By mid afternoon, the reception that was supposed to honor my sister was in full swing. I'd expected it to be a quiet ordeal, in which everyone paused to murmur meaningless condolences and attempt to comfort us after our loss. That it was, but I hadn't expected to hear laughter. By three o'clock, nearly everyone was smashed on vodka tonics, and someone had the balls to fire up the barbecue grill. Aida's memory had already been forgotten the moment the first drink had been served, and the tragedy of her death had been exchanged for grilled ribs and Balamb Fish casserole. My sister's funeral gathering had turned into a backyard bash, and I resented it.
But I can't complain too much. I had my share and more of alcohol, though unlike everyone else, I wasn't in the mood to laugh about it. The more I drank, the more I felt the need to run and hide. I didn't want to be there, but I didn't exactly want to be alone either. I just wanted Aida to be alive.
When someone turned on the stereo, I decided I'd had enough and retreated to my room, where I turned my own music loud enough to drown out the party below. I went to the window and gazed out, scanning the yard for any sign of Gideon. He was out there somewhere, planning his next move. Who would he try to take from me next? My parents? Gabriel? I shuddered at the thought of losing them. That would really be too much, enough maybe, to push me over the edge.
I didn't hear the knock on my door, so I was startled when Delcie Kinneas stepped inside and turned the music down. I stared at her stricken face, and she rushed to me and threw her arms around my neck. "I'm so sorry, Kalie," she whispered.
I couldn't reply, I could only stare blankly out the window.
"Are you ok?" she asked and sniffled a little.
"Fine," I replied, and fished around in my jacket pocket for the pack of cigarettes I'd lifted from your car, daddy. I lit one and opened the window as Delcie took a seat on my bed.
"Since when do you smoke?" she asked, appalled at the thought.
"Since recently," I replied.
"Well, I just came to tell you, there's someone downstairs that you might want to see."
"Julian?" I asked, and got excited. It had been more than a year since I'd seen him. He'd been so busy with his job in Esthar, that he'd had no time to come home and see his family. "Did Julian come?"
"No, not Julian," she said and pressed her hands together and giggled. "Gideon!"
I stood up slowly and glared at her. "That's not funny, Del," I hissed. "Don't ever joke about Gideon like that!"
She shook her head. "No, it's not a joke, Kalie. He's here!" She threw her arms out in a dramatic display of her excitement.
"No," I whispered. I felt as if I might pass out, or throw up, or both.
"You look sick," Delcie said and pressed her hand upon my head. "Hyne, Micala, you're freezing!"
I brushed her hand away and sat down. Gideon was in my house. He'd killed Aida, and now he had the audacity to show up at her memorial reception. It was as if he'd taken a shit on her grave and then come running to rub it in my face. My rage, it swallowed me whole, consumed me. I wanted to kill him.
I grabbed a butterfly knife from my dresser and stuffed it into my boot, then picked up my gunblade, unaware that I was cursing a steady stream of obscenities under my breath.
"What are you doing?" she asked as fear shadowed her eyes. I could tell she thought I'd lost it. But I didn't care. I had murder on my mind, and she wasn't going to stop me.
"Getting even," I muttered as I shoved her out of the way and headed for the stairs.
I didn't care about the crowd, or his family or the fact that I'd likely go to prison after I killed him. All I wanted was to see his blood, to smell it, to taste it in the air as I watched him die. My whole body trembled with the need to kill, to destroy him, and I continued to growl obscenities as entered the living room.
"Micala?" Gabriel asked, and he placed his hand on my arm. There was real concern in his eyes. Those blue eyes that might not love me after what I was about to do. They say vengeance is wrong. Maybe, but it's better than sitting around and watching while he killed some one else. If I was to stop him, I'd have to take matters into my own hands, to hell with the consequences. I'd gladly trade my life for theirs if I had to. It wasn't even a question, it was just something I'd do if I needed to.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"I think she's cracking up," Delcie said behind me.
"I'm not cracking up," I said. "There's just something I've got to do right now."
"Micala, give me the gunblade, ok? You're drunk and I'm afraid you might hurt someone," Gabriel said.
"That's exactly what I'm going to do," I said and let out a bitter laugh as my eyes searched the room.
There, standing with Squall and Rinoa Leonhart. There he was. I heard his laughter over the music, and it drowned out any other sound in the room. It was only his laughter. It was as if he was laughing at Aida's death. He looked the same as he had in FH.
Gabriel took the opportunity of my distraction and snatched the gunblade from my hand. I turned on him. "You son of a bitch!" I screamed. "Give it back!"
"No way," he said and shook his head. In his eyes was a kind of pity, a sadness. I know he was thinking that I'd gone mad over Aida's death.
"Gabe, I'm not crazy," I whispered and gave him a beseeching look.
"I'm not giving it back," he said.
I was furious with him for interfering with what I had to do. In a fever of madness, I turned away from him and searched the room for Gideon. He was still beside his father, drink in hand, speaking rapidly to his mother, who smiled up at him in an adoring way. I surged forward, the need to kill him running hot in my veins. Oh, Hyne, how I wanted him to die.
I tackled Gideon low, around the waist, screaming and crazed with rage.
Gabriel might have taken my blade from me, but I still had the butterfly
knife, and I didn't hesitate to draw it.
"What the fuck?!" Gideon cried as he struggled to free himself. "Get
this crazy bitch off me!"
The knife trembled in my hand as I placed it against his throat. He made a strange sound, a choked scream perhaps and went limp. "I warned you," I hissed.
Rough hands seized me by the arms and pulled me up and away from my target. "Micala!" Squall screamed and threw me to the wall. He pinned me there as I fought to break away from him, though my eyes never left Gideon. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"
"Let me go, Squall," I growled. In my rage, I gripped the knife, as if threatening his life too.
"Drop the knife," he said and slammed me against the wall again. My head flew back against it, sending bright spirals of pain through my neck. I heard the china rattle in the cabinet next to me.
"I said let me go," I said as I turned my eyes towards him. He and Gideon had the same cold eyes.
"Put the goddamned knife down," Squall warned. "Don't make me say it again."
"She's fuckin' crazy!" Gideon cried as he rubbed his neck and got to his feet. "A chip off the old block, eh?"
"You're dead!" I screamed and clawed at Squall's arm, which held me against the wall. "I swear to Hyne, you're dead!"
"Micala, stop it!" my mother cried, but I barely heard it.
"Let me go," I hissed at Squall, but he failed to release me. In my fury I glared back at him and patterned my hand in the air and blasted him with a Fiarga spell. Flames erupted around me, tongues of fire danced up my legs and my skin burned.
Squall released me and fell back, injured by my attack. I cast curaga on him to undo the damage I'd done, and then turned to face Gideon. "How dare you come here after what you did!" I screamed and lunged for him again.
This time, daddy, you seized me up, threw me over your shoulder and carried me from the room as I kicked and screamed. I was shoved into a chair in the den, and forced to swallow a tranquilizer, which immediately melted away some of my madness. It was panic that made me behave that way, I swear it. Everyone must have thought me mad, for I surely was.
"What the hell kind of stunt are you trying to pull this time, Micala?" you asked. I wanted to tell you daddy. I really did. I wanted to free myself of the burden of the truth, but I knew no one would believe me. Who would have believed that charming, handsome, albeit sometime failure, Gideon Leonhart could have done something so heartless?
"I can't tell you," I said, ready to break down and cry.
"Spill it."
"I said, I can't tell you!"
Daddy, you knelt before me then and took my hands in yours. "Baby, I know you're upset about Aida. We all are, but don't wack out on me. There's no excuse for what you just pulled in there."
"You don't understand," I whispered. "And I can't explain. Please, just let me do what has to be done."
"You have to kill the Leonhart kid?"
"I can't explain, daddy. Please."
"What did he do to you?" I could tell by your expression, daddy, you thought he might have raped me or something. It's one of a woman's worst fears, being raped, but it's also a father's worst fear, and I could see that you were afraid it might have happened to me. "Did he hurt you?"
"Daddy, don't ask me any more questions," I whispered as tears coursed their way down my face. "I can't answer them now."
"I want you to sleep now, baby. We'll talk in the morning."
"No!" I cried. "I don't want to sleep! He might kill me."
"No one's going to kill you."
I didn't even see the sleep spell coming.
The next thing I knew, I was staring up at a single bulb overhead. My breath caught in my throat and I struggled to sit up. Something heavy lay across my chest, and I truly thought for several moments, that I was back in the chair, and Zoran Danau had somehow separated my head from my body. I let out a tormented scream and fought with the thing that weighed so heavily on my chest. It gave way, and I was able to sit up.
I looked around at the bare gray walls, and the thick steel bars before me. I was in the brig. Fucking Squall had put me in the brig. The heavy thing that covered my chest was called a 'suicide blanket' that was given to prisoners they feared might endanger themselves. It was too thick and heavy to hang oneself with, and therefore ideal for mental cases.
But I wasn't a mental case.
When I was twelve, I'd been sent to the brig three times in one month for spouting off at the mouth in class and showing disrespect for my instructors. Then I'd had something to do, at least, as I had been required to complete my studies independently, but there wasn't even a magazine for me to read now.
I got to my feet and went to the bars. "Anyone there?" I called out. "Someone, let me out."
From somewhere, came a laugh. "Dream on, Almasy."
Discouraged and too weary to argue, I stumbled back to the blanket and lay down on it. Gideon could be doing anything right now. Everyone might be dead already. I would be all alone.
Alone.
The word itself sounds dismal, don't you think? I contemplated what my life would be like without anyone I loved in it. I figured, if that happened, I really would become a mental case. It made me nauseous just to think about it. If Aida's death made me this angry, then what would the deaths of my family and friends do? Would I crack? Become despondent? Become dangerous to myself? I didn't think I'd be able to move on. Not with everyone around me underground.
"Almasy, you have a visitor," the voice called and I sat up, listening to the sound of footfalls in the corridor.
A red-eyed Gabriel appeared before my cell, and he gripped the bars for support. His face was stained with tears, and his eyes glistened with those unshed.
I rushed to the bars and put my hands upon his. Gabriel fought off sobs as he gripped them in his.
"What's wrong?" I asked, afraid to hear his answer.
"It's mom," he choked out.
"Rinoa?"
He nodded. "She had a seizure a little while ago. The doctor's been called, and there's nothing we can do. It's too late to do anything."
"Gabriel, you should be with her," I said.
"She asked for you," he whispered and wiped his eyes. "She promised me she'd hang on until you got there."
I paused. What could she want with me? I'd just tried to kill her son, and the only thing I could think was that it was my fault. "Tell me what happened," I said. "Did I do this?"
"Hyne, Micala, no," he said and choked back his sobs.
"Was it a heart attack?"
He leaned his forehead against the bars and fat tears slipped down his
cheeks. "She was poisoned."
One of my reviewers commented that this story is what you'd expect if the characters grew up in LA....that was my aim, I think. I realize that I toned down the use of magic, etc in this story, and I incorporated a lot of the elements of reality. I guess I should explain this....for some reason, I have a mental block against the use of too much curative magic in my stories, etc. Maybe it's because it seems like a cop-out. I dunno.....anyway, this is how the story played out in my head and is exactly how I put it down on paper. I told you, the madman took over. :)
Some of you have said that this is unlike anything you've ever read before. Well, I'll tell you, it's unlike anything I've ever written before. I've attempted, but failed, and it's far darker than anything I ever imagined writing before. Perhaps it has to do with my state of mind when I wrote it - I was in a pretty dark place and I guess I kind of....snapped....so to speak. I'm not saying that I went nuts or anything like that, it's just that life was pretty dismal, and this was my way of taking care of some pent up rage. I'm much better now. *snickers*
Thanks for the reviews. And to Josaiah, thanks for the critical commentary. I love the positive reviews, but I also like to hear where I've messed up, and you're right about the 'you' thing (though the prologue stated that Micala was telling the story to her father, and she frequently says 'daddy.') it does end up a bit confusing. I'll try to correct it in my editing, so that it's clearer.
Don't you just love cliffhangers? *L*