Once Betrayed, Twice Shy
Disclaimer: I do not own Huntik. The song lyrics quoted in this chapter is from "Double Agent" by Rush, which I happened to come across while surfing the net.
Author's Note: Dear readers, thank you for your support and encouragement. As you have probably noticed, this chapter as well as future chapters may or may not follow the same format as the previous chapters because I will be experimenting with different ways of storytelling. I hope you won't be disappointed.
"Leaving is the right thing to do... It's for the best... They'd be better off without someone like me... I don't think I can ever bring myself to face them. Not after what I've done."
Those were the thoughts that ran through Zhalia's mind as she packed her things and left. She could not bear to say goodbye, so she let her thought spectre do the job. By the time her friends had heard the news, she was long gone.
With nowhere to return to, Zhalia settled on renting an apartment. Money wasn't an issue. She knew the Organization inside-out and could easily tap on their private funds. After all, they did have networks all over the world and had access to funding from governments and major world banks. Even if she were found out, the Organization wouldn't risk exposing their underground connections to take legal action against her. They would find some way to cover up their tracks.
It was a risky move, but the Organization was out to hunt her down either way. It served as a temporary solution while Zhalia searched for a job that provided a stable income. It was also her farewell "present" to the Organization. Finding a job would be tough, especially since she had no qualifications, but she did have her own connections. Perhaps her old friends would be willing to help her out. If not, she might have to resort to waiting tables or taking up temporary odd jobs, as she did in the past.
As Zhalia unpacked her things in her small but cosy room, something caught her eye as it slid out of her bag. Carefully, she picked up her diary and ran her fingers across the cover. She laid on the bed and flipped the diary open. In the background, a song played softly on a radio, which seemed to originate from the neighbour's room below.
Where would you rather be?
Anywhere but here
When will the time be right?
Anytime but now
The doubt and the fear
I know would all disappear
Anywhere but here
On the edge of sleep,
I heard voices behind the door
The known and the nameless,
familiar and faceless
My angels and my demons at war
Which one will lose depends on what I choose
Or maybe which voice I ignore...
Wilderness of mirrors
Streets of cold desire
My precious sense of honor
Just a shield of rusty wire
I hold against the chaos
And the cross of holy fire
Wilderness of mirrors
So easy to deceive
My precious sense of rightness
Is sometimes so naive
So that which I imagine
Is that which I believe
After penning down her latest entry, Zhalia closed the diary and hid it under her pillow. It seemed like a childish thing to do, but she wanted to keep it close to her. She had to protect her innermost thoughts from prying eyes. It was hard keeping all the feelings to herself that Zhalia found it best to vent her frustrations through writing. And all it took was a simple pen and paper to help maintain her sanity.
Zhalia stared at the blank ceiling above as she thought about everything that has happened. Things will never return to the way it once was. Even if her ex-comrades had forgiven her, all their trust in her have been lost. Somehow, she had hurt them in one way or another. Just that thought filled her with guilt and kept her awake. When she finally drifted off to sleep, she entered nightmare after nightmare. She tossed and turned in her sleep till she fell off the bed, drenched in cold sweat. Not surprisingly, she spent most of the night staring at the blank ceiling, thinking about her friends and wondering when the suits will come for her.