Ocean's Wings
Authors NoteHere's the next chapter. Not much to say. Enjoy!
Key
xxxx- means later in time
Italicizing-thoughts
(That's pretty much all you need to know for this chap.)
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Ocean's Wings: Room WreakerTea's POV
"Who the hell are you?!?" the boy, the one who I saved demanded. Who did he thinks he was, the president? I just saved his life, and he yells in that tone of voice at me?! No way is that happening. I grabbed the closest thing to me, which was my dolphin shade desk lamp, and crashed it on his head, clearly not thinking of the consequences. Out like a light, the teen fell on my pillow, swirly eyed. My anger now resided, I realize what I done. "I really have to learn to control my temper." I sighed to myself.
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After getting my mom out of the house, and making sure my little sister, Ciera, got on the bus, I decided to check on my rude guest again. Thinking about my reaction to his last awaking, I decided to try to have patience with him, something my family say I seriously lack for just about anything. Just as I'm about to turn my doorknob, I hear a crash in my room, followed by some shouts and swearing. "Great, my guest decided to break a few things to make up for me hitting him." I take a deep breath and open the door.
Feathers were everywhere! Looking near my bed, I realize that the feathers were the only remains of my poor pillows. My mattress was top sided, slashed. The little dolphin lamp was on the floor, under a burnt mark on my carpet that had to be from an electrical surge from the fazed wire of the lamp. Everything on my dresser was now on the floor. The mirror above my dresser was broken of all its glass. Out of all this, my guest was nowhere to be seen. Following the small trail of blood from my bed, I came to my patio/window, now open.
"What the hell?" I said walking out on my patio. More swearing came from above me. Looking up, I saw my guest on the roof, stuck on the water drain, swearing to himself trying to get free. Seeing this strange looking teen, injured and climbing my roof like a monkey, getting stuck would be extremely funny, if my room wasn't destroyed. "Get your butt down here NOW!" I yelled. In response, the teen got free of the gutter and glared at me. Then he began to run to the other side of my roof.
Now swearing to myself, I grabbed my ladder on the patio and climb up to the roof.
I found the teen on the other end of the roof, looking down at the ground. "Look you! You can't jump from here. It's a 4-story house. You'll kill yourself! You also got to explain why you trashed my poor room you jerk!" I walked closer to the mystery teen. He looked at me, then the ground, as though deciding what he should do. He then did the craziest thing in that situation. He jumped clear off the roof heading straight for the pavement. He's CRAZY! I thought to myself, trying to get down off the roof to see what the situation now was, praying he wasn't anything more than a splattered pancake on the ground.
When I finally did get to the bottom floor of my home, the teen was amazingly unharmed more than he was before, laying on his back grinning at me. "Well." The teen sat up, saying this like he won a gold metal. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN WELL! YOU JUST JUMPED OFF A 4-STORY WINDOW! NOT TO MENTION MY DESTROYED ROOM!!!" "Okay, chill, don't have a heart attack, especially since I saved your life. The teen got up and walked back to my room, sitting in the middle of the room, with a smug look on his face. Coming into my room again I asked him in the calmest voice I could muster, "Why did you decided to destroy my room again?"
Giving me another surprised look he spoke.
"What are you talking about? I saved your room, and not to mention you from destruction!" "So what you mean by saving my room and myself, you destroy everything?" I asked. Already feeling my temper about to explode. He nodded vigorously.
"First of all" he says standing up and pointing at the knocked over dolphin lamp. "That lamp must have been a mind control device in disguise, seeing that the marine dolphins moved in a circular motion repeatedly, so I save you from becoming a mind slave."
"Next." He says pointing to my overturned bed and decimated pillows. "The rectangular comfort box and the smaller fluffy rectangular boxes." "You mean my mattress and pillows." I interrupted. "Yes, those." He continued. "Anyway they're actually a torture table with a fluffy sewn sheet to hold you down, and the smaller boxes are suffocation devices to cut off your breathing. I relived you of both of these dangers."
He then pointed at the broken mirror. "This held a assassin that tried to kill me as I passed, so I destroyed him." "You mean your…. reflection?" I interrupted again. "What's a reflection?" he asks innocently. I faced faulted at this remark. "Um…never mind." I mumbled on the floor trying to recollect myself. "And my smashed cosmetics?" "Ingredients to a terrorist bomb." He answers proudly. "And jumping off a 4-story house?" "You said I couldn't jump from there, guess I proved you wrong. Not to mention that it looked wickedly fun. Turns out it was." He laughed at this. I think the fact that scares me most was the fact that he said all this like it was an average, normal thing. I must have given him a concussion when I hit him with my lamp.
"So… in other words, you were down on my bed. You wake up to find that I covered you with my quilt, and you turned over so that the pillows covered your nose. You trashed my pillows and mattress and come upon my lamp with a moving-dolphins shade and knocked that over.
You then see your reflection in the mirror and break it thinking you killed the enemy, who tried to blow up the house with the cosmetics under the mirror. So you knocked those over and decide to go outside, leaving the room as it was. You try to climb up my roof for only god knows why and get stuck in the water drainpipe, where I found you. For another reason only god knows why you glare at me and walk to the other side of the roof and decide to jump off to disprove the theory that people die after jumping off 4-story buildings and to fulfill your crazy desire of fun, which by the way sounds suicidal. Now you just reopened all your wounds and made new ones in your insane adventure, I hope you're happy."
The teen looked down at himself, just now realizing that he had indeed hurt himself. Feeling pity, I grabbed the first-aid kit on the floor and began bandaging him again. He made the job harder for me by fidgeting and squirming to get away from me. "Stop fidgeting you dumbass! Don't you want your wounds to be fixed?" "STOP TOUCHING ME!" was his response. "I don't need your help!" The fidgeting squabbling fight continued, right out of my room. He finally broke away from me outside and gave me another evil glare, which only ticked me off more. As a result, I tackled him football style, right over the hallway railing.
Our house has two levels, four including the basement and the den. The top level was where my family's bedrooms and mine were, which was also where the crazy teen and I were standing. The next level was the "living" level, which included the kitchen, dining room, living room, study room, TV room, and the fitness room.
This level is the first you would see if you walked through the front door of the house. The back door would end you up in the kitchen. Right now though, we were falling in the hallway, the hall that connects the living and the staircase to the bedrooms.
In this hallway was a rosewood table with a porcelain vase with white roses in it, my sister's favorite type of flower. There was no way we weren't going to hit that table, with me falling on the back of the teen, him falling first. I closed my eyes, waiting to hear the crash. It never came. Instead I heard a thump and the shacking of the table and vase. I open my eyes again to find that the teen had landed perfectly on the table with ease, something a lot of people at my school couldn't do. He stood up grinning, when the table gave way.
Both of us fell down on our behinds and the vase broke in thousands of pieces on the floor, water slipping through the carpet, the table separated. The teen looked at the mess, shrugged and started walking to the TV room, carrying me in tow.
The TV was on blazing with the stock market affairs. "Dad must have slept down here last night." I thought. The teen looked at the TV with wide eyes for a second, and then grabbed my sister's fallen hockey stick. "Don't break it!" Bang! Too late. The teen was smiling at the now decimated TV, the hockey stick broken and lying on the floor. Looking bored, he started walking around, carrying me piggyback style.
This gave me time to check this guy out more in detail, trying to decide to call the police or the asylum. His shirt was off due to the fact I had to take it off to bandage him, which was only halfway done by the way. Turns out, he had the figure many girls in my school, including my girlfriends, said they required in a guy. Carefully running my hand along his chest, since I couldn't see it, it was quite easy to tell that he cared for his physical appearance.
As my friends put it, it's best to have a guy that could beat someone down if necessary than to have a smart guy . In my opinion though, I would want a typical boyfriend that was at least decent in all of the departments, cute, smart, and strong, so I couldn't stand having a guy that was strong but an idiot. Thinking of my front view of him, he had the cute part down, his red bangs giving him that. His scarlet eyes also helped in that department. He smelled nice too, even though he was injured. Surprisingly, he smelled just like the ocean did, a sweet scent. In fact, if I saw him on the street, he would be someone that I would consider dating, IF he weren't an insane, suicidal, guy.
Feeling the hardness of the floor, I came torealize that we were in the kitchen. My mom is one of those home TV buyers, so our kitchen was pretty well supplied with knives, choppers, cutting boards, and so on. Since my dad loves restaurant kitchens, our kitchen look a lot like a open restaurant, one of the restaurants that cook your food in front of you. The kitchen had a revolving spice table and stain clean counter tops. It was mostly silver, but the counters black-speckled white.
My guest walked over to my dad's turntable of high-quality knives and pulled one out, flipping it expertly between his fingers. "These knives, they're very high quality, stain-less steel, very sharp, from Asia I believe, they always been good weapon suppliers." He then cut his arm very slightly; the area in which he cut began to show blood, dripping slightly. Looking at me, he said "You could very easily defend yourself with this." He walked over to the sink and cleaned his arm and the knife off, then grabbed a towel and dried them both. This guy knows knives and their quality, but he doesn't know what a reflection is! I thought to myself. Out loud, as I got up, I said, "Well Mr. Knife expert a.k.a room wreaker a.k.a lunatic, are you going to tell me what your name is, or do I need to call the police?"
"Are you going to give back my shirt or do I need to keep you hostage?" he answered back smugly, stepping towards me. "First off, you're in no position to threaten me, since I saved your life, you're in my house, and you wreaked my room." I growled."
Second, you will not threaten me, I know defense and I'm not afraid to use it. Third, you need to fix your injuries before you die of blood loss and put me in a state of hell. Fourth, you need to either pay for the damage in my room, or fix it, because I'm not taking the blame for something I didn't do.Fifth, your shirt is dirty and covered in blood and I'm going to wash it. Sixth, you're insane, cutting yourself and jumping off buildings for fun. Seventh, you need to thank me for saving your life and tell me your god damn name!!!" I shouted.
As if he didn't hear me, the teen walked up to me and cornered me on the wall with his arms, looking attentively at me. "Well you're a strange one." He said with an interested look in his eyes. "Allow me to answer some of your points. For the sixth point, I am not insane, I merely wanted to test the knife and see what would happen if I did jump off the house. For, your first point, I don't remember ever asking you to help me. For your fifth, third, and seventh points, I'm glad that you care about me, not many people cared about me in that manner, thank you for saving me, and sorry if I startled you in anyway. And for your second point, he grinned while he said this. You wouldn't be a match for me, no offense in anyway." He moved from the wall and sat down, his injuries finally deciding to take over. He looked weary and pale, as though he would pass out. Feeling pity yet again, I ran back upstairs and grabbed the first aid kit and one of my dad's t-shirts. When I got back to the kitchen, the male teen was leaning against the cupboards, breathing slowly.
"I don't remember you telling me your name." I told him assisting him to the couch in the living room. "My…. name?" the teen whispered as I began cleaning his wounds again. "My name… is Yami." He finished looking at me strangely. "And yours?" "Tea" I muttered. "Now lay down and rest before you kill yourself." He smiled, and then passed out on the couch. I walked out of the room to clean off and decide what to with this teen. Sighing to myself and looking back at the sleeping teen I came to a conclusion. "You'll stay here till you correct and pay for what you did to the house Yami. And that's that."
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Authors NoteOh, before I forget, Denierure (you know who you are) just tell me what your stories titles are and I'll be happy to read and review them! Review please and thank you!