I didn't put this in the other one, but for the wonderful readers and commenters who have already joined me, welcome to Fatal Attraction. I am here to warn you that this story is rated M for the reason that there will be sexual content later in the story. These are all my own characters and my own story line, and thank you to those who commented, glad to know you guys enjoyed the first chapter. Guess I'm doing good so far ^_^
Rebbeca's POV
My hands were shaking.
It was the weirdest thing I think I could have possibly been doing. I was only thrown around the room by my hair, hit a couple of desks and chairs, nothing to minor.
Yeah right.
I had three bruised ribs, a throbbing skull, a twinge in my back that refused to go away, and a single busted knee. I had retreated to my room after the, uh, well I wouldn't say "attack" though that is how everyone in my class was viewing it. I honestly didn't know how to categorize it, and I seemed to be the only damn one who realized it didn't matter. I came, I saw, I got the crap beat out of me, end of story.
The only problem? I knew that I was going to see Kalin and those two stupid body guards tomorrow. You see, my college was a college for the gifted, for any student who had an exceptional talent and wanted to hone those skills to a fine point. There was a large range of talents here, from any type of instrument and singing to all types of dancing, crafting, even writing, languages, and art were among the selection. They had left nothing out, and was in return rewarded with a flock of students ranging in the hundred thousands.
It also made things a lot simpler for people like me.
I was a "special child" as my parents liked to so loving dot me. My term for it is "freakazoid at three o'clock". I played the violin, the piano, and the guitar. I was fluent in french, was good at art, had photographic memory, took hip-hop dancing, and was working my way to the top of the scientific ladder just because I could. The thing that made me a freak? I had been doing most of this since the time I was three and we found out that if I wanted to learn something, I did, no struggling, so tutoring. Show me how and I will.
Needless to say not many people wanted to bond with someone who can remember every word they said in the conversation the two of you had yesterday.
"Hey, Becca." I looked up as I heard the doorway to my room open, to find my one and only friend, Crystal, entering. Crystal always looked like a model, with large breast, a small waist with a generous backside and nicely rounded hips. Her hair was the color of rich mocha, her complexion a soft golden color, and her brown eyes only amplified her perfect nose and plump lips. She always smelled like raspberries and chocolate, and there was not a single guy who didn't turn to look at her as she walked by. And to top it off, she was one of the sweetest and most innocent people you would ever meet in your lifetime.
Would Kalin also find her body as interesting?
Whaaaaa? Where the hell did that one come and go from?
"Are you okay? I heard from Jimmy what happened in your art class." her voice was full of concern as she came over to where I was sitting on my bed and wrapped me in her slim arms that finished with flawless small hands and fingers. She was a good foot taller than I was when we stood next to each other, so needless to say I preferred to sit.
"I'm fine, did you leave your class to come see me?" it was hard to explain what Crystal was good at. She was a master at taking hip-hop dancing, and remixing every move to make it into something no one had ever seen. They way she moved made it seem so flawless and beautiful that half the time I preferred to watch and make her music. She just seemed to have something I didn't, something that made the moves almost work and flow to her will.
"Of course I did! I was not going to stay, like I could focus after they told me my friend had been brutalized by a crazy man!"
"Wait, what?" had she just said crazy man? Surely she hadn't just said that?
"Yeah, everyone is talking about how the new student in your class is crazy and that he attacked you, for like, no reason. That you were even nice to him and everything." she began wandering around my room, touching my art work on the wall, and my musical instrument cases I had placed carefully. She eventually sat on the kitchen table, a good thirty feet from me.
"That isn't what happened, Crystal." I said in a soft voice, too shocked to speak any louder. Were people really going around blaming everything on Kalin? Why would they do that? They had been watching what had happened the whole time. Or had to story just become so warped and twisted as it passed ears that this is what it had turned into? Either way, it sucked, especially since now everyone thought Kalin was some violent person.
Wait, was he a violent person?
"Then tell me what DID happen, gimme! Gimme dish!" she suddenly seemed to excited, and I rolled my eyes. Crystal's one and only downfall.
She loved gossip.
But at least I knew if I told her the truth she would tell other people, and maybe the story would finally be put straight. So I did tell her, watching her eyes widen as my story progressed, but I cut myself short at the end when words began to pour out of my mouth that I hadn't meant too. Like how Kalin had seemed to fight for me, like he seemed like he had tried to protect me.
God, I had a crush on a guy I had just met and had never heard speak. Shows what kind of girl I was.
"Oh! Its oh so romantic!" she suddenly cried at the end of my story, and I stared at her with wide eyes, not quite understanding where she was getting that from.
"How, exactly, did you get a tale of romance out of all this?" I asked, realizing I really did not understand normal people. And yes, compared to me, even with her unique talent, Crystal was unique.
"Oh come on? The eyes meeting, hearts pounding to the rhythm of each other-"
"-I said I only think that was how it felt!" I tried to intervene, but she continued on.
"- Him fighting to try and protect his fair maiden!" she clutched her hands to her chest and sighed, wistfully. Then she looked at me again, her eyes shining. "Oh! I do wish I could find romance the way you do! It is like a classic story! He is insane, and yet his love for you is just flowing up inside of him until he can no longer take it! And the passion guides him even with his brain scrambled!"
"Your nuts," I pointed out, and broke in when she went to speak again. "I was with him for a total of ten minuets! And no, I don't believe in condemning him before I really know if he is crazy. There was chemistry, maybe, but no fated romance, nothing more than what there was. He probably thought it was his fault his guards attacked me and was frustrated because he couldn't tell them so." I lifted a finger to cut her off when she tried to talk again. "Hes got a muzzle on, for crying out loud. Just because I like what I see doesn't mean we are gonna start dating. I doubt he even really understands what I am saying."
"Then why did you talk to him to begin with?"
Good question.
"Because I sensed something in him, that I have been searching for in myself.
(***)
It was around three in the morning when the music that was welling up inside me just became too much to bare. It bubbles up within my chest and tingles down my arms into my tips of my fingers, demanding composition. I knew this composition would be sad and beautiful, and would make the hearts of those who heard it ache with longing and sadness.
I took my violin from my case and left my room, not wanting to wake up the people in my building just because my soul would not me rest. My body still hurt like hell, but my heart hurt worst of all. Kalin was suffering, in the care of men who did not want to take care of him, seeming to want something from him. I hated to see anything suffer, and my heart wept for him, even as my brain tried to come up with a way to ease my suffering.
I found my way out into the courtyard, by the large fountain that sloshed water high into the air before it fell down in loud splats. The night was beautiful, crisp, clean, the smell of jasmine and lemongrass drifting to me on the breeze as I took a seat on a dry spot on the fountain. The sky was clear, the stars alive, my waiting audience.
I place the violin to my shoulder and without pause, allowed the music to flow through my fingers, finding the strings without preamble. It was something I never did in front of other people, putting on such a blatant display of my talents. My violin was not my favorite instrument, nor had it been my choice to start playing it, but it was always perfect for the haunting melodies my heart created. I had brought strong men to their knees, and mad even the most serious person tear up. I knew how to get inside their hearts, and my music wound a tale they could not turn away from.
The noise from the fountain covered up most of my haunted melody, but some still managed to get through if you knew that you were meant to listen. To the people in the buildings with would sound like nothing more than a small melody that wafted to them while they were sleeping, something to change their dreams.
With that thought, my eyes darted up to a building to my far left, and I spotted a window on the top floor, the curtains pulled back, the window open, the light on to allow me to see a shadow figure leaning out.
Crystal.
She somehow always knew when the music was going to be too much for me to bare. Maybe she felt the same thing I did. But she always listen to my music, she was the only one who knew how often I did this, and at what time. She always encouraged me to record my music, to get it out there, but I didn't want too. My music was my heart, my soul, my very essence, and to share it so casually with thousands of people felt like I would be lowering myself. Crystal understood, so I allowed her to listen. But as for my parents, and my siblings, they always go pre-made music, something beautiful but not personal. How could I let them inside me like that? They would never look at me the same way again.
Crystal always commented on how sorrowful my music always was, and I think she was starting to understand that sorrow was etched into my bones. My life had known endless amount of sorrow, from my own family more than anything else. From the children at school who teased me because I had skipped three grades and they would have put me higher if they could. Teased and tormented, even drawn blood, until it grew so bad my parents had to pull me out and start homeschooling me. I had touched on every instrument they could think held a beautiful sound, but the violin they had decided was the best. My brother had picked the paino, saying he hated the sound of the violin. And me, against all of my parents urgings, had picked the guitar. And to piss them off even further, and electric guitar was in my closet.
I used all three together often, making my own music, twisting the lyrics this way and that, loving the power at the ends of my fingers.
My music was different this night though. This night, the taste to it was different. It was not sorrow for myself, but sorrow for another, a person who was visibly a prisoner, just as I was in my soul. I had come to this school because I could escape, and because my parents had wanted me too. They were upset that I had taken hip hop dancing, and the science classes, and even the art class. They wanted me to do nothing but focus on my music. But I was as far out of their reach I could get, and I still was not free.
I looked away from Crystal, about to close them when I spotted a shadow figure in the window on the first floor. As if knowing they were spotted, they leaned forward, and the moon illuminated Kalin's handsome face.
My breath hitched, my heart pounded, but for some reason I was not afraid of him hearing the compassion in me. It was for him, and his eyes said he understood. I smiled and nodded to him, seeing him nod back before I closed my eyes and the music changed against my will. It changed into something sweet, a promise, an understanding. Something I did not know I had felt inside me was welling out and telling him without words I understood.
Maybe Crystal was right. Maybe if we had met in different circumstance it would have been just like a romance story. But we were both prisoners held my different chains, and as of yet we did not know how to help each other.
But suddenly an idea sparked.
My eyes opened again, seeking his. I could tell my music was touching him, his gaze surprised, he glanced down at his chest. Like I was haunting him. Maybe I was.
I was haunted by him too.