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14
Kai's POV
"Do something about this before I end up losing my mind!"
There was an angry thud as my hand slammed down on the wooden table, and Mr. Dickenson winced.
"And he's not going to be spared if I do!" I spat, mindless of the shock that Mr. Dickenson's expression radiated at the venom in my words. I was infuriated, to say the least, and had it not been for Bryan and Tala on either sides of me –ready to pull me back if I tried—I'd have run down to the hospital wing and beat the crap out of the bastard there and then, all over again. I had given up trying to control myself the moment I'd laid my eyes on Drew, and it seemed too much of work to attempt and do it now. The fact that the said-ass was, at the moment, in the room just next to Hillary's, getting stitched up, didn't exactly help my temper. Sure, he wouldn't be able to cause anyone harm what with the injuries I'd inflicted upon him, especially not with Spencer there but the very thought of him even within a ten-mile radius near Hillary—with me not being there— made me edgy.
"Sit down, Kai." Mr. Dickenson motioned towards the chair across him. The calmness of his tone –compared to the spite in my thoughts—made me growl but, after a look from the BBA Chairman, I did what I was told.
Mr. Dickenson heaved a sigh, looking over at Tala and Bryan, before retracing his gaze back towards me again.
"How long has this been going on for?"
His voice was resolute but something in his eyes contradicted his tone. I had told him Hillary's condition—he'd seen her on our way here—and the fact that Drew was the only one responsible for it… I guessed that he, too –like me—had a soft spot for our coach because after that, I barely saw a single trace of the disappointment in his eyes that I'd seen an hour ago, when he'd caught me in my act of vile fury.
But that didn't mean he wasn't concerned….In fact, when we told him about Drew attacking other players, he seemed downright angry.
"The very beginning." Bryan replied when I didn't, "The All Stars forfeiting, it was his team. Even before that, he had damaged Dranzer enough that Kai couldn't compete. But the BladeBreakers had an extra team member or they'd have forfeited as well."
Mr. Dickenson rubbed his temples, looking equally as frustrated as I felt. His gaze landed on me, and in a reprimanding tone, he spoke,
"Why wasn't I informed of this sooner?"
But I was already in a rush to run back to Hillary, so I couldn't help the exasperation.
"We had no proof." I spoke, "The All Star's never saw who attacked them. End of story."
Mr. Dickenson, however, was equally as impatient as me.
"But you did!" He retorted back, "You saw who attacked you!"
"I had my reasons not to tell." I clenched my teeth. I had assumed that the entire thing concerned no-one but Hillary—till, of course, Emily had been attacked—so I had no reason to even think him of doing anything else till he was already done.
"If you suspected someone," Mr. Dickenson continued, "It was your responsibilityto inform me, Kai."
Just those words of his…and the heat in the room suddenly rose. It sounded as if that was all he cared about…the tournament the bladers. Now that all the teams had lost and left, wasn't Hillary's more of a pressing matter?
"I apologize that I didn't." My voice was forced, but it rose a bit at the end. "Can we please just deal with the actual crises here and get this over with?"
For a while, no-one spoke. I ground my teeth together in frustration again. Here I was, wasting my time offering explanations while Drew—of all people—was merely a few feet away from Hillary. Spencer being there wasn't enough, I needed the guy away from her.
"How long has she been enduring all of this?"
Mr. Dickenson's voice was low. Very low. Almost a whisper. And the uncomfortable tone of it caught my attention, making me look up to see the sudden remorse on his face.
"I don't know." I replied. I had to look away then, because his expression- right there- somewhat irked me; made me realize how much Hillary had been hiding, how much was still hidden. And if there was anything that would make me angrier then, it was probably the realization that Hillary had never told me anything, that I still didn't know much, and whatever that I did, I'd found out on my own.
"Is there something I can do?" Mr. Dickenson said with the same tone, "Anything to help?"
It didn't take me long to come up with a reply, there was one thing that had been on my mind all along, but before I could speak however…
"Get him out." Tala interrupted, speaking for the first time."Disqualify him."
It took a while for me, and Mr. Dickenson, to register to his words. Suddenly, the penitent exchange was forgotten.
"We can't–"
"No way!" I cut Mr. Dickenson off, turning angrily towards Tala. "He's staying! Mr. Dickenson, I–"
"You wanna battle him, we know." Bryan clicked his tongue. "Typical."
I growled, standing up in my seat, the anger from before resurfacing.
"He needs to be taught a lesson!"
"And you think you're the one to teach him it?" He scoffed. "Is revenge all you care about?"
My jaw tightened, my fists clenched. Bryan didn't even move. I was about to retort but-
"He's right, you know." Tala inferred. "Battling isn't going to fix anything. The guy, Drew….him being here isn't exactly safe for your friend."
"I'm keeping her safe!" I argued, but even I expected what came next.
"Like you did today?" Bryan's retorted. "Like you did before that? Please! As long as he's here, so close around, it is not safe for her. And there's nothing you can do about it."
I was quiet, then. And I was glad Mr. Dickenson decided to break the silence because I didn't have anything to say.
"He's not going." I realized the apology in his voice, the resolution in his tone but was too caught up in his words to dwell upon in.
Someone must've been about to say something, because Mr. Dickenson raised his palm up, a gesture of demanding silence.
"It's too late." He stated, his lips forming a thin line. "His team's already into the finale. Disqualifying, or even penalizing the member of a team in the finale is not an option. Not a single person in-charge would agree to it—"
He raised his hand again to stop me from protesting.
"Even if they knew the truth about Hillary and Drew..." He looked apologetic then, "It doesn't change anything. And I can't make decisions like these alone. If I did, however, then the media, vile as it is these days, will surely find out. My fellow judges may argue that it won't do good for the BBA image. But—"
He paused, but continued before any of us could speak.
"—more important is the fact that millions of dollars, and bunches more of efforts have gone into organizing this tournament. We'd hate for that to go to waste, which it will if the previous teams started demanding rematches for having been cheated out of their chances of winning. After all, had the disqualified-team been disqualified before, another team would've had the chance to win."
He stopped his speech, only to look sternly in my direction.
"And it isn't as if we can say something against him in the first place, now that Kai's done."
It took me a moment to realize what he'd meant.
Right. I thought, feeling guilty. No point in involving the authorities when I'd already evened both the sides out by giving the ass the bloody bruises all over his face. Now, he had evidence against us too.
"So, Kai, what do you want me to do?"
I blinked at the plump man, my mind racing too fast. My previous apprehension suddenly returned at the expression on his face.
Guilt or no guilt, there was no stopping the battle against Drew. And only one rampaging thought was creating the tempest that my mind was right then…
"Hillary." I muttered distractedly, already at the door before anyone could help it. I looked at Mr. Dickenson's anxious face. "Help me keep her safe."
Before I closed the door and headed straight towards the hospital wing, I saw Mr. Dickenson nod—almost as if he completely understood.
I had the misfortune of meeting the object of my fury one more time that night, and I wondered how many time it would happen before I finally snapped—if I hadn't already. Drew stared at me from across the room, hidden carefully behind Spencer's large built; I replied with a blank look. From where I stood at the door, my eyes kept drifting back at the end of the hallway, at another door which was half open, a dim light emerging from the inside.
"I see you had a chat with the old man." He spoke, eyes glinting maliciously, despite the fact that he was in a hospital, injured and bleeding with a nurse still tending to his broken nose. He had no shame… "What lies did you feed him to try and get me out?"
Something about the way he voiced his words told me he knew the entire outcome of our 'chat' already. He sounded amused and I couldn't help but narrow my eyes at the disrespectful spite in his words. Still, I didn't speak. He'd played with me enough before, and it wasn't going to happen again. As soon as he would be bandaged up, and out of the ward, I'd go back to Hillary. I'd have gone sooner, but I didn't want him knowing where she was…so I'd stayed put when I'd seen him.
"Hmph." He snorted, "You sure had a lot to say a while ago." His eyes met my indifferent—or so I hoped—gaze and his smirk widened. "It was the rage talking, I see. After all, I did-"
He paused, cocking his head to the side, my fist tightened and I could swear I heard Spencer growl at his next words.
"….hurt Hillary."
I couldn't meet his eyes then, because, dare I say it, I was afraid he'd see the wildness in mine; I deliberately directed myself at the nurse dabbing some antiseptic at an open wound on the side of his face, and felt great satisfaction at having been the cause of it.
"I'm wondering what it'll take to make you speak," He continued, mindless of both—Spencer and mine—of our expressions. We knew he was playing with us, and he confirmed it; "It's kind of fun watching how wildly you react to everything I do."
I was surprised at how calm I was being through the entire ordeal. Really, I'd have snapped his neck a while ago. But, what good would that do to anyone? Me, committing what I had a earlier, it had only made things a bit worse than they already were. Maybe there was a chance, a small chance, a small penalty; anything to make him suffer even a little bit, had I not interfered in the process…But then again, I thought looking over to his bleeding figure, this was probably much, much better. I couldn't say I regretted it.
"And now I'm wondering how Hillary's doing…" My eyes landed back on his again, my head unmoving but he paid me no mind, "I hope I didn't hurt her-" He smiled at my cringe, "too much. Although, for several reasons, she knows she deserved much more than what she got."
That made me snap my head towards him almost instantly. Several reasons? Much more? He was making me want to search an empty site on his body for inflicting another bloody injury again.
"Silent, aren't we?" He smirked knowingly, but thankfully, didn't say more. Seriously, the guy was pathetic; trying to get me to snap. I didn't know what he wanted, but honestly, if Hillary's name rolled off his tongue one more time…
It wasn't until the nurse backed away from him, having done her job, did I look at him next. For the first time that night, I saw what I had really done. I could see, by the way he moved, that the kicks to his guts had done their part in harming him quite justly. Various parts of his face—a swollen and bleeding lip, a broken nose, a purple eye, and a bruised cheek bone—satisfied me more than I would've liked to admit. Pleased, I watched him limp his way towards where I was standing at the door way. The smugness on his face remained, but I hardly cared…He'd be out in a few seconds, and then I could go back to Hillary.
I stepped sideways, towards the right, allowing enough space for him to pass through the door but hovering protectively over the direction which led to Hillary's room. I knew he wasn't going to go sprinting about there, not that he even hadthe strength to sprint, but it was a rather instinctual action. It made him smirk again when he realized it, staring behind me for just a few seconds before halting just in front of me at the door.
"Don't worry," He said rather calmly than I'd have liked, the corners of his mouth turning upwards in a twisted smile, "I'm not going to cause any more damage. She-" He pursed his lips, as if thinking, "—has a thing of mine that needs returning. Just pass on this message to her, will you?"
Hillary, I thought, Hillary, Hillary, Hillary….It was all I could do to keep calm. She wouldn't want me doing what I was thinking of doing. She was too close by. The situation was already messed up enough…I had messed up enough.
"Are you done?" I said, speaking for the very first time. My voice was a steady drawl, bored and apathetic yet, even I could hear the threat carefully hidden underneath. I wondered if that was made his eyes glint in amusement.
"Overprotective much?" He remarked, raising an eyebrow, "Be that way, Hiwatari. Just remember-" Thankfully, he'd turned around and was already walking towards the exit so he couldn't see my face twist into a deathly snarl at his next words. "—you can't always protect her. I hardly ever miss getting what I want."
It was around five in the morning, and I'd spent the entire night at the seat next to Hillary's make-shift bed, trying to get myself to go to sleep. It was hard, and I couldn't say I was succeeding. My thoughts were a hurricane of blaring emotions, raging on and on with not a single sign of the winds reducing their vigor. There was guilt, there was intense anger, there was the strange covet for revenge all over again…
It made me cringe and, unknowingly, my eyes snapped open to the white ceiling before I turned towards Hillary's sleeping figure.
Nothing….The small word reverberated in my mind again and again. There was nothing that I could do. Nothing even Mr. Dickenson could do. What I had done, however, was something that Drew had probably wanted me to do had he known that this would be the consequence– and looking back on how smug he'd been all throughout, he probably did.
And now he had us cornered….he probably even knew that too. He was staying. The psychopath who'd actually severely hurt Hillary was staying….
I couldn't really say I wasn't blaming myself for that. Stupid, I had been, to fall so easily into what was clearly a carefully designated web that I would've avoided under normal circumstances. Not only that, but I'd dragged Hillary down with me, instead of helping her out of her own.
Drew had won…and I'd let him.
And as long as he was here, near Hillary, anything could happen. He could get her hands on her, I hadn't missed the threat in his last words to me. He could do much, much worse than he already had. What if I weren't there for her, again? What if no-one was there for her?
Cringing at the thoughts, I straightened up in my chair. Hillary was breathing steadily, deep in slumber though she was lying in what looked like an uncomfortable position. She was rolled over on her stomach, her body tilted carefully to one side so as not to press against her wounded shoulder. The comforter covered her entire figure, leaving only her neck and face visible, and even they were half hidden in the pillow. Drearily, almost unconsciously, my eyes fell on the crimson taints on the white bandages around the back of her head, noticing how they'd darkened, how the reddishness had widened, over the past few hours.
Wait…
Before I knew it, I was already standing, my gaze hovering over her, my palms already pressed against her back, pushing the covers aside. What I saw made me reach out for the small button on the bedside table…red, tainting, increasing, spreading all over. By the time the nurse arrived, all my previous apprehensions had banished, only to be replaced by new ones when I explained the situation to the stout little woman, and saw in her eyes the expressions that couldn't necessarily be considered positive.
"This isn't good…" The woman said in an undertone when she was done examining Hillary's covered wounds. Taking a step back, I watched –unsure and somewhat numb—as she exited the room and came back with another –slightly younger—woman who, after turning on the lights in the room, rummaged through the drawers by the bed and took out a needle.
The next few seconds were a complete blur. They two women hovered over Hillary, taking off the covers, pressing their fingers to her skin. Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought she looked paler than she'd been before.
"…The wounds…too deep…"
"…Aren't healing fast enough…"
"…She's too cold…"
"….blood loss…"
And I just stood there, frozen….silently watching her eyes flicker for a bit when the nurses moved her so they could extend her arm, watching as the blood filled the small needle slowly to the top, watching as Hillary squirmed unconsciously back into a comfortable position, watching as the nurses left without a single word…I watched, but never really saw.
The wounds aren't healing fast enough… My mind was hazy…Too much blood loss. I knew what that meant and it took all I had, every ounce of my energy, to force myself to sit back down and just be here this time. As if on cue, my gaze fell on the bloody Tee-shirt thrown across the chair on the other side of the room, the one Hillary had been wearing at the match yesterday….
My eyes snapped shut at the sight. My fists clenched.
She wasn't healing fast enough to contain her blood…She was going to need someone else's…
I watched, standing by the door, as Tala –who'd stayed when I'd left to freshen up—pulled the covers around Hillary's waist, straightening the pillows into a comfortable position for her to lean against. He put an arm around her, helped her lean up against the bed-rest before taking a small step back. Hillary's drearily looked up to his figure, muttered what sounded like a 'Thank you' before closing her eyelids again. She looked….exhausted.
Taking a deep breath, trying to compose myself, I took a step into the room, trying hard not to look at the small inverted bottle next to her bed, the tube attached to it that led somewhere under the sheets. I tried to be quiet, but apparently, wasn't doing a good job at it, for –just a few footsteps later—Hillary raised her head at the sound, her eyes opened in a tedious motion to reveal dreary-looking crimson orbs.
I could only watch, feeling sicker by the second, as her now-pale lips parted slightly in a small smile, before whispering a small, "Hey." Maybe it was just me, but she looked tired, and extremely weak…and paler than she'd been yesterday.
It's the blood loss, I told myself but that didn't stop the slowly-growing urge in me to snap my eyes shut and refrain myself from seeing her like this. Nor did it keep me from feeling angrier than I already was.
I sat myself down in the same seat as yesterday, at Hillary's left and –desperate for a distraction—finally spoke up.
"How are you feeling?"
She didn't seemed to have noticed my expression yet, nor had she seen the apprehension in Tala's…though it worried me—she was quick on analyzing faces usually—but at the moment, I was a bit glad. I didn't want to worry her…Eventually, she'd find out, sure, but not now. Not when I was so sure I would lose my composure at the slightest reminder of last night's events.
"Tired, really." She murmured, and my jaws clenched at the lowness of her voice…again, she failed to notice. "I don't know why, though…I slept fine."
She took a deep breath, and I tried to ignore how exhausted it had sounded. Blood loss, blood loss, I kept repeating in my head. Happens all the time, people get blood on numerous occasions….They turn out fine, right?
Right.
Hillary would be fine, too…she just needed a few days to recover.
Strangely, that didn't provide me any comfort….and why would it? It wasn't exactly what I was worried about. The wounds would heal, under proper care, and the blood loss could be treated. Though it aggravated me to see her the way she was right now, but I knew that –given time and just the right treatment— I wouldn't have to anymore. What actually concerned me about her current state had nothing to do with it worsening slightly…
A broken bone. Bruises. Swellings. A shoulder cut so ruthlessly….And, blood…so much blood. I resisted the urge to cringe. If someone had the guts to do this much damage, in a public place, with no fear of being caught, then…would he even hesitate if he had the chance to do it again?
"Kai?"
The slight glumness in Hillary's voice made me look up, only to see her frowning face. Had I zoned out?
"You zoned out." She confirmed my thoughts.
"Yeah." Shaking my head to get rid of the slightly-infuriating thoughts, I apologized. She gave me an unsure look, and opened her mouth to say something –probably to argue, if I knew her right—but I stopped her before she could, putting a hand on the covers, at the spot where I could see the outline of her fingers.
"Not now, Hils." I said, smiling a bit, despite myself, when she pursed her lips in what was clearly indignation. "You need to rest a while."
I could see that she'd agreed with me, for she rested her head back against the wall behind the bed again; it was a while before she spoke again, "I've never been so exhausted." She breathed, staring at me with half-open eyes. "Are you sure there's nothing wrong with me?"
I was already struggling to ignore the dreary way her lips had moved to voice the words, how weak they'd come off sounding so when the question came– especially the way it sounded as if it had been voiced before—I was completely caught off guard.
My hands hardened on hers, suddenly uncomfortable. Her eyebrows knitted together. But it was neither of us who spoke next…
"It's the blood loss."
I was glad, once again, for Tala's presence; I'd nearly forgotten he was in the same room. Hillary turned her head slightly in his direction, and I guessed he must've gestured towards her side, because it was only moments later that she was blinking at the stand there, which held the blood-containing bottle.
But her confusion lasted as soon as it had come, and before I knew it, she muttered an understanding "Right," and was already rested back against the wall again, staring at the ceiling, leaving me to blinking perplexedly at her…apathy
Right? Right? I almost scoffed out loud. Was that all she had to say? Maybe she too –like me—had realized that it'd get better with time, but…she shouldn't look so strangely unaffected by the new knowledge.
I knitted my eyebrows together. Strangely unaffected….Just like I was.
So….that meant….
"You're scared." I stated, without any warning. Hillary's questioning eyes landed on me at the abruptness of my statement, her head unmoving.
Before she could respond, however, before she could even adjust herself to fully look at me, I lifted my hands off hers on the sheets and pulled the sheets down from her waist. Pale hands revealed themselves, and furtively, my gaze landed on the small curve of her wrists where purple blotches –clear fingerprints—stood, now looking almost blackish in color against the lighter skin. One wrist—the left one—had marks slightly darker in shade, more intense-looking and occupying a much wider area on the skin.
Carefully, unconsciously, I grabbed her fingers, trying not to touch her further than her joints…she was cold. Much too cold for my liking, and again, her condition stroke in me feelings I didn't want to feel, or reveal, just yet.
"Don't be." I muttered, "This will never happen again."
It sounded as if I was trying to assure myself, rather than her—and I probably was—but she didn't seem to have noticed. In fact, I didn't even see her move, or speak. I didn't dare look at her, afraid I might give myself away.
For some strange reason, it comforted me, having her here where I could see her, feel her, hear her. Vulnerable as she was right then, I didn't think I had it in me to leave her side in the first place. And I realized that, to do that, to be there for her, I had to control myself….no point in me staying here, if seeing me the way I was, was the cost. I was sure it'd worry her, scare her even…I didn't want that.
So, I smiled. I looked up, and gave a small smile of assurance, hoping she'd buy it. She looked a bit perplexed, but…
"I know." She answered, the corners of her mouth tugging upwards.
I bit my lips but said nothing. Fake….I'd seen it enough to recognize it by now. What was she trying to hide from me?
Tala coughed, suddenly, interrupting the silent exchange.
"We still have to be careful, though." He stared meaningfully at me when I turned. "As long as he's here, she needs to-"
"He's staying?" Hillary interrupted, and both of us turned to look at the sudden fear in her eyes. My hands tightened around her fingers at the abruptness of her retort.
"He's in the finals, Hils." I spoke gently, "The finalists can't exactly leave. Standard protocol."
It took a while for her to say the small "Oh," that she did and I was glad she didn't pick up my lie. It wasn't exactly standard protocol, after all, more than it was me spinning out of control again. I didn't want her to know that.
"You're safe." I assured her, again, "I promise."
"I know." She repeated.
But she sounded unsure. And only then did I realize the reason behind the fake smile of hers a while ago.
Mistrust. I would've protested, assured her, assured myself but my brain couldn't form the words. So I stared as Hillary closed her eyes and leaned back against the bed-rest again, knowing—despite myself—that she was right in not trusting us enough to keep her safe.
AN:
First things first, I was reading back over it…I think I might have gone a bit over with Hillary-being-injured thing….I think. But, then again, a blade that could dent an entire wall had slashed her shoulders so….I stand by the blood loss. I mean, I couldn't have gone without it….she has to had SOME health problems. Besides, blood loss is temporary. It gets fixed in no time. So, no problem there…I think. I hope.
Aside from that, guess what? This Document was 15 point 10. Insert huge pause. I'm serious. It actually took me ten documents, one reaching up to the length of 14, 000 words even, to get this done. It was SO damn hard! REALLY! This chapter is all that I've been working on for SOO damn long. A month? More than a month. Even then, I'm not exactly satisfied with it...much. I am not. And don't blame me. There were a gazillion ways this story would've gone. A gazillion. I mean, how would Mr. Dickenson react? How will the guys react? (Still not sure on that one) How will Kai react? (Kai's been the most difficult. For obvious reasons.) How would Hillary react to them reacting? I mean, they could be angry, they could yell, they could be disappointed, they could be understanding. Eventually, they'd be understanding, but obviously, there's going to be a lot of painful words before it reaches that point…or so I thought. Would Hillary be comfortable if Kai went around telling everyone everything? I mean, he kinda did…How the HELL will she tell Kai, anyways? Well, I tried jotting it all down. Everything. Each and every reaction in different perspective. I think I have more than 20, 000 words written down just for this chapter, with everyone reacting in every different way. That was what took so long because it got out of hand, every reaction was tempting, but every one had flaws that would lead to problems in the further chapters. *sighs* Eventually, I settled for an inert Kai. He's not saying much, I know, through the entire chapter (except with Mr. D) but I think I started messing up when Kai started to say something in retort. So I mute him. -_-
Anyhoo, no fluffy-ness. I am aware. But, really, this had to be done. There have to be boring bits in the fic. For the next chapter, I'm going to be using a few of the many scenes that I wrote down. They just need to be arranged. I'm opting for an angry-friends-scenario, you know. Because angry confrontations are easy to write, when everyone's just yelling things and saying stuff they would normally not say and there come a lot of…twists there. But, I can't create a scene that would lead up to an angry Hils, or Kai. Or Tyson, or an angry-anyone.
See? So many problems. This was an EXTREMELY hard-to-write chapter. Aside from that, I know, I'm not updating as I planned. But, again, don't blame me. It's hard to find inspiration to write for a dead fandom. Beyblade is as dead as a log turned into a toilet paper. -_- Or so, I think. Plus, I'm getting slow….I mean, I used to write quickly; a chapter per day, but I've gone to a chapter per MONTH. Apologies to anyone who might have been waiting on the updates (though I highly doubt there are many).
And I'm ranting. I'm just so happy this is done, that's all. Enough ranting. Lols. Feel free to review.