Chapter 10

"Cagalli," the small boy stood behind his sister's pink, bedroom door, banging on it constantly. "Cagalli, please come out."

On the opposite side the young girl sat on the floor, her arms hugging her knees as her head hung low.; tears streamed down her rosy cheeks. She continued to disregard her brother's constant pleas to exit her room.

"Go away," she told him.

He heaved a sigh. "Fine, if that's what you want," he didn't move a muscle.

Minutes passed, but he held his ground, silently waiting for his sister to come out. His prayers were answered when the door slowly creaked open. Quickly he hid against the wall on the side of the door. His heart pounded in his chest as her door continued to squeak open. Her small head popped out of the opening, and lucky for him she looked to her right first. As her head was turning left he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her out and into the hall.

"No fair," she said as she tried to release herself from his grasp. "Kira, let go."

"I will only let go if you promise to stay out here and talk to me."

Cagalli fell silent. She pondered it for a moment, but soon fell victim to his offer.

"Okay...I promise," she moaned.

Slowly he released his hold. His sister folded her arms and fell to the floor, automatically sitting in Indian style. Kira followed suit.

"What's the matter, Cagalli?" he asked.

Before speaking she formed the most saddest pout she could muster.

"Why can't we go back to our old school? I don't like it at the new place. I don't knows nobody and the kids are mean," she sobbed.

Kira watched in pain as his sister tried to wipe away her constant flowing tears. The abrasiveness caused her face to become beet red, and her small, running nose looked like Rudolf's. Kira scooted next to her, wrapping his arms around her quivering shoulders.

"You know that we can't, Cagalli," he sniffled as tears welled up in his violet eyes, "because Mommy and Daddy aren't home anymore and now this is our home, and...and Mr. Atha is our new daddy...and...and..."

He couldn't hold his sorrow in any longer. Tears streamed down his eyes like waterfalls. The sound of his cries caused his sister to sob harder. The two children sat in the middle of the hall, on the floor hugging each other. And they continued to hug each other until the sounds of one another's grief put them to sleep.

The sky is gray, the wind is cold, and it is silent—-all but the sporadic chirping of some nearby birds. Only me and Athrun are left. His father was the last to leave. Mr. Zala didn't say a word before walking off. He didn't even look at Athrun. But Athrun didn't look at him either. His head just hung low the entire time. And the entire time his face has been blank—-blank, but his eyes are red and puffy. Blank, but I can see past the stoicism and see the grief he is carrying. Blank, but his cheeks are glossy from tear stains.

For the longest—-it feels like hours had passed—-we've been standing here, looking into that deep hole in the ground. My feet are throbbing from the black heels, and I continuously swallow the little bit of vomit that keeps protruding up my esophagus. Even so, I will stay here, by Athrun's side, as long as needed.

I gaze down into the grave. The casket is beautiful. It's all white with gold outlining the rim. Red and white rose petals lay across it, along with two bouquets of pink chrysanthemums. Soon the diggers will be covering this beauty with dark, moist soil, tarnishing it over time.

I exhale. My eyes burn, and I keep sniffling. The ground starts to spin, and so does my head.

Mrs. Zala was a sweet woman, well at least from what I can recollect. She'd pick Athrun up from time to time when he would visit Kira. That's when I first met her—-on one of Athrun's very first visits to my house. She was dropping him off (he was staying over for the weekend—-a couple of kids were) and with a big smile, and soothing voice, she greeted us, a tray of warm oatmeal cookies in hand. Father was pleased because oatmeal is his favorite cookie. I'd never forget that—-the way she warmly greeted all of us, how she talked to us after, and how she pinched my cheek (even though I was too old for such a thing) and called me a "doll." I still remember the taste of the cookies. They were so warm and chewy. Lightly buttery, but oh so sweet…and homemade...the best kind.

She was everything I dreamt a mother to be like, since my memories of mine were vague—-for the most part. A bumped into her a few times whenever I attended a political event with Father, and she would always carry that warm, beautiful smile.

My body starts to tremble, and suddenly my cheeks feel warm. I place my hand on my cheek, wiping away the warm, wet substance flowing down it. I purse my lips together, trying to swallow the lump forming in my throat, but it is difficult.

Athrun must've noticed my tears, because he takes hold of my hand, and entwines his fingers with mine. My body becomes steady. Yet, I feel my hand shaking. I look over, and notice Athrun's head is hanging lower than before and his entire body is trembling. It is faint. but I hear his muffled cries. I move closer to get a better look at his face, and I am heartbroken. His eyes are shut tight, and he bites his lower lip, turning it red. His cheeks are pink and wet. I place my hand on his shoulder, squeezing it.

"Let's get out of here," I say.

He's calming down, but the tears continue to flow. With a deep breath he stands erect. Without a word he guides me away from the grave. I say nothing, but secretly I look back. He doesn't. As the grave disappears out of sight, my heart cracks more and more, thinking of the agony painted on Athrun's face, the sorrow that I know so well of losing a parent, and the fact that this most likely was my brother's fault.

His back is facing me as we lay in his old bed at his parents' house. I watch as his body rises and falls, up and down. The sound of his light breathing is soothing—-hearing him breathe, knowing that he is still alive is calming. It's calming, especially considering the fact that bad things keep happening to people I know or love. Or care about in any sort of way. If anything was ever to happen to Athrun I'd lose it—-lose my grip on sanity. He's the only one who's been making me smile, making me laugh, taking care of me physically, mentally, and emotionally. Besides Father, Athrun is the only person I truly have left (I haven't been in touch with any friends for months). Well, for now…

I place my hand on my stomach and begin rubbing it. I can't believe there's a baby in there. It's so surreal to me. This whole year is surreal. But it has to end...my phone rings. I turn to look at it and I see that Father is calling me. I sit up as I grab it off the dresser.

"Hello," I say as I step into the hall.

I look back and Athrun is still asleep.

"Cagalli, are you still in Junius?" my father asks.

"Yes," I try to keep my voice low. "The funeral ended a couple of hours ago. We're resting now."

"Is Patrick around?"

"No...he's at his office. Athrun assumes he is burying himself in work to mask the pain."

"Are you and Athrun alone? Are you two at the house?" there's anxiety in his voice.

"Father, Athrun and I are alone on many occasions…" I trail off, reminding myself to be careful with my words. My father is no fool, I'm sure he knows me and Athrun are more than friends now, but I am also sure he doesn't want to admit it...or approve of it. "Everything is fine."

"I want you back home, immediately," his voice is firm.

"Father, I am here representing you, and I can't leave Athrun at a time like this."

"You being there without Kira was already a mistake. You think people aren't talking, Cagalli? Your brother has been out of sight for months...the media has been on our heels. I don't need them intruding on your personal life. They never have before, but you running around with a politician's son, being the president's daughter during the cursed year with a missing brother is causing—-"

"There's been speculation that the cursed one is Kira, but why do I have to come home now? Now, when such a tragedy has befallen on the Zala's?"

He is silent for a moment. "The cursed one has been spotted in Junius...currently," he says.

My heart drops, and my phone nearly slips from my hand. "I gotta go," I hang up before he can protest. I throw my phone on the bed and pull my laptop from under it. Rapidly I search the web for recent sightings of the cursed one. My eyes scramble over all of the news headlines. All say that there has been spottings in, or around, Junius, but I need to know where the cursed one is currently. I am ready to slam my fist on the keyboard when a video for a live broadcast pops up. I click on it.

A man's voice is heard, but he isn't shown. I believe he is hiding in a safe area away from the beast's eyes. The camera is pointed at something—-the beast—- flying high in the sky. The image is blurry due to distance. The beast circles the moon.

"Citizens stay inside tonight, especially if you are in or around city hall. I repeat…"

I stop listening and pay close attention to the area in which the filming is taking place. I'm not too familiar with Junius, but maybe I can map it. That building is downtown, definitely. If I can find out exactly where and get there in time then maybe I can end this. At least, that's what the lady told me…

"I know this won't sound good, but you asked," she sighs. "Other than taking the Cursed One out of the country for a while-of course no more than a day-there's also the sacrifice."

"Sacrifice?"

"Yes, two," she says. "One can sacrifice someone close to the Cursed One; even if it's themselves...someone who shares a great bond, someone of blood. The Cursed One must drink their blood," she stares at me. "He'd have to drink your blood."

I stand alone in the middle of the street. Not a soul in sight, except for the tainted one above me. My head is cocked back as I watch it circle the moon. I arrived here minutes ago, but it hasn't come down yet. Maybe it doesn't see me, or maybe it isn't feeding at the moment. That's not good, defeats the purpose of me coming here.

It's so cold tonight, and my bare legs shiver with every passing wind. I should've changed before driving over, but I didn't want to wake Athrun, though I would love to say my farewells...no...i don't ever want to say goodbye, but I have to. Because Kira is my twin, I feel responsible for his mother's death. I feel responsible for all of those Kira may have killed. In order to right those wrongs I'll give myself. Sacrifice a few for the majority.

Yet, it still flies in the sky. How do I get it to come down? He'd have to drink your blood, is what the lady said. I have to become appetizing. I look around for something sharp, but—-no thanks to the faint street lamps—-it is too dark. Wait! there's a pocket knife in my glove compartment! I run to my car, parked behind me, and grab it.

Slowly stepping away from the car, I return to my spot. WIth my gaze on the night sky, I place my knife on my palm and press the tip of the blade into it. I am ready to glide the knife across my hand when a pair of headlights temporarily blind me.

I blink to regain my vision, and I see a man stepping out of the car. I want to know who it is, but there's no time to waste. The knife glides across my skin, cutting deep. It's a stinging pain and I have to bite my lip to stifle a scream. Blood begins oozing out, spiraling down my fingers and onto the road. I look at the beast, and it has seized flying. Perfect.

"Cagalli!" the voice is familiar...

My head snaps forward, and Athrun is in front of me, grabbing my hand, and quickly wrapping his jacket around it. He takes the knife and tosses it.

"How did you…?" I start.

"What are you doing? Kira is up there. Are you trying to give yourself away?"

I say nothing, but I look him in the eye, gazing with intensity. His eyes widen, and I know he understands.

"You're sacrificing yourself?" he almost whispers. "What good will that do?"

"Everything," I say.

We both fall silent to sound of gusty wind. The noise increases with every passing second. Looking up, we see that the beast is closing in on us. Black wings flap rapidly as it nears, and then I realize it: the black, feathered wings, the long, disheveled hair, and the black eyes. This isn't Kira, it's Lacus.

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