I spent a good few minutes sitting there, dumbstruck, as I watched the bright fuchsia of her dress disappear into the steadily growing crowd. Shouting after her would have been pointless; there were a large number of people now gathered around the stall, and with their chattering and the background noise of the various carnival rides there was no way she would hear me. Plus, I didn't know her name, and I'm sure that shouting something like 'girl', or 'hey, you' definitely would have been rude.

I felt my nerves build as more people seemed to gather around the stall. It was placed a little way behind a few of the other attractions, so most people were probably just noticing it on their way out of the fair, like we did. I couldn't even see where Vashyron was standing anymore. Running away seemed like a viable option at this point, but doing it in front of all of those people who were waiting in line may have proved to be even more embarrassing than staying and letting someone else kiss me. So I decided to stay in my seat, hoping that the next person in line would be another shy girl who would give me a quick peck on the lips and be done with it. Whoever she was, she would be a worthy sacrifice, as long as it meant she would take my place and I could leave.

Unfortunately, that plan never came to fruition, as, although the next person in line was another young girl who looked like she had been dragged along to the same fate as I had, she was pulled out of the queue by an older man who I'm assuming was her father. I then watched as he moved her aside to speak to her. Over all of the noises I couldn't hear what he was saying, but I didn't need to.

I knew.

In a few short seconds the girl's face changed to one of shock. I knew that look. I had seen it before. That was the look people always had after they found out who I really was. It had only happened a few times before, but it was the exact same look.

Not long after that, I heard hushed voices close to the stall, and it seemed to spread, like a ripple, as various faces in the crowd changed to match the girl's. I didn't blame them. I probably would have done the same if it were me.

There was a brief lull as the rides switched passengers and the music from nearby stalls switched from one song to the next, and in those few seconds I heard the words that confirmed my fears.

"That's the boy who murdered all of those people."

I didn't see who it came from, and couldn't even tell which direction, but I felt my stomach lurch as the music started back up and the crowd's voices once again became a blur of sounds. It was clear that everyone else had heard it, too, as I could suddenly feel even more pairs of eyes on me. I didn't dare look at them, so I kept my line of sight on the cracked, painted wood of the stage floor, wishing that this could just be over.

Why couldn't I have died back then?

As the crowd continued to stare at me in shock, and it was clear nobody was willing to get up onto the platform with the murderer, I decided it would be best if I went home; anywhere else but here.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a few people step back as I pushed myself out of the seat with shaking hands, and it hurt. It always hurt to know that people were afraid of me. That's not what I wanted. That's never what I wanted. I considered saying something; anything. Anything that would make them hate me less; that would stop them from fearing me.

But I knew there was nothing that could ever do that.

I turned away to leave the platform, making sure to plan a route to the exit that would keep me as far away from these people as possible. Not for my sake; for theirs. I didn't want any of them to think that I was actually an aggressive person. If they wanted me gone, I would go, and they wouldn't have to deal with me ever again.

Just as I was about to take a step forward, however, I felt a firm hand around my wrist.

Great.

My first thought was that they had gathered a group of people from the crowd to beat me up and teach me a lesson for what I'd done, but that thought, along with everything else in my head disappeared as I was pulled around to face Vashyron, and he kissed me.

I'm not even sure how the crowd reacted, as everything but the sensation of his lips pressed against my own seemed to have been blocked out. It was definitely different to how the girl had kissed me. His lips weren't as soft, but there was something slightly more forceful about it, something a lot more experienced, something that just felt right, and I briefly let my eyelids slip closed in a moment of weakness. I opened my eyes again as he pulled away, and it was over almost as quickly as it had begun. In reality it had been a few seconds. In my head it had felt a lot longer.

I found myself staring at him in disbelief and embarrassment as I slowly became aware once again of the sounds around me, and became much more quickly aware of the crowd of people still watching us. He didn't seem to care at all, and instead of ushering me away from the masses and out of the fair like I hoped he would, he took a seat in one of the chairs.

Unable to react properly with my head in such a state, I decided to quickly exit the fair; all eyes still following me until I was out of sight. Once beyond the entrance I didn't feel much better, so I took the long way home, spending a good twenty minutes or so wandering around the streets. I had hoped the fresh air and welcome silence might clear my head and make sense of everything, but it had no effect.

Why did he kiss me?

Was it because nobody else would?

Did he feel sorry for me?

The possibility that he had done it out of pity made me feel even worse. I was happy that he had kissed me; more than happy, but did he have to do it in front of all those people? Those people who were crowding around to gawk at me like I was some kind of freak show.

It would have been easier, not to mention less embarrassing, if he had just let me leave without doing that.

After encountering a group of thugs and having to hide from them as I wasn't armed, I decided to return home. The door was still locked and Vashyron clearly wasn't back yet, so I let myself in using the spare key he kept hidden in a 'secret' compartment at the back of the mailbox.

The house seemed oddly silent and kind of melancholy without Vashyron's presence in it, but in no way did I want him back here right now. I'm not sure what I was going to say to him next time we were together, but I didn't want to have to think about that yet.

I spent a good while with my back against the front door once it was closed, staring at a road sign on the opposite wall and trying not to think about everything that had just happened. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Everything was just falling into place and starting to make sense, and now it was all complicated again.

Sure, I really wanted Vashyron to kiss me, but not like that; not in front of a group of people like that, not after people had been saying those things about me, and definitely not because he felt sorry for me.

I hated it when people felt sorry for me.

I didn't want to be pitied, I just wanted to be treated like everyone else; to be normal like everyone else, and have a normal life and family and friends; to be a regular teenager.

What are the chances of that ever happening?

I took a deep breath to clear my head, shrugging my jacket off my shoulders and hanging it over a hook on the wall, before heading into the bathroom to take a shower. After removing my brand new clothes and feeling guilty again after looking at the expensive names on the tags, I stepped into the shower, pulling the curtain around and turning the water up as high as it would go. It stung when it first hit my skin, but soon after came the familiar numb, tingling feeling, and I was able to stand under the spray, vacantly watching clouds of steam rise around me.

I realised I was going to need a plan for when Vashyron got home. I was going to have to prepare myself for the awkward conversation that would probably arise. Then again, maybe it wouldn't be awkward at all. It was a kissing booth, after all, so he had a reason to kiss me. It wasn't just on a whim.

Yeah.

That was clearly all it was. I was worrying for nothing. He would come home and it would be just like it usually was; no different. Therefore, I would have to act like my usual self, too. After all, wasn't I used to hiding what I was thinking? Wasn't I used to hiding how I was feeling? He wouldn't know that the kiss was all I was able to think about, and that before it happened I had wanted him to kiss me.

I quickly washed my hair under the scalding water, scrubbing my body just as hastily, before turning off the shower and stepping out onto the rug. Just as I was reaching for a towel, I heard what sounded like the front door, before Vashyron came into the bathroom without knocking.

And I was just standing there, completely naked.

I felt my cheeks literally burning, and not just from the insanely hot shower I had just stepped out of, but Vashyron didn't seem to care at all.

"Zephyr, I have to talk to you."

I quickly grabbed the towel I had been reaching for seconds before, tying it around my waist in a knot that was probably never going to come undone.

"Couldn't you have talked to me later?!"

"No can do. I wanna talk about what happened, and I know that you probably don't, but...those people are just arrogant. They don't know you, Zephyr, and I really don't want you to think that-"

"That's what you came in here to talk about?!"

"...Yeah. What else would it be?"

I felt my face heat up again, and although I wanted to tear him a new one right then and there, I decided it would be best if I went and put on some clothes first, so I snatched my clothes from the floor, pushing past him and retreating angrily to my room on the roof.

Luckily, he seemed to see sense this time, and didn't follow me. So I was left alone for the night to lie on my bed staring at the ceiling, and wishing that I didn't have to go back downstairs the next morning and explain why I was so upset.

But I did.