Chapter 51– Czar
Chapter 51– Czar
It's been seven years now and nothing has really changed. The nightmares are still there and blood still stains my hands. In fact, things have gone from bad to worse. Like the knowledge that Shadeau is still existing in the dark is not enough, I have a personal headache with two legs and a whole lot of sass. She's on my mind more often than I can handle and I'm supposed to find her parents, destroy the organization that planned to do the same to me and still stay sane on top of it all… Yet I just can't bring myself to concentrate. My little wraith has decided to ghost our meeting like the fucking poltergeist that she is, scoring herself a full-acess pass to occupying a portion of my brain for the next few hours at least… except I do something about it, that is.
At first I think I am only a little mad but then realize I might actually be livid. The familiar indices appear like a revelation that has been kept waiting too long: my patience thins without warning, a migraine starts from nowhere and tension builds at the nape of my neck… which leaves me wondering: Is the trip down memory lane to blame or just her ? What the fuck is it with that face of hers? She's running an hour late for our Friday rendezvous and I am about to incinerate a small town just because of it.
It's nothing but righteous indignation, I tell myself as I pace the paved area before her gates, watching the main building for signs of inhabitance… It’s not until I'm right outside the bar she's actually in with some friends that I realise what I'm feeling– have been experiencing without even knowing– is jealousy. I circle the place once and in a mere sixty seconds already know how many of her classmates are there, how many females specifically, the number of males who keep staring at her, the name of the misbegotten idiot she is talking to and how long it will take me before I flip everything the fuck over… Because she couldn't possibly have forgotten about Friday Nights. Her action is deliberate.
Lone Wolf: Pretty dress.
As she views the message her head lifts almost immediately and I see something of trepidation flash across the smooth glass of her composure. Her eyes are distracted for a moment as they scan the bar just before the guy in front of her asks if everything is okay. But she knows it's not so doesn't bother answering, merely empties her glass.
Lone Wolf: You're obviously wearing it for me. So why does he get to see it on you up close and I don't?
Miss Dangereuse: If this is about our agreement about Friday nights, I have an assignment due Monday. I know this might sound farfetched but I’m supposed to go out tonight and then write an essay about it. It's why I can't spend tonight with you.
Lone Wolf: I couldn't care less if you had to fly to space to discover intelligent life for the world’s collective advancement.
Miss Dangereuse: No, I did not really expect you to sympathize. But do you realise that this assignment will count for 35% of my grade in English?
Lone Wolf: I don't give two fucks. Out.
Miss Dangereuse: That's not very understanding of you now, is it? But then I always knew I was dealing with a goon. Giving me commands like you own me is not the way to my heart just so you know. Recognising I have an assignment due on the other hand may not make me magically tolerate you but will definitely allow me despise you a lot less.
Does it excite me when she gets under my skin like this? Most definitely. Doesn't mean she won't pay for it though.
Lone Wolf: If I'm not mistaken, you’re saying you can't write an essay without living the experience. Yet there you are on Novadale High's English Literature honour roll.
Miss Dangereuse: That's not how it works. I can't just make up something about my life for an essay that should be based on my practical involvement. What if my teacher asks for proof?
Lone Wolf: You have five minutes.
Like she said, not very understanding, no, but then she knew I was an asshole from the onset.
Miss Dangereuse: Or else what?
While I can feel the irritation lying just behind the tone of the text, Hera has no idea that it might seem that I am being very calm now but there is no actual difference between my calm and my storm. Shit’s about to implode on itself in four point nine minutes.
Lone Wolf: Or else what? Well I have a number of options and I know you won't like any of them.