thank you for all the kind reviews! sorry for the gap in chapters, i sprained my wrist and have been out of commission for a bit. i own nothing but the plot. -raz0rs.
Chapter five: Never been afraid of storms.
Kisara couldn't remember how she had gotten to her feet, much less why she was waking up, covered in cold sweat and shaking. Her first instinct had brought her down the hall to mom's room, and she opened the door with her brain still a blur from the confusion and fear that lingers after nightmares. Twisting the doorknob she pushed it open and blinked into the moonlight, reality washing over her along with the bright beams, waking her sleeping mind fully. She sighed and wrapped her arms around herself, willing her shaking limbs to still as she looked into the room.
Mom wasn't there. The sheets were a mess from how she had left them, makeup piled on her vanity with a couple dresses laid on the back of it's delicate porcelain white chair, as if she would come back any minute to tidy up. Her grand four-post bed looked more massive than ever, the same shade of off-white, simple and elegant in a French style Kisara was sure she could recall the name of if her brain was fully aware. The cold silver moon hauntingly illuminated the space and made her skin crawl, giving it a hollow metal feeling. Even the floral lace drapes cast ghastly shadows onto the floor, threatening to crawl towards her.
Taking a step backwards, Kisara slowly shut the door and walked the fourteen steps back to her room, closing her own and sliding down the back of it to settle into a lanky pile of limbs, the back of her head nearly bumping as she leaned it backwards.
She started to remember why she was so shook up, her dreams slowly bubbling back to her growing consciousness; there was sand, warm and white against her bare feet. She hated sand, the beach and sun were a constant threatening sunburn and the ocean terrified her. Scowling and furrowing her brow with closed eyes, she remembered staring at the mystifying beauty of the vast blueness from inside the hotel room. The ocean was gorgeous, deeply terrifyingly unknowingly gorgeous, 2 miles from where her and her mother had stayed at in Osaka for a fashion week premiere. Beyond the sand she remembered a temple, something Egyptian with long carved pillars engraved with hieroglyphics. There was a large pool in the middle of the structure, with a fountain with water so calm and clear she could easily see her uninterrupted reflection.
Her eyes popped open and subconsciously her eyes sought out her own mirror. The girl in the reflecting pool, it wasn't her, but it was somehow; her eyes were different, her jaw more tight, her muscles more toned. The other her had skin less translucently pale and sordid, as if glowing internally among the rippling desert heat, her expression was serene and controlled. There was sureness to her movements as she had mimicked Kisara when she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, icy cold eyes meeting their mirror in the pool. She had opened her mouth to confront her mirror image, but nothing had come out, as if her voice had dried with the sand. And it was then she had heard it, her name, whispered like a prayer into her ear. Quickly, she turned to see who was addressing her—and promptly been pulled back into reality by a crack of thunder.
Swallowing, she eyed her present-day reflection warily, making sure it did not betray her; holding up a hand slowly and flexing it, watching her own tendons move in the shadow of the mirror, lightning illuminating her room, dancing with the thunder in it's rhythmic song.
She had never been afraid of storms. Slowly, the coat of sweat on her brow was drying and as she pulled herself up, breaking eye contact with her mirror-self as she crawled back into bed. It was freezing, even though fall had just started to settle in, and she wasn't sure if it was the memory of the warmth of the sand or the storm had caused her to draw her blankets up high over her head.
"The thunder chases the lightning, and its tears are rain. For the thunder loves the lightning, but he can never catch her". She whispered to her pillow, unaware until she felt a tear slide down her face she had started to cry. Silently she sobbed, and turned over to her side, towards the wall and shoved her pillows and stuffed tiger into a long line, wrapping her arms and legs around them and slowly settling in. A poor substitute for a mother's calming hug in the middle of the night for a scared child, but a substitute no less.
It was her own fault for taking a nap, she thought irately, eyeing the clock that read 3:44 am. She should have just stayed up, finished her homework and then gone to bed, to get herself used to her school schedule. But instead she had crashed as soon as she got through the door. It was that stupid smug look on his face as he had talked to her, almost laughing at her panic. There was no way she could get out of this up coming interview, and no way she would bow down to the almighty Seto Kaiba just because he was insanely gorgeous with perfect eyes and hair—no. No, no, no. Would not, could not, no. She would not fall for another boy who would just break her heart. Wouldn't get her expectations up just to be let down again and left alone. Mom wasn't there to hold her when she cried, or soothe her anger with calming shushes and gentle pats.
She would probably not even see the CEO; she'd just be another one of a thousand of employees. He wouldn't even notice her name on his payroll, he had nrushed her off after what she had gauged was the closest thing she'd get to an apology out of someone like him. It would probably be the closest thing she got out of a conversation she ever got to him for the rest of her life.
After waking she had finished up the small amount of classwork she had and then dug into researching the young billionaire. He didn't smile in photos, his eyes were cold and hard, deep blue and constantly under creased brows. The only thing that hinted at his humanity were the dark blue bags under his eyes. Even the photos that he allowed to be taken showed no emotion other than absolute control and design, as if he pulled the strings to the entire system. And that intimidated the shit out of her. Yet, after a while she spotted a subtle a small evidence of kindness. He was also an orphan, he and his brother Mokuba, who was almost always at his side in all of the photos she had dug through. There was one of him, in an amazingly reprehensible purple trench coat, getting into his limo and keeping Mokuba behind him, allowing the younger to slide in while he eyed the cameraman with annoyed hostility. It was as if to protect his younger brother, a quality about him Kisara couldn't scoff at. For those abandoned by the people who gave them life, family was all but absolute importance in whatever form you could find it.
She had screamed herself hoarse and beaten her knuckles bloody on the glass between the operating room and herself as she watched her mother loose her battle to cancer. The nurses had drug her away but she had fought, growling like a wild animal and clawing onto the window like her arms were made of iron, refusing to leave, refusing to believe that they just gave up on mom. Curses, scalding hot words burned from her mouth with fiery passionate anger, the nurses almost understanding, the doctors eyes almost filled with forgiving pity. But in the end, so typically, they had sedated her, laid her in a hospital bed and prescribed her anti-anxiety medicine and an intense sleeping pill to help her "through the pain."
Scoffing at the memory she curled arms around her stuffed tiger tighter. The sedative had kept her calm until she had gotten home. It took a week to settle mom's affairs, and longer to keep child services from attempting to take her away. Her aunt had finally done something for her estranged sister and unrelated niece; backed Kisara's ability to take care of herself.
The flat was now hers, along with the small fortune her mother had left her, enough to keep the place and pay off the funeral bills. But money wouldn't last forever, and that's why she needed to get this job. She needed to swallow her pride, fears, and inhibitions and just climb the next rung on the ladder, take the next step and keep going.
Lightning flashed against across her window, and the thunder called closer, chasing his lover through the sky. Kisara inhaled deeply and tried to make herself relax, she had to be up in three hours. The thunder rumbled mournfully and she smiled slightly to herself. It was a story her mom had told her, of thunder and lightning. A tragic love story, but one her mom always used to instill courage and strength within her adopted daughter's heart.
One day you'll catch the lightning, and she'll be more than you ever hoped for.
A/N: i don't know if i made up the story about the lightning and thunder or if my brain subcounciously sourced it from somewhere else. I am really in love with the idea, and well lightning just happens to tie in nicely with our beautiful blue eyes. Hope you guys enjoyed, please R&R!-raz0rs