Well, I got my 'craptop' back, as I call it. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, well, you probably haven't read one of my DeviantArt journals, which gives off a perfectly good reason as to why I call my laptop such a 'sweet' nickname…. :D
Anyone notice the new summary?
~Reminders~
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Song: Close To You – John Butler Trio
… That song is too fun-sounding to suit this story… Hahaha :D
- .-.
Chapter 23:
Small, soft hands stroked the each shelf and cupboard door at each step, edging towards him. A look of curiosity was peered towards him from underneath thick eyelashes and a shy stretch of muscle across the mouth to form a grimace was aimed accordingly. The reason of justification held out an outstretched hand and cautiously, it was taken by said small, tender hands.
"Are you hungry, then?" Was what was droned in a particular sound of voice; One that wasn't ultimately pleasant but wasn't a trigger for argument- by the much taller and much older male that lead him through the large, open plan kitchen towards the refrigerator that hummed in a near silent buzz of power. "Your flight must have been long and tedious. It was quite a long ride for somebody as small as yourself." A hint of amusement spread out in each of his words.
Blonde eyebrows were narrowed and a thick accent in which needed developing for his good understanding for the English language was snapped out; "It was fine." He pulled his hand away from him and dug it into the pockets of his shorts.
The teen's eyes flickered in obvious admiration for this small boy that stood rather independently, now, before him. "That's nice." He commented as he pulled open the door of the fridge, digging through, thoroughly searching for some sort of indulgence to share with the small, 5 year old boy. He shifted across a few odd jars and packaging of certain food products which he'd rather not spare a glance at. He wasn't really too appealed by junkfood (as this was the fridge labelled so) and only one sweet was really all he could take. As his eyes landed upon that certain treat, they widened in size and he shoved his hands through to reach it.
He twisted open the cap with an expression that reminded the small boy of a freak with some sort of treat... Oh, wait...
Running a finger around the rim of the full jar, he licked the red, thick ooze off with a swipe of his tongue and a smirk of content as he held the jar out, offering a taste, too, but the small boy frowned at him with bitterness intoxicating his stare.
Shrugging, he re-capped it and placed it back on the railed shelf. "Is there a preference?" He eventually asked him and when the boy answered almost immediately, but almost sheepishly at the same time that's when the older male smirked. That? They had plenty of.
.-.
Hood's mind was on a constant whir; her thoughts flickering between everything that had happened these last few months. She couldn't quite rest on anything. Whenever she closed her eyes, she clearly remembered how the thick legged brown spiders crawled out of the drainage hole in the bathtub... Or how on her first night that same species of spider was crawling across her body, underneath her sheets... She could remember how her heart rate had picked up and how heavy the tension of fear was when it began to tie in her stomach.
And what about the time when she'd found that book and all hell had broken loose?
Memories of that certain book that was hidden in Beyond's room often burnt through her mind whenever she saw those certain bloody eyes, soon followed by the cold feeling she had afterwards as what she thought of somebody screaming something through the hallways at such a wrong time as the one that particular person had chosen... If it was a person. She had serious doubts that it could have actually been an orphan... They were all outside, weren't they? Or were they in class? She couldn't remember.
Hood hadn't quite learnt what had thrown her across the room, either. She saw no shape, but she could remember hands, well, the feeling of them, anyway. She had chills run down her spine whenever she thought about it.
The cut from the corner of B's desk had long since healed- it was only a flesh wound, luckily. Just a big scratch, was what it was. Unfortunately, the mark B had left on her with his pocket knife hadn't faded after it healed. It scarred as a big, scratchy 'B' which filled up the entire length of her back.
Hood's head was constantly aching and the thudding of her feet against the wooden floorboards was no help, either. Her fingers were weaved through her stringy blonde hair and her eyebrows were knitted at each hammer-like thwack that smashed against her skull.
The corridor was completely empty and dead silent. This would have been the perfect moment for that ghost, or whatever it was, to come attack her again. A was nuts when he referred it to being 'a friend' all that while ago. It was definitely not a friend of hers.
One of the biggest questions she had was the one which was causing the large portion of ache in her cranium. Who the hell was C?
It was obvious that C was an orphan that once attended here, or maybe C still goes here but likes to hide in his or her room, like L? But the only problem with that is, she was told about L's existence and many of the others talk about him all the time; like he's an idol!
But everybody was afraid of the mentioning of C, especially around Beyond, she noted. Did that mean that C was just like B? But... B liked to keep to himself, right? What was C to Beyond?
In the midst of the silence, a loud creak stretched out which had reminded the girl of fingernails screeching down a chalkboard had snapped her out of her thoughts. Her chest constricted right as she was about to take another breath, but it was caught in her throat as she felt as if she were suddenly wired to the floor. Her skin pricked when she watched from a distance her bedroom door opening in a sickeningly slow motion; prolonging the witches-shriek of the door to the point of insanity. Her head had the feeling like it was banging against a brick wall every time her heart beat in its fast pace as she watched with widened eyes.
She noticed how her throat and mouth was growing dry when a frosty draft laced the normally cool air.
She knew all too well that something, whatever it was that hated her and felt the need to attack her all the time, was going to jump out from behind that door.
A thick feeling of illness began to bubble in her stomach and she knew that her complexion was visibly paling.
Here we go again. Was all she thought involuntarily.
Small fingers suddenly hooked around the edge of the door and catching Hood by surprise, she began to watch with hawklike vision when another hand appeared next to it. She remained still and waited, but nothing happened.
Clenching her fists and gritting her teeth, without thinking, she attempted to shuffle closer. She wanted to say something but she didn't know what... In fact, why was she even considering talking to this ghost-thing when she should be running away?
She reached a hand out towards the still door and the unmoving hands but when she had, the hands slithered back behind the protection of the wood and this time with not a creak, it flew shut with a loud slam that shook the windows of the corridor and threw Hood backwards onto the floor out of shock.
Her breath was coming in raggedly when she realised that she'd been holding it that whole time and her heart felt like a jackhammer. Her headache was completely forgotten about when she tried to jump onto her jelly-like legs and do a runner the opposite way but when she climbed to them, they were so shaky that she fell again, but the second time around, she managed enough stability to escape immediately.
When the loud footsteps sounded and thudded all the way down the hallway and eventually down the stairs before they turned quiet and into nothing more but a background noise, the door slowly creaked open again. The same two small hands slithered out against the wooden frame and a head of blonde popped out. The small boy craned his neck to see the stump of the wooden beam that led down the stairway which the footsteps had raced out.
His limbs were shaking and his heart was palpitating loudly and hardly. His stomach had butterflies when he finally sank down onto the floor and held his arms.
Whoever that was... Scared the hell out of him.
.-.
The dry wind floated through the air like a forgotten about and ignored plastic bag caught in an updraft.
Black hair, feathered at the ends, masked the stone white face that stared down below onto the soft levels of grass and leaves which blanketed over the dark soil like a rug. The mind of the teenager's was always in a constant buzz; reminding him that there was never an escape from his constant new theories, ideas and suspicions about everyone he'd ever met. Never had those qualities been held at a point of interest until that one day when he'd come across such a curious yet dangerous specimen such as the one who liked to call himself 'Beyond Birthday'.
Pallid hands were dug deeply in his thin jeans and his body which was normally curled in the slightest into a pessimistic hunch which screamed insecure to many others, seemed to be tightening. From such an angle which he was bent into, it looked as though he were about to topple over the edge of the building and ultimately fall to his death.
But he had no intentions to do such a selfish thing.
His dark shaded eyes closed as the unacknowledged cool breeze was finally appreciated for it's duty and he let the calm feeling of sudden relaxation finally begin to drown him. He exhaled deeply and slowly opened his eyes.
The late afternoon rays of fresh orange sunlight were slowly darkening as the sun began to edge away onto the other side of the world.
A sigh escaped him when a slight, unfitting wave of air settled behind him.
"I don't appreciate being sneaked up upon." L's monotonous voice broke the trance of silence that hung in the air.
A mirror image of himself was standing right at his shoulder; only his eyes were glinting with something different then normal.
"Most people don't." Beyond stated as his hand floated upwards to finger through L's dark locks but he shied away. A cool smile played across his lips when his eyes casually locked themselves on the invisible lot of numbers and letters that danced gently above his head.
L uttered a grumble which was not clearly translatable as he continued to stare out into the horizon; trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of Beyond's eyes which were drilling holes in the back of his head.
"Did you know that Zeki actually fought back for once?" A chuckle riveted out. "He was standing up for poor little Andy…" He absently rubbed underneath the bone of his jaw. "I never knew it, but he hits with a rather strong vigour about him that-"
"- Backup." L cut him off as he turned to face him. "Please refrain from rambling. Continuing to do so will not prove amusing for either of us."
Beyond tilted his head with a slacking jaw in such a flexible movement that it was almost sickening. His dark hair fell from his face to reveal his ruby eyes. He looked demonic. He looked… Dead.
"You make it sound as if you're threatening me. Dear sweet L Lawliet wouldn't do such a thing to someone who means no harm, would he?" He clutched his heart as nothing but chide whispered out of his lips.
L's lips thinned at the mock that B was throwing at him and his frame stiffened at the use of his name which hadn't been spoken of or dusted down by anybody, not even himself, until Beyond had found it out.
"You're a liar." L's forefinger and thumb of his right hand gripped under B's chin and drew it upwards; Grey eyes versus red.
A grin was suddenly pulled across the younger teens lips. "So are you."
L's blank gaze didn't falter. No emotion flashed in his eyes and no smirk was itching to be stretched across his lips. As he stared, it was only after a few prolonged and silent seconds that he finally spoke.
"Agreed."
L pulled away from the younger boy and began to stare out at the fading horizon again, wishing to himself that B would realize that his presence was unwanted and leave, but he heard no shifting, ruffling of clothing or scraping of shoes scratch against the concrete, behind him.
"A's numbers have changed."
The words were almost like the gentle whistle of the wind as they were whispered almost secretively and more to the younger teen's self as they came to sound in L's ears.
L's half-lidded eyes widened as a heavy weight of worry and shock finally twisted him around to face the teen.
He was met with thin air.
.-.
He knew that he'd stopped being himself the very second the last droplets of life slowly ebbed away from the limp and weakened body of his mother; when her last, unrecognisable words were whispered out of her pallid, cracked lips and when clear, silvery tears were swept away from her sunken cheeks by her son's hot, shaking hands.
The memory had never left him; always, it was haunting the very depths of his mind and whenever his eyes had finally given in to the fatigue that struck him like a mallet, most nights, he would see as clear as day, that last, sad face of the only woman he'd loved… The only woman he'd ever cried for…
He had no photograph, let alone any reference to the existence of that woman - to remember the better days of her few years of life; to remember a time before she grew ill; before she looked as if she'd crawled out from a coffin that'd been buried in the depth of the ground for about a week.
He felt tears threaten to breach his guard as he ripped opened a zip-up backpack and threw in a long, thick and already prepared piece of rope, before tearing the zip across it's track again, closing it in one flex of his arm.
He knew that this was the only way – the only permanent way to deal with the constant anxiety and depression he'd been pulling himself through. His original way of venting his emotions was too easy to be detected - he had scars to prove it – but this new way wouldn't be found out about until it's too late.
He hadn't noticed, as he swung his backpack over his shoulder and gently closed the door, that an extra set of footsteps had fallen in sync with his as he crept through the darkened and dank corridor and around the slight bend until he'd found himself standing in front of the rough-looking, dark brown, wooden door of the bathroom.
A shaky breath exploded out of him as he hovered his hand over the cool doorknob; oblivious to the second set of footsteps which silently halted as dark eyes peered through the shadows and few dashes of late afternoon sunlight which stretched across the floorboards like oozing blood.
The door opened with a quickened and over-muscled jolt before the teen spilled himself in just as quickly, before shutting the door behind him.
The other boy, however, remained outside of the bathroom for a few extra seconds; unaware of what exactly it was that A was doing – why he was being so careful with each step and each noise he made; why he hesitated before entering inside?
Was there something lying in wait for him? Was that why he'd brought his backpack with him?
His waiting in the hallway was discomforting as these questions and wonderings thrusted through his mind almost all together at once, barely giving him enough time to rationalise what it is he should be doing right at that moment; to figure out what it was, that his friend was doing.
The silence stretched on for what felt like hours as tension began to tighten in his body, keeping him as still as a wired-to-the-wall doll. He barely noticed that he was biting his lip; the taut skin was becoming weak under the pressure his teeth were putting it though.
He heard scuffling begin to echo from afar, travelling loudly through the narrow hallway.
Footsteps.
He tightened his fists and took a deep, calming breath to steady his somehow fastening heartbeat. It wasn't as if he'd get caught following someone around, so why would he need to get nervous, all of a sudden?
Because he felt a tremor of sickness begin to shake in his belly as he felt as if holes were drilling into the centre of his back. He kept still and unmoving; barely even shifting a centimetre to take a relaxing breath.
But soon enough, as he refused to move, he realised that he actually couldn't as he felt vines begin to wrap around his jean-clad legs and around his torso. He felt something cool, yet thick, twist around his bare wrists and circle around his forearms. He couldn't actually see if they were vines that raised from between the wooden planks which made the floor (even though he knew that theory was preposterous) as his neck had remained as stiff as starch-drenched material.
The 'vines' were freezing, he noted, as his jaw clenched as he tried to pull free from his bindings.
He snapped his eyes shut and words began to flood into his mind like a jammed tap that was running on full blast;
There are no vines. You're imagining them. You're hallucinating. You have to be.
As he carefully opened his eyes when the slightness of logic began to warm him yet numb away the iciness of the would-be restraint that tied him to the floor, a shudder seemed to have shaken through his tingling spine and when his vision finally cleared, he flexed his hands; lightly stretching the muscle, and he nearly gasped when he realised his freedom.
Out of a sudden wash of relievance, he looked around for a second; first to his right and as he slowly edged his head around to his left his heart stopped in place for exactly one painful second. He could have leapt out of his skin if he wanted to as the first thing he saw, distorted or not, was a red orb pushed right into his face.
It took only a moment to realise the black strands of hair which spiked across his pallid complexion over those orbs and then the dead white lips which were smiling back at him almost disturbingly. The boy was leaning right into his side; leaving absolutely no 'bubble' of personal space left for either of them.
"Good evening, Zeki." Spoke the 'demon' in a sweet, pleasant tone. If it weren't for his looks, anybody could have mistaken him for an angel.
The teen in question's mouth grew dry. "Zeki.." He whispered, as if he were testing the name on his tongue – like it was something new…. Or forgotten about.
The 'demon' tilted his head to the side in a quick, liquid-like movement. "That's your name, isn't it? Zeki Tensei, or, how the Japanese say it; Tensei Zeki-san?"
'Zeki' kept his mouth shut tight as the grin of the 'demon's grew larger.
"Let me guess… Your last name has the Kanji for 'Heaven' in it, doesn't it? Heh. Zeki 'Heaven'." He laughed with his usual deep rasp that sent the hairs on the back of your neck permanently on end.
"It's 'Born'…. Tensei means natural talent, as in being born that way…" He grudgingly explained. There was no point in denying his name; it was already known and lying would not get him anywhere.
"That makes sense. 'Heaven' is on your side as you can more than 'naturally' talk people out of contemplating their selfish behaviour…. For now.
Your mother was a smart woman, letting you keep your fathers last name, because it really does define your persona… Can't say much about your sister, though. Poor Ciera." He tsked almost mockingly.
"You will not speak about my family." Zeki hissed as disgust and anger wormed it's way more than easily into his words.
"If I were you, my family would be the last thing on my mind." As those horridly blood-red eyes darted to the door and back, his grin stretched into thin line.
A heavy feeling of realisation suddenly dropped into the centre of his stomach like a tonne of bricks, nearly rendering him still, but he broke away from the immediate drop of weight as he leapt over to the door and ripped it open before sprinting inside, barely even realising he'd left the door wide open.
The 'demon' felt a slight tug on his sleeve and he twisted his head in such a terribly, sickening flexibility, it looked as if he could have broken his neck on his own accord.
Wide blue eyes hidden by shaggy blonde hair had narrowed and through a thick, almost untranslatable accent, he spoke only a few words;
"I don't understand why he was so scared." He said flatly.
"Well, step one is to mess with their minds and anything and everything you say next, will be an easy trigger to strike fear in the very pits of their souls."
"Do you speak Russian?" The boy asked as his eyebrows knitted together. "My English is still broken."
B smirked. "Of course. Yebatʹ s ih umy, i oni budut boyatʹsya vas navsegda !" (Fuck with their minds, and they'll be afraid of you forever!)
It took a few seconds for the small boy to gather that as his 'mentor's' English accent was still heavy, but it was understandable and he nodded.
"YA dumayu, chto strah yavlyaet·sya razdrazhayushchim." He replied. (I think fear is annoying.)
"It can be." He grinned as he switched back to English and then grabbed the small boy's hand. "Let's have a look at the mess I made."
.-.
He tore open his bag and pulled out the concealed length of the rope before throwing it over his shoulder and looking upwards, letting his vision catch on the dangling lamp that hung on the ceiling and then let it fall to the basin of the porcelain sink that was over to the left from the light.
He knew that neither of those objects would support his weight, as the porcelain had become chipped and brittle-like with age and the chain that hung the lampshade above was thin and rusted.
He only needed a minute. A minute to finish what had already been corrupted for years.
He set to work in a blinding and blurring flash as he climbed onto the basin of the sink and carefully reached over with a long, slender and slightly muscular arm to grab onto that hanging light.
His fingers had only brushed against it, getting lightly coated in dust, before he slipped and collapsed to the floor, face first, with a loud thud. The first thing he felt was a thick shock of pain begin to explode up his already-broken nose as hot blood began to flood out onto the pure white tiles and slickly spread across his mouth and cheeks.
"Fuck" He cursed breathlessly, trying to hold back the sudden rush of pain that swelled his entire face, as he lifted himself to his knees. He noticed he was still gripping tightly onto the long piece of rope when he wiped away the red, copper-stenched blood on the back of his sleeve.
Mindlessly, he climbed back to his feet and back onto the rim of the basin to reach over for the lamp. His shoes were slowly sliding off the smooth porcelain, not that he noticed, as he grabbed onto the flimsy, rusted brown chain. Holding tightly onto the weakened chain-links with both of his hands, he slowly stepped backwards, bringing it with him, to be standing in the centre of the sink as he decided to give it another go; twisting one end of the rope around it and tying it into a sturdy knot.
He drew in the length that now hung off the lamp's chain until he was met with the already-prepped noose, or slipknot, as some people called them.
He was just about to hang it around his neck when the door suddenly slammed open and Zero sped his way inside.
He stopped in place the very same moment his heart had frozen and the rest of the details seemed as if it were played out in slow motion as A's shocked glance suddenly glazed over as he threw his head away from him and dropped the rope around his neck. His knees slowly bent as he was getting ready to leap off and before his feet had left the porcelain basin, Zero yelled out his name, or, at least his alias as it was all he knew, before he bolted over to him, but it was too late.
A stepped out into air and that was right as the basin finally gave into his weight; bending the pipes and cracking the porcelain through until it collapsed to the ground in a pressure-fuelled spray of water and flying piles of broken ceramics and glass.
As the teen's weight was finally given to the air, he closed his eyes as he felt the rope suddenly close in around his throat with a loud scrape.
He didn't even notice the pressure that was crushing his throat as easily as a hand squeezing a few grapes, or that his head suddenly felt like it was smacking a brick wall due to loss of circulation because he was slowly drifting off into a painless and hurt-free land of darkness.
"Just keep watching. Everything happens for a reason." A voice whispered out amidst the sudden silence that echoed through the room as Zero stared wide-eyed at the scene that had just played out only seconds ago. He barely noticed it though; he was disregarding it as nothing but his imagination.
Not even a second later, before Zero had even realised it, the plaster in the roof ripped out in an explosion of dust as electrical cords snapped in two and the chain that held A up, tore and everything that was hanging from it flew to the ground and shattered as it smashed against the hard tiles in a spray of glass and blood.
"Go to him." That same voice commanded and without a word, let alone a thought, Zero did just that, shuffling over to him stiffly – induced by shock that had shaken him and left his limbs in an uncontrollable and hair-raising shiver and a fast-pacing heartbeat that was nothing but painful.
Zero scooped up the limp body in his arms as he kneeled into the pieces of shattered glass; not that he cared.
He tore off the offending rope around the battered and rope-burnt neck and gently stroked his friend's soft, warm cheek, as his emotions jerked and tears slowly rolled down his cheeks.
The dark shadow which had been standing behind the one crouching over A's body at that current moment dug his hands in his pockets and watched as the numbers surrounded by a pool of red, which painted every person's personal space, jumble, swap and melt into completely new numbers.
The only person's whose numbers still remained stiff and unmoving, were the numbers of Andy Spark.
Who was still very much alive.
"And that, little Miheal, is what people are most afraid of." As the 'demon' turned his head to the small, blonde boy who was looking right back at him, they shared a knowledgeable look of understanding.
"Smertʹ" The boy whispered.
Death.
.-.
I'm so happy that you enjoyed last chapter and I'm hoping that you'll enjoy this one just as much!
I'm throwing in pieces of the plot now, if you've noticed :D and I'm wondering if anyone has figured it out, as I've been hinting at it like crazy these past few chapters!
Heheh, I also made a slight (lame) reference to the metal band 'Slipknot' in the most inappropriate of scenes…. :D
So, everyone like the character introduction? I sure did… :D
Bwah, I know it took me like a month to finally get off my ass and finish the chapter, but I didn't actually have my laptop during that time…. It actually got wiped… Bastards…
And tcch, is it just me, or has anyone else noticed how Hood is afraid of everything? Geeeeeeeezzzzzz
Song: Settle For Nothing – Rage Against The Machine