Author's Note: Okay... so... I'm back... whoo-hoo... can't you tell that I'm so excited? Okay, so, I admit it—I've been having a hard time lately. I have a horrible case of Writer's Block right now. It won't go away! -si-igh- So if this chapter sucks, you now know why...

Okay, enough excuses. I'm done complaining. -smile- I'm going to do my best and brave this next chapter! Hope you all enjoy!

—

Disclaimer: I don't own Alice 19th. I would think that would be apparent by now. Yu Watase is a genius; I'm not. Kapeesh?

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Chapter IX: The Night is Young

—

"You don't realize what you did... do you...?"

"I killed him. I killed him... I know I killed him..."

"On that day, your fate was sealed..."

"...what are you trying to tell me...?"

"You will kill another."

—

Clementine sat—eyes and countenance blank, conveying no emotion. Her little emotional meltdown was over, and the mask was back in its place. She knew that she had to tell Eric about her father... after betraying her secret so frankly... but she didn't have to revisit the emotions. Blankness was more than fine.

He sat there, waiting for her to begin. He was patient, and God knows she needed patience. Patience... and acceptance. Although she wouldn't admit it, those were two of the things she needed most. But she wouldn't allow herself to enjoy it—she wouldn't allow herself to enjoy anything. Life wasn't enjoyable, and she didn't expect it to be. Hope was something of the past.

She took a deep, shuddering breath, struggling to find the composure she needed. His amber eyes were searching her face, and she did everything in her power not to meet them with her own pallid green orbs. Betrayal... that's what her eyes were plotting. They wished to give away all of her thoughts and emotional secrets. But she wouldn't let them... not then... not there... not yet.

"My... father..." she began, clearing her throat to steady her voice. "He... he was an alcoholic... and he was hardly ever home... my mother and I were left to fend for ourselves a lot... he always said that he was gone on 'business trips,' but we knew that he wasn't. Actually, we're not even sure that he had a job... we never seemed to get any money in our bank account. He probably had a separate bank account that we didn't know about..."

Poverty...

"He hardly ever talked to me. He didn't seem to acknowledge my existence. I knew... I knew that he didn't want me in the first place. He wanted my mother to get an abortion when they found out that she was pregnant... but she wouldn't. My mother's not that kind of person. She never... she never told me about this... I just overheard them fighting... I always eavesdropped, even though it scared me to death... how he could ask something like that of her... something of that magnitude... it was cruel."

Fear...

"We always knew that he was cheating on my mother. It was obvious... in more ways than one. We always had women calling the house... he would always leave at the strangest times... usually at night... he would be gone for days at a time... and those 'business trips' were a dead giveaway... I didn't fully understand what it meant... but I saw my mother crying too many times... I heard their fights too many times... I could hardly stand it."

Apprehension...

"His alcoholism started to get out-of-hand... he was hurting my mother more and more often... but he never touched me. Not once. It was like... like I didn't exist... like he didn't even know I was there... he rarely even glanced at me... my mother was in and out of the hospital at the time... she was rarely healthy, and she had various... injuries. She always had bruises... broken bones every now and then... I spent a lot of time alone at home. With my father gone... and my mother in the hospital... and no friends or relatives... it was the only choice. My mother... she didn't want people to know about my father... so nobody had a clue about what was going on... sometimes... I just wish that she had told them."

Regret...

"It... it happened when I was fourteen... I got involved with the wrong group of kids... and they all encouraged me to act on my feelings... my anger... they never directly told me to kill my father, but I knew that's what they all meant... I was so timid back then... but I knew what I had to do. They kept feeding those thoughts into my head... and I couldn't resist any longer. I had to make it end. Somehow... I had to."

Hatred...

"I hated him. I'll admit it. I hated my father. I wanted him to die. I just... didn't think that I had the courage to pull it off. You see... deep down... we are all murderers... some of us just don't have the courage to carry it out. For a long time, I didn't. But... watching my mother waste away... pining after him... eating oatmeal for breakfast every morning because we didn't have the money to buy anything else... while my father drove his sports car and went on 'business trips' to expensive locations... it all began to wear down my fear. My hatred was growing and swallowing up all apprehension I had before..."

Resolution...

"One night... he left after a horrible fight with my mother... I... I found a gun... the gun one of my 'friends' had given to me... 'just in case'... I took my mother's car and followed my father... my mother was unconscious, so she couldn't stop me... I wore gloves... at least I thought that far ahead... I followed him onto a little country dirt road... we lived out in the country... I had the headlights turned off, and just followed wherever his headlights went... we both soon realized that he had taken the wrong road... it was a dead end... I noticed it sooner than he did, and I doubled back to the beginning of the road..."

Doubt...

"You see, my father was never a patient person... I knew that if he took the wrong road, he would be aggravated and would come back twice as fast as he went down the road... I parked the car at the beginning of the road... I got out as quickly as I could... gun in hand... I was having second thoughts, as I'm sure you can imagine... sure enough, my father's car came barreling down the road... much, much faster than I had previously suspected... I stood there... waiting... holding my breath without knowing it... his headlights came closer and closer... and... before I knew it... he crashed straight into my mother's car..."

Betrayal...

"He screamed. I don't think I've ever heard such a blood-curdling scream in my life... if he had really been paying attention, he would've noticed my mother's car before he crashed... I was fourteen—I wasn't an experienced murderer, so I didn't think about it... but he wasn't. Luckily for me, he wasn't paying attention. Even though he crashed going at such a great speed... I couldn't take any chances. I had to make sure that he was dead. I didn't know what I was doing... I swear, I didn't... I was just a girl... immature... and full of hatred. When I walked over to the car, I saw him struggling to get out... he was still alive... I panicked. I can't even explain the fear that coursed through my veins at that moment. Before I knew what I was doing, I had pulled the trigger and shot him in the chest. I saw the blood... his blood... it streamed out of his chest and seeped into the dirt below..."

Death...

"I stood there for... God knows how long. I couldn't move. My whole body was frozen in place... or so it seemed. Then... I ran. I ran through a large field... and just kept going. I don't know how far I ran... or how I kept going... but, when I stopped, I just fell... and I passed out. When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. My mother was sitting beside me, and the doctor was filling out some sort of paper-work. They told me... they told me that I had lost blood... and had been in a coma for over a week. I didn't understand. I still don't understand how that happened... I had a large gash in my side, and several cuts on the insides of my arms. Apparently... they thought that I had tried to kill myself. But they didn't know why."

Confusion...

"They knew about my father's death. The police were investigating it. My heart nearly stopped when my mother told me that it was a high-profile case. I... I hadn't thought that far ahead... I was so bent on killing him that I didn't think about what would happen afterwards... but, somehow, they never attributed me with the murder. They said that I was found miles away from where my father was murdered, and they said that... that, somehow... my mother's car was found back at the house... in perfect condition... and that my father had run into a different car... after a while, the case was dropped. They figured that, since it just looked like my father had been beat to death, he wasn't murdered after all... just ran into a tree going full-speed..."

Deception...

"But... but the strangest part... the strangest part is..."

She suddenly faltered. Her voice trailed off as she squeezed her eyes shut—as if warding off the memories. Eric let out a deep breath.

"The strangest part is... what, Clementine?"

Slowly, deliberately, she raised her eyes to meet his.

"There were no trees when I was there. And there was no bullet wound found in my father's chest."

Eric blinked in surprise. "Then... Clementine... how do you know that you really killed him...?"

"I remember every detail vividly. And... I was so afraid of pain... I never would've tried to kill myself. Never." Pausing, she directed her eyes to the floor. "But... the way I knew for sure was... when I was released from the hospital, I went to search my mother's car... disbelievingly... it was in perfect condition, but..." She let out a breath. "The gun was in the drawer under the driver's seat. The gun was always kept in a hidden spot in my room... but it was there—right where I put it."

There was a long pause. Neither person talked for a long stretch of time. It was awkward, but neither took the time to notice. Both were completely lost in their own thoughts... both minds going down different paths... both hearts nearing the same place.

Eric finally spoke, breaking the silence. "It seems that the darkness was protecting you even then."

Smiling bitterly, Clementine nodded. "Apparently. There never was any room for me in the light."

Despair.

—

Sweat poured down her brow and ran into the fine lines in her face, which was wrinkled in an expression of pain. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and her hands were clenched in fists, resting on her knees. Her legs were crossed, and her back was board-straight. Wisps of straight red hair brushed against her cheeks, but most of it was held back in a tightly-braided bun. Looking at her, one would wonder why she seemed so strained when she was, by all appearances, doing nothing.

Suddenly gasping for breath, her eyes flew open and she pressed a hand to her chest. "I... I can't... do it..." she wheezed, leaning forward to ease her pain-ridden body. "I... I can't..."

A pair of amber eyes stared stolidly at her from the shadows that enveloped the room. "Try harder."

A look of hatred flashed across her countenance, and she looked up to meet the amber eyes—beads of sweat still trailing down her cheeks. "I'm trying as hard... as I can..."

The eyes narrowed, and Eric stepped out from the shadows. "It's obviously not good enough."

"Look... I've never tried to force this, okay!" Clementine was quickly losing her temper. In fact... I tried to get rid of this...

Eric's face was completely impassive—letting no emotion show. His orange hair was slicked back, and he was wearing a long black trench-coat that reached his ankles. All in all, he looked completely intimidating. However, Clementine wasn't intimidated by him anymore. She had gotten over that a long time ago... Strange—I'm afraid of that which I held dear... and I'm now comfortable with that which I previously feared...

Eric stooped down and pressed two of his fingers against a point on her upper arm. He paused, then shook his head and withdrew. "You're completely out of energy."

"What do you think I've been trying to tell you?" she muttered under her breath. Scowling, she swatted away the hand that he held out to her. "Don't patronize me," she spat. "You're no gentleman; don't try to act like one."

Lips twisting into a sly smirk, Eric grasped Clementine's upper arm and jerked her up—quickly, but not roughly. She wasn't expecting the sudden movement, and she stumbled forward—landing right in Eric's arms. Gasping, she placed her hands on his chest and pushed away. Eric, however, had other ideas. He tightened his grip around her waist with one arm while he brought his other hand up behind her head—immobilizing her as he captured her lips with his own.

Her eyes widened in shock. That wasn't... well, that wasn't what she was expecting. The shock was so great that she couldn't respond—positively or negatively. She couldn't think—her mind was reeling. The sensation of his lips devouring hers was hardly sweet—hardly her idea of romantic. Still... much to her surprise... she didn't seem to mind. Not too much, anyway.

She wouldn't respond, but he wouldn't give up. Deepening the kiss to prod her along, he slowly backed her up against the wall. It wasn't like anything that she had ever experienced, and she wasn't sure what to do. A shiver rippled up and down her spine as he ran a hand along her arm. It was strangely pleasant, but... it wasn't... wasn't...

Frey.

Why does his name immediately come into my mind? We... we were never involved with each-other... I had no claim to his heart... or he to mine... but then... why do I remember him in that way...?

Gasping, she realized that, while she had been reflecting on her thoughts, his lips had moved on from her lips to her neck. His hands traveled up her arms and proceeded to slide her coat down from her shoulders—caressing the bare skin beneath that wasn't covered by her corset tank-top. Pulling his mouth away from her skin, he fingered the fringe of her top and brushed the base of her neck with his thumb.

What... what is he doing...? She was trembling by this time. She felt vulnerable... almost timid; almost back to the girl of two years ago. ...why do I want him to save me...? And... from what, exactly, do I wish to be saved? Honestly...? Eric... or... the mess that I've gotten myself into...?

She looked up to realize that Eric was no longer sliding his fingers across her skin—but was, instead, staring at her with an icy-cold gaze.

"Your chi is wavering. You are unsure about something. Tell me."

"I-I... it's nothing." She countered with a death-glare of her own. "Do you think that I should enjoy this... this... groping? I had previously thought better of you, Eric." Her voice seethed with venom, but her spirit was quavering. "I would appreciate it if you would keep your hands off of me from now on."

He swiftly withdrew—his countenance detached and indifferent. "As you wish," he conceded in a monotone voice.

Obviously flustered, Clementine paused before continuing; she needed a moment to collect herself. After a moment, she continued. "My association with you is strictly limited to business, Eric—nothing more. Don't cross the line." She thrust her chin up to glare at him. "I believe that my training is done for the day."

With that, she turned on her heel and hurried away—Eric watching her retreat.

"You're getting soft, Eric."

Smirking, Eric turned to the source of the smug, serious, yet slightly high-pitched voice. "How long have you been watching?"

"Long enough. You have a soft-spot for her, don't you? You're trying to goad her to run away."

"I'm afraid it's too late for that, Samuel."

A young boy with curly blonde hair and piercing blue eyes stepped out of the shadows. "You're 'afraid' that it's too late?" He laughed mockingly. "My, my, Eric... whatever will Darva think of this? You know that we need that girl."

Eric turned to face Samuel—eyes steely. "We don't need her. She is merely a valuable asset. You know this."

"Of course—but Darva wants her. And, as you know, what Darva wants... Darva gets." Samuel smiled in what would have been a cheery fashion had it not been for the menacing gleam in his eyes.

"You have no need to worry. I'm not encouraging her to run."

"You're 'emotionally involved' in your work, then?"

"No—not at all." Smirking, Eric folding his arms in front of his chest. "She and I just have something in common... that is all."

"And that would be?" His tone was inquiring, but his piercing eyes made it clear that he demanded an answer.

After a pause, Eric answered. "Neither of us remember love."

—

It was midnight. The moon shone through the pearly-white curtains—filtering through the fabric and casting an eerie gloom on the maple floor of the room. With a slight whistle, the wind whipped through the branches of the oak tree, causing its branches to scratch against the window-pain. The rain splashed softly on the roof. The music of the night was playing softly... waiting for the rest of the chorus to participate.

Clementine tossed and turned in her bed—utterly restless and unable to rid herself of the icy-cold feeling that permeated her body. She squeezed her eyes shut and gripped her pillow, as if that would ward off the whispering demons of the night. It didn't.

Just as she expected, the voices started coming—completing the surreal music of twilight with their jumbled and murmured lyrics. Clementine tried to shut them out, but to no avail. They were determined.

She's seen too much...

It may be too powerful to stop...

No... no... it must stop...

It can't. The circle is almost complete...

But not complete yet... there is still hope...

There is never hope... never...

"...stop... please, please stop..." Clementine pressed the palms of her hands against her ears in an attempt to block the whispers out of her consciousness. "Leave me alone..."

She will kill him... we all know it...

The light can prevail... it has before...

We shall have to wait and see...

Let's...

A few minutes later, Clementine—trembling—sat up in bed and strained her ears to listen. They left... oh, thank God... they left... Her eyes filled up with tears, and she leaned her head against her pillow once more. The night was young, but some of it had been conquered. She had won the battle so far. Please... let me survive this... these terrible nights... these cold, heartless days... without hope... without hope... without comfort... without...

Love.

The tears that she had held in her eyes began to stream out. Her throat was choked with sobs, and she couldn't hold them in anymore. Her shoulders shook and her body trembled as a deluge of tears ran down her cheeks. "I... I can't... I can't remember his face..." She covered her face with shaking hands and proceeded to cry until she fell asleep.

Ever-watching amber eyes stared from outside her window. A wry smirk twisted the edges of his lips. "It's for your own good. Trust me."

—

Author's Note: ... -dot, dot, dot- Oookaaayy... lol, I feel like I'm reading this fic... not writing it... -koff- That was weird. Not a'tall what I had planned. Of course... does it ever turn out the way I plan? Uh... no. Never. -dies-

Does anyone else think that I ended this chapter on a weird note? I didn't think 'twas a very good place to end, but I couldn't think of anything else. -sweatdrop-

Special thanks to TwilightEyes and Lizzie for helping me conquer my Writer's Block! -hugs and cookies-

So, this was basically a filler chapter. I don't know how well I did... making it interesting and all... do all ya'lls think that I explained her "ordeal" well enough? Or was it just... strange?

Okay, well, that's it for now. Before I leave, however, I have a special challenge.

IF YOU CAN NAME THE TV SHOW THAT I GOT THE IDEA OF THE "WHISPERING VOICES" FROM, THEN I'LL DEDICATE THE NEXT CHAPTER TO YOU!

Good luck. -smile-

Review Responses:

Takame Kiriku: Hahaha... that was not funny. That person is an idiot. -huffs, has murderous thoughts, koff- Glad you thought that it was amazing. -smile-

Helbaworshipper: Glad you were satisfied! -grin- I was really nervous about the last chapter. I seriously wasn't expecting so much positive feedback. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, as well!

Tanlaith: Am I still confusing you? Am I letting you down? -sweatdrop-

Arielle: Yeah, I was hoping that I could keep people guessing with that one. -smile- Glad you liked the angst! I was soooo unsure about the last chapter. I'm so happy that you liked it! Hehe, yes—a short review is better than no review. -wink-

Liz: I finally finished it, Liz!1oneone! Hehe. -grin- Was this chapter up to your expectations, or was it not worth the wait?

twilight eyes 8120: ...YAYAYAY! -bounces in happiness- I'm soooo glad that you like this! Is my writing as good as my editing? I LOVED our discussion about the story. Believe it or not, you really inspired me. -smile- I even saved the conversation for reference. Haha, you haven't turned rabid... yet. -wink- Did this chapter capture your interest as well as the others?