All right, let's get this show on the road.
Firstly, thanks to all who reviewed, and also to all who showed an interest in helping me with my little plot rut. I finally decided to go ahead and do what I intended, so no asking for any spoilers and the like...you'll have to wait and see.
This chapter deals more with the aftermath of the visit to Kai's house and the Voltaire issue, so not much action until maybe the very end. I have an idea on how to end this chapter; we'll see if I act on it.
Warning Bad language, as per usual...maybe some contained within, I can't be expected to remember.
Dedication This chapter is dedicated and written for my beloved Karen. Probably the rest of them will be, or at least the chapters I like. So: To you Karen; I'll love you always.
Part 05
Memories are odd things.
They can be pushed deep into one's subconscious, if they are not particularly pleasant. Sometimes such events are best left half-remembered; little things at the back of the mind, that every so often wish to make themselves noticed, by being triggered by a certain scent, or sound.
When disturbing memories are resurfaced, the one reliving them has a choice: Admit that what happened happened, and by doing so maybe they are able to clear out the clutter of their mind.
The alternative?
Simply suppress the memory again, until the next time when it tries to catch their eye, or their minds' eye, at least. This can prove to be an unhealthy habit though; such events that were traumatic enough to require hiding, concealing from one's self, are not meant to be kept silent.
They need room to be shown; it is best if they are gradually taken out and viewed, much like reading a book at a set pace. Upsetting memories also must not be forced out; such a thing can lead to the take-over of the mind.
Images flash, sounds are heard, sights and smells are remembered; and in the midst of it all the one recalling past events is wondering I really did that? There was no way...I couldn't possibly have–
And so confusion and questioning abounds, and all that was once believed in is doubted. Panic sets in, as nothing, not the foundations a life has been built on, nor the people that were thought to be allies, can be trusted any longer.
For how can one continue to put their faith in someone once it has been learned that their time together has been built upon lies? Admittedly, to be fair, the lie may not have been known to the friend, and it was shared by all.
So uncertainty in the relationship, in the fabricated reality, makes itself known, and all that was thought to be trusted is not, and it is as if the very world is a new place, never before seen; for with such knowledge, one feels as though nothing has been seen, or experienced.
Perhaps a journey of self-discovery is planned out, and things that were once forgotten becomes the goal, to retrieve the memories and with them, be able to fully understand the life that was so far half-lived.
One may seek out their traumatic memories, for who can feel complete, or whole, not knowing what happened to them weeks or months or years ago, and the seriousness of said events to garner the action of trying to be forgotten.
The results?
They always differ. Once the memories are recalled and relived, the life can start, and everything is happy colours and all is jim-dandy.
Or not.
If the memories are recovered, and they are of the traumatic type, then trouble ensues. Their type, "traumatizing" is called so for a reason; therefore they are also pushed to the back of the mind for a reason. When they resurface...
Jim-dandy is not a word to be counted then; more along the lines of its' antonyms, such as "hellish", or maybe "painful". Any word or phrase that communicates bad feelings and heart-ache fit in well.
All one can do is hope that the memories go away on their own, or can be dealt with reasonably.
A particularly painful memory is like a criminal. Say, one who takes innocent people hostage. Who knows what the crazed person may do? Their next action is as unpredictable as the path of destruction made by a tornado.
Onlookers can only watch and hope that the hostage is let free, after being held with this mad person. So, in connection, the memories keep a tight grip on their "keeper", as it were. And as for that hold, that reaches into the very core of the soul and mind...
It never loosens without first being released.
It had been three days.
Approximately.
Give or take a few.
Hell, he wasn't a calendar; all he knew was that it was November 18th, and still, he–none of them–had heard from or seen Kai since their encounter with Voltaire at the mansion.
Tala was annoyed, to say the least. Maybe a bit concerned. Kai usually made his presence known every day; for an hour at the bare minimum, just to prove that yes, he was indeed alive and well. Relatively.
Since Voltaire's blow-up, Kai hadn't been around. Not even to see Tyson and the others; Tala had checked. Oh yes. He had all his bases covered.
Phoning Kai was out of the question; none of them had his phone number. And travelling back out to the mansion to see him also bordered on bad, seeing as how they had not been made to feel all that welcome their first, and perhaps last, visit.
Maybe he was grounded; confined to the house, no friends, no phone, no TV...assuming Kai watched TV...?
More like no more books entitled "How to Be Anti-Social" for him to read. Oh dear. How he would suffer. Uh-oh. Maybe he'll greet them with smiles and words of "Last night I" and "Did you hear about?" phrases. Well, that won't do.
Tala thumped his head in frustration against the living room window where he sat glaring at the snow-covered road. The cold began to seep into his forehead and he pulled away, rubbing at the cold spot.
He'd kept a vigil here the past two days; hoping to see Kai come strolling up the walkway and greet them with a customary 'look'. Kai had many looks.
The "greeting" look.
The "mad" look.
The "degrading" look. He used this one most often.
And of course, the infamous "blank" look. This consisted of staring violet eyes that were half-lidded, to convey utter boredom. Flat line counting as the mouth, and turned down eyebrows completed it all.
Tala liked the "degrading" look. He knew that this was really the only look that came to Kai naturally; he wasn't a smiling and eye-laughing kind of person. His smiles were more of a pained grimace, looking to be brought on by force.
Back to the matter at hand...
Tala blew his breath onto the window and watched as the glass fogged, then slowly cleared. He huffed again, and when the condensation appeared, he raised his index finger and proceeded to draw a small stick man with a 'V' on his chest and an angry scowl accompanying.
A circle surrounding him, and then followed by a violent slash down the middle, and Voltaire was gone.
"Would you stop moping already?"
Tala hadn't heard Bryan enter the room, nor did he pay any attention when he spoke. He simply pressed his forehead again on the glass, wincing as it slipped slightly on the slippery surface. He glared again at the snow, almost as if he was willing Kai to materialize from it, and when he didn't, he blamed the snow.
Bryan shifted his glance from following Tala's gaze to the redhead's face. He was annoyed when people didn't obey him instantly, without questioning what he ordered. Tala didn't seem to be letting up with his pouting any time soon, so Bryan decided to do what would be expected by a good friend such as himself.
He reached out with his right hand and nudged Tala's head ever so slightly; with a low, drawn out squeak Tala's head slid along the length of the window, getting progressively lower and only stopping with a light bang when it collided with the hard wood trim that ran around the length of the window.
Tala stayed half-bent, head tilted, a large streak clear on the window. He didn't react other than to mutter an ow under his breath and momentarily switch his glare to Bryan.
"Don't ignore me then."
Tala sighed heavily. "I'm doing something called worrying, Bryan. It's what us humans tend to do when someone we care about is missing." Trust Bryan not to understand a matter like this.
"Why are you worried?" Bryan questioned, raising an eyebrow slightly. What was there to be worried about? He didn't know.
"In case you haven't noticed, Mr. Oblivious-which you probably haven't because you're oblivious- Kai hasn't been seen or heard from for...some days now."
"And that would merit your pathetic childish behaviour?"
"I have a reason for acting like this," Tala growled, and as an afterthought added, "I'm not acting childish or pathetic."
"What, because we haven't seen Kai? What could have happened to him that would be harmful or anything? More like he's finally seen how vain you really are and decided to keep his distance..."
"Ahem. I'll ignore that," Tala answered, then launched into voicing his doubts. "Voltaire could have hurt him or something; you saw how he hit him when we were there ,and with the whole anaemia issue Kai bleeds more than he should, so what if that old bastard hit him with a...really sharp thing, like a poker for the fireplace or a hammer? What then Bryan? What then?"
"Tala! Stop being so naive," Bryan snapped, tiring of this pointless rant. "Just think about what you're saying."
Tala finally lifted his head and straightened, turning to face Bryan. "I have thought about it. How the hell can you call me 'naive'?"
"All right, look; Voltaire is, what, at least in his late 60's?" Tala nodded his agreement; sounded like a good assumption to him. "And Kai is 16. Voltaire is a withered old prune that would snap in half if you kicked him from behind. Kai would turn around and kick your ass if you tried to do that to him.
"So honestly, who do you think would be injured more if they ever really had a physical fight? I truly doubt Kai would allow Voltaire to beat him so badly."
Tala's expression cleared as he heard Bryan. The anxiety he had been feeling was slowly being washed away by ebbing waves of relief. Of course. How could he have been so worried about this? Bryan seemed to hear this thoughts and added another comment.
"You're not exactly a great friend to Kai if you don't believe he's strong enough to keep an old idiot at bay. I thought that was why you admire him."
Tala smiled softly to himself and looked Bryan in the eyes. "It is..."
Bryan nodded. "Good that's all cleared up then. Now get your ass moving; you're coming with me to buy some food for dinner tonight."
Tala's pleased smile vanished. Food shopping? Oh, how he loathed that. Wandering around a too big, too bright building, surrounded by loud woman who would sooner bite your head off then peacefully resolve the matter of who gets the last sparerib package that is on sale.
No; grocery shopping was not something Tala enjoyed.
"Why can't Spencer or Ian go?" Tala whined. Yes, shocking; the almighty Tala whines like a little girl. "I think they actually like doing this menial task."
Bryan had moved to the front door by this time, and he sighed in frustration. "You know that Spencer is working, dumb ass. Ian...well, he disappeared again. Probably went to that music store to stalk that cashier he likes."
Tala shook his head and angrily stormed past Bryan. "Pathetic..."
"Like you should talk."
"You were right Bryan; freezing my ass off by walking instead of taking a bus really does help the economy," Tala was heard to loudly say as the two of them walked down the snow-covered street. Bryan had decided they would walk rather than wait for the bus, a fact that was bothering Tala greatly.
True, he was from Russia, home of the coldest climate in the world; but he'd left there for a reason. He was not meant for the snow. His red hair only proved that he thrived on warmth.
Bryan had to show off his tolerance of the cold by still wearing only his black shirt and pants. Neither of them wore a coat or anything to protect them from the harsh climate, but only Bryan had to act like such a smug jerk by showing off how he was not bothered by it.
"You should have got a coat then, fool."
"As if I had time. I was too busy making sure that you didn't drag me on my ass to even think about getting one," Tala snapped. "I have a perfectly warm one too; that white parka I bought last year."
"The one from the woman's clothing store?"
"Ye–no!"
"You got it from 'Sanura's Fine Linens'", Bryan was quick to remind him. "Hey, I don't blame you though. What with your womanly figure, men's clothes just look plain wrong on you."
Tala kicked at a snowdrift, the white substance flying up to hit Bryan in the face. "Shut up. I don't have a womanly figure; even if I did, you're just jealous."
"Of being effeminate? No chance."
Before Tala could retaliate, Bryan quickly defended himself by distracting Tala.
"Isn't that Kai over there?"
Tala turned from Bryan in an effort to locate his formerly missing friend. His eyes scanned along the street they had turned onto to get to the grocery store, and now tall buildings, business and apartment alike, lined the roads and sidewalk.
Bryan took this chance to move himself from Tala's range. He hadn't seen Kai really; that just proved to be a good way of getting his friend's attention off of him.
Tala narrowed his eyes through the light snow that had begun to fall. Where the hell was Kai? He turned to ask Bryan where he had seen their fellow Russian only to discover Bryan was slowly inching away.
He cast a glance over his shoulder at Tala, and nearly jumped in surprise when he saw slitted eyes a mere centimeter from his face. He became dimly aware of a hand holding his shirt-front.
"It's not nice to lie Bryan," Tala hissed, eyes glinting. Bryan sighed to himself; it was never fun when Tala was in one of his moods. He would get all indignant and try to intimidate others, but in truth, due to his short stature–shorter than the group of Russians at least– he usually only succeeded in making an ass of himself.
The only time to fear Tala was when one messed with his many hair and other beauty products. Then was the time to bolt and not feel ashamed for it. +
"Tala, I–" Bryan was suddenly and rudely cut off when Tala's other hand reached up and snatched his tongue. He instantly tried to pull back, but Tala was having none of that and only tightened his hold on the slippery organ.
"Can't lie if you can't talk Bryan," Tala breathed in a sing-song voice, reminding Bryan for what was likely the thousandth time that his friend would be the perfect candidate to play a horror movie murderer. There was just this insane quality about him.
Bryan's eyes wandered away from Tala's, and he looked over at the buildings on the other side of the street. His eyes widened slightly when he saw a certain figure, walking slowly and leaning against the buildings as it moved.
"Ahal! Luk ower een lef!" Bryan tried to speak through the tight grip Tala maintained on his tongue. "Eets ay!"
Tala smirked in Bryan's face. He had somehow understood the garbled speech, and now he admonished Bryan, "I'm not stupid enough to fall for that twice my dear..You know what they say: Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. And I'm not falling for it so–ah!"
Tala backed away, slightly dazed from the blow Bryan had just delivered to the side of his head. Releasing his tongue, Tala wiped his hand on his pants while glaring at Bryan and rubbed his head.
"Violence is never the answer, jerk!" Bryan only shook his head at Tala's remark and explained to justify his action.
"I said, 'Tala, look on your left, it's Kai', and this time I'm not lying." Bryan could tell that he wasn't about to be believed, so he took the redhead's shoulders and forcibly spun him to face across the street. When he heard the happy gasp he let go, knowing Tala had seen what he'd wanted him to.
Tala was pleased now. He'd gotten revenge on Bryan, and now Kai really was there. Although he didn't exactly look safe and sound...
Bryan and Tala both watched in silence for a moment as they saw Kai making his way down the sidewalk. He was trailing his left hand along the buildings as he passed them by, as though using them as a way to steady himself. He alternated between walking slowly and moving so fast he was more stumbling along than walking.
Kai had his right hand clenched in a fist at his side, which was also moving; open, close, open, close, squeezing it tightly in a show f stress.
Without a second thought Tala was off, crossing the road with barely a glance in either direction, too focussed on the task at hand to care much about the rest of the world. Bryan followed behind, mindful of the cars that were slowing or swerving to avoid them.
Reaching the other side safely, Tala went towards Kai, who seemingly hadn't noticed them. They each saw the jerky way he was moving; the way his mouth hung open ever so slightly as though he were exhausted.
All in all, he didn't look too great.
"Kai," Tala called as he neared them. Kai took no notice and continued to walk/stumble along. He was just about equal with them now, and they could see how pale he was, more so than normal. He had an expression on his face akin to one that was made when one was about to vomit. Dark circles ringed his bloodshot violet eyes, and now they could hear sharp, short pants coming from him.
"Kai!" Again, no reaction. He kept moving on, and would not have stopped if it weren't for Bryan stepping out in front of him and blocking his way.
Kai abruptly halted and took a step back in surprise. He slowly raised his head to meet with the taller Bryan's eyes. Tala came over to them and faced Kai.
"Kai? You all right?" He asked, trying to calm himself down as well as not panic Kai. He could see something had happened to him, and it bothered him that whatever it was had led to Kai wandering the streets.
"...Tala? And Bryan..." He spoke as though he barely could recall their names. "What are you doing out here?"
"We were going to the store," Bryan replied, frowning down at him. "What about you?"
"Me? Oh...I was just...walking," Kai closed his eyes and nodded to himself. "Just walking..."
"Well...are you going home anytime soon?" Tala pressed. He knew that Kai was, by nature, a private person, and he figured that although he was acting a bit delirious, he would still be cautious. At least, as much as he could be.
"No." Kai answered quickly. He had straightened fully and his eyes had widened ever so slightly. He licked his lips and glanced down. His right hand was a fist once again, and now he brought his left hand over to slowly rub it.
"Voltaire mad at you again?" Bryan asked. There was no doubt about it; Kai was acting off, and as much as he wanted to, he couldn't pretend he didn't care...a bit.
Kai suddenly gave a short bitter laugh. "He has a reason this time," the other two could hear him mutter under his breath. Bryan and Tala exchanged looks. What did he mean by that?
"So, how about you come back with us then? Give Voltaire a chance to...calm down," Tala was the first to offer. He didn't much fancy the idea of sending Kai back home to Voltaire when it seemed like the man was in an angry mood and Kai wasn't up to defending himself if need be.
"I don't think..."Kai had began to speak but he stopped and sighed, passing a hand over his closed eyes. Glancing at Tala and Bryan., he saw their questioning stares.
"It's nothing," he said to their unasked questions. "This medication for the anaemia...it's a bit strong and...has kind of strong side effects."
"Such as...?"
"Uhh...headaches...fever...hallucinations," Kai smirked to himself. "Those are always fun..."
"That settles that matter then," Tala decided. "I won't let you try to go home while you're under the impression that you are a camel or something." He placed his hand on the small of Kai's back and began to turn him and push him to their house.
"Why a camel?" Kai wondered as they stepped down off the curb and began crossing the street. Tala shrugged and glared at a car that had the nerve to honk the horn loudly in protest of their jaywalking.
"I've always found them...majestic."
"Camels are majestic?" Bryan asked from where he was behind them, as they walked down the sidewalk and headed for their home.
"Damn straight." Tala stopped as a thought occurred to him. "Bryan...you wouldn't happen to have a reason for skipping out on your shopping trip, would you?"
"Hmm? Oh, right. I just thought–"
"That Kai and I would be fine on our own while you go get what we need? How smart of you." Tala promptly led Kai away, leaving Bryan to stand glaring after him. He didn't enjoy these trips any more than Tala did, but at least when the redhead accompanied him, Bryan could take some joy in the fact that there was someone more miserable than him.
Bryan sighed moodily to himself and resigned himself to a boring hour.
It was hard being the cold one; when situation like this arose, you always had to do the thing that didn't involve being the comforting one. Well.
How unfair. Image isn't always everything then, now is it?
Kai didn't pay much attention to his surroundings; if it weren't for Tala's guiding hand on his back he would have fallen and been lost in an instant. He turned as Tala told him to do, stepped up when ordered, and stopped when Tala would pull lightly on the back of his shirt.
His mind was a jumbled mess; it felt as though someone had hung him upside down and shook him all about, and his temples pounded as though all the blood had rushed there and was settling itself. His face felt hot and cold, or maybe it was his hands that were hot and cold to touch.
He knew that most of what he was experiencing was a side effect of his medication he had taken for his anaemia (1), but also part of it was because of what Voltaire had told him, after all these years. It seems as though shocking revelations mixed with strong drugs do not prove beneficial to one's mental health.
No; when Voltaire had spoken to him finally after promising he would when Kai had made the mistake of having guests in the house, Kai had been waiting on edge for some days after. He just wanted to get it over with.
After their discussion, however, Kai found himself vehemently wishing it had never taken place...
FLASHBACK
Kai sat in his grandfather's study on the second floor in silence. It had been a few days since he was promised a talk with Voltaire, but he'd been avoiding Kai, so he thought. He had sought him out himself, in order to talk with him and end his unease.
Now, waiting in Voltaire's office, Kai couldn't fully deny the feeling of apprehension deep in his core. It was as though he were being warned about something, and it didn't take a genius to figure out that the 'something' was talking with his grandfather.
Kai was nothing if not determined, and he wasn't nothing so he must be determined. And he was determined not to be deterred any longer by Voltaire. Goodness, he was a lot of deter 's at the moment.
He glanced at the clock that hung on the mahogany wall opposite him: 3:24 pm. He knew Voltaire had been out earlier in the day, but around noon he'd heard him come home, and thus he was awaiting his arrival in one of his more used studies.
The heavy door swung open, admitting a cross-looking Voltaire. He swept into the room, and stopped short when he saw Kai sitting on one of the stiff wooden chairs in front of the desk. They eyed each other for a moment, then Voltaire spoke.
"What are you doing in here?"
Kai kept his tone level as he answered. "You said you wanted to talk to me. So talk. I'm tired of having to wait for you. I have better things to do."
Voltaire crossed the room and sat in the winged swivel black leather chair. He turned so he was facing Kai, crossing one leg over the other.
"I don't believe you'll be making such flippant remarks when I tell you what you think you want to know," he promised Kai. Cocking his head to the side, Voltaire watched him before switching to a different tact.
"Do you know why I was angry with you when you had those 'friends' of yours over Kai?"
"Because I'm meant to be as antisocial and one-tracked as you?"
"You don't deserve them." Voltaire narrowed his eyes and uncrossed his legs, leaning forward on the desk to get closer. "I have been telling you so for years now; you must have wondered about my reasons for that."
Kai chose not to answer; he was finding this small talk leading up to whatever Voltaire wanted to tell him pointless.
"The reason is that you did something that you shouldn't have, a long time ago. And I, being your grandfather and caring very deeply for you, did all in my power to help you cope with it," Voltaire sighed and leaned back, head resting on the chair.
"I do not believe that you should know of what happened, though Kai. It would come as a shock, and all these years I've kept quiet about it. I did so because I feared the way it would affect you; most definitely not in a positive way.
"So I remained silent about it, for your sake; although doing something that benefitted you this much irked me to no end. You had caused pain yet remained oblivious to it, while I merely tried to keep my anger in check. I could not lash out at a young child, now could I?
"Of course not, and I could not forget the fact that it would have meant my efforts would have all been for nothing," Voltaire said, watching Kai the whole time for any sort of reaction. So far, the boy's face was impassive as ever. How long would that last?
"You've started rebelling against me Kai, and I have told you before, I do not appreciate your total lack of respect. So I wondered to myself, how to deal with this new development in your attitude. I came up with a simple answer.
"What is the one thing that I can use against you? The one thing that I have been holding over your head all these years, without you even knowing it? Again, I'll admit that by confessing to you would have made my efforts years ago pointless. So I had to wait until you infuriated me so that a usual punishment would not be enough.
"Congratulations Kai. You have succeeded in pushing me over the edge. Not by doing anything big or attention-getting, naturally; you aren't that type of person. When you associate yourself with others, that is what does you in."
Kai stayed silent, feeling his frustration grow. Whatever Voltaire was going to tell him, he had better say it fast. Kai was not one who liked to be kept waiting. He was not known for his patience.
Voltaire suddenly smiled at Kai, an almost pitying smile. "I can see your anxious to learn of what I speak. You need to understand why I am doing so. You do not just annihilate a town without first telling the citizens of the reason, do you? I thought not.
"It's the little things that bother me to no end. You try to make friends, you try to live a relatively happy and normal life, despite what happened 11 years ago. You do not deserve any of these things. Not even an opportunity at them.
"Do you know what really bothers me Kai?" By this time, Voltaire had stood and crossed to the front of the desk so he stood in front of Kai, a few feet away. "You think that you are denied these things -friends, love, etc.,- because I deny you them. It is my fault, in your eyes. This is a thought process that I have decided to remedy.
"It no longer matters to me that what I did for you was for nothing. Nor does it trouble me in any way that you will most likely be horribly and deeply affected by this revelation. What I used to feel for you, was a grandfatherly love and sense of protection.
That changed the day you defied me; the day you questioned me, it turned to annoyance, then resentment, a bitter despise, and now hate. You heard me Kai. I hate you."
Kai was...lost. Surprised. Downright confused.
His grandfather hated him?
His grandfather hated him?
What the hell...Kai could only think as he stared at Voltaire. He was beginning to feel inexplicably uneasy; it was odd that seemingly out of nowhere, he was told by his only family member that he was hated. Pure, deep loathing.
"Instead of putting on such a show, how about you tell me what you've been leading up to for the past half hour?" Kai suggested coldly. It was fine by him that Voltaire hated him; he'd never felt much affinity with the man anyways.
"I've never seen someone so eager for a fall..."Voltaire mused, eyeing Kai with a suspicious glint. To Kai, he seemed...happy?
That was a change.
"Kai...you understand why I am going to tell you this, correct? I need you to know why you deserve something like this to be revealed to you, and if I–"
"I get it! You hate me because of some insignificant thing I did days ago and you can't drop it, so you think that whatever you want to tell me will affect me. Get on with it," Kai spat. He was sick of his grandfather droning on and on; he wanted to learn whatever it was and then be able to put his mind at ease.
He saw Voltaire's eyes flash and an angry look spread across his face; moments later Kai was aware he had lunged at him and next thing he knew, he had been dealt a dizzying blow to side of his head. His eyes ached and he temporarily blacked out; if he wasn't sitting he knew he would have lost his balance.
Kai felt the warm blood from his head begin to make its' way to freedom, trickling down the left side of his head, resting on the curve of his ear and then oozing to either side of it to drip down his head and left cheek.
His hand instinctively flew to cover the cut, and he was relieved to find that it was a small wound, but serious to an anaemic like him nonetheless.
Raising his eyes to Voltaire he saw the old man standing, shaking slightly in anger or perhaps fear at hitting Kai so hard. In his right hand he clenched a bloodied silver coaster, the kind used to rest drinks on so as not to leave a ring on a polished surface.
Kai stood as well, reaching to the arm of the chair on the right side to steady himself. He knew Voltaire had some anger issues, and he did not wish to be at a disadvantage should he decide to lash out again.
"You killed them!" Voltaire hissed suddenly, narrowing his eyes. He stepped back, still breathing hard, but fixed a murderous glare on Kai all the same. "Satisfied now, Kai? You know the truth. You killed them both."
To say the least, Kai was supremely unconcerned. What was this idiot talking about? He'd never killed anybody. He voiced his thoughts to Voltaire.
"Well, of course you wouldn't remember, fool! Didn't you hear me before when I said I stopped myself from telling you, for my 'work would be undone'?" Voltaire slammed the coaster back on his desk, never taking his gaze from Kai.
"The work I spoke of was my work to suppress your memories. I with many psychotherapists strived to hide your own memories from you. As a child they would have destroyed you mentally, once you began to understand it wasn't a game."
"...What wasn't a game?" Kai asked, not particularly enjoying the feeling of trepidation that was creeping up inside of him. This didn't make sense; any of it. So far.
"You murdering your parents, of course," Voltaire sneered, watching his grandson closely to gauge his reaction.
Kai felt something then; some instinct at either corner of his mouth. Oh yes. He was about to smile, and laugh in Voltaire's face. He resisted the strong urge, and instead answered through a smirk.
"I think you've confused yourself in your old age, sir," he said. "I was 5 years old when you murdered them. I did nothing."
Kai turned to exit the room, and said over is shoulder, " I give you points for trying to affect me though. You have to admit it was far-fetched." Crossing the room he placed his hand on the doorknob, and was about to open it when he heard Voltaire call out in a softer tone.
"Friend or foe?"
Kai halted dead in his tracks. Why did that phrase seem so familiar? He turned around and silently stared at Voltaire, mouth opened slightly as though he was about to ask a question. Voltaire saw this and he continued.
"Friend or foe?
Come now, sir;
I need to know.
Are you friend?
Or are you foe?"
Kai began reciting from the third line to the end. He saw Voltaire smile then; a cold, victorious smile. It seemed he had gotten the reaction he so desired.
"That's right Kai; it's coming back to you now, isn't it? That little game you would play with your father, and how cute it was to watch, with each of you using your hands as guns. Your mother never liked it, of course; she believed it was teaching you violence at too young an age," Voltaire recalled in a somewhat wistful tone.
"I didn't...kill them by playing a game..." Kai protested faintly. There was a heated feeling in the base of his skull, and he didn't like it. He could feel something was trying to make itself known to him, and with every word Voltaire spoke, the feeling grew stronger, more persistent.
"Your father had a gun; for protection, he said," Voltaire went on," back at the house in Russia. You must remember that house now, Kai. You were born there, lived there with your parents as long as they were alive with you.
"People knew of the Hiwatari company, which is why Armin kept the gun. It warded off any intruders, or would-be robbers. Hmm...it also scared your poor mother half to death whenever she saw it, whether it was locked up or not," Voltaire sighed.
"We were...playing in his study upstairs," Kai said faintly, staring with unseeing eyes at the floor in front of Voltaire's polished black shoes. "And she called him...out to the hall..."
"...where she was attempting to change the light switch cover, leaving you alone in the room with the desk drawer where the gun was kept, loaded and waiting," Voltaire continued. "Armin had foolishly though unknowingly let you see where the gun was kept, in that special locked box, and you had seen the key used to open it being hidden under the table lamp on the desk."
"I wanted...to surprise him...I took the key and opened the...drawer and then that box..."Kai spoke in a flat tone, seeing nothing but the flashes that were playing in his minds' eye. He was reliving it; he could see himself waiting impatiently for his father; could see himself getting the gun from the box and laughing, proud that he had thought of a way to surprise his father.
"And what happened when he came back in, Kai?" Voltaire pressed, while watching the slow trail of blood making its' way down the side of Kai's head, long forgotten by the one it came from. It mocked him, reminded him of how red his blood had been, how vividly it had shown up everywhere...
"He came in and I asked him...friend or foe...friend or foe...the gun was pointed at him, right at his face..."Kai frowned slightly, recalling how his father's face had turned to one of fear. "He told me to put it down...put the gun down Kai...it's not a game...
"I was...having fun. I wanted to keep p-playing...I thought he was pretending like always...I kept saying friend or foe...friend or foe." Kai's fists clenched visibly at his sides and his expression darkened.
"But he didn't answer me...he kept saying we weren't playing a game, and I was...mad so I decided...he was a foe...because he wouldn't play with me. My finger..."Kai's right hand tightened even more, while his left hand suddenly opened and hung, "I...had my finger on the trigger...I made a fist–"as Kai said this, his right hand began to shake from how tightly he was keeping it balled up–"and it...fired."
Kai drew in is breath sharply; he heard the bang of the shot, felt the slight kick-back in his hand, smelled the sour air, of hot bullet bursting forth and shattering.
"You hit him in his face, and blew it apart," Voltaire said in a low tone. "He wasn't even recognizable at his own funeral; just a mess of...of blood and bone and brain matter..."He shook himself from his reverie and glared at Kai again.
"What did mother do, Kai? What did she say, when she saw you killed her husband?"
"I left the room...because he was making a mess on the floor...the wall and door behind him was red...she'd be mad if she thought I did it...I saw her in the hall trying to get down from a stepladder she was on...I was going to apologize, and I had my arms out for her to hug me and...make him stop playing. It wasn't fun anymore."
"Mother ran right to you, until she saw the gun, didn't she Kai? She stopped when she saw what you did; the blood that had hit your face and hands," Voltaire added. He had not been present, but from the coroner's reports they had figured that Kai had shot his mother in the hall.
"Right...I was still holding the gun the same way, and I ran to her, and she stopped just in front of me...and just stared. I reached up with both arms..."Kai's arms twitched as though trying to replay the scene as he spoke. Both of his hands were open, and he spread his fingers wide, then slapped his fingers onto his palms, and repeated this gesture. (2)
"You still held the gun...when you reached and grabbed for her, you squeezed the trigger again, and hit her..."
"...under her chin. I heard her bone break and saw her fall; she made a mess, like dad did. She was yelling at me to stop and she was...crying. Then she wasn't anymore. She didn't answer when I called her...I thought she would be mad...she and dad were both staining the carpets...I wanted to help her stop."
"So you murdered your parents because of a game," Voltaire said in a low, icy voice. He spoke slowly, emphasizing every word. "My son...Armin, I loved him as much as a father can love a son, but because of one child's absolute stupidity; he was taken away from me.
"I could not let you succumb to guilt, even though you did not fully grasp the severity of what you had done. November 21st, right Kai? The day you killed them...weeks after that for every single day you were surrounded by therapists and anybody who would be able to help you keep your hold on sanity."
"That's it Kai, the truth. I see it has affected you in more ways than you thought possible. You may wonder, why now? Why now would I choose the time to unleash these memories on you? You are growing up Kai; as an adult, you must be able to handle anything that is thrown at you.
"So I leave you with some wisdom that I have chosen to impart to you: Deal with it." Voltaire swept past Kai and left his study, leaving the door open behind him.
Kai stood in silence. His mind was whirring around in his head; he could just see it sitting on a spinning top and being whirled about, image after image being spewed at him. They came and came in a non-stop vicious cycle.
BloodsmokinggunstainsstaringeyesopenmouthofshockyellingWHY?
Kai pressed his hands against his eyes, wanting what he saw to cease. There was a burning feeling in his chest, creeping up towards his mouth, defying gravity in his throat, and then he was sick; hot vomit seeping between his hands that had moved to cover his mouth.
He spun and began to hurry to the library, up the stairs to his washroom, waves of cold sweat and fever washing over him.
Bursting into the washroom he promptly bent and threw up, splattering the sides of the wide porcelain sink. Even as the tears leaked past his tightly shut eyes he saw everything, over and over in unforgiving flashes.
Kai became aware that he could breathe, and knew he was done being sick for the time being. He drew in a ragged breath and supported himself by placing his hands on either side of the sink, then when the smell began to turn his stomach he reached and turned the water on full blast.
His ears were ringing in the newfound silence, and only then was he reminded of the gash on the side of his head. Wearily he leaned to the cabinet he had for such occasions and pushed past the various tablets until he found what he needed.
Taking the red pill bottle he pushed on the cap then unscrewed it, tipping the container so one of the elliptical pale red pills emptied onto his waiting palm. Closing the bottle and tossing it at the shelf, Kai placed in onto his tongue then bent and lowered his head into the sink, taking a gulp of water before swallowing.
The thick absorbent and sterilizing bandages he had came next; he ripped a square from the roll and held it to the side of his head, wincing slightly at the small twinge of pain.
Better than having a bullet shot in there I'll admit, he thought to himself. From the moment Voltaire had told him, and he had remembered, Kai had denied it all.
He came up with reasons and excuses as to why it couldn't have happened.
He had been manipulated from a young age into thinking he had killed–done that.
Voltaire took a sick twisted pleasure in seeing Kai suffer from well-thought out lies.
Nobody killed their parents at the age of 5. Or ever. Unless they were crazy and mentally unstable, or as some prefer to say, "pleasantly happy."
Kai wasn't like that. He was very stable.
Wasn't he?
Yes. Indeed he was.
Then why are you answering yourself? He wondered as he pressed the bandage more securely to his cut that had slowed to an ebbing flow.
"Because I need answers," Kai muttered out loud. How was he unfortunate enough to have such a wise-ass mind that always had an answer for him?
Luck of the draw. More like un-luck.
Kai stared at his pale face in the mirror, now slightly fogged due to the hot water that was coming from the taps. He saw their faces beside his, covered in the blood, wearing those terrifyingly gruesome and shocked expressions.
Kai stared in the mirror. And he saw them. Their faces beside him. Deep endless sockets where their eyes should have been, their skeleton showing through on their face, just strips of skin in random places on their faces. They were staring back at him. His parents.
Kai pulled the bandage away when he felt the blood stop. He had caught it in time. He forced himself to think, to gather his scattered thoughts together in his harried mind.
Those were illusions in the mirror he saw. Nothing more. They weren't really there.
Kai turned to dispose of the bloodied bandage. They weren't really there.
He crossed to the garbage can. Bent down. Looked up.
They were really there.
Down the two flights of stairs, rounding the corners and barely preventing himself from banging into the walls. The front door loomed up in front of him; shoes on the left, they were picked up and hastily put on.
He was out the door, tearing down the drive; the gates were open, wide open, he sped through them, skidding in ice but never stopping. Never slowing.
Always going.
They were really there.
Both of them had been standing, eyeless faces watching him in curiosity, as he more or less "freaked out". They didn't seem to understand when he gave the low, unbelieving cry; nor did they understand when they heard him whisper, "They are really here," followed by a quick exit.
Of course they were really here. Where else would they be?
Running now along packed snowy roads, leading through forests and over bridges. Kai kept going until he felt as though his lungs would burst, and even then he continued. If his lungs exploded, that would be the least he could allow to happen.
An eye for an eye. Retribution. It could be his way to pay them back. One question though:
Would it be enough?
Hours later. Maybe days, months, or years. He did not keep track.
Kai had reached the outskirts of town. There were cars here, and people. Living their lives as usual. Going to and from work. As usual. Not killing their only loving people in the world.
As usual.
The Sun. Was it out? Perhaps it was the Moon, shining it's cold unforgiving face on sinners like him. He was cold, no matter what, whether it was the Sun or Moon. He was thankful for that; he didn't deserve any warmth the Sun might provide. He didn't deserve any help from anyone to warm him up.
He didn't deserve a life after what he did.
Retribution. He would have to find a way to pay them back, after what he'd done. Again and again he felt the gun in his right hand, and as he walked he imagined aiming it as his own heart, his own head, and making the fist thereby ending his own worthless life.
Maybe one day.
Can't be today. There was somebody in front of him, blocking his way. Then a flash of red; but not blood. Just a friend.
A friend.
A friend he did not deserve.
An existence that was not his. He did not deserve it.
Any of it.
END FLASHBACK
Tala sat across from Kai, whom he had led to rest on the dark brown corduroy couch. He looked ready to drop dead of exhaustion, not moving except for clenching his right fist over and over.
Sitting in a deep armchair, Tala watched Kai in silent worry. He was very...twitchy. He acted as though there were malevolent beings scratching at his sides, waiting to dig their claws into him. Something was up, and Tala intended to find out what exactly.
Kai's head had slumped forward on his chest, and from the deep breathing Tala knew he was asleep. He stood and crossed the room, quietly taking a seat next to Kai. This feeling he'd had since he'd last seen Kai was more intense, yet sated in a way.
All Tala knew was he felt more at ease and at the same time more on edge than he ever had before, just because Kai was here. It was the bond between them, no doubt. Their deep friendship mixed with their sense of kinship, and any other -ships they may have shared, all boiling in one raw feeling.
Tala would talk to Kai later. When he was calmer. When he wasn't acting like such a paranoid person.
Sighing lightly, Tala reached over and placed his hand on Kai's right one. It tightened around Tala's hand as it had been doing before, but now it stopped. Tala scolded himself inwardly for waking Kai, but no; he was not awake.
The hand did not move, it just kept a grip on Tala's for something to do. Something to hold. Maybe for comfort. Or reassurance.
Maybe the muscles were tired of getting such a work-out and had decided to rest.
Either way, Tala waited. He leaned back beside Kai, watching their hands intertwined as they were. Both pale, it was hard to determine where one began and the other ended. Maybe they never did, but were joined flawlessly.
He liked that idea; they never did separate. Their hands never separated.
Tala and Kai never separated.
Ahem.
1) I don't know what people do if they have anaemia, so I made this up. It may be right, it may be wrong, but it's what I decided on.
2) You know when a child wants something really badly, i.e. candy and they reach for it and make that flapping motion with their hands? That's what Kai is doing.
Yes, Kai was hallucinating, in the part with the washroom and the weird people... his dead parents you know. I'll explain more if anybody asks, I don't have much time now. The ending of this chapter seemed a bit rushed to me, but that's because I just wanted to hurry up and post it.
So this took about 11 days to update; I'm sorry for the wait, but here it is now, 36 and a bit pages. And what's this? Kai and Tala? Finally, maybe, getting romantically involved?
Well, it was just holding hands, but still...big improvement from nothing.
So I say to you: Please Review.