Azn-Writer: I…had problems with some people, those were some ways to deal. I've never been into a gang fight, but one-on-ones are something that I've been handling a lot.
Hotaru: I woke up screaming that after I finished the chapter. [Just kidding, but Paul is based on what I do as a person (Paul = me)} I always have a character in my stories based on who I am. How selfish!
Well, here's the next foray into hell, WAY slower than the last one, but the prelude to a high point in the story. Okay, I should just shut up and let you read it, hmm?
Chapter 8: "Black Heart"
The police came up behind Lily, faces insensitive, hardened, carrying words of sorry and a pair of handcuffs in their stride. Still engulfed in tears, the woman buried her face into Paul's still warm chest, hoping, wishing, that his hands would rise and tenderly cradle her head. There was no such luck. She always did say that dreaming was something she could never be capable of. This night, she didn't dream, she wished wholeheartedly that there would come some angel, some harbinger of warmth that would breath life into this young man once again. Angels did not go out that hour.
"Miss, you'll have to be going with us now…" calmly said the officer with a moustache. The two veterans were middle-aged, while the rookie looked to be in his middle twenties. He still looked perplexed at what it was that he has done wrong. It was the rookie who radioed in for a clean up concerning the body. "Miss…"
"Officer." Interrupted an old man, his hands held together as if in some executive meeting. The middle-aged officer stopped, his partner now beside him. "Pardon me, my name is Eldritch Kraken, and I was just passing by when I saw this…disaster." He said in a solemn voice. Lily was still burying her face in tears, ignoring the new air of urgency around her. "Mr. Kraken…" stuttered the officers, as if they saw some great red demon in front of them, and not some frail old man.
"All of you leave, now." Ordered the old man, his face threatening to even a suicidal terrorist. The men nodded, fear visible in their eyes. Lily looked up, her face still flustered and red. "They…killed him…" she whimpered, unable to hold back the dam. The old man nodded at her with a sympathetic face. "Do not worry my dear. Justice will be swift to those who are sinful." He said, shaking his head.
Carlos' eyes spread in horror as three of his friends stumbled into the shelter, all bloodied and broken. Joan, David, and Justin dropped onto the nearest cushion they could find, gasping for air like it was their last. The Latin American quickly ran up to them, his whole mind still confused as to what could have hit his friends so hard. A wave of concern and questions still perplexed his mind as he ran to Justin's side, with Jessica already treating David and some others were carrying Joan to a bed.
"What happened, man?" he asked, as Justin appeared to be the most conscious of the triumvirate. "…It was the Alphas. They attacked." He replied, regaining composure. His voice was broken off by grunts and gasps. "Jesus, where is everyone?" Carlos asked, his only reply was seeing Justin shake his head in both anger and depression. "…Police swarmed in." He finally said. "Everyone's either in a hospital or in jail." Justin stated, running a hand through his hair.
"…Let's go to the back, patch you up." Offered Nichole who gently tugged at Justin's arm. Kids and teenagers already began to resume whatever it was they were doing, most probably having seen the same kind of event all their lives. Carlos and Nichole helped Justin to the back, where Jessica and Ben were helping the other two injured kids.
"They're all I have." Carlos told Nichole as they sat on the cobble stone steps in front of the shelter. It was about an hour after they were able to convince the trio to be taken to a hospital. Why people were so stubborn about personal health was beyond any of them.
"What do you mean?" she asked, watching a car go by.
"…Its only them who ever accepted me." He said in a small voice.
"Why do you say that?"
"Because I'm a loser. Before them, I had no friends."
"Carlos…that's a fraternity we are talking about. They're the 'nth' case we've seen going through those doors with a severe case of getting their asses kicked."
"I know where you're going Nichole."
"…Pardon?"
"You'll be preaching that, they aren't really my friends. That the only reason I'm part of them is because they need another brainless lug to swing a bat at some poor kid who crossed their path…"
"…Carlos…"
"And you're right."
"…"
"I'm not that stupid you know."
"…" she turned to see him light a cigarette. Without hesitation, she swiped it off of his hand. "Bad habit." She scolded, throwing it by her feet and stomping on it with her right foot. "You have a family, right?" he asked. "Yeah."
"They love you right? I mean, it shows."
"It shows?"
"…When someone loves you, you can see that as a very bright glimmer in your eye."
"…and…?"
"You're eyes shine."
"…"
"That's what I always wanted. A reason for my eyes to shine. Beta Piriformis makes that happen. I know that…that it's some shallow pool that I draw my happiness from, but it's just that feeling…that…that feeling of being accepted that makes me keep on ticking."
Both of them looked straight ahead, watching the bright lights of the night. "Wow…that was so…deep." Nichole said with a smile, bringing a sense of levity to their discussion. "Yeah, I actually rehearsed all that." Carlos joked, making them both chuckle. "Hmm, I knew it."
"There's just no fooling you, eh?"
"No siree."
Ben watched them both from the window, still carrying a boxful of supplies with both hands. It was that singular feeling of wretchedness that began to crawl up his spine as he watched them joke and laugh. For the first time in his life, Ben felt the pang of jealousy hit his heart. He knew that it wasn't right. Of course, he did trust her after all. It was an uncontrollable feeling, something that he did not plan to contest to Nichole, but rather just keep to himself. That was the smartest thing to do now, wasn't it? "Jesus Christ Ben, why are you thinking like this?" he asked himself, shaking his head and forcing himself to carry the supplies to the upper floor. "She loves you, you idiot." He scolded himself as he set the tools down by the end of the banister as he got up. "There's no reason to be jealous."
"Hey Ben." Greeted Jessica, she herself carrying a small box of clothes. She wore a yellow spaghetti strap and a pink skirt.
"Hey. Uh, can you tell me what's up with that guy?"
"Who?"
"Um, Carlos? Carlos."
"What do you mean what's up with him? You don't have a secret desire for boys now, do you?" she joked, somewhat surprising Ben. "Damn, you found me out." He joked back, making them both laugh. "I'm really sharp." Replied Jessica. "…Why does he know those people? The ones that always seem to get beat up?
"That's because he's one of them. One of the luckier ones actually." She said, looking depressed.
"Is he part of that…frat?"
"Yeah." She said, nodding her head. "But, why are you asking me that? We've had kids in here that look worst than them…"
"…Nothing special. Just…curious."
Class the following school day held no remains from the riot between the Betas and the Alphas; save that a good number of students weren't going to attend their classes for quite some time. It was in an English class that Carlos found himself half-asleep, mindlessly watching the teacher scribble chalk onto the black board. The Latin-American boy wore a green shirt, and his usual, ripped jeans, tapping his finger on an open, yet empty notebook on top of the wooden chair. He slumped back, feeling uneasy at the soreness on his back. "…I should've been there." Carlos stared at the black board, intentionally drifting away, as did most of the students in that God forsaken class. "…is this my fault? But what could've I done? I got just as beat as the rest! I mean, I got my ass handed to me by Lilith's thugs, even if I was there, I couldn't have done anything to help!"
He held his right shoulder, shifting his weight and waiting for the bell to ring. "I could've helped. I could've still taken a few of those pricks out before they could take me away." In his head, the same arguments, the same accusations battered back and forth, occupying his mind.
"Alright, who can enumerate the forms of speech? Mr. Oliviera?"
"Uh?"
"I see that you, once again, are physically present but mentally absent." Said the teacher jokingly; she was an aging woman with dark brown hair, pink cheeks, and in a blue sweater. Her remark made the students giggle and laugh, most out of courtesy.
"Forms of speech, we are reviewing for the exams, remember?"
"Oh, uh, there's standard…"
"Standard, yes?"
"…Informal or colloquial…"
"Right."
"Uh, slang."
"Yes..."
"…Archaic."
"Archaic, what else?"
"…Obsolete…"
"Four more."
"…Jarg…jargon."
"Uh-huh."
"…and vulgar."
"Two left."
"…Coined and…clipped."
He was glad to get out of that class, as it was his last for that day. Once again, a sea of people met him as he entered the dead halls. Like a zombie he followed the same old route, so unchanging. "Michael and Lorna are gone now…almost all of us are gone." With a sigh, he trudged to his locker, and turned the knob. He gave it one hard pound, and it came swinging open, something that he has gone accustomed to. Carlos took out a somewhat damaged Algebra book, and was about to take out his notebook, when someone slammed the locker's lid shut. The resounding clang didn't even turn a head, as Carlos slightly jumped back, out of surprise. "Jesus Christ man, what the hell's your problem?" he asked Ben, completely irritated. The blonde boy leaned on the other locker, his arms crossed, looking at him with a cold stare. "Get away from my girlfriend." He said with a threatening tone. Ben wore a red polo shirt over a white tee, with the undergarment tucked under his light blue jeans.
"Oh God…come on man, I'm not putting any moves on her…" Carlos moaned, slapping his hand against his forehead.
"I've seen the way you look at her, buddy. And I'm warning you, if you even do as much as touch her…I am going to…"
"Going to what?" Carlos suddenly snapped, his face far more menacing than Ben's.
"I'm not afraid of you, or your little buddies." Ben replied, not the slightest bit intimidated by the other boy. "…And I am not going to say this to you again. Stay away from Nichole."
Irritation and frustration understated Carlos' frame as he got back in his run down building. An old woman passed him as he climbed the awkward staircase. They gave no heed to each other's existence as they moved on, not a predicate, not a word. Everyone is so caught up in his or her own world that the only thing in existence, other than his or herself, would be the people in action to him or her. Carlos reached his floor, his face still flustered. In the moment that Ben approached him, he lost himself to the pain and anger of everything surrounding him, from Nichole, to his mother, to his extended family. It was disappointment handed to extremity. It was torture. Most of all, it was self-doubt. Insecurity. The search for love, that made his skin crawl with maggots of heat and discomfort.
Carlos gave three hard knocks on their apartment door, but yet again, there came no answer. His keys were right at the bottom of his bag, making it cumbersome and tedious to have to dig for it. Carlos knew that his mother was still inside, she never did find it a hobby to do something worthwhile. "Mom, open up." He shouted, but there was still no answer. "Mom…" he bowed his head and leaned on the door with his palm. He had no place to go, no place to turn, save the crawling shadows by his feet. It only made him madder. Jessica's invite for him to once again sleepover in the shelter lashed back to his ears, making him wish that he were there, as yet another downpour began to pound.
Inside the broken walls were the mother and a young man, the latter considerably worried by the knocking. "Maybe I should open the door?" he asked her as he lay on top of her, only in his pants, while she was in a white one-piece undergarment. "No, that's nobody, I just want you here…" purred the woman, pushing the man's face to her breast, ignoring the constant knocking that grew louder and louder. That was then they heard a loud crash, the sound of the door being forced open.
Author's note: We are nearing the end of this little drama. Does it all work out for the best? Well the fact that it is me writing means that it's pretty bleak. Until next time.