The Day I Met NALENNIUN

We Expect To Be Happy When Everything Can Be Explained, When We Are Not Left Hanging In Our Confusion. But If Everything Could Be Explained, We Would Have No Purpose, And Nothing To Look Forward To Fulfilling.

Chapter one

I had just arrived in Wisconsin, going to stay with my uncle after my father’s departure to Europe. His work had sent him there, and my uncle had been the only person able to house me for the while. He lived alone, a surgeon in his mid-twenties. I had never really known him very well, but on his occasional visits we had gotten along easily. He was laid back and humorous, the kind of guy that would be no problem to live with.

I remember how crowded the airport had been that day in Milwaukee, and the long, thoughtful drive in the taxi. I remember the music in my headphones drowning out all other sounds, my ears stinging, though I had no time to turn it down. I needed to think. Music helped me think.

I thought about how much I actually missed my mom. She had died a few years ago of cancer, when I was thirteen. She had been the kind of woman that everybody knew and loved, that friendly neighbor that brings you a pie and invites you to dinner when you move in next door. Mom had been a teacher. She had loved people, and everything about them. She had been the best thing for Dad, who was sharp tongued and harsh.

I thought about how little my dad talked to me, how he couldn’t look at me anymore. I had tried so many times to strike up a conversation during those dinners in that silent house. He would mutter some inaudible answer without taking his eyes off of the TV dinner that we had taken to after Mom’s death. Without my mother around, what use was a son?

I thought about where my life was going.

But that didn’t get to far.

It wasn’t going anywhere.

I was nowhere near innocent: I had done drugs before, drank, lied. Roamed the harsh streets of Chicago with a gun in my hand and daggers under my coat, shoving anyone in my way aside, rejecting life entirely. People back at home had been bewildered during that time, how a boy so sweet and disciplined could end up as some thug with no mercy. I had outgrown that stage, yes. But I could still feel the Old Cole inside of me, fighting to escape and express the anger that I still held, though I tried my best not to acknowledge it.

The memories out ruled the pity. Now, it just didn’t feel right when people said how sorry they were for me. I didn’t deserve all the food, all the flowers, all the sympathy. To me, Mom’s death was my punishment for all the shit I’d made her put up with and all of the horrible things I had said to her. I had meant none of them, never wanted to upset her, always felt the need to make her happy again when my anger had gone. And although she had forgiven me for each time, smiled and laughed and told me how much she loved me, I felt guilty beyond imaginable. I had never found myself able to talk about it. I think that‘s what hurt the most.

When I arrived at the house, I suddenly felt that much more welcome to the idea of living with Uncle. It was simple, home-like. It gave me a feeling that I hadn’t felt in a while--content, maybe. Hopeful.

Almost as soon as I had lugged myself out of the black and yellow car, he was there to greet me, his long arms extended in greeting. I had always been his “favorite nephew”, being the quiet, thoughtful one that I was. My two older brothers, Gregory and Nicolas, were never around on Uncle’s visits, always with friends or work or something. Greg was oldest, having turned twenty-five a week ago. Nick was twenty, and I was seventeen. They had both rushed off to college as soon as they were able, leaving my alone with my cold father. It had been weird, having all of my family leaving me behind. The loneliness had stung.

“Cole!” Uncle’s warm voice greet me. He was a tan, red haired man with dimples and friendly charm. Kind of short, always full of energy. He had been the one to visit and entertain me when my brothers were out with friends and my parents had gone to work.

“Hi, Uncle.”

He raised an eyebrow. “It’s Felix, remember?”

“Okay, Felix. Thanks for letting me stay here,“ I murmured uncomfortably. It was weird to see him after all this time. “So, um, where’s my room?”

“Don’t worry about it, Cole. I need someone to help occupy that house,” Felix grinned, glancing over his shoulder as he turned to pay the taxi. “Your room is up the stairs, first door on the right.”

“Thanks.”

I lugged my suitcase into the house and up the steps, pushing open the door to a small, cozy room. It had a queen sized bed tucked into the far left corner, a sliding glass door that led out to a balcony next to it. There was a couch, a desk, and a bookcase, all the simple things that made a place feel like home. I set my stuff down and headed out to the balcony, breathing in the fresh midday air.

Clean suburban houses sat around, the atmosphere much different from the busy city. Children giggled and played without worry of being run over by the traffic or kidnapped by some bum. A group of young girls laughed as they trotted down the street, a couple of mothers swapped tales as their toddlers struggled to escape the yard. I was disconcerted, almost, how laid-back these people were.

This would my home now. At least, until my father returned.

I thought of my brothers, and how they both had been so eager to leave home. Was I like that? I hadn’t made any sort of decision towards what I wanted to do with my life. Nothing seemed to fit. I had considered many options in the past: doctor, chef, musician, or rather a professional skateboarder or something. But my interest skipped by ruthlessly, forcing me to trudge along behind it and tell myself not to worry.

“Cole!” Felix’s voice awoke me from my trance.

“Yeah?” I responded, stepping inside again.

“I’m gonna go and bowl with some friends. You want to come?”

“No thanks…” I replied, rather sullen, not wanting to impose further on my uncle‘s life. “I think I’ll hang out here or go look around or something.”

“Okay,” he replied. “My car‘s in the garage if you need it—I left the keys on the trestle. Bye.”

A car… I thought to myself. Wow. No one had ever, ever offered me the chance to drive, especially not after my two year rampage as a delinquent. I had only really driven, aside from driver‘s ED, three times. And the first two had been times when I had taken the car without my father’s knowing. The third was when Nick was busy making out in the backseat, and I was the only one capable of getting us home without being smothered. But despite the few chances, I had to admit that I was pretty good. I respected the craft, seeing it as a skill rather than a necessity. Each time I had driven, I made no mistakes—despite the distractions that could be occurring nonstop in the backseat.

It was a wonderful day to go exploring. I considered taking the car, but decided against it, ignoring the timid feeling in my gut and telling myself that walking would make it a better experience. Grabbing a water, I treaded out the door. My legs were stiff from the long plane and car ride, my back aching. But the city was filled with comforting warmth, and the smell of the lake swam invitingly through the air, making it almost impossible to stay indoors. Walking through such an optimistic setting was an irrevocable urge.

I stretched my arms, yawning, as I slipped my water into the pack that I always secured to my belt. I closed my eyes, focusing on the gruff sound of my feet collapsing against the pavement in an easy fashion.

I was awakened from my trance by a raucous team of three, trudging my way with threatening exuberance.

The girl had long black hair, with delicate features and a soft smile. She walked a step behind her companions, biting her lip and listening intently to their conversation. Her companions, two blonde boys, looked to be twins. Despite their reflected appearances, the personalities were distinct. One was calm, innocent, optimistic, eyes soft and skin pale and frail. An attitude like that shared no common traits with the boy‘s brother: boisterous, immature, and stubborn, pushing to the front of the group and grinning.

“Who are you?” the he questioned urgently, his voice light and babyish.

I grinned, amused. “Cole.”

“Oh, well, I’m Brian. This is Tyler”—he gestured towards the other boy—“and the girl is Riley.”

I nodded, still smirking, at both.

“We live right there!” the second boy—Tyler—informed me, pointing to a red brick house a couple houses away from where we stood. “Did you just move in? Did Mr. F. Move out?”

I ducked my head to hide my snicker. Mr. F… “Uh—no. I’m just his nephew.”

“Lucky!” Brian cried. “Mr. F. is awesome. He got us ice cream from the ice cream truck one time. And you get to live with him!”

I smiled softer and nodded. I shot a glance at Riley, who remained farther back. She met my eyes and looked quickly away, blushing slightly. I coughed to hide my laugh.

“Well,” I said. “I’m going to take a look around here.”

“Oh! Can we give you a, like, tour!?” Tyler shouted eagerly. Brian grinned wider than I would have thought possible, and Riley tried to stifle a smile. This time I didn’t hide my laugh.

“Sure.”

So, they showed me every “important” area around our houses—diners, stores, all the good places to get candy. And I followed happily along, trailing beside my first friends here. Yeah, they were nine, but so what? They were still there.

I had had tons of friends back in Chicago. Wherever I went, despite the size of the major city, there was a familiar face. And when I found out that I would be leaving them—all of them—behind, I exploded.

“So, do you know any other people here other than us, Cole?” Riley asked timidly.

I smiled down at her. “Other than my uncle, no.”

“Cool!” Tyler said gleefully. “We’re the first!”

After about two hours, they were called back home, leaving me to fend for myself. It grew quiet, and usually, I was okay with that. But now the silence seemed to scream into my ears, echoing until I grew mad. I had that hollow feeling that I had gotten so often in Chicago, when I was left sitting in the streets to think up some place to visit to avoid going home. I walked into a nearby store.

The first thing I noticed when I walked in was a girl. She looked to be sixteen, with long, white blonde hair down to her waist. Her body was pale and lithe, elegant in every aspect. And every part of her seemed to have an onyx tint, darkening the mood, veiling her skin with an invisible shade. Her limbs were long and perfect, like a model, her lips alluring and her cheekbones distinctive under her enviable skin. Her neck was long and thin, her collarbones distinctive and her waist stubborn but dainty. The woman’s figure was clothed in a thin, fitted white dress, and I guessed that only she could wear it and make it look worth thousands of dollars.

Then she turned and looked at me.

Her ice blue eyes—also onyx looking—locked onto mine, and my heart froze. My palms began to sweat, and I wanted so badly to look away, to not make a fool of myself, but I couldn’t.

She was too beautiful.

She narrowed her eyes, snorted silently, and turned her back on me. Her arms were tense as she swiftly glided to the counter to purchase her lemonade.

I didn’t understand. She seemed to, in the few moments I had been in the store, resent me. Timid and bewildered, I went towards the back of the store, grabbing a water to refill my own. Walking slowly to the counter, I saw that she was still waiting for her lemonade to be rung up. She hissed impatiently and crossed her arms, freezing when she saw me. As I moved in behind her, she moved a little closer to the counter, watching me carefully with big blue eyes.

“Uh, hi.” I said timidly. My throat felt weird when I spoke.

“Hello.” She turned back around.

“Here’s your lemonade, ma’am.”

She turned and left.

Outside again, my head was filled with questions. What had I done to upset her? Did I smell? Did I have some grotesque growth on my face? I didn’t get it. It couldn’t be that I myself was ugly… with my red-brown hair, hazel-blue eyes, pure, creamy skin, most girls that I spoke to thought I was cute, in an immature, brotherish way. But obviously not this one.

I walked a few miles more before turning around to head back, seeing that it was getting dark. I stalked back silently towards the small, yellow house that I recognized as Uncle’s. There were some flowers on the outside, an acceptable lawn. Felix, although I had spent little time with him, I knew was somewhat decorative, having been in love with a wedding planner. She had passed away in an accident last spring, after five years of marriage, leaving my uncle with one thing to remember her by other than a grave: the garden. He spent hours in it, and had pictures of different stages all over the fridge. It was rather sad, watching him struggle to maintain the cheerful attitude that he used to hold so easily. But he would never, ever, be as happy as he once was.

“Hey,” he greeted me as I walked in. “What’s up?”

“The ceiling,” I responded calmly.

“So what do you think about this place?”

“It’s great. Tomorrow I’m going to look for a summer job or something.” Yeah, right. Facing a bunch of strangers and possibly the most beautiful, intimidating, obscure girl again would be just great. Right.

I walked slowly up to my room and collapsed onto the bed. I let my stiff, aching limbs release the tension that I bore, letting go of the cool demeanor that I clung to. Growing cold and tired, I sighed and jumped up to take a shower in the bathroom that was connected to my room. I made sure that I turned my music up before I let the steaming water pound my skin. Music made everything better, relaxing me, calming my nerves, letting me think a little before making handling a predicament or adjusting to a severe change.

I awoke to a bright morning, smiling as I heard my uncle’s voice whistling cheerfully downstairs. Pots and pans clanged as I dressed quickly in my white and blue T-shirt and jeans, brushing my teeth and thudding down the stairs.

“Hey, Felix.”

“Hey. You like pancakes, right?”

I looked over his shoulder to see a large pan with more batter in it than I would have thought possible. He already had five pancakes made, which were on the platter waiting for more.

“Dude, I don’t eat that much.”

“Breakfast, lunch, and dinner, right here.”

Rolling my eyes, I took three and a glass of milk, taking a seat at the light-wood table. I ate quickly, urgent to get the day over with, as if my dad would come back sooner if I hurried. I finished my milk, rinsed my dishes, and packed my bag, jumping out the door and turning on the nice silver Volvo that my uncle had graciously provided. He had lots of money: both from his wife’s early death and a well paying job as a surgeon.

The car was very comfortable, a few CDs tucked under the visor, a nice, new stereo. I turned it on to an alternative station before driving off, heading towards town. The houses sped past me, the music somehow gaining a cool, metallic sound against the metal of the car. It felt weird, not having to walk everywhere. It felt… free, I guess.

I stopped at a Subway with the “Now Hiring” sign that I had been looking for. Subway would be a great place for me—simple, yes, but still I could push my limits and master the admirable art of sandwich making. It was close to home, and the high school, so when the summer was over I might be able to keep it. I jumped out onto the smoothed pavement, swinging open the door XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The people were all friendly, smiling and welcoming me to the neighborhood. And time passed quickly, and I watched as my hands grow more and more sure and prepared the sandwiches even quicker and better, and I was on one heck of a role, when she walked in. I stopped what I as doing, hesitating for the first time, took a deep breath, then finished Amaranth, Lilith, and Meriwether—the customers who talked sullenly with content—so that I could help her.

“Thanks!” Lilith called back. She had my number written on her hand—we hadn’t acted at all flirtatious, just joking around—and said something amusing to her friends before stepping out of my view.

“Hello.” I called out to the girl who still stood in the doorway.

“Hi.” Her voice was firm, cold. But so silky and seducing, so smooth and brilliant.

“How may I help you?” I tried to hide the intimidation that was coming full blast.

“Six-inch on Italian.” She kept it curt, and she stood a ways a way from the counter while she ordered a tuna sandwich with pickles, tomatoes, Swiss cheese, and mayonnaise. Interesting taste, I noted.

I could see that the mysterious girl kept her arms tense, as if trying to keep them from doing something rash. I tried not to snicker at her suspense as I told her the price.

“What’s your name?” hey, why don’t I torment you further?

Her shocked eyes met with mine, and I had to try not to laugh. “Nalenniun Oz.”

Oz… I thought. What an interesting last name. It reminded me of fairytales and castles, stories filled with majesty. And, of course, the Wizard of Oz.

“Well?” she snapped as she handed me the money. “Who are you?”

“Oh! Uh, Cole McKinnon.”

“Thanks. Bye.”

And then she was gone.

At least, for the time being.

On the way back, I got totally and utterly lost. It was an exceptionally large place and I had just recently arrived here. I was too dignified to stop and asked directions. So, God knows how, I ended up at the graveyard.

Seeing the cold stone, green grass, and harsh engravings brought back so many memories. I felt the pain of Mom’s loss, the hot and harsh anger racing again through my veins like young fire, licking my mind until it came loose. I remembered the screaming, the crying, the wails and the silence. That had been the worst part… the silence.

It had been a week after mom’s death. Everyone had calmed down well enough, all memories of Mom exterminated from the house. They were too painful.

I became weak.

When someone talked to me, I would answer as coolly as I could, never asking anyone for anything, just waiting for that one month anniversary when I would break out and give in to the fury. Greg got quiet. He wouldn’t talk, and when he did, the sound was lifeless and cold—nothing at all the intelligent, laid back Greg that I knew.

Nick was persistent. Nick, the middle child, was the strongest of all of us. He did everything he could to keep the pictures of mom around, to hang her sketches and awards on the walls, bringing up the things she had said at dinner… But Dad wouldn’t have it. Dad got cold, colder than Greg, the humor of him gone. He wouldn’t look at us, stayed away from the house… he came undone. Work was what saved him. He became absorbed in it, at the same time that I became angry. Though, however absorbed he became, he still wouldn’t look at us.

“Cole?” Nick’s voice reached to me. I blinked somberly, wishing deeply that it was more than a memory, that I could have a second chance to assist Nick in his rebellion. “I’m scared.” I could see him standing, head down, in front of the sketches of Mom’s that he had hung up, trying to resurrect the happiness that she had poured into the family. The pictures, which had once been so beautiful and pure, lay weakly on the floor. They were torn and broken, blood stains streaking them. Dad had had enough.

My naïve eyes were wide and I placed a quivering hand on his shoulder. “Nick… I think we should get out of here, give… Dad a break.”

“We can’t just leave him here, Cole,” he whispered, his blue eyes cold. “He could do this again… He… he might really lose it next time, Cole. We went to Felix’s. If we had stayed… there would have been something to distract him, something…” Nicolas’s knees buckled underneath him, his red hair falling over his face, his hands reaching up to hide his tears. I watched him, missing the old Nick. The vibrant, charming Nick. I staggered back, collapsing into a chair.

That’s when things changed. From then on, I grew violent and reckless. Nick gave up, his features sad, however much he smiled. Greg pretended like nothing was wrong. Dad acted like we weren’t there.

I choked back the tears that threatened to escape. I made a promise to myself. Someday, I would visit Felix’s wife’s grave with him, make sure that he didn’t end up like my father.

I bit my lip and walked away from the graves, hands in pockets, determined to get home before daybreak.

When I arrives, finally, Felix was on the phone, apologizing for what sounded to be my absence. A bold, mischievous grin attacked his face when he saw me. “Oh! Here he is now.” He handed the phone out to me, and I took it, glancing at the clock. 7:30, not late at all.

“Hello?” I spoke into the small, silver phone.

“Hey! Cole, right?” A female voice burst into the phone. Voices were laughing in the background.

“Uh, yeah. Who is this?”

“Oh! It’s Lilith!”

“Well, then, hi.”

“Well,” she began “A few of us are going downtown for the night! And, since you’re new, we thought that you could come! I mean, if we don‘t take a chance with the new guy, no one will.“

“I’m not really sure if I was just insulted or not,“ I chuckled. “But yeah, sure.”

“Okay! We’re leaving soon, so… could you meet us there at eight? Oh, and… you don’t happen to have a fake ID, do you?”

I laughed at this. “Yes, actually.” I thought of the old, bent, stained one I kept somewhere in my wallet, which said that I was twenty four. “I’ll bring it.”

She said something to the people around her, who laughed, and then sighed into the phone. “See you at the Holiday Inn?”

“Sure,” I replied “What’s the address?”

I dressed in a black dress shirt and jeans, making sure that I tucked my wallet in my pocket, with the fake ID. I pounded down the stairs, smiling widely, truthfully. That felt kind of good.

“Fake ID, eh?“ Felix remarked, a grin on his face. “Ah, the days of rebellion… Have fun. Don’t come back too drunk.“

“Okay,“ I laughed. “I promise.“

It felt good to not hide my whereabouts. It felt good to shed my disguise, if only for a year.

The drive went by fast, and that I was thankful for. I had forgotten to bring out my CDs for the trip, so I was forced to make due with the radio.

Once I reached the destination, they pulled up next to me in an old van, laughing swaggering in content.

“Hey! Look who it is!” a male voice cheered, sounding, already, drunk.

“Hi, Cole!” Lilith greeted me, her raven black hair flowing behind her. Immature, blue eyes dug into me. “This is Salem”—she introduced a golden haired man, the canned one, with rustic green eyes. “Belladonna”—a tall, dark hair and eyed girl—“And, you already know Amaranth and Meriwether.” The dark red-headed girl and the blonde haired boy.

“Let’s go!” Salem was laughing hysterically in the back seat next to Belladonna, who sighed and brushed a strand of hair out of his face.

“Shh.” She soothed. “Don’t scare the boy.”

I chuckled and climbed into the car next to Amaranth, who drove us to the first night club. “So, where to?”

“Muskegon.”

“To…?”

“The first club we see!”

We settled on a huge, multi-themed club that I stared up at in awe. Fake IDs on hand, we stormed in and out of various sections, including France, Africa, Tokyo, and an accidental wander into the strip club, laughing and watching each other slide more and more into the wasted stage. As of now, it was Salem, Meriwether, and Lilith who stalked around unsteadily, as Belladona—who, with the place as the mother of the group, never drank—Amaranth—who said that she wanted to live, therefore never intoxicating herself with cigarettes or beer—and me who, drinking little and carefully, not wanting to miss any of the night, stayed clean.

When we reached one spot in particular, though, the night changed.

We trudged into a music bar, and as soon as we did music blasted into our ears.

“Oww…” Salem growled, covering his ears and making some strange animal sound. Belladonna giggled and put her arm around him.

“Come on,” she murmured “We’ll find a place in back.

So we sat down in a corner with two couches and a chair. I laughed as Amaranth and Belladonna forced the drunks onto one couch, and us on another, claiming that we didn’t want to be smothered in their beer breath.

“Nice place…” Belladonna sighed sliding her gaze to the three hysterical teens across from us.

“Yeah,” I laughed “Especially with such a jolly crowd.”

The music paused, as the artists said something, then started back up again, but softer. They looked into the crowd as various girls jumped up and raised hands, yelling stuff like “Pick me!” or “I love your music!”

The guys on stage laughed, closed their eyes, and randomly picked someone. I shook my head, confused.

“Their going to have someone sing for them.” Amaranth informed me.

“Amaranth used to go up all the time,” Belladonna whispered “But then she just stopped.”

Amaranth narrowed her eyes. “I had a perfectly good reason.”

“And yet, you won’t tell me.”

The redhead hissed and turned away, leaning on the arm of the couch.

Looking back up at the stage, I saw someone jump onto the smooth surface, graceful as ever. She turned to face the crowd when she reached the mike, and I froze.

Nalenniun.

“Oh!” Belladonna smiled “She’s great.”

I looked over at Amaranth, who was grinning in agreement. I had never seen either of the two let down their dignity to behold a greater force--but, well, Nalenniun seemed to have that effect on everyone.

She smiled as the men on stage greeted her warmly and patted her on the back, scooting closer than necessary, asking what song she would prefer to be played.

“Flame!” she laughed into the mike enthusiastically. I felt a shudder go down my spine as her voice flowed like velvet across the words.

“Down, down, flowing slowly, slowly…”

I knew this song. But it had never, ever sounded as… deep, and powerful, as it did now.

My eyes widened.

“I told you she was good.” Belladonna chuckled, watching my reaction.

“Yeah, but… sung by someone who hates me, it’s pretty hard on my ego.” I sighed.

“Hates you?” Amaranth queried. “But you just moved here!”

“Exactly.” I growled. “As soon as she saw me, she wouldn’t come near me.”

“Aw, poor you. I bet you wanted to get in her pants, too.” She chuckled.

I raised an eyebrow. “Yup, you caught me.” I retorted wryly.

She laughed.

I grinned and focused on the music once more, seeing how far into the song she was.

“Staring into the shadows…”

Not bad time, I thought. But the blandness of my thoughts didn’t come soon enough to capture another chill.

It took a while before the song was finally finished, and the crowd exploded. Even the three drunks across from us had quieted down for Nalenniun’s performance, a feat that I would have thought impossible.

“Maybe you should go make peace with her.” Amaranth laughed. “I’ll be your body guard!”

I laughed, but recognized the seriousness of her words at the same time. “Nah.” I murmured. “I can fend for myself. But keep an eye on us. She looks like she has a hard bite.”

“Aw, okay. Maybe you should take a fork or something, just in case.”

I shook my head, laughing, and grinned wider when I saw Belladonna slip a butter knife into my pocket.

As I approached her, I was surprised to see her without a crowd. She was in the corner beside us, sitting with two guys and another girl. The first guy had dark brown hair, and from where I could see, dark blue eyes. The second had what seemed to be a kind of blonde-white-black, offsetting and impossible to understand. The girl was black headed, though of a softer, lighter kind than Lilith’s. And they all had one thing in common. They were all irrevocably and inexplicably pulchritudinous in every possible way.

Nalenniun exchanged a glance with the dark haired boy, stood, and walked over to where I was standing. Her eyes met mine, and she acted as if I had called out to her, though I had said nothing and was still a ways away from where she was sitting. She put her hands on her hips and waited.

“Uh,” I began cautiously “Great job up there.” I winced at how pitiful my voice sounded.

I noticed the glow of amusement in her eyes.

“Thank you.” Her voice was flat, withdrawn, and she stood clearly out of arm’s length of me.

“I… uh…” am a complete idiot. “love that song.”

Her eyes glowed even stronger. “So do I.”

“Well…”

“Goodbye.” She paused for a moment, met my gaze briefly with hard eyes, then turned away.

“Okay, then. Bye.” I muttered under breath.

Slouching back to my fast made friends, they were laughing.

“You’re right!” Amaranth greeted me “She does hate you!”
”And she thinks you’re an idiot.” Belladonna added enthusiastically.

“Oh, thanks.” I added grimly.

“You could have used the butter knife.” Amaranth added.

“Butter knife?” Meriwether added, hopping out of his seat. “Ooh! See—look! I got a cut from one of those!”

He slid his hand into our view and, sure enough, there was a thick, long cut straight across.

“How the hell do you cut yourself with a goddamned butter knife?” Amaranth laughed, holding her sides and she struggled to make the words audible. “How the hell is it possible?”

The rest of us burst out laughing.

A couple hours later, Lilith and Meriwether were completely out, sleeping against Salem, who sat staring at the wall behind us.

“We should probably get going…” Belladonna sighed, standing and glancing at the clock. “One thirty. Let’s go.”

As we were walking out, towards the hotel that we had picked out across the street, I spotted a tall, thick figure looming over a feminine frame, who had their head held high and dignified. Nevertheless, I knew a bad situation when I saw one. Deciding to check it out, I said to the group, “Hey… wait in the hotel. I’ll be back in a minute.” They eyed me a moment before nodding and trudging off, leaving me to wander towards the mysterious scene. I had no proof that it wasn’t just some infatuation and the two were confessing their sick, notorious love for each other, but something told me that what was going on was nothing of the sort.

As I got closer, I could hear voices.

“Honestly,” the first voice was firm and strong. “Did you really think that you would get off that easily?”

“I can handle myself. Please. Go.” Another voice rang. “Please.” I felt a shiver run down my spine. I knew that voice…

“There’s no way around it, and you know it.” The first voice grew almost threatening, and it made me tremble even from where I stood.

I walked—almost ran—closer, my eyes widening when I saw.

“No...”

“Just do it! Make life a little easier for us all, dammit!”

“No.”

It was Nalenniun, and a much taller, stronger, wiry man looming over her, a big steak knife in his back pocket. Nalenniun’s eyes were filled not with fear, but some other emotion that was hard to understand. Maybe it was fear, but not for herself. I knew that feeling, and it was more horrifying that the harshest torture.

I gasped and panicked. Why I felt so strongly about someone I barely knew, though, was inexplicable. Perhaps it was just my memories, flooding back, and I wished to help someone to avoid the things that I had put myself through--maybe it was just instinct. Maybe not.

I smiled in relief as I remembered the gun I always kept tucked safely in a belt around my thigh. It had grown a habit, something that I couldn’t go somewhere without, what after my notorious drinking days. It used to be that I ended up needing it more than I should. And it was times like this that it came in handy.

Approaching them cautiously, I walked up to the pair casually, smiling.

“Hello.” I charmed, walking up to the pair. I pretended to look confused. “What’s going on?”

The man’s eyes were like fire, though, hard and cold. He turned to me, eyes flaring flatly. “Well, what do you know. He himself has decided to grace us with his presence. Go ahead, Nalenniun. Get us all killed.”

I blinked, bewildered

“Draven…please...” Nalenniun sounded so helpless confronting him. I didn’t understand. She had always been, in my eyes, powerful and solitary and bold.

I glared at him. “Excuse me?”

He took a step closer, drawing the knife from his pocket.

I took out my gun, and pointed it at him. “Sir.”

I was surprised at how professional I could act. My hand was steady, my eyes determined.

He didn’t budge. “Go to hell.”

I raised my arm, my finger almost to the trigger.

He backed away a bit, but then, nostrils flaring, charged towards me. I ducked a blow, barely, and jumped back farther as he started falling towards me. I looked at my hand, where the gun wasn’t. I looked up, and saw it in Nalenniun’s hands. In the moonlight, I could see tears in her eyes, as she stared down at the man. She shot him again. She glanced up at me, kneeling down, pressing her hands to his bare chest. I saw a spasm run through him, then another, then his eyes kind of sunk in, and he grew rigid and weak. He seemed to age years and years, until he looked so revolting and ancient that I almost had to look away. Then, almost too fast for me to see, he went through all stages of death, decomposing, until all that was left was dust.

Nalenniun stood up. “You didn’t see that.” She met my eyes, and I realized that her voice shook.

Dazed, I nodded.

“But… thanks.” She spoke softer. “Seriously.” She bit her lip. “Where are you staying?”

“Uh… the Holiday Inn, over there.”

She sighed. “Cole,“ She hissed softly, walking up to face me. “I need somewhere to stay. And I can’t go anywhere alone. Please.”

Looking into her eyes, I had no choice. It almost wasn’t fair. “If you explain, you can stay in my room.”

She narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms. “Fine.” She snapped.

“And… I thought you hated me.”

Nalenniun smirked a little at this. “Yeah, I do. But for a reason you could never understand.”

I told the others to go ahead and go to their rooms. They had eyed me when I brought Nalenniun at my side—who stood a safe distance out of arms reach. Fingering through my wallet, I purchased a room with two double beds, uncomfortable in every aspect. I was sharing a room, in a hotel, with someone who utterly hated me—and totally at random. And I wasn’t even the one who asked. Her—the one who hated—had asked me. Nalenniun didn’t seem bothered; she wore the perfectly constructed, blank face that she always did when she looked at me.

We walked to our room quietly, as she struggled to stay as far as possible from me in the narrow halls. As soon as we got to the room, she claimed a bed and sat on it, instantly droning into space with an even flatter look on her face than usual.

“Why are you trusting me?” I questioned after a few moments of quiet.

She looked at me, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of emotion—wariness, or sorrow, or something. “I’m not sure I know what you mean, but… Well, because I can.”

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said.” She stated simply. “What is life without risks? What is a day if you know there is no chance that you could end up in a hospital, or get your heart broken, or die? Where’s the ‘living’ in that?”

I thought about this. “I don’t know.”

“Isn’t the reason we live to die?”

I looked into her eyes. And yes. That was definitely feeling I saw there. But it was different than what I expected: it was anxious, naïve, curious, hopeful. And yet sad. All the things that I thought she was not.

“And why are you trusting me?”

Her question caught me by surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Again—exactly what I said.” She leaned back onto her pillows, sighing. “You’ve already seen that I know how to use a gun, first of all. And I hate you. You seem rather nervous about that fact. But also… what if I lure you in and break your heart? Don’t tell me that you could resist me.” She chuckled.

I looked down. She was absolutely right. “Well…” I decided “What is life without risks?”

She laughed again. “Exactly.”

We were quiet. I sat on the bed, my back relaxed against the wall.

“Are you wondering about… what happened earlier?” Nalenniun queried.

“Kind of.”

She sat up, not meeting my eyes. “Huh.”

“You can tell me, you know.” I murmured quietly.

“I suppose. But the question is, should I?”

“Yes.”

She narrowed her eyes at the blank wall ahead of us. “Well then. I’m rather… different. It’s part of the reason that I hate you. Well, part. It just advances it.”

“And…? You do realize that this information tells me nothing.”

“Yeah… that’s kind of the point.”

I groaned.

She rolled her eyes. “Just wait until I fall asleep or something. Do what you can. Guess.”

I grimaced. “How long does it take you to fall asleep?”

“A long time.”

So I waited. I watched three movies, listened to half a CD, and counted to two hundred and sixty, waiting for the restless girl to fall asleep. She simply read a book, laughing in some parts and seeming vibrant as ever. I shivered. My eyelids drooped. I looked at the clock—6:20. Shit.

I buried myself in the covers of the bed, sighing as I breathed in the clean scent of hotel sheets. I stretched my sore limbs, narrowing my eyes at the ceiling. How could she stay up so long… But then it started.

“What happened…” she would whimper, whether she realized it or not. “Where did she go… why do I feel… so… strange…”

And from there it didn’t stop. She murmured, phrase after phrase, sounding desperate and broken, though I realized that she was asleep. Over and over, her lips danced, unfazed, murmuring words that she knew by heart.

“The red of blood to the human eye… the red of blood to another….”

“Different… I’m… different… So… scared… why does it… hurt…?”

“The taste, it… remains in the back of my mind… why does it… hurt me...”

Each phrase seemed to have something to do with the next, like some twisted poem that represented some dramatic course in life that she had gone through, however odd it may seem. And why did she carry on about them, drunken and in sleep? This must have been what she met—why she gave me a chance. Perhaps her whole reason in coming here was to let somebody know the truth… or maybe I was just digging too deep into it. Maybe it was mere dreaming. Maybe the only reason she was here was because she had no other choice.

Or maybe not.

As the sun rose, I awoke to hear a voice in front of me.

“My god! Wake up! How long can you sleep?” it was Nalenniun, her face above mine, her hands shaking me in annoyance. Her smooth, marble skin was again ice-cold.

“Well, good morning.”

Nalenniun was looking at the notepad beside me, where I had scribbled all of the quotes she spoke onto, biting her lip.

“Hi.”

“Hello.”

“So, I spoke.” She grumbled, and I couldn’t tell if it was directed at me or herself. “Did you, by chance, understand any of it?”

“Nope.”

“Good.”

“Help?”

“No.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah.”

“Well then, come on.” I kicked out of bed, still wearing my jeans and dress shirt from the raucous night before. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah.”

We went to an old breakfast place in an older section of town, where I had heard that the prices were low and the food plenty. While eating, we actually had a discussion. And not only were we acting like friends, but the discussion was about a subject that I had never dared touch before.

Never.

“So… you never met either of your parents?”

Nalenniun forked more pancakes into her mouth. “Nope.”

She didn’t seem bothered by the topic, so I pushed it further. “Who raised you?”

“Well…” there was a pause, and for a moment I thought she wouldn’t answer. But then she did. “The orphanage, partly. Until my brother was ten. Then, he took me, and escaped. So… we’ve kind of been raising each other, since then.”

“Wow. Wait, you have a brother?”

“Yeah… you know the taller guy that I was sitting with last night, the dark haired one? That’s him. Talon.”

“Oh.” I replied curtly.

“So what about you?”

“Huh?” her question surprised me.

“What about your family?”

“Well… my mom. She died when I was thirteen.” I was really shocked when I said this. I had never, ever been able to even slightly brush against the topic with anyone, ever, until now. And here, in a crowded, old restaurant, I was able to so casually admit my deepest scar. With someone I barely knew, and, as far as I knew, hated me.

“Wow.”

“Yeah… I’m living with my uncle, Felix, now, while my father goes to Europe for some business shit. My brothers, Gregory and Nicolas, are both off in college.”

“Why didn’t you go with your dad, or stay with your brothers?”

“Well… my brothers are both really preoccupied, and they both have girlfriends, so… it would be awkward. And my dad… I don’t know. It’s like he’s happy to be rid of me. He… he won’t even look at me anymore.”

“Must be hard.”

I looked up, into her deep, icy eyes, and felt some strange kind of comfort. It was unsettling, all the same. “What?”

“I mean, to live like that. You’ve already lost your mom, and now, your dad just disappears from your life, too? But I bet it’s hard for him, too.”

“He sure makes it look easy.” I grumbled.

“Of course he does. That’s the point. When people lose someone they love, it really fucks up their pride. I mean, he probably felt so secure there, and then it was just taken from him. Maybe he’s just trying to set an example for you, so that you can look up to him and see something solid and strong, that you can cling onto. Would it really be that much better if he just fell apart in front of you?”

I thought about this. “Well… at least that would prove his humanity. But…no, I guess not,” I responded quietly. “How do you make so much sense out of everything?”

She shrugged, smiling lightly. “The world just isn’t original, what can I say?”

I smiled.

“Well, I take that back. Some people are different.”

Driving back into the town, with Nalenniun beside me—it felt so weird. As far as I knew, she still hated me. But somehow, I felt that it was fading. Or maybe it was never really there. I couldn’t tell. But I did now that I felt so comfortable around her, in an odd way. I did know that she could get any information out of me that she wished. I knew that she intrigued me, and that I intrigued her—in some strange way.

She made a quick call, telling me to stop at the MacDonald’s.

“Talon’s going to pick me up.” She explained.

“Okay.”

We sat in an awkward silence, as she drummed her fingers against the window, pressing her forehead to the glass. It seemed like hours later when Talon finally pulled in beside me stiffly seated in a yellow SLR McLaren Mercedes-Benz.

“Wow…” I sighed under breath.

“Bye.” Nalenniun said curtly, hopping out of the car and into her own. I sat dumbly as they drove away. Watching them, I couldn’t help but notice the way Talon looked at me. His dark eyes pierced into my hazel, not with hate, and not protectiveness, but some other form of fire that I had no way of defining.

It was as if he was urging me to come and find out.