My thanks to Koorime13, who reads my stories even if she hasn't read POTO. You are truly my most devoted fan, and for that I thank you. My second thanks must go to Erik's Dark Lullaby, who was kind enough to review. Her story is better then mine, lol. Go read it, shoo! Thank you also to GerikMuse and Masqueraders for the kind words! Oh and Masquerader: She will try.. Oh yes.. She will try.
Painful Recovery
Christine had been amazed when the masked man had left. She had refused to speak to Carlotta since she had stepped into this little "shelter". Of course, this didn't stop the woman from harassing her on a regular basis. The man had signed the papers, and while Carlotta sent them to social services for processing and background checking, I worried and waited.
How could they consider letting the man adopt me? The first thing I noticed about him was the way I was at ease in his presence, which immediately made me uneasy, if that makes sense. He had the eyes of a predator, amber. I would have started to run if I had not noticed his pupils were circular.
I had to put thoughts of him from my head as I opened my locker, pulling a geometry text out. I always took a different book to English, after all, it isn't like we need it. Our teacher was obsessed with poetry, from haiku to, well, anything. She loved to pick on me for my eccentricities as well. As if I needed a good prodding to bloom into society. Sometimes I just wanted to smack the woman.
Entering the classroom quietly, I took my seat. My dark blue sweatpants and "hoodie" as they call it in this bass akwards little town, making me look like a giant billowing puddle on the sidewalk. I removed my "wedding poem". I hope she enjoyed it. I didn't really know her name, actually never said it. I only spoke when I had to, considering if I failed a class Carlotta would take my music away.
The woman made the class recite their kindergarten quality poems, before calling me forward. Per usual, I was last. Most likely because she needed a break from the norm, or her hair would be forcibly pulled from her fat head. Clearing my throat I spoke. I buried one hand in my pocket, while the other clutched the small piece of notebook paper. I could feel the moist paper in my sweaty hands. This time, I would just recite it and get it over with.
"Every day she thinks her life will end,
Every time the call rings they are late.
They never come quite in time to see his fist Leave it's mark on the side of her disgrace."
She grinned when their mouths gaped pen. Of course, she was a bold little thing, wasn't she? Watching the Chagny boys' eyes glaze over in anger, she continued. Of course, he knew the song was about his family.. He past was quite the violent one, after all.
"They'll never charge him anyway and you know it.
Say we can't get involved today.
So where's the choice and who protects her now?
Bruised and battered, the blood has stained her gown."
Little Giry had tears in her eyes. Those haunting little muddled things. I wondered what skeletons lingered in her closet?
"Useless screams for help can't save her now,
Choices rendered the house is burning down.
No one will ever understand, cause they don't have to feel his crushing hands.
And the ears that ignored her screams before are wondering what she did it for."
She was about to continue, until she felt Raoul de Changy's fist hit her face. It was light, considering what she was used to. Her head didn't even move. She knew not to retaliate, was the teacher restrained the boy. Soon after, they were both in the office, awaiting the principal to decide their fate. Just as the boy was called in, she looked up with a malicious smile.
"But with a bottle of kerosene she found her freedom,
And then burned the bastard to the ground and ran.
The fire will now wash away the blood on her white wedding dress."
She laughed, much like a mental patient, as the school officer restrained the boy. How comical. Maybe he should have thought first, before doing what he did. Christine waited for her turn in the office of doom, as she liked to call it. When the door opened, Changy almost stomped on my foot trying to get away . The look in his eyes spelled murder, and I knew our little confrontation wasn't over yet.
Principal Khan was a fair guy, I had to say. He always listened to my side of the story, and he never suspended kids. He told me once that he didn't reward trouble makers by sending them on vacation. I liked that in men, hell, if he was a couple years older, I might try to seduce him. Oh no.. he doesn't look happy..
" Ms. Daae? Just what were you thinking by provoking Raoul? The last time I didn't think I could keep his parents from pressing charges. You promised me that you wouldn't bring up his mother again! "
I picked at my nail polish for a few moments, before speaking. " Well, how did he come to the conclusion it was about him? Just because his father beat his mother until she killed him and burnt the house down doesn't mean I am talking about him. My muse runs me, not the other way around."
I pressed my luck by propping my converse covered feet on his desk crossing my arms across my body I waited for the inevitable words to come out of his mouth. After all, he had read my record. Four expulsions in a year and a half. He had been dealing with me fairly, but this school sucked. Raoul wouldn't stop harassing me, and nobody could seem to accept that I hate being stared at!
" Ms. Daae, I have been patient with you long enough." His voice was almost a whisper, which terrified me more then yelling could .I tried to stop the words that slammed into my mind hard enough to bruise. The words HE had said, that day in the rain.
You are a monster. Everyone can feel it inside you, twisting to get out. All you want to do is scream. But remember, If you do, I will find you. And I'll never let you go.
I felt my face twist into a pained expression, before I schooled it back into casual sarcasm. No use remembering. Back to the listening, shall we?
" I am trying to understand your situation Christine. But really, all you seem to do here is fight, or acquire bruises and such seemingly by accident. I am glad you came though. Your social services agent called. She told me that you have been adopted. The papers went through not an hour ago. They are sending someone out to pick you up, then you will be given information about your new caregiver. She will take you to meet him."
He looked into her eyes then. His were so green they made her think of wet grass. She would never know that he was thinking about how her own reminded him of a rainy sky. She knew he had always had a soft spot for dirty, pretty things. And she had a big heart for older, quiet men. She felt the urge to hide behind him for a moment. Adopt? That strange man with the eyes that seduced her darker side.
She settled on standing up. Sighing she gripped his desk. " What do you mean? I'm almost eighteen, they can't and they wouldn't. " She felt her heart racing, as her vision closed in. She heard Khan say something, but she couldn't make it out, before she fell into that terrifying space between sleep and awake.
Nadir Khan swept a lock of black hair from his eyes as he tried to rouse the girl who had become his number one priority. Hell, if he knew that he would become so infatuated, he would never have agreed to let her come here. But he had, and now she was a fixture he couldn't ignore. It was cliché to use the word love, so he had determined that it was caring. He cared for the girl enough to be concerned about her welfare.
He had contemplated, once or twice (a day), about having a relationship with Christine. But he couldn't think past the fact that it would be betraying her trust . He was, in all actuality the only male she ever spoke to. Well, except Chagny. But insulting him wasn't the same as the conversations they had. She was special, that was the only way to explain it.
Her eyes opened, staring up into his face. It took a moment to focus, but when she took in his bronze skin and his eyes, she did something totally unexpected.
She hugged him.
She wrapped those pale arms around him and he felt his heart burst into flames. How could something so wrong feel so good? She was his sons age, for Allah's sake!
She let go soon enough, feeling him shake. Why was he shuddering, it wasn't THAT cold in the office. Getting to her feet, she bid him goodbye, shutting the door as she left. How could one plain girl arouse emotions he had buried since the death of his wife? No, it was lust, just lust. He could get over this.
She waited outside on the benches. She hadn't met her new social worker yet, but since it was a woman, she was sure to be either a) middle aged, b) mean, or c) both.
When the nondescript black sedan pulled up, she got in without questioning it. After all, she had been in this game for six years, you had to give her a little credit.
The stern brunette woman who greeted her was down to earth. She wore an all black pantsuit, and looked like she would rather be holding up a liquor store then seeing me right now.
We drove for a while, before ending up at the office. It was a white, bland building, the kind you look for and is in sight, but you still walk past it. I held open the door for her, and apparently she wasn't used to such niceties from clients. She thanked me curtly, before taking me into an adjoining room.
It was cold and dark, when we entered. The lights were dim and a computer screen was the only source of color. I took a seat on the flimsy plastic chair, noting dryly that it was so old it could fall to dust in moments. She got behind the wood desk, seating herself before speaking.
" My name is Mrs. Giry, Ms. Daae. I am your new social services representative. You are here, as your principal should have told you, to meet your new foster parent. He has been deemed eligible by the state, and since you are not yet eighteen, we are awarding you to him. His name is Erik Bathory. We have already had your things moved to his house on the outskirts of town, and he requested I inform you of his possession of musical instruments for you."
Giry , whom I realized quite some time ago to be the mother of the girl in my class, paused, to remover her glasses. " Christine, I must also tell you that this man is quite different from other foster families. He is single, and prefers solitude. He is a musician, he is a lyricist, and a composer. He is also disfigured on the left side of his face. How he acquired this I don't know, but he has asked me to tell you; so you do not let curiosity get the better of you."
She nodded, informing the woman she understood in the only way she really used. So, he was deformed? What would a deformed music lover want with her? This seemed just a little creepy.
She suddenly struck out with her right hand, feeling it connect with the face of whoever was breathing down her neck. She almost felt sheepish when it was the very man she would be stuck with for a half a year, until she turned the blissful age of eighteen. She could see the raw anger burning in those features, as he sat down beside her, and speaking with Giry.
" Well, seems I have a little spitfire, in this one. May we leave, or is there some paperwork to finish here?"
Giry handed him a slip or two, which he signed quickly. Christine hardly had time to wave goodbye before a grip that was almost vice-like dragged her from the building. He opened the door to a sleek black number that she couldn't describe, handing her into it with a volatile grace. She crossed her arms as they drove east, towards the hills.
He fought for something to say, before cursing mentally and throwing out something even he didn't expect to come out. " How did you know I was behind you?"
He watched the girls eyes roll heavenwards underneath those earthen eyebrows. " Well, when one breathes down my neck like Darth Vader, I tend to notice, Dad."
She felt the terrain underneath her swerve, as she looked up, into those lions eyes. Damn, she was in for it now.
R&R!-Krys