Hi guys! I'm baaackk to annoy the life out of you. So, this chapter is kind of sad but not like really sad and I really hope you enjoy it. Anyway, I didn't reply to any of reviews because I'm an awful person and everyone was devastated over what I did to Hachiro, well I'm sorry but that really needed to happen and your reviews were so amazing, know that I appreciate each and everyone of you and your sweet words are what makes this chaotic college life bearable; you guys are way too awesome. Thanks to both Kimi and Lani who are the most amazing people I know, I love you all almost as much as food, almost. Now, quit reading this nonsense and dig in!

Chapter: 14

"Remorse."

Life. I can guarantee that if you ask people to define it, they'll all give you different answers. Some will call it a journey, some will call it a challenge and others will tell you it's a punishment. It all depends on perception, circumstances, and experiences, but if you look closely each and everything is inter-connected in a way that's maybe just a bit too complex for us to understand.

Then, if you ask someone, what is pain? I'm sure they'll start describing a series of physical records and they might even give you a handful of examples. But no,thatis not pain.

Pain is not when you trip on the pavement and get your knee scraped; pain is not when you get a splinter in your finger; pain is not when you cut your wrist and it starts bleeding. No—that is not pain.

Pain is when you stand there, helplessly, among a crowd in front of your father's grave; painis when your legs give out and the world seems too distant; painis when you wish that the rain that's pouring over you were a poison—an acid, strong enough to dissolve you, burn you, end you. Pain, agony, hurt, suffering, torment, torture, despair, misery, disorientation—numbness.

The Southernpiece Auction is the world's largest auction that is held annually, spanning 5 days from the 6th to the 10th of September in Yorknew City by Southernpiece auction house; this year, it was extended until the end of the month.

About five years ago, the Zoldycks were hired to take down the leader of the Spiders by the Ten Dons during the time of the auction. But at that exact time yet another member of the same family was hired to execute the Dons themselves; call it luck or a game of destiny or maybe a race whose outcome changed everything.

This year the Zoldycks had attacked yet again, the annual auction at the specific end. Aftermath: about more than ten thousand people were killed; one of them being, the man who raised me. The auction house was completely and utterly destroyed, wasted. Every single thing was burned, and all that was left—the ashes. The blood, the corpses, even death—gone.

But the worst thing of them all, was that people couldn't help, couldn't control the delusion that they had painted as hope, that spread through them. What if—their loved ones were still alive? What if—they somehow managed to save themselves? There were no bodies to prove the death, what if—?

What if—the month of September wasn't as ominous as I had always thought? Well, it was; it was.

September—the month I had always dreaded. September—the month that changed my life. The most beautiful month of my whole existence, the month in which I had ever truly felt alive, it was my month then why did the Zoldycks have to take it over? The month in which I had lost everything, September. There was nothing left—nothing left.

There was a loud roar of the lightening as the wind forced the windows open, splattering inside a great deal of rain. The brown haired man quickly rushed to the site and forced the windowpane back until it shut.

The man dried off the raindrops from the lenses of his spectacles with the hem of his shirt and adjusted them back into their place. His head jerked to a side when he saw a slight movement in his peripheral vision. "Claire?" he whispered as he saw the figure leaned against the door.

The eleven year old girl sheepishly smiled at him.

The man beamed back. "Let me guess," he suggested. "Couldn't sleep, again," he added perkily.

She bit her lip.

"What's wrong?" he asked concerned, gesturing for her to sit.

She slowly walked in and seated herself on the club chair. "Dad," she mumbled staring at her feet.

He could see the tender expression on her face in the dim light of the lamp. "Yes?"

"Only then, did she meet his gaze, a million questions lingering in her brown irises but she phrased only one. "What is remorse?"

Killua's POV:-

October, the cold and thin sheet of ice as it settled down on every existence. The frosty air, the misty outlook; nothing predicted well, nothing was well.

I made my way down the pavement, my hands deep in my pockets as myriads and myriads of unknown thoughts scattered in my brain. I walked to her door, my hand lacking just enough strength to reach it. As I ordered my muscles to move, I froze and the image of her crumpled form hit my mind like a thousand needles piercing in my skin.

All at once, the door opened as she rushed out. Her gaze met mine and lingered there, unexpected, distant, until she blinked once and turned, rushing forward.

"Where are you going?" I demanded immediately.

She didn't answer, she just kept pacing quickly as I followed and stopped near the silver car parked in her porch. She grabbed a pair of car keys from her pocket and began fumbling with them until they escaped her hold and fell to the ground.

I beat her to the chase of retrieving them.

"Give them back," she ordered, her voice slightly trembling.

"No," I retorted. "What are you doing?"

She clenched her fists. "Give those back, Killua."

"Where the hell are you going?"

"That's none of your business," she shot back. "Give me the keys."

I drowned the keys in my pocket and glared at her. "Get back inside."

"Who said I took orders from you?"

I swiftly grabbed her wrists and held her against me as I dragged her back to the entrance.

"Let go!" she said hesitantly as she struggled. "Let me go! Killua, get away from me!"

I pushed the door open with my leg as I forced her inside.

"NO!" she shouted. "NO!"

"Listen to me," I whispered.

"NO! LET ME GO!" She hit me in the abdomen with her elbow.

Her mother sped to the hallway as she gasped. "Claire, honey, please, it's—alright. Please—" she begged.

"It's okay," I assured her. "I got her."

She covered her face with her hands as silent tears escaped her and nodded.

"KILLUA, NO! I NEED TO GO!" she shrieked.

I wrestled her up the stairs and got her in her room.

"KILLUA! MY DAD! He's fine," she breathed, her voice breaking. "I need to go to him, he needs me—he's calling me—PLEASE!" she pleaded desperately as I sat her on her bed.

"Shh," I soothed as I held her. "Everything is going to be fine."

"No—" she battled through defeated sobs, barely making out words. "Please, Killua." Her eyes welled up and tears started streaming down.

"Claire." I gently stroked her hair. "Listen to me, please calm down."

She shivered violently then gave up as she melted against my chest. She leaned there, unmoving until she trembled again and wept.

"It's okay," I lied, trying to comfort her. "Shh."

"The Zoldycks," she said with unmistakable loathing in her voice.

I froze, every muscle in my body suddenly feeling very heavy.

"Those bastards,they killed him." She was shaking continuously now, or maybe it was me. "I hate them," she spoke weakly. "I hate them, I—" She dropped her head in my lap unable to continue.

It could have been centuries that she sat there, crying, draining herself empty until she finally fell asleep. It was very cold, too cold now. I carefully shifted her head on her pillow and got off her bed.

"Don't go," she begged as she caught my hand. "Please—" she sighed. "Stay."

I met her broken gaze and it shattered me, I needed solitude, I needed to get my thoughts into place, I needed—

"Please," she reiterated.

I attempted to smile at her. "I'm not going anywhere," I promised as I sat next to her. "I'll be right here; everything is going to be okay." I sighed as I kissed her hair. Nothing was going to be okay from now on.

"Remorse?" repeated the man, astonished, looking deep into the little girl's eyes

She nodded, her curious gaze penetrating within him.

"Remorse is—guilt, repentance for a committed sin, a wrongdoing."

"Is it possible," she questioned, her thoughts seeming too far for him to grasp, "To feel remorse for a sin you have not yet committed, just—considered?" she whispered the words as if they were forbidden.

The man looked at her, astonished. He had always been amazed by her, her words and her actions always seemed to surprise him somehow. "Well," he said pensively, "I suppose that is possible," he agreed. "But do you know what?"

She blinked. "What?"

"It would take a person with great morals and a great soul to feel remorse of such kind."

She stood there, staring into the far off distance, the city beneath her; her hair waving with the wind. She sighed and though it was barely audible it bore so much pain. "I have thought about it, you know?" she spoke after a while. "Suicide."

I looked at her wide-eyed, my teeth gritting, my body feeling tight.

"Just one—leap," she whispered looking down. "And a rush, leaving it all behind you. Maybe—" she considered. "—just one shot, as you sink into an eternal sleep. One cut, and all the nightmares escape your veins, forever. But you know what stops me every time?" she asked, turning to look at me.

I shut my eyes, the rage spreading all over me.

"It's the remorse," she confessed. "I promised him that I'd take care of mom—I promised him. I owe him so much, just the thought of betraying him makes me—" she stopped.

I sighed walking closer to her. "We came here a month ago and you told me that it's impossible to live in such a tragic world without hope," I reminded placing my hand on her shoulder. "I believed in you, I can't believe you stopped."

She shook her head, her eyes completely vacant. "It's a lie," she revealed effortlessly. "I can't remember how it feels like—to feel. It's so cold."

I held her against me, too weak to be able to lie to her any further. My will was broken and my soul burned into ashes. It was October, the coldest month of the year.

Claire's POV:-

3 months later.

"These are for before you go to bed," said Killua as he tossed the bottle of pills closer to me. "And these," he emphasized, carefully reading the paper chit. "Are for before any meal."

"Thanks." I sighed, leaning my head against the head board.

"Now, I'm gonna go home and change, alright?" he said as he got off the bed.

I immediately straightened. "Will you be back?" I quickly inquired.

"Of course," he promised as he put on his shoes. "I can't go out in the same clothes, do you have any idea what the neighbours will think?" he joked.

"Do you promise?"

He looked up at me. "Yes, I'll be back in fifteen minutes, I promise."

"Okay," I said as I attempted to calm down.

"You have to make me a promise in return."

"What?"

"Promise me you'll have lunch," he said, checking his phone.

I sighed. "I promise."

"Hmm," he said pensively. "You know, what about I take you to lunch?" he proposed.

I twiddled with my thumbs. "Well," I mumbled. "I was—planning on going to the—cemetery today so, yeah—after that?" I suggested.

"Sure, but don't forget an umbrella," he said, looking out the window.

"Yeah." I sighed. "Nothing a little rain can't ruin."

He once again gave me one of those sad smiles that didn't reach his eyes. It had been like this for a while now, roughly three months I'd say. He'd talk to me and be with me but it seemed as if his mind was really far away—distant. Of course, I couldn't exactly comment on that since my mind had also gone on a voyage of its own.

It was routine now to blank out at times but at times, even though I was being an asshole for even thinking it after giving everyone around me hell, I was still incredibly frustrated at the way everyone was treating me—forced conversations, fake smiles and not to mention the meetings with the 'nice consulting lady' as they called her. Okay, I might have gone crazy, but not yet crazy enough to not know that I was signed for appointments with a psychiatrist and it was fine, I didn't mind. I could spend lying to a stranger two hours per day, no problem, but the real drag was that the lady was incredibly perceptive. I barely ever let my emotions slip, I had never even talked about the real things but she always seemed to figure out what was going on."Natasha" as she told me to call her seemed to notice each and everything, now I did suspect she got a little extra info from my mom but nevertheless, she surprised me.

Alright, so, the first months was completely...inferno—hell, call it whatever and yes, I did have a breakdown but I had to admit I was a lot better now; not perfectly fine but—better.

According to Natasha it was 'shock' for the first month, 'slowly heading towards recovery' in the second and third and now, on the beginning of the fourth month she had finally identified what was going on with me.

"Fear," she stated. She couldn't exactly tell what I was afraid of but it was definitely fear, she was sure of it.

I had blabbered out 'nightmares', to lead her off a different path and it had seemed to work; it was a lie though 'cause I barely slept so, no nightmares, well not anymore after the first few days.

Now, what I hadn't told Natasha, or anyone else for that matter, was that, yes, I was afraid, but I bet that even if I had petition running around in town, nobody could guess what it was about. Even I, who knew myself for more than 17 years found it peculiar. It wasn't the fear of dark, sounds, or cries; no.

I was terrified of letting Killua anywhere out of my sight, if I had a hold of him, even better. He had spent every single night in the past three months at my place and it really had to be that way, I was psychotic.

I did have a mental conversation with Natasha in my brain about the real problem and what I had come up with was, "You're afraid that the people who are dear to you might—leave. Of course, this might be a natural response of the brain to deal with—what you're dealing with right now. The rest of your family is always near you, you have this—urge to keep him safe, keep him next to you."

Retort to my inner psychiatrist, I did not have the 'urge' to have my mom or my nonna sleep next to me every night, that was only him. Bottom line, dead end, and I was going crazier by the second.

"Claire?" said Killua, waving a hand in front of my face.

"Y-yeah?" I stuttered, getting back to reality.

"Where are you at?"

"Sorry—I must have spaced out, again," I added.

He raised an eyebrow and leaned closer. "No spacing out for the next hour, you have a grandmother you need to see off and an incredibly hot boyfriend to attend to."

I rolled my eyes. "I don't exactly have a button to control it," I informed as I kissed him briefly. "Fifteen minutes," I mumbled.

"Are you kidding me?" he said frustrated. "That didn't even last a second."

"Shut up," I said, unable to help the smile that formed itself on my face. "Fifteen minutes," I repeated.

"Roger that, ma'am, or should I say, Rambo?" he poked.

I gave him a look.

"Ma'am it is." Saying that, he disappeared out the window, leaving me scratching my palms out of anticipation.

My nonna was leaving today, I already had expected that she'd try to lure me along but what I didn't expect was how persistent my mother was being on the idea, I must've really fucked up these days.

"I'm not going anywhere," I announced. "Besides, I'm perfectly—I'm okay now."

"Honey, you need a break from all of this; the climate Sendai is amazing, you'll—love it there," pushed my tired looking, four months pregnant mother. She attempted to smile at me, but the deep dark circles under her eyes made it look completely gloomy.

I sighed. "Mom, I can't—"leave Killua. "—go from here, I promise I'll start going back to school from the next week, I'm feeling so much better now, I promise." Did I mention I had skipped a month and a half worth of college before the Christmas and New Year's vacations?

The rest of the conversation was predictably cliché and I was sort of empty on what happened afterward. All I knew was that Killua and I had dropped off my nonna to the airport before we entered the fragile looking gates of the graveyard.

The path was so familiar now I didn't even have to concentrate, my feet would do the work. We stopped in front of the gravestone marked with his name. I walked closer and gently placed the flowers in my hand in front of it. It was never pleasant and you never got used to it, but it kind of became easier to bear; easier than the days I would come here and shout at him for how stupid he had been to get himself killed and leave me and my mom stranded like this. No, not easier, maybe more tolerable.

I turned to Killua and he gave me a short nod before he held his hand out for me. "Walk with me," he invited.

"I don't know if I'm being superstitious or plain stupid," I said as I took his hand and strode forward. "But the last time you said that—didn't exactly—leave behind pleasant memories."

"I'd say plain stupid," he muttered as he led me to the wooden bench near a huge, leafless alder tree. "We should give each moment a new chance."

I bit my lip. "I'm empty, no chances left—nothing."

"Because that is what you choose to believe; you know it's incredibly selfish of you to view yourself as the only victim."

"What do you mean?" I said, looking up at him.

"There are people around you, who act strong for you and you take them for granted; they might be even more wounded than you but they don't let it show, for you. Life is equally hard for everyone, even if some people try to demonstrate the contrary."

"Really? And what exactly did you endure?" I shot back.

"I'm not talking about myself," he clarified. "Look at Hana and your grandmother, have you ever even considered what they went through or might still are going through? They're holding on for you,even if it hurts."

"Well I'm sorry that it's not that easy for me to get over this, I'm trying as hard as I can. I can't just forget yesterday and move on," I defended.

He glared at me. "You know what your problem is?" he finally burst out. "You're afraid of the future. You're tormented by what's gonna happen next; you just can't seem to get that what is over is over. You're holding on to the past, you're afraid that what has already happened is gonna happen again. You're tortured by the past and horrified by the future; have you ever given the present any thought? Of course not, there's no place left for that. You just can't seem to grasp the concept that the past can't be changed and the future can't be controlled," he emphasized, boring his gaze into mine. "You should learn to live with the flow; what has happened and what's gonna happen doesn't matter, all that matters is right now." He placed a hand on my shoulder. "Look at that tree," he said, gesturing towards the alder. "If it stopped blooming over and over again just by the thought that it's leaves have shed a million times and it's gonna happen a million times more; trust me Claire, this world would be a very sad place. You need to learn to live for now, seize the moment,because you only get one shot at everything. Don't waste it."

She shielded her eyes with her arm from the prickling light. The silhouette walking towards her in the obscure tunnel was barely visible to her.

"It's alright," comforted the familiar voice.

The brunette was suddenly alert at the sound. "Dad?" she confirmed as she straightened.

The man extended his arms out for her and she rushed into them before even making a conscious decision to do so.

"You're alright—you're here, dad; I thought—" she breathed. "—you're here, you're fine."

The man didn't answer he simply leaned down to press his lips to her forehead.

"Dad?" she whimpered as reality struck her once more. "You're leaving aren't you—aren't you?"

He held her tightly against him. "Yes," he answered eventually.

She dug her nails in her palms, tight. "Please—" she began but couldn't seem to continue.

The brown haired man tilted her chin up and smiled. "Because I know, my daughter is brave and strong, she has a beautiful soul and she won't only hold on for herself but also for everyone she loves."

She shook her head. "I—I can't—"

"Honey, you can," he assured her, stroking her hair. "You're ready."

"To live without you?" she demanded in disbelief.

"To be your own person, you're ready."

"I need you dad—" her voice broke as she realized nothing she would say would convince him. She sighed and met his gaze as she took a deep breath. "Did it hurt? Dying, did it hurt?"

He nodded. "It hurt," he admitted. "But after a while it all went numb."

She sighed.

"Now close your eyes," instructed the man.

She obeyed, her hands slightly trembling as he held them.

"When you wake up, you will be stronger; you will let go even if it hurts. Tomorrow, you will see life again and you'll grasp it as tight as you can because you only get that chance once, alright?"

She nodded, holding her breath.

Just before she felt it all vanish she heard a low whisper, "Tell Hana I love her."

I couldn't help the tears that started streaming out. For me, life was always a misconception. That was always how I saw it, moving, never still. That's what life was. It was a journey, and sometimes it might get out of hand, sometimes it makes you wanna quit. Live it now, before it becomes a memory. Killua was right, that's why we should, seize the moment.

"I'm sorry," I said as I pressed my forehead against his chest. "I'm sorry for fucking up so huge. I—I've been a jerk and I've hurt you, my mom, I—it hurts."

He placed a hand on my back. "The pain will slowly fade," he promised.

"I wish—I could just turn it off for just a second or maybe not be conscious enough to feel it."

"You know what?" said Killua. "Get your mind off of things; be reckless, do things that might be wrong. You've been through a lot so try doing things you've never done before, start acting like a teenager."

Killua's POV:-

We walked down the sidewalk, the flickering street lights dimly illuminating the path. I knew what frustration was, I could easily decipher irritation, it was normal human behavior to be upset or disturbed and it was only fair to let yourself off the hook but this—

"Wee!" she squeaked as she ran ahead of us. "I'm superman!"

Gon threw me another skeptical look. "Seriously?"

I raised my hand in defence. "She was the one who said she needed to get things off her mind."

He looked ahead at her as she stumbled on the pavement and then again at me. "How much did she drink exactly?"

We just stared at each other silently. "Yeah," I said, scratching my head. "I sort of lost count after the fourth glass."

He gaped at me in disbelief. "Killua, I honestly can't believe—"

"HEY!" she shouted as she sped towards us, flapping her arms around. "What are you two whispering like old fucked up ladies?"

Again, my gaze met Gon's.

"Tonight," she mumbled, taking an unbalanced step forward and nearly tripping until I caught her arm. "I am—" She moved her finger around, pointing in various directions. "—going to be," she paused looking at both of us. "Reckless," she whispered. "I am going to!" she shouted, raising her hands. "Get laid," she announced. "I'm going to wake up in somebody else's bed and—" she snapped her fingers in front of my face. "—not remember anything but then I'll go home and then I'm gonna do it all over again and again and again and again..."

I tuned her out and spared Gon a glance who looked incredibly creeped out.

"You," she said, grabbing Gon's face all of a sudden. "You are one of those innocent boys who eat marshmallows at campfires." She howled with laughter. "I bet you've never even considered taking a step out of Goodville, have you?" She covered her face with her hands. "Totally virgin!" her voice seemed to echo throughout the block.

Gon's face turned a very deep shade of red as he looked down.

She parted her fingers and peeked at me. "But you." She stood in front of me. "Oh, you are a playboy," she accused, narrowing her eyes. "How many victims, huh? Five? Ten? Fifty?" She dropped her arms to her sides. "But, hey. Who wouldn't be with an ass like that? You're a hot guy," she stated. "Do what you have to do—" Her legs gave out and she collapsed in my arms.

"Is she unconscious?" asked Gon, looking at her worriedly.

"I think so; I'll take her home, alright?"

He nodded and I smiled at him apologetically. "You know she was drunk, right? She was just bluffing."

He grinned back at me. "I know, but I do stuff too, okay? I drink and—"

I looked at him sarcastically. "Let me guess, carbonated carrot juice? Or sweet tomato paste?"

"Shut up," he said with a smile in his voice as he waved at me and walked in the opposite direction until his figure faded completely.

I carried her noiselessly to her house and stopped by the bald cherry tree.

"I like dogs," she said, lifting her head up. "They're soft and loyal and they're noses are always wet and they smell like biscuits gone bad."

I stared at her. "Can you just shut up for one second?" I asked as I tried to grab the closest branch.

"NO! I LIKE CHEESE!" she shouted.

My eyes widened. "Claire, shh!" I said, looking around. "If you stop talking for just one minute I'll give you a candy bar, okay?"

She blinked. "I'm drunk, not stupid," she informed me.

I rolled my eyes. "Alright, I'll give you the whole box."

She grinned goofily. "Okay," she whispered.

I threw her on my shoulder and quickly jumped up. Very carefully, I helped her in through the window.

She ran inside and plopped on her bed, closing her eyes.

I went and sat beside her. "You are one hell of a handful," I said, removing her hair from her face.

She shifted, raising her head and bore her gaze into mine.

"What?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

She quickly leaned in and kissed me. "I really wanted to do that," she said happily as she threw herself back.

I stared at her in surprise.

"You know what?" she mumbled as she shut her eyes again. "Your girlfriend is really lucky."

Despair and chaos are embedded to life;

if you didn't have a little rain, would you ever truly feel alive?