Chapter 7:

"Seconds."

Wonder. Wonder and caution, were what she found herself feeling as she walked steadily down the hallway. She could sense a hole in her gut, there was something sinister about the silence, and as hard as she tried she couldn't shake off the feeling that something was awfully wrong.

The ten-year-old girl tucked a strand of her brown hair behind her ear and took a deep breath. The expression on her face was peculiar as she was debating from within whether she should or shouldn't walk away. She shifted her weight from one foot to another, and so very gently, she turned the knob and pushed the huge door open. The room before her was one she had so rarely the honor of walking into, and its invitation was usually an indicator of something ominous.

Dark, was the only word she could describe it with. Of course, there was no doubt it was beautiful, but so was the devil in disguise. The few rays of sunlight that were allowed to penetrate through the thick curtains were forked and weakly lit the room. The scent was appealing, and so was the woman who sat comfortably on the club chair, smiling widely, her lips, a bloody red.

"What do you want?" the little girl asked immediately, not a breath wasted in meaningless pleasantries. The tension she felt could be sensed from a mile away.

The blond woman fluttered her lashes. "Now, now Claire, that's not very polite."

The brunette sighed, obviously irritated. "Why did you call me here?"

The woman's eyes widened as if out of shock. "Should there really be a reason for a mother to see her daughter?"

The girl took a second to compose herself, this was a game she had played many times before. "Let's drop the act where we pretend you're my mother and we're a family and get to the point."

"There is nothing your mother would have done for you, that I haven't," the woman defended her case dully, boredom was visible on her face. She pointed to a chair, inviting the girl to sit.

The girl obeyed, cautiously, the words of defense already at the tip of her tongue. "Yes. You're right Ingrid. My mother, too, would have never let me see my own father, she too, would have kept me prisoner here against my will for ten years, but I can't help but feel that she never would have spent her time plotting my death."

The woman rolled her eyes. "I have so many times told you, that your father is sick, I keep you in this mansion for your own safety."

"My father is sick, for the past fifteen years? Come up with a better excuse, I bet he's long gone and you're just putting up this act until the right time for your schemes shows up, and my safety, as far as it concerns you, is as farther from you as possible," the girl said through gritted teeth.

The petite lady sighed, and gesturing with one hand brought the girl's attention to a goblet in front of her. "Have a sip of water, you're obviously being temperamental."

The girl leaned back against the chair, her heart felt heavy, as she wondered how she was able to live all of this for a whole decade.

"It's not poison," the woman put forth.

"Oh, I know. You can't kill me, not yet at least," she stated matter-of-factly. "I know you would have already if you could, not just me, all three of us I guess."

The woman's gaze turned into a glare as her true face was slowly exposed. "You talk too much for someone who isn't even older than ten."

"The truth stings doesn't it? Let me tell you one thing Ingrid, you might have Luca fooled and Katie's too young to know it yet, but I see you for the snake you are, and as far as my guess goes, our lives are tied to something important, something greater than your loathe for us." The girl looked around. "Maybe all of this," she said indicating the huge estate. "Maybe even more." She shrugged.

The woman's jaw twitched. "You have a wild imagination there."

The girl lifted the goblet and sipped a draught. "I'll ask one last time, what do you want?"

The woman gazed at a distance. "You obviously don't need me in your life anymore."

The girl scoffed, making her distaste for any kind of prolongation more than known.

"Very well then, I'm setting you free, you can go, you can leave whenever you want, it's your choice," the woman announced with a shrug.

The girl's eyes widened. "You're bluffing," she deciphered, unable to keep the anticipation from her voice.

"I'm not, I mean what I'm saying."

The girl swallowed hard. "And what's the price?"

The woman chuckled. "Silly girl, there's no price, but, there is one thing you need to do."

"What?" the girl whispered.

The woman remained silent, as to search for the right words. "Just a signature; written proof that you decided to leave, that you are no longer a permanent resident of your father's estate."

The girl narrowed her eyes. "That's all?"

"Yes," the woman opened her drawer and produced a neat-looking file. She flipped through the document and exposed a page, which stated exactly what she had said. "That's all I need."

"You're playing games."

"I most certainly am not, otherwise wouldn't you have known?"

The girl held her breath, the offer was too appealing. She didn't want to call the shots, she wanted to take what was being given; she wanted to be selfish. "Is this the same thing you told Luca when you called him here earlier?"

The woman nodded.

"What about Katie?" the girl inquired.

"She's too young, besides, I doubt you would want to take her with you."

"I'm sure Luca would want to, he loves her."

"No, I did ask him, he refused."

The girl bit her lip. She wanted to say she didn't believe her, she knew her siblings too well, but she was tired, she just wanted to live the rest of her life for herself, that was all she wanted, freedom. She took the pen on the desk and without giving it another thought scrawled quickly on the document.

The woman's face had a serene look, and the girl's sixth sense screamed loud and clear that she had somehow gotten herself into a trap, but she didn't care. Because she knew that at the moment, she did what she thought was best for her, she was exhausted now, she didn't want to fight anymore.

So, as she stood and headed for the door her thoughts and conscience a mere blur, the woman smirked peripheral to the girl's vision, it was an evil smile, one that represented pure darkness, and said, "You made the right choice, Claire."

The girl sighed because deep inside she knew she didn't. (Interval)

The week following my realization of the crush I had accidentally developed on Killua was a very strange one. It was marked by an assortment of very weird events and actions that freaked me out. Here's the thing about me, I had always been a very obsessive personality; you couldn't tell because I had just gotten very good at hiding it.

My most recent encounter and heart-to-heart with Killua had happened on a Friday night, so a whole weekend passed by before I saw him again. But the lack of contact didn't do anything to bash the trains upon trains of thought that I entertained about him. I had also started building him up even more in my head, to the point where I was pretty sure I would be underwhelmed when I saw him again. The exact opposite happened on a Monday, and I found myself being blown away anew by his striking face.

It wasn't as if I hadn't had a crush before this. I distinctly remember to this day my very first infatuation and subsequent heartbreak, which were at the hands of Mr. Domoto's nephew. But in both of our defense, pre-pubescent angst shouldn't be held against anyone, and his pointing out I had a mustache squashed that crush into the depths of oblivion.

After that, I had found guys attractive, enjoyed having their attention too, but never to the point where I had to continuously remind myself to keep my feelings off of my face. I was usually very good at keeping my expressions in check, I wasn't sure why in Killua's case my eyes and mouth chose to forget that.

Maybe it was the fact that my brain entertained the slight glimmer of hope that he could grow to feel the same way too. It was delusional, for sure, but the fact that he shown and confessed to having an interest in me was what jogged this hopeless, and probably one-sided situation. I just had to figure out if that interest was more of the type you'd feel for a rhesus lab monkey or a girl you found attractive.

We also did have two brief exchanges about the possibility of being friends or otherwise. But I wasn't sure if him saying he had no problem with people assuming we were seeing each other meant anything because he could have been insinuating that he simply did not care what others thought.

I realized I was treading very dangerous waters when I caught myself in class trying to create a name for the particular color of his hair. I was scared I'd eventually be fighting and losing to the impulse of reaching out and feeling it, and then spend time trying to mentally describe its texture…. or even worse, smell it. It didn't help that he was sitting right next to me either.

It was during this mental battle that I noticed Naomi a few feet away, casting a particularly thirsty look at Killua, that I was sure wasn't too different from my own. That was when I started wondering how it was possible that she hadn't even attempted to put her claws around him yet.

A little backstory, Naomi Tanaka was my sworn enemy since the fifth grade. The rivalry started because of my stage-fright-induced weak stomach, which according to her took away her big break— her big break to what, I wasn't sure. The agonizing exchanges that followed weren't my favorite memories by a long shot.

Also, aside from that I had some very unfeminist remarks about Naomi and her very public romantic pursuits, which was why her absence in the long queue of Killua's admirers was strange indeed. Even more so because the look on her face left very little to the imagination in terms of how she felt about him. I wondered if this was a case of sour grapes, that pleased me more than I'd care to admit. Also, the fact that she probably saw the frequent exchanges between me and Killua brought me even more joy. It was definitely not an honorable approach, but I definitely didn't care.

"You can't laser her with your eyes," Killua informed, breaking me out of my vengeful trance.

"Believe me, I know," I mumbled, forcing my eyes away from her. The way she was still regarding Killua made me want to get violent; I was having some very troubling realizations about myself.

"So, I take it you and Mary Jane over there have beef?" he deciphered, studying me in that intense way of his.

"Something like that," I mumbled, trying to sound nonchalant about it. I couldn't let him know that I'd just discovered I had a psycho bitch side to me that entertained murderous scenarios at the mere thought of someone finding him attractive. "She's undressing you with her eyes, by the way," I added, just to see how he'd react. I needed to gauge what his perception of her was.

Listen, this was an extremely attractive, model-like, auburn-haired beauty. On top of that, she was also my archnemesis. Of course, I was going to test this out, regardless of how petty it was.

To my delight, Killua looked and sounded completely unbothered. "Not my type," he eventually declared. Little did he know that little announcement further fueled the delusion in my brain that I could be his type.

Back then I was too oblivious and absorbed in the novelty of knowing Killua, which was why I didn't notice the brief but meaningful way both Killua and Naomi's eyes met. I would, however, find out why later on in very infuriating circumstances.

I just went back to stealing secret infatuated glances at Killua without him noticing.

On Tuesday, I experienced for the very first time the phrase 'being tongue-tied'. I was in the middle of a conversation with Killua when suddenly he turned to look at me and my tongue decided it didn't know how to verbalize things anymore.

"Uh…" was the only genius syllable that I was able to produce, and seemingly without pause too.

Killua looked positively perplexed at my reaction. I was just glad he didn't have the slightest idea that this reaction was caused by his face.

The way I was feeling and acting was absolutely ridiculous; I had known him all but a little over two weeks. It was even more so preposterous considering that I thoroughly loathed him the moment I interacted with him. This paradigm shift was senseless and made me feel like a desperate love-struck bimbo.

In a way, my intense crush on Killua humbled me. I had convinced myself that I was way beyond the hormones and erratic feelings that plagued teenagers. My current state made me realize I just hadn't met the kind of guy who could render me this pathetic, before him, that is.

I eventually managed to convert that stutter into a passable cough. "Scratchy throat," I covered, feeling absolutely flustered.

He bought it, but it was pretty evident that if I didn't get a hang of myself, I would land in a very embarrassing ordeal very very soon.

On Wednesday, the weather was just shy of a full-on rainstorm. I made the rookie mistake of letting my hair down that day, and a ferocious gust reminded me why that was a bad idea.

The result was that strands upon strands of my hair had made their way from one side of my face to the other without mercy. I did as well as I could, trying to get all the hair out of my face as I stood outside the school building.

That was when Killua showed up; he had lingered back by his car to take a phone call. A crooked smile overtook his features when he witnessed my battle.

"I'm glad you're enjoying this," I said, frustrated as I tried to shield my hair from further impact and subsequently failed.

Just when I was about to accept that this was an unending struggle, Killua did the most surprising thing. Since he was clearly smarter than me, he had donned a beanie to keep his hair from suffering a similar fate to mine. The next second I felt that very beanie being lowered around my head.

It was strangely the sweetest gesture I could possibly imagine. Except, he then also followed up by brushing some stray strands off the side of my face.

It was then that I realized that I got it all wrong. I wasn't this affected by him because of his outward beauty. While that was an element on its own, what had really rendered me this helpless around him was his knack for taking care.

He did it so effortlessly and so meticulously, it was impossible not be in awe of him. Small puzzle pieces, of him opening car doors, taking my bag and case from me, offering me rides, noticing when I ate and when I didn't, making sure I was okay— had built up to the point where it was impossible for me not to be impacted.

A subdued, "Thank you, Killua" was all I could manage, hit with a wave of emotion like I was.

That surprised him, and the hint of pink touched his cheeks for a second. I don't know how, but I could suddenly tell by that small shift that he wasn't comfortable with being appreciated. I found it so strange, seeing as he appeared to be hard-wired to facilitate the people he cared about.

I never got any real response to my thanks, and he just walked on, with his hands in his pockets.

On Thursday, the strangest of strange things happened in the already strange rotation of my week. In the minuscule town I lived in, Noda, the sun was a very rare guest. So, you could see how it was rightly categorized as strange when the unexpected did happen and the weather was warm enough to shed the layers of clothing that had become a requisite for every resident.

The temperature was nice enough that I was able to wear a tank top of all things. Sure, it was made of that ribbed material that leaned more on the warmer side, but a win was a win. But the weather-related change in my attire wasn't the key strange thing that happened to me, nor was the fact that I was able to somewhat bathe in the weak attempts made by the sun right in the school courtyard. I only closed my eyes to humor myself, because yes, the rays felt nice but the warmth was barely there.

What transpired next was that Killua, who was sitting right next to me, had decided to reach for his phone that was lying on a hoodie in the grass exactly at the same time I had thought to stretch my arms out. So came the inevitable and very first contact that our skins had made with each other.

I call this monumentally strange because I had no idea touching someone could ever or was even supposed to feel like that. My eyelids jolted open by the impact. The only way I could think to describe it was electric. My severe inferiority complex wouldn't dare let me think that a guy like him could ever even entertain the idea of finding me attractive. However, in that moment, I can't explain how, but I knew it felt exactly the same to him as it did to me.

For further confirmation, his eyes were fixated on mine like he was experiencing some inner shock. I understood it— I shared it. It didn't help that the fixation also held true for how his hand was still placed right there on my forearm. I didn't have a clear concept of time at that instant, but I was sure it well exceeded what could be deemed accidental, or appropriate even. The seconds were too gradual in their passing.

I was so unnerved, I swallowed, no other movement came to me. I don't know if I was imagining it, but it felt like distance between our faces was shrinking. Was he inching forward or was it me? Did it matter? Were we about to kiss?

"Guys! Check this out!" Gon burst onto the scene, holding up a long, spindly-legged cricket. Its oversized eyes seemed to bulge out at us. "This little guy came out to enjoy the sun too." He announced, clearly oblivious to what he had just walked in on. With the child-like excitement he had in his eyes, I didn't even have the heart to feel bad about being cock-blocked by him.

The sudden interruption was unexpected, but not unwelcome. I scrambled to my feet, my heart pounding in my ears. Killua, too, seemed to find relief in the unexpected distraction. He turned to face Gon, his expression returning to its usual indifferent mask.

"Great. Another one of your pets," Killua muttered, clearly unimpressed.

Gon laughed. "Hey, they're not pets! They're friends!" He turned to me. "Right, Claire?"

I managed a nod, trying to regain my composure. "Yeah, sure, friends," I echoed, my voice coming out a bit higher pitched than intended. As I looked at the cricket, a shiver ran down my spine. I hated those things.

As Gon continued to entertain himself with the cricket, I stole a glance at Killua. Our eyes met for a brief moment, and I saw a flicker of something in his gaze– amusement, perhaps? Or maybe it was just my imagination.

All I knew was that I had experienced a blend of anticipation and dread in that moment when Killua and I's lips were about to make contact. I couldn't really explain it, but it was kind of like those things that were too good to be true, and you were just a tiny bit scared of going through with them at the same time. We were both exceptionally mature, so we never got to discussing what almost transpired.

On Friday, the very thing I dreaded happened. I had called it out at the start of the week that if I didn't pull the reins on my erratic obsession with Killua, I would find myself in a majorly embarrassing ordeal. Lo and behold, while daydreaming in class about his various attributes, particularly his hair (I had no idea why it was so mesmerizing to me), I had gone and pulled a full-fledged Lane Kim from Gilmore Girls. AKA, I had reached out to pass my hand through Killua's hair— with a big ass audience at that.

This was my social death. I would never recover from this. The immediate plan that I had whipped up right there was to change my government name, flee the country, and find a secluded island from where I could inform my parents of my well-being from time to time. There was no going back from this, no scenario imaginable that wouldn't leave me in shambles.

Except then, here's what happened: Killua, who most certainly looked taken aback when he registered the contact of my hand and his hair, was quick to meet my eyes. There was something there in them and it sure looked like he didn't mind the awkward little exchange at all. In the next moment, I felt his cold hand envelop mine, and lower it with our finger interlaced.

This was quite literally the only sequence of events that could morph my potential social funeral into an unexpected, big fat, social victory. There was no way to explain the surge of adrenaline and the subsequent dopamine rush that I was experiencing. I was simultaneously mortified and elated. The only thing I could do was to stare back at him, my heart pounding in my chest.

His eyes held a certain intensity that was both intimidating and alluring. To top it all off, I kid you not, a collective sigh of obvious envy erupted from every female in the room— including the history teacher who had made no secret of how intensely she had the hots for Killua.

While the day had somehow been saved, I still very much felt the urge to sink into the ground. This was a hyper-intense, attention-sucking, and frankly, almost cheesy moment. I was sitting in class, holding Killua's hand, while a stream of thirsty on-lookers threw daggers at me with their eyes. I can report now from experience, that while the contact with his skin was again, incredibly electric, the added layer of having a series of spectators made it extremely unnerving.

Further proof of our maturity lay in how we silently decided not to discuss that event either. In all honesty, I was waiting for him to bring it up, since the cringe was my contribution, and he never did.

So, the bottom line here was that everyone at school started assuming that he and I were an item from that one unplanned and seemingly romantic display. The truth was that we hadn't even gotten around to discussing the possibility of any of this. Yelp, this was going to be messy.