Hi guys! I'm super early and I am going to try to update sooner now since my exams are over. Now, this is officially the end of Claire's past (or at least her version of her past.) This is the longest chapter I have ever written and I hope you guys like it. I'm not going to spoil your fun and reveal what happens in the end... why are you still reading this? Dig in. P.S in case I might seem just slightly more somber or mature, I'm seventeen; let's face it that's never gonna happen. DIG IN.
Chapter: 10
"Zenith."
"You made the right choice Claire."
The girl sighed because deep inside, she knew she didn't.
(Continuation.)
There was rush. Louder than an ocean's wave and deeper than the sea. It was a very human moment, a selfish moment. A moment of doubt, a moment of reasoning and a moment of guilt. An instant in which the future was so prominent, yet so faded and so far. She could reach out for it all, she could grab it but it seemed stolen. It appeared as it was something that did not belong to her; nevertheless she wanted it so deeply. She shouldn't, but she would. Because she was selfish, she was self-centered. She didn't deserve it, but she would take it.
The ten year old girl rushed. She grabbed everything in sight; it was a moment of great hesitation. She would snatch every object in view and stuff it in the small bag she was holding. Then suddenly, she would pause, thinking of how wrong she was being, but in the next instant she would convince herself that it was what was best for her and that that was all she needed to keep in mind. She gathered her belongings. She took out the money from inside her pillow case, the one she had been saving since she had planned her escape, but in that moment it all seemed so surreal. She grabbed the hair-brush, the one she felt emotionally attached for no reason, she took the book, the one that held memories of the man who had been the fascination of her childhood,; she collected the worthless objects, which were her most precious possessions.
She hung the bag on her shoulder; she didn't want to wait a second more. She wanted a future, a life; she wanted a purpose and it seemed impossible as long as she was standing in this deserted and dark estate. Should she see her maid? Would she bid her farewell? Her instincts objected. She felt sinful, guilty. Her gait was hesitant. She held on the knob of the door for support. Her legs felt weak.
"Api?" said a little high-pitched voice.
She turned around in an instant. "Katie." Her name was just a whisper; it lacked the hate it was usually coated with. It was two syllables filled with pity and a sea of emotions she would never decipher. It was a soft whisper in a moment of forgetfulness.
"Go away," she ordered.
The little girl examined her. "Are you going somewhere?" she asked, pointing at her bag.
"Go away Katie, leave me alone," she walked on. The sooner she would get this over with, the better.
"Don't leave me alone," pleaded the little girl holding on to the hem of her shirt. "Big brother left me too."
She faced her. The little girl's eyes were glistening.
The brown haired girl steeled herself. "Let go, Katie," she said, tearing her hand away. "Go away," she sped forward.
"Api," said the little girl thickly and one could tell she was crying. "Api, I'm scared, don't leave me. Api—" she shrieked.
"Katie, stop, you monster!" she shouted. "Go away!"
"Api, I'm sorry, I don't want to be alone, Api, please, please." The little girl grabbed her leg with both of her arms. Tears streaming down her flushed cheeks.
Her heart was bursting, she was breaking. "Katie, let me go!" She struggled with her hands. "Let go, you're a monster! I hate you!" she spat the same old words.
The little girl looked up, meeting her gaze. It was so penetrating, it seemed as if she had seen through her; it was so cold, she felt so cold. "Why?" the little girl asked; little did she know it was the last word she would ever hear from her.
It was such a simple question and yet she had no answer, no statement even close to a reason and suddenly the world shifted. Her head was heavy, which seemed to be the weight of all her guilt. The pool of dark brown eyes was just a blur and her legs felt weak, before she could hold on to anything; she collapsed.
It was not the pricking light that brought her back to consciousness, no, it could never be, there was never light in the mansion, it was a forbidden guest; it was however, the piercing screams and sobs that screened reality in front of her.
She pushed herself up with her elbows, her head was pounding and she focused on the cries. Someone was crying, someone was screaming. She couldn't tune in to her words; they were so out of focus. She brought both of her hands to her face and pressed it. It was the rust and the salty smell that brought her back to reality. It was a reflex, an instinct as she pulled her palms back and examined the scarlet dried liquid that stained them. Her breath hitched.
The sobs were louder and clearer now. She stood up, stumbling. Memories were flowing back in all at once. She touched her neck, her chest, and then her shoulders as she felt the strap of the small bag she had around them. Escape. The word was not only a memory but an order.
She looked around. The dark and the black fused together. All she could see was a shadow. It was extended down on the floor. It was moving inward and outward; and was the source of the noise. She walked closer and the shadow split into two.
"She's dead— she's gone," chanted the woman while rocking forward and backwards.
"Ingrid?" asked the ten year old girl as she recognized the voice.
The woman whimpered, she couldn't tell whether it was out of shock or of terror. The women faced the girl and her eyes were wide and red rimmed, she looked horrible. Her lips slightly parted, she put her arms around her crossed legs, shielding something. "Stay away— away, from me, don't touch her— away."
It was then that she noticed the sleeping little girl on her lap. For a second, she was fooled by the serenity on her face, until her gaze fell down to her chest; there was scarlet, there was red and she watched as the blood pooled down beside her. Where a mass of red and flesh lay; her heart.
Her breath painfully rushed in and her heart stopped beating. "K—Katie?" she whispered as if, if she would say the words any louder, worse than what already was would come. "Katie," she reached out for her.
"Katie," she choked, crawling forward. "No, no, no—Katie, look at me—look," she said, touching her palm to her cheek. "Katie, look—it's your Api. Katie, open your eyes—Ka—" her throat felt tight. "Katie!" she shrieked. "I'm never leaving you, I swear, just open your eyes!" her voice was thick and her face was wet. "Katie," she pleaded, holding her arm. "Look at me, I'm so sorry, I—I'm a bad sister—a horrible sister just please—don't leave me," she choked.
"Don't touch her!" barked the woman, slapping her hand away.
She merely met her gaze as words failed her.
"Stay away!" she spat, and the words were so familiar. "Away, away you monster!"
Monster. The word clicked into place and the doubt vanished as soon as it came, but it was replaced by much, much worse. Dread. "M—monster?" she croaked, taking a step forward.
"You're beast, a monster! Look what you did," she said, gesturing at the girl that appeared to be in deep slumber. "Stay away!" she warned.
Her muscles locked and her bones felt hollow. With all the power she had left, she raised her shaking hands to her level of sight. They were stained in deep red blood and the rusty smell of it dominated it all."No," she whispered. Her legs felt weak and she dropped on her knees, her eyes stinging painfully.
Monster. Was she—? Could she be—? Monster. She dragged herself back. What had she done, who was she? The question rang in her ears in a piercing manner. "No." Monster. Beast. Demon. The things she had always accused her sister of being, was it possible—? Could it be? That all along it was her? It was her. She was the monster.
"No." She hated everyone and everything around her, she was a monster, no, she was worse; she was much, much worse. How could she have—how could she have done what she did? She was the girl who had nothing and blamed everything around her for her misery. Monster, it was her.
"No," she said as she stumbled back. "You're lying. Katie—you—you're lying."
"You're a monster, that's what you are!" she screamed back.
"No," she said as she dragged herself back until she hit the side of the wall. She slid herself up her lower lip trembling. She looked to her sides; the blood on her hands had stained all the white. Barely catching her breath and balance, she took a few steps away. Run. Her instinct told her. Run.
And so, like the coward she was, she ran away from what she couldn't face or accept. She ran with the bitter and consuming word echoing through her ears. Monster. Monster. Monster.
She was out the doors, out the boundaries that had held her captive for the past decade. The dirt and dust on her feet and the blood on her palms was far from enough to stop her. Monster. Monster. Monster.
"No!" she screamed, her throat burning as it consumed what gave life to it. "No!" she bellowed as she stopped between the covers of the trees. "No—" she croaked in a dying whisper as she rubbed her stained hands on the dirt. "Katie, no—" what had she done. Who was she? She was so alone, so, so alone. "Luca—Katie, I'm sorry," she whimpered. "So sorry."
Her thoughts were muted as suddenly, there was a rustling behind her. Her neck snapped in the direction of its source. "Who's there?" she asked, raising her head. She was scared and it was terrifying, disgusting that nevertheless what she had done, she still valued her pathetic, meaningless life. The noise became clearer and faint footsteps could be heard. She stood with her back to a tree and secured her surroundings.
A silhouette appeared until it materialized itself into reality and she was facing clearly the woman in front of her.
Her lips slightly parted. "Y—Yui-san?" she asked as a confirmation.
The woman didn't speak as she stepped forward, and the faint light of the moon revealed her emotionless face, an expression she had not once seen her wear. Her kind eyes and smile seemed to have drained away.
The girl opened her mouth to question, but her words went into non-being as her gaze fell on the object in her hand; a dagger.
She fell down to her knees as comprehension washed over her and the life from her body drained. Her will crumpled in that second, as it never had in ten years. She felt empty, drained, lifeless and she didn't dare meet her stare. This was right. It was what she deserved, she didn't have enough want to decipher what was the reason behind the action but she couldn't bring herself to think about it.
"And when the hunter found Snow White in the forest, behind the tall Willow tree,"said the maid softly to the five year old girl. "He held his dagger ready to kill and obey the order that was given to him."
The pain was too much to take. It was so deep, so piercing. She closed her eyes. She had a million regrets, but she didn't see all of her past flash before her as people usually said they did when death was a second away. But her greatest regret; if she had only learned to love and not let the dark that surrounded her dwell within her, would she still be crumpled to the ground as she was now?
She saw the woman's hands shake fiercely as she walked closer.
The girl shut her eyes tighter; she wondered if it would hurt to die. Katie would know. The seconds turned into minutes but nothing happened. "Do it," the girl ordered.
There was a thud as metal fell to the ground.
She opened her eyes and the woman was on her knees before her, tears streaming down her face. "I—can't. No." She met her gaze with a pleaded expression and took both of her hands. "Run."
She stood up with an unimaginable hurt that coursed deep in her veins. The brown-haired girl grabbed the abandoned blade and, gritting her teeth as hard as she could, struck it in the flesh of her shoulder.
A pained scream escaped her lips before she could suppress it. She didn't know what led her to it; maybe it was as a compensation. She dropped the knife down, her arm throbbing with pain.
"But when the huntsman reached close to Snow White, he took pity on her and set her free."
With nothing but an empty soul and a perspective full of misery and pain, she ran. She ran until time was nothing but a swirl behind her. She ran and ran. She was so cold, but she ran. The wind pricked and hurt, her legs were numb, but she ran and, as the humid ran through her hair, everything went into non-being.
It was the light that pricked her eyes open. She felt a warm hand on her forehead. She threw her head back and opened her eyes.
"It's okay," assured the red haired woman. "You're fine."
She looked around her. There were two other women beside her and she noticed that she was lying on a white sheeted bed. She wondered if she was dead.
"Where am I?" she asked guarded.
The three women exchanged confused looks. "Noda Angel of Mercy Children's Home."
She just kept staring.
"One of our workers found you a few blocks away, unconscious."
She looked at her shoulder, it was neatly wrapped in bandages and the pain seemed to have faded.
"Where did you come from?" asked one of the women.
She met her gaze and the silence that followed settled as a permanent guest.
And that was how most of the time went, they would all talk to her, but she would rarely answer back. They asked for her name and were confused when they mentioned a word that was not familiar to her, a surname. She wrote down Gaspardo from her old book and it seemed to be acceptable. They asked her where she came from but she wouldn't talk back so they wrote down the common story of the parent's death due to a car accident; she didn't mind, she wasn't even sure what parents were, she had read the word but it must have slipped. They took her to a room that was full of children that always stared at her; she didn't like it. She would curl up in a corner, holding tightly to her bag.
Sometimes, children would talk to her, but she wouldn't answer and every night, her sister would visit her, it was her screams when she woke up from the nightmares that woke up almost half of the orphanage. Sometimes, children were even mean to her, but she wouldn't really talk back, she was afraid of what she might do if she got angry. She was terrified of herself.
Then, after a few weeks she would be called to a room where she would have to meet strange people. They would ask her question but she wouldn't answer and they would glare at her. 'Adoption' was the word the red haired woman that called herself Ava mentioned; of course the girl had no idea what it meant.
New people would come every week, sometimes even every day, but she would never see them twice, she could tell they didn't like her. After a few months, a light haired woman with a messy haired man by her side came. She would smile a lot and the man beside her would agree with everything she said. She didn't ask a lot of questions but she talked a lot. She told her what her and the man's name were, who was her husband. She said she loved children but didn't have any of her own. The girl never responded but nevertheless, both of them kept visiting her. They would bring her some good-tasting food which the woman had called 'chocoballs'. Sometimes, they would visit her more than once a day, the girl liked that. There came moments when she started waiting for them. She would come and tell her how her day went. The messy haired man rarely talked but he was nice.
It was about a week later when a question took her by surprise. "Would you like to come home with us? Stay with us, be our daughter?"
Daughter. It was such a beautiful word. She was scared, carrying her dark and twisted past around with her, but she was also tired. She felt a warm feeling inside her when she nodded but it was nothing compared to the emotions she felt when she got in the moving thing with wheels they called a 'car' and rode with them towards what they called 'home', her past was like a dark trail behind her but she wanted to know what the future held; with a promise to herself, the darkness within her tied to the little humanity she had, would remain sealed, forever.
There are different types of 'days'. My random list ranged from one extreme to the other. There were those days when you chewed off the straw from your drink out of frustration when someone you greatly disliked talked for a really long time. I won't say any names. Nora.
There were those days when you woke up feeling like you got out of the cocoon in between metamorphosis and ended up with one wing and half a caterpillar body.
There were days when you felt like poking random strangers on the side-walk and freaking them out by doing your best 'Carlito' impression, but you realized you were too chicken for that and just went back to being a nobody.
And then, there were days when you felt the wind which had traveled a thousand miles through fresh green meadows, the one which probably blew some lady's fancy hat away, the one which carried a thousand untold stories and secrets, rush through your hair on your way to school and assured you that today was going to be a good day. Believe it or not, that day was today; which seemed kind of impossible since it was raining horribly outside, I had forgotten my umbrella at home and it was Monday; Monday of the last week of September, which meant—
"The homecoming dance!" squeaked the school's news anchor's voice through the hall speakers. "This Saturday, get yourselves ready for a Paris themed party!" she announced in the most dramatic voice anyone could manage. "Now remember, you can vote for your homecoming queen and king on the school's website! Your nominees have already been selected and are currently being crowned their—"
I tuned the high-pitched voice out as I stuffed a headphone on my ear while chewing slowly on a croissant.
Homecoming was also not a 'me' thing. I was a social outcast and, let's face it, for a girl who had been to only one party in her life; Miki Shizuka's birthday party, only because her mother had forced her to invite all her classmates back in the fifth grade and unfortunately, as usual, I had been harassed, returning home with cake in places cake should never be; homecoming was definitely not a me thing.
I was the girl who hid her face with a book while walking through the halls, as not to be spotted by Naomi, I was a nerd, a goofball who had even tried to search herself on Google Earth. Me and homecoming repelled each other; hard.
Suddenly, there was a loud blasting sound in the background of the track I was playing. Oh, they had found another one of the nominees and they were always crowned in the same way; horns and sparkles. Urgh. I felt pity for them. Maybe nerdy was a lot better than popular glitter shit.
I went back to stuffing the croissant in my mouth and examining the hall. Approximately about a minute later, a very raged looking Killua, with colour in his silvery hair, appeared out of nowhere with what looked like a shiny crown in his hand. His teeth were gritted and he looked like he could kill.
Killua was nominated for Homecoming King, how did I not see that coming? A giggle involuntarily escaped my mouth just before I clasped my hand over it.
"This," he emphasized. "Is unforgivable," he said through clenched teeth.
I picked out something round and fuzzy from his hair. "Ooh, confetti," I mused, examining the colourful piece. "That's a bonus."
He glared at me.
I raised one hand in surrender. "Sorry, croissant?" I offered.
He ignored me. "I am going to get this stuff out of my hair; I'll see you outside in five."
"I have a shift at the library," I informed him.
"Then I'll see you there."
I bowed. "Your highness."
"I'm warning you," he said, scowling.
I snorted and walked away, provoking him was just too tempting. I absentmindedly shuffled through my iPod when someone called me from behind. I turned around to see a tired and nervous looking Killua's cousin rushing over to me.
"Claire," he said a bit hysterically.
"Hey— Gon," I said, recalling his name. "What's up?"
"How are you?" he asked like my health was one of his top-priorities.
"Um— I'm— swell, how— how are you?" I asked, confused.
"I'm— yes— I'm fine," he looked around, agitated, and then sighed. "I— need a favour," he said, sounding like a cornered kitty.
"Okay," I said slowly. "Just don't pee in your pants."
He blushed and stared at his feet for about two minutes without saying a word. I considered encouraging him to speak but I was a bit freaked out myself. "I— I have a calculus test tomorrow, if you could— help me study?" he asked running a hand through his spiky hair. "It's just," he stuttered. "Killua hates when I don't get stuff and he's very— short tempered," he admitted. "And you don't have to if you don't want to."
I smiled at him and by the way he was shifting his legs, I doubted he had taken my advice of not wetting his pants. "Sure, just come over to my place this afternoon, Killua knows the address."
His eyes widened as if I had just handed him a million dollar cheque and he grinned. "Thank you!" he all but shouted and extended his arms for a hug but then stopped himself and concluded with just shaking one of my hands in both of his.
"No— no problem," I mumbled as I sped forward and stuffed the ipod in my pocket. Life seemed exaggerated, I felt social, which was scary. Suddenly, my train of thought broke as I bumped into someone and by the stinging deepness of the person's perfume, I could tell exactly who it was.
"Uh, you touched me," Naomi whined as she made the most disgusted face she could manage. "Get out of my way."
I rolled my eyes. I had no idea what made me say what I blurted out next. "I don't have time for your drama today, and just to be clear you're in my way," I said leveling my head with hers, she was a god inch shorter than me.
Her eyes widened and her mouth slightly opened. Yes, we were all surprised. "Who the hell—" she began.
"You heard her," said a masculine voice from behind. "You're in her way." Killua walked to my side, his hair restored to its original form.
Naomi's mouth was held in a confused and irritated way. She studied his face carefully and nodded and walked away.
I blinked a few times to process what exactly had happened as I looked between Killua and Naomi's retreating figure.
"See," said Killua, securing my attention. "And you complain when I call you Rambo, you could start a campaign for women potential." He walked with his hands crossed behind his neck.
I shrugged and rolled my eyes. "Don't you have more important things to worry about," I asked as I gave him a skeptical look. "Like your kingdom?"
He ignored me. "So, you two have a family feud or something? Or one of those 'these heels are mine, at the mall' fights?"
I grimaced at him. "Please stop trying to understand girls," I pleaded.
"Side-tracking again," he informed.
I sighed. "This has been going on since the fifth grade," I admitted. "The school play— she had a big singing number and I—" I paused. "I sort of threw up right at the start and sort of— got the whole thing cancelled." I laughed in a breathless and awkward way to mask my embarrassment. "She hates me since then and this—" I said gesturing in front of me. "—goes on every day," I emphasized. "Although this is the first time I ever answered back. I think— I think I'm turning into a thug."
He stared at me blankly for a moment and then chuckled. "A thug?" he asked laughing.
"Yeah, like I think it's because of you," I accused. "I mean— you talk and I talk back to you and now I think I'm starting to talk back to everyone. Like— a thug," I concluded.
"You're welcome." he smirked. "For the spectacular boost in capacity," he pretended to bow.
I rolled my eyes. "Idiot."
"You know what this reminds me of?" he asked, deep in thought.
"No," I murmured as we walked in the library, which was empty. The sky was an ominous grey and rain drops were splattering ferociously on the window glass. The weather was getting uglier by the second.
"Sequential hermaphrodites," he said.
I gave him the weirdest look I could manage. "Yay," I mumbled. "You finally paid attention in Biology today. Cheers. Wanna bump fists?" I asked sarcastically.
He rolled his eyes as he took his usual place on the table. "I'm comparing situations," he clarified. "A fish that changes gender with the temperature of water and your transition into a— thug," he added, smirking.
I grabbed a book from the table and read its label. "So, basically," I said, raising my eyebrows. "I'm supposed to be this fish?"
"Hm," he nodded.
"And I shifted from a certain temperature of water," I blabbered, the clattering of the rain in the background got louder.
"Yeah," he approved.
"Say cold to hot and— wait a minute, you're supposed to be the water aren't you?" I asked giving him a skeptical look.
He leaned his chin on his palm, smirking. "You're smarter than you look."
I narrowed my eyes at him, placing the book in the shelf. "This is very unhealthy to say, but I'm impressed," I admitted. "Your self-love is so concentrated it gives your mind the ability to be this far-sighted. I mean, a normal person couldn't have predicted already that a simple conversation on fish would have concluded in saying that they're hot."
"Exactly," he agreed. "No normal person could be this hot either."
I rolled my eyes. "So I'm this fish," I returned to the subject. "Wait a minute," I paused. "How did you know for sure that I'd say cold to hot? I could have said hot to cold." I asked confused.
"That was a guess, anyhow you're very predictable," he informed.
I narrowed my eyes again. "So, yeah. Fish goes from cold to hot... actually, the right word would be warm, again it's impossible to know exactly what word I would have used," I said, perplexed.
"Like I said, naive, predictable," he said, bored.
I shrugged. "Okay, so the fish changes gender with the temperature of water, so here the gender is supposed be representing potential. Yeah, so it's probably male to female," I said at an attempt at provoking him but he just kept staring at me with the same bored look. "Aren't you gonna argue on how that should be reversed because alpha males like you are proud of their gender and definitely think males have more potential?" I asked. There was rumble of clouds.
He raised a silver eyebrow. "Actually, no. I never have under estimated any of the two genders. Now since you're just gonna end this by rolling your eyes, a scoff, a huff or a sigh I'd say we move on to another subject," he suggested. "Like world peace and I'd add more interest in the conversation if I said, I'm a peaceful man, peace is my middle name or just peace in general could be described as one of my major qualities."
I raised my eyebrows at him. "You and peaceful? Seriously? I mean I wouldn't be surprised if the second world war started because Hitler was staring at a candy bar you were eating," I said as I picked up another set of books.
"Reckless, actually more like stupid," he said. "Nevertheless, I'll take that as a compliment. Hitler was one of a kind, I like the thought of being the motivation behind one of his greatest accomplishments— notorious accomplishments," he corrected.
I rolled my eyes. "Ah, too bad you were born in the wrong era."
"How would you know?" he asked. "I might be older than I look."
"You told me you were seventeen," I reminded him. "Although your hair colour does raise doubts from time to time," I joked.
"I could be lying," he proposed and his expression seemed serious enough.
"No—you're not," I said slowly.
"What makes you so sure of that?" he said, boring his gaze into mine.
"I—I, you," his gaze was so penetrating. I shrugged trying to act casual. "You look like the kind of person that would never lie, you know, like— the kind of guy who hates liars or something like that." Suddenly one of the windows was pushed open by the wind and the wild rain was splashing inside, I hurriedly shut didn't answer, he just kept staring at me and his expression was unreadable.
"So," I said resuming the conversation. "Are we talking about gender-changing fish, world peace, Hitler or lies?" I asked trying to lighten the mood.
He exhaled and pursed his lips pensively. "What about a gender-changing peaceful fish that lies a lot and is called Hitler?" he asked.
I pursed my lips. "You do realize this is one of the weirdest conversations we've had, right?" I asked, leaning against the shelf.
He dug a hand in his pocket and pulled out a chocolate bar. "We've talked about the seductive qualities of bread, I wouldn't rank this as the weirdest," he split the bar in two and handed me a piece.
"Thanks." I took a bite. It was peculiar, seeing him share seemed as likely as picturing an elephant doing back-flips. "That wasn't weird; it was unusual, like you."
"Really?" he asked. "What exactly is unusual about me?" he demanded swallowing the whole thing down.
I examined him. "You keep your hands in your pockets all the time," I said.
"You let your sleeves lose," he said pointing at my hands which were half covered in my sweater.
"You eat an impossible amount of chocolate."
"You've named your hair-brush," he answered back.
"You have silver hair."
"You can trip over the flattest of surfaces."
"You can climb through a two storey house window," I pressed.
"You talk in your sleep," he said smugly.
"You can appear out of—" I stopped. "How— how do you know that?" I asked pausing.
He stared blankly at me. "You do?" he asked fakely smirking. "Lucky guess," he shrugged.
"No," I shook my head. "That was not just a guess," I said looking deep in his eyes.
He didn't answer.
And suddenly his words from the other night popped in my mind when he told my dad he was from Nagoya. "And where exactly are you from? Because you seem to have double standards in answering questions with variation of individuals," I accused.
At once there was a huge roar of lightening and Killua's whole body seemed to glow white, until there was nothing but black around me. My breath was stuck in my throat, was I blind? "Killua?" I mumbled lowly.
"Boo," said a voice from my side and I screamed the life out of me.
"Shh, it's me," said Killua, holding one of my arms as he raised the glowing screen of his phone in front of me.
"You—" I gritted my teeth. "What— what the hell just happened?" I almost shouted.
"The power went off," he informed me.
I tried to calm myself.
"Unfortunately," he said walking me in some direction. "I didn't bring the car today, we're gonna have to walk through that beast."
I looked to my sides; we were probably in the hall. Today was ugly.
"Do you have an umbrella?" he asked.
"No, I forgot it," I said thinking of my own stupidity.
"Stay here," he said. "I'll go see if there's one in the gym."
I grabbed his arm at the speed of light. Standing alone in this dark hallway? My brain would probably come up with a spin-off to paranormal activity 5. "No," I said instinctively. "I'm going with you."
His face, which was visible from the faint glow of his cell's screen, showed a perplexed expression which then split into a smirk and he shrugged as he started walking.
"You're scared of the dark," said Killua, not as a question but as a confirmation.
"I'm not, shut up," I mumbled. "You are." You're so pathetic Claire. Tell me something I don't know.
He snorted but suddenly his expression turned serious and he stopped. "What was that?" he asked in a low tone.
I held my breath tightening my grip on his arm. "What was what?" I whispered terrified.
He chuckled.
I stepped on his foot. "Jerk."
"Ouch," he murmured.
There was a complete silence except our steps, which echoed throughout the empty halls. These were definitely the signs showed in over-rated horror movies. I wanted to at least live until I was graduated.
"Killua?" I asked in a low tone.
"Hm?" he answered lazily.
"Have you ever thought about how you're gonna die?"
"Have you?" he dodged my question with his own.
"I like to think that I'll die in the place of someone I love."
"Well, I'll probably die of mephobia," he said pensively.
"Mephobia?" I asked confused.
"You know, the fear of being so awesome that the human race can't handle it and everyone dies."
I rolled my eyes. "You're so full of yourself."
Gladly, after that I had damaged Killua's foot enough that he was out of pranks, to my satisfaction we found an umbrella in the gym and finally we made it out of the school where the rain was wild and there was a freezing breeze.
He thrust the black umbrella open and we both stepped out, under it, into the rain. I glanced one last time at the school. The dark and creepy building with the power off seemed like a spooky haunted house. I slightly shivered and dug my hands in my pockets.
The weather was going crazy today. I just hoped it wouldn't snow; frozen fluff getting in your shoes, until it melted and turned your toes blue. Ugh. Hideous.
"You're getting that look again," he murmured.
I looked at him. "What? What look?"
He passed a hand through his hair, like he was posing for a hair gel commercial. "You know," he said, smirking. "The look you got just before you started choking the other day, you should have seen it, it was priceless," he chuckled.
"Ha ha," I said, gritting my teeth. Wishing more than anything else that I would have enough force to punch the nearest wall without damaging my knuckles. "Hilarious, too bad you couldn't take a picture." Memories of the weekend were unpleasantly embarrassing.
"Oh, I will," he said amused, "Next time."
His words took me by surprise. "Next time?" It was still hard for me to decipher exactly what our relationship was. The concept was hard to grasp. We certainly weren't 'just friends', sure nothing had really happened between us, but that didn't mean we never tried. We did, a million times maybe, but somehow, the universe always managed to come up with an interruption.
Still, in all that weirdly entangled mess, I had no idea what I wanted. Maybe I did know what I wanted and was scared of accepting it because I didn't know what he wanted. Or maybe I knew that I knew what he wanted, but I just wouldn't let it sink in because I doubted what I wanted. Or maybe I was just being my idiotic self by having a senseless conversation with myself in my head, which was a sign of poor mental health. Definitely the last one.
"Yeah," he said casually.
His direct answers were annoying me. I didn't know whether I wanted him to keep on expressing signs about moving forward, or just taking a break. Maybe it was because too much thinking was definitely making me paranoid. I simply scoffed, how professional could I get? "You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."
"Actually I do," he responded calmly.
I chewed on the inside of my cheek. I had never dated. I had never even made eye-contact with a boy before unless absolutely necessary, and besides, everyone avoided me, so, I had simply no standards to compare Killua's behaviour with. Maybe, when people wanted to start getting involved in a relationship, they ought to be straight-forward punks with the tranquility of a hippie. Or again, maybe I was just being a psychotic idiot. "Okay," I answered simply while slowing my pace. "Has it occurred to you that... I don't know," I said shrugging, "That you might be being careless or I don't know, rushing into decisions? I mean, I should let you know, if you have failed to see it, that you and I," I said, moving my hand between the two of us, "Are complete opposites."
"Opposites attract each other," he answered simply while smirking.
I was boiling. I stopped walking and stared at him in complete disbelief. "Y-you're smirking? I mean I'm being serious here," I said, trying to keep my voice composed.
He halted and took a few steps back until he was in front of me."I know," he shrugged. "I'm being serious too," he said, holding back a devilish grin.
My eyes popped wide open. "Okay," I said, taking a deep breath, "Alright. See, Killua," I said, trying to sound diplomatic, "You are a boy— and I'm a girl, we're opposite sexes, I mean we are bound to be attracted to each other. But, you know, sometimes, people don't actually have real feelings, they're just drawn to each other because of this—thing that just happens to be and that's where mistakes originate," I knew I was blabbering, but I just couldn't help myself. "Don't get me wrong," I added and took a deep breath, "It's just that you don't have any damn reason to like me because I'm completely ordinary and that's, well... you know…"
He snorted. "Sorry— sorry," he said, looking away. I could tell my little 'lecture' was fairly pathetic. He rubbed his forehead and looked at me, a muscle in his jaw twitched, which made me realize he was using an amount of huge effort to try not to howl with laughter at me right now. He cleared his throat. "See, Claire I'm a seventeen year old male— man," he added, "I think," he paused, "I think, I can tell whether a feeling is coming from my gut or my balls."
I looked down. If I had ever felt stupid in any moment of my life before this one, it felt like nothing compared to now.
"I do like you," he said softly. "What's there not to like?"
I bit my lip deep. I felt like crying. I was both touched and embarrassed. I opened my mouth to speak and I knew I was about to say idiotic stuff. "No, I mean—really. I-I don't what sort of impression I've left on you, but trust me— I'm not that-I mean you— don't know me. I'm that girl who— I wake up in the morning with a million doubts running around my head, I stutter repeatedly in a simple line, I choke on my own words, I-I trip at least ten times a day, I can't go in crowded places because I think people stare at me. I haven't once visited the school cafeteria out of the same fear, I start crying over nonsense, I mean— I named my hair-brush! I still add stuff by counting on my fingers, I can manage to get myself lost in a two-way street, I can't control my breathing at times when I'm nervous, and— and clumsiness practically owns me—I-I can set a house on fire just by trying to water plants and-and I'm scared to death of the dark, and I don't keep my phone with me sometimes, when I'm alone, because I think it's literally breathing and I try to mask it all by acting like I don't care but, I just end up making a bigger fool of myself and..." I babbled, trying to ignore a huge lump in my throat.
"Claire—"
"—and I'm terrified of cats and—"
"—Claire," he said gazing at me.
"—boys like you don't like girls like me—"
"—Claire."
"Yeah?" I asked, almost breathless. He saying my name still gave me butterflies.
"Shut up," he said, both his hands moving behind my back and pulling me closer until his lips were crashing against mine.
If I had thought I had actually ever felt something in my life, I was damn wrong. He was everywhere, there wasn't anywhere I couldn't feel his skin. There was a loud thud behind us, and in the next moment, water was dripping all over us as the umbrella collapsed.
Our lips were moving in perfect sync. My heartbeat was embarrassingly loud, but I didn't care; nothing mattered right now. My blood was rushing with an abnormal speed throughout my veins.
It could have been an eternity in which his chocolate tasting lips moved with mine, but I didn't want it to stop. Not now, not ever. I felt wild. My shaking hands moved behind his head and grasped his wet hair. After a few seconds, our lips parted and he moved his down to my throat, tracing up and down. My grip at his hair tightened and my knees were feeling weak. He caught my trembling form just in time, and I melted against him.
Every worry, every problem seemed stupid. I would laugh at myself for all my insecurities right now if I wasn't so out of breath. My shaky exhales materialized into the misty rain and took off; I was soaked thoroughly. But there, in his arms with my pulse louder than a sledgehammer, I didn't know whether I could ever come up with a better definition for the word perfection. It was as if my life had reached its zenith, heaven seemed over-rated. I was good where I was.
Where the shadows are twisted and there's nothing but the dark,
the soul goes deep, there in the obscure, there's a spark.