12 Restructuring a Crystal

Carina Sheldon-Lewis

Who are you? I stand before you, chest heaving, my eyes upon you and a part of me is dying to leap into your arms. One look from you – your pain naked upon your eyes; eyes that I feel I should know so well, yet I cannot place a name – not one. My hand holding the knife shakes visibly, but so does your own; one clench of the finger and I'm done.

Each tense – and strangely agonizing – second passes in a sloth-like pace. Shall you speak? Or shall you be forever hidden in the shadows; a figure distorted in the darkness? You step back then, and I feel my body become tense once again… instinctive reaction.

You move farther away, and I note that you're reaching for the light switch. Something about the action calms me. No killer; no assassin sent to murder me would make his presence so stark. My irises feel shocked for a moment with the sudden brightness and I panic for a moment, jumping back and tensing up again… again? Had my guard actually gone down? Never has this happened before. Who is this man? Who is he?

Vision clears and there he is – his figure more real now. My stomach twists painfully as I stare – a hairless scalp, regal nose, oh, your upper lip has a scar! But it's your eyes – eyes that have me captivated – blue… no grey… no… somewhere in between. Something inside me says that it changes hues every now and then – a way to confuse the rest of the world so they wouldn't know… wouldn't know who he really is.

"I apologise." His voice is a shock upon my senses and while I'm tempted to act as softened wax does, I stiffen all the same.

"Who are you?" I question again.

I watch the muscles on your face contort, but one blink and it seems that it is merely the light playing tricks on me for there it is again – that hard look; that stone look. "I mean you no harm." You evade the question – as if telling me such a simple thing as your name – your name – would bring you so much pain. "I have many enemies…" you trail off for a moment. "And I didn't know what to expect when someone told me to come to this room."

"You are on private property – sir." The last word – why do I choke on the last word? It is as if I want to say something else, but I don't know what it is. There is a barrier in my head – a damn that prevents the river of thoughts from flowing freely.

"I'm quite aware," you reply. Why don't your eyes ever waver from mine? "I came here to meet with an acquaintance and they pointed me in this direction."

"Well, I'm very sorry, but whoever you were supposed to meet cannot be here. These are my quarters. Now if you will – please leave."

There is a moment of stillness – when both our eyes and our breaths are held – and then I tear my gaze away from your

(melancholic)

face.

I search the ground as I hear you move – each rustle of your clothes like a paper cut to my senses for it is a sign you are actually intending on

(abandoning me)

leaving. Your footsteps – so loud before – become distant echoes before it is drowned out by the sound of the close seashore. And before I know it, I fall to the ground and tears I don't understand run down my cheeks.

o0o

He haunts her – a ghost that floats through her mind as she sleeps. She sees his smile, his scowl, his smirk… his heavy-lidded gaze above her as waves of pleasure roll through her. And when she wakes, it is with a layer of sweat upon her skin and tearstains upon her pillow – torn between utter happiness and utmost sadness.

During the day, she roams the streets of the town, hoping to get lost in the bustling people and cries of shopkeepers promoting their goods – absorbing her surroundings like a sponge and smiling every so often when she sees a familiar face. Once she hears her name and she turns toward the direction of the call, only to find that the name is not her own

(Oh, no, certainly not! They call me Cary, not… Chloe, was it?)

but someone else's.

A fortnight passes and as time passes, so his image fades until one night goes by with not one dream of him. She wakes the next morning feeling emptier than she had ever felt before.

She decides to walk on the beach, hoping that the sound of waves slipping onto the shore and the feel of white sand beneath her feet would sooth this strange ache within her chest. She would have asked Kaoru to come, but she, along with many of her other companions had decided to go to the city – for reasons that she wasn't told. The household help is still present – to help her with cooking and cleaning, and to keep her company at times.

So there she walks – upon the private beach, staring far ahead of her where people frolick in the edges of the vast ocean. She is so lost in her own world that she neglects to hear the incoming steps of a little boy. Before she knows what is happening, her body is forced to the ground by the little body that runs into the back of her legs.

There is a pair of outcries and Carina lands face flat upon the sand. She rears up again, spewing a fountain of sand from her mouth. "Oh my God!" she shrieks in anger.

Blindly she extracts herself from underneath the small body and stumbles towards the sea to clean her face off. The giggles that she hears permeating from the culprit only heightens her fury. Once her face is free of sand, she whirls around to berate the small child. "You listen here, you –"

And she stops. She stares, not blinking for a moment. The boy giggles on, watching her with mischievous blue eyes and black, now sand-filled hair. Something within her feels like crying and running to the child and clutching him close to her.

But she doesn't really remember him. So familiar, yet so foreign at the same time. "I – you – uh…" she stutters with her words, unable to really formulate a sentence.

His eyes move away from her, widen perceptively and he squeals, scrambling up and running. The dirty-blonde woman looks to see what he is running from only to feel her throat constrict.

Shirtless…

Thin black pants…

So much skin…

And that face… oh, that face…

The man slows down as he gets to her, watching her for a moment with a grin upon his face as he breathed heavily before looking on to where the boy was running. "It was my fault he ploughed into you like that. We were kind of playing tag."

She opens her mouth to answer but a squeak comes out instead. Blinking, she clears her throat to speak. "It's you again."

This time, he holds out a friendly hand and introduces himself. "Nice to meet you. You can just call me Alex."

o0o

Carina Sheldon-Lewis

(Journal Entry)

Kaoru and the rest of them have completely left me. I was expecting myself to feel absolutely outraged, neglected and whatever other negative feelings I can cook up, but I don't. Perhaps the reason lies behind the new owner of the house – and thus my new landlord – and his naughty little son.

Why do I feel so at home with people I just met?