said yes. We'd have laid together on the bed, with my shirt off and she in only her nightgown. Of course we'd have honoured the rules of the country and not involve in the physical intimacy, but still we'd have been inseparable.
The reality was a cry away from the dream world.
I wondered if she'd also fantasized about me...
In the sun light of the room, I could feel her cheeks blazing with her flush. I wanted to graze her cheeks with my fingers, feel her warmth and make her look at me, tell her it was fine by me and I would always want her...
Once undone, I saw her eyes stuck on my chest. In all the craziness of the past month, I wanted to laugh at the normality of this moment.
Slowly, gently, she removed the shirt off. It first came off easily but got stuck on my back, making a sticky, slippery sound. She tried to remove it harshly but I told her to be gentle. She nodded and got up.
Before I could ask what she was planning, she stepped behind me and put her hands on my chest, slowly removing the shirt.
It was my nightmare given life.
I always knew I'd have to tell my wife about my scars but I thought about crossing that bridge when it happens.
But in that picture I never thought of America as the one seeing it, because I knew she'll be horrified, angry on behalf of me. She was spontaneous, and she'll do anything to avenge me, even if it includes letting the truth out.
I closed my eyes, not wanting to witness that moment.
As I'd feared, she gasped in shock. I could only imagine how bloody my shirt will appear. Or how much blood to be precise. I didn't see my new collection of them, but the way they made me gasp for breath on every lash, it was clear it is going to be a mess.
Her hands stopped working for a moment. She was mortified. She pitied me, I thought, but after a few moments, I felt her hands laying on my chest move in soothing circles. Slowly, too slowly and gently, she finally got the shirt off of me. She moved as if in trance, and hung the shirt along with the coat on the hooks on the walls.
All the while I watched her sideways, waiting for her reaction or something.
I could hear her thoughts, wondering who and hows and whys and whens.
Fumbling around, she finally stumbled to a cloth. I heard the water running. She must be finding something to clean the wounds.
It was the first time someone will be here to take care of me. Something that had never happened before—something I'd never let happen.
A small part of me was mortified to have someone take care of me and pamper me; while another small part of me was glad to have someone with whom I can talk about this.
I didn't know how to react to this. Should I tell her how sorry I was she saw this, or tell her why this happened or when. Or should I keep my mouth shut and act as if this was nothing, after all she was going to be eliminated tomorrow.
But a big part of me was happy that she was the first Elite to see this. Something I'd thought I'd do but not in these particular circumstances.
She appeared after a few minutes beside me once again, a wet cloth in her hand. "This might sting a little." She warned, stepping closer to me.
Turning around to prepare myself, I nodded in understanding. "It's okay." I'd done it many times to know that—I'd learnt it the hard way after all. "I'm used to it."
I felt the cold cloth first before the sting. She started cleaning a wound from my shoulder to back. I flinched once or twice, but she held me strong. Soon the first one was done and she started to work on the second one.
The silence grew on me. Deciding to talk sometime, I decided to tell her everything about the scars on my back.
"I've been preparing for tonight for years, you know? I've been waiting for the day when I was strong enough to take him on."
Today was the first time I'd spoken in front of him in disrespectful manner. I'd always succumbed to remaining silent, but not today. I'd always wondered how it will feel like to stand against him. Turns out it felt as much amazing as it stung.
"Why didn't you?"
There was no other way to tell her other than honesty. "I was afraid if he didn't have me, he'd want you."
I felt her trembling fingers on my back, the way they paused midwork. I could imagine her getting overwhelmed by this news. Thinking of me trying to protect her and my Father trying to take her to get on me. I could easily imagine her holding her tears back, a stern yet determined look on her face, promising she won't cry...or to get onto other by planning something stupid.
A few moments later I felt her hands moving again. "Does anyone know?"
"No."
"Not the doctor? Or your mother?"
My Mom. Never.
"The doctor must, but he's quiet. And I would never tell my mother or even give her a reason to suspect. She knows Father is stern with me, but I don't want her to worry. And I can take it." I could feel with the way her dabbing had gone impatient and fast. She was making her own conclusions. So I told her, "He's not like this with her. She gets mistreated in her own ways, I suppose, but not like this."
She said nothing, just hummed as an answer.
She was now on my fifth wound, cleaning up as carefully as she could.
"Damn, that stings."
She waited till I got myself under control again. After a few deep breaths, I have her a small nod and she resumed her cleansing again.
I kept thinking about the irony. A few weeks ago it was caning which separated us as far as we could go, and now here we were, once again together because I was canned in a way. Fate has its own humour, and I had no idea what it had stored for me. Maybe it was its twisted way of making up to me for taking her away from me, by giving me one last decent evening with her without any usual drama. Today, no matter what the circumstances or situation, it was just the two of us.
"I have more sympathy for Carter and Marlee than you know." I said aloud, thinking how far we've come. Has it only been one month? "These things take awhile to stop hurting, especially if you're determined to take care of them on your own."
I had a first hand experience of this. The first time I'd been lashed, there was no one with me to dress me up. That was the day I'd promised myself I will never cry again, and make sure something like this never happens. Of course I was able to keep the first promise safe—most of the times—but not the second one. It had been broken many times that I'd lost count.
"What are the others for?" she wondered in a small voice. "Never mind. That's rude."
I shrugged. I shouldn't have done that—it hurt. "Things I said or did." Things that I shouldn't have done or for things I should have done. "Things I know."
An evening a long time ago came into my mind, when it all started. I shrugged it off.
"Things I know." She added. "Maxon, I'm so..." her breathing hitched.
She was going to cry.
Reaching behind me, I searched and found her knee. I patted it slowly, hoping she calms. I could now handle crying girls, thanks to her, but not her. "How are you going to finish fixing me up if you're crying?"
My humour worked. She laughed, even if it was a little bit hitched.
She completed her cleaning and threw the cloth away. "Do you think there are any bandages in here?"
"The box."
While she looked in the box, I tried to flex my back. It stung a little, but on the plus side I couldn't feel any liquid oozing out of my back or running down.
She found something from the box. It was an ointment and a few bandages along with a tape and a cream and a solution.
"Why don't you have bandages in your room?"
"Sheer pride. I was determined never to need them again."
She came around to stand beside me once again. With her hands on my bare shoulder, she murmured, "This might hurt." I nodded as an answer.
Even when I knew how much it'll sting, still I wasn't prepared. As she applied the solution on my skin, I grunted in pain. It stung, bad. She apologized by squeezing my shoulder once. Gently, as carefully as she could, she applied the solution on my skin with light hands.
Slowly I felt myself relax. The medics were working. My back was numb. I couldn't feel much pain now. She slowly started to start with the bandages.
Now that the pain was gone, I chuckled. I was surprised myself to hear my actual laugh—where I snorted little in the end. I hadn't laughed like this—freely—since weeks. To think that I'll laugh like this again in front of her, in such precarious times...
"I knew my secret would come out eventually. " I said aloud. "'ve been trying to come up with a good story for years. I was hoping to find something believable before the wedding since I knew my wife would see them, but I'm still stumped. Any ideas?"
She worked silently for a moment. "The truth works." She answered at last.
I nodded. I already knew that my options other than truth were limited. "Not my favourite option. Not for this anyway."
"I think I'm done." She said, stepping back.
I tried to flex my back again, twisted a little, moving gingerly. There was no pain. The medics were working wonderfully. Katherine must have updated my box since the last time. Finally I turned around, looking at her after a long time. "That's great, America! Better than any job I ever did."
"Anytime."
She gave me a small smile.
Again there was nothing but silence between us—an awkward silence. There were so many things to be said and heard but I didn't want to spoil the moment we've been gifted with. It was rare to have some time just to ourselves without anyone else breathing above our necks.
Her eyes bored into mine, searching for something. She blinked and darted them, her gaze going to my bared chest. A blush rose on her sweating cheeks. Even when we were under such a messy setting, she was still the most beautiful girl I've set my eyes on.
"I'm going to wash your shirt." She muttered, mostly to herself.
As she busied herself, washing my ruined shirt under the basin in cold water. I let her do it. While she was busy, I wondered if there was still a way to keep her here. But I knew my Father. There was none. And America wanted to be out herself. If she showed the minute willingness to stay here, I'll pull anything out to keep her here. But as I'd promised her when she first came here, if she wanted a passage out, she'll have one. I won't stop her.
Maybe Mom was right. She was my One, but that doesn't mean I'll have my happy ending with her. Maybe it was meant to be just like this.
If this was the end, then both of us needed the perfect closure to end it properly. The seeds must be spilled out. She has to know about why I was Kriss and Celeste. What were my reasons. Why. I needed to be honest with her one last time. Even if it meant breaking the perfect moment in this demise by speaking of the other girls.
When she turned around after finishing it up, I was still looking at her, wondering if I should do it. But one look at her and I knew she deserves to know everything. I couldn't let her go without her knowing it. What difference it made anyway? She wanted a way out, she got one. I could only make sure her exit was as grand as her welcome was.
"Why don't you ever ask questions I actually want to answer?" I wondered. Everytime I'd wished she ask me something—anything—she'd remained silent or walked out on me. She always took what she saw to her heart rather than hearing me out.
"I didn't know I did that."
I almost rolled my eyes. "You do."
She sat in front of me on the floor, not caring of her dress like the other girls do.
"Well, what am I not asking that you want me to?" she phrased.
I let out a long frustrated breath. Leaning forward, I put my elbows on my knees. The pain on my back was still there, under the effect of medics. At least it was a relief. Unlike what I was going to say.
"Don't you want me to explain Kriss and Celeste?" Her eyes widened. She wasn't expecting this. "Don't you think you deserve that?"