Forgiveness

You can't earn my forgiveness. Ever.

I look around at the various men standing around me, ranging from muscular to slim, likely all stronger than I am. Undaunted, I smirk at them, murmuring under my breath, knowing that they all can hear me. "You've finally come. Too bad it's too late." One begins inching towards me, at my back right. I spin, catching his face with the heel of my foot, with enough force to send him to the ground, lip bleeding. Showing my teeth in a way that they associated as a threat, or challenge, I laugh. "I've learned a thing or two since we've last met. Did you come as a test?"

Another, who had been checking the friend I had kicked, bares his teeth at me. "Do you think this some kind of game, girl? I'd like to show you a pretty game." He leaps for me, and I lazily step out of his way. Landing on fours, he sees me waving at him completely unharmed. He makes his way towards me, but is restrained by who I assume is chief in command.

Relaxing my muscles, I tut at him, "Do not forget your place, or my title." I pick at my fingernails in the international way of saying, 'I'm bored.' Someone snarls in a guttural language. Tapping my chin, I regard them as a group. "No, still not the right name. Try again?" I take on a look that I use daily; innocence.

"The hell with your title! You left it when you left him!" The rest must agree with him, for they all pounce at the same time, all wanting a piece to take home. Whirling around, I duck under some, while either kicking or punching others. In a minute, the fight is over, everyone nursing wounds, even me.

Putting a hand up to my lip, I pull away with blood. I smile, which only splits my lip more, blood now running down my chin. "Well, he's not going to be happy about htat." A hand flutters to my head, heaving a sigh. "It also seems that our time has been cut short. Maybe next time you should be more careful?"

They limp away, their wounds already healing. I scowl as I watch skin knit back together, broken bones disappearing. I only wish that there wounds wouldn't heal so quickly. Maybe if I . . No, I shake my head as they leader waves to me. "We'll be back, princess." Rolling my eyes again, I walk inside my house, thankful it is late enough to avoid the neighbors seeing. Though, I'm a little miffed at the ending. One would think that I'd have outgrown the name 'princess.'

Struggling out of my clothes and slipping into something more comfortable, I snuggle into bed, one lament escaping my lips. "I wish I could go back . . ." And for the first time in years, I fall asleep instantly and calmly.

-x-x-

Though I had fallen asleep peacefully, my dreams are nothing of the sort, making me toss and turn throughout the night. Things of the past ail my mind, likely brought on by my visitors. Images flash abruptly, making me dizzy and disoriented even though I'm motionless. The final image, and the only one I remember, is that of my alarm clock, covered in splatters of blood. Slamming my hand down on the snooze button, I rise wearily for the day to come.

I travel to the basement of my house, slipping past the normally locked doors. Settling down in the center of the large room, I casually discard the thoughts in my head, as well as the images from my dream. Once my mind is clear, I stand, beginning the training I do each day, reminding me of the fight the night before. After a brief warm up, I begin jogging on the treadmill in the corner of the room. Running is one of the few ways that I can escape, and leave my troubles behind. Of course, I prefer to run outside, but it looks a bit odd when someone is running at F:30 in the morning.

Turning off the machine, I pull out a drawer, varying knives and swords set in place. Taken by impulse, I reach into the far back, pulling out a sword that I haven't looked at since I moved here. The blade is long and wide, made of a metal that I don't know, stronger than a rock, it makes a powerful weapon. The dangling strips of leather brushes against my hand, forcing me to look at the hilt. Wrapped in dark leather, it's soft to the touch, which allows a comfortable grip. But, what catches my attention is the gold symbols Κειραν. Too many memories . . .

Deciding that this is a good a blade as any, I step through a self made routine, swinging the blade in time with my steps. A slow, detailed battle is taking place in my mind, in relation to the blade. The sword is a bit big, especially next to my mall frame. Glancing at the wall of mirrors, I smile at the image I make, adding in a chaotic scene around me, as well as a different outfit. Stopping mid-motion, I look down at the skimpy pair of shorts, and small tank top, stomach showing. Hardly an image of strength and power, more like a normal teenage girl.

Ignoring my appearance, I focus back on the battle, and my performance. If I slip here, it's more likely that I will in an actual fight. Slowly, I up the speed of my actions, until it becomes the actual speed, my hair whirling around me, black sword swooshing through the air, cutting through others defense in order to preserve my own.

A buzz startles me into lowering my sword, and my guard, letting me receive an imaginary cut across my cheek, and I can almost feel the blood running down my face. Touching it, I rush upstairs, careful to both lock the door behind me and to slip a small blade into the small of my back. Cursing my door for not having a peephole, I open it wide, hand grasping the hidden blade. A small girl is standing on my front porch, no more than nine years old.

"Sharianne!" I scold, ushering her into my home. Having her settle on my light beige couch, I toss the knife onto the glass table, sinking slowly beside her. "What are you doing here? Not that I'm not glad to have you. I've missed you these years. Probably the only thing I have." I'm quick to hide the frown that makes its appearance, though I'm sure she catches it.

She gestures to the knife on the table, "Did you think I came to kill you?" Smiling a toothy grin, she picks it up, checking the balance. "I missed you too. That's why I'm here. And I'm sure that I'm not the only person that you miss."

"Did you tell him you were coming?" Migrating into the kitchen, I watch as she shakes her head. "You didn't ask him because you knew he wouldn't have let you come. Great, your brother is going to think I kidnapped you. Can you eat human food yet?"

She joins me in the kitchen, and I pulled down the peanut butter and some jelly from the fridge. "I started eating it right after you left. And he won't think you kidnapped me. He'd know if you were that close to him. Then you'd be safe, and happy, at home."

Sitting next to her, I run my fingers through her long dark brown hair, remembering. "Do you still let your brother braid your hair?" After ridding it of a few tangles, I begin braiding it myself, making sure to keep it loose, since she's likely to go to sleep soon. She relaxes against me, leaving the sandwiches forgotten. Once the braid is secure, she turns towards me with sorrowful eyes.

"No, no one's braided it since you left. I would'nt let them." Taking my hands, she looks me in the eyes, an understanding that surpassed her nine years. "Why don't you say his name? Why do you only refer to him as 'your brother?'" I look away, closing my eyes. She gently turns back my head, coaxing me with a gentle voice. "Say his name . . . say his name Amara." Restraining a sob, I clench m eyes tighter, my mind becoming overrun by images, memories again. "You can't, can you? Why? Do you still love him?"

Stumbling away from her, I sink to a corner, grabbing a bag of cough drops out of a bottom drawer, shoving one into my mouth. "I can't – don't – love him. He left me before I had left him. He said it was over, not me. I had no more ties to break." The first drop already gone, I shove in another.

"Come home, Amara." Sharia holds out a hand to me, and I take it, about to speak when I hear my alarm going off. Setting the sandwiches in the fridge, I cart her off to my bedroom, tossing her one of my extra large shirts.

"Time for bed for little vampires." She frowns at me, but takes it, casually sniffing at it. "no, it hasn't been worn, and yes, I know you don't have to sleep in the day. Your nurses were always dead tired because you never slept when they did. That's how we met." Tapping her nose, I begin gathering my things to get ready for the real day. "but I have to go to class."

She slips into the shirt, then glances slyly at me. "This isn't one of my brother's shirts, is it?" Her only response is a glare, and the consumption of a cough drop. "Do come home. We all miss you."

Closing the bathroom door, I wait until the rush of water is covering my voice before I answer. "If he cared, he would have come before this." Washing away the sweat from the early morning work out, I ponder over what to do with my little visitor. Coming out of the bathroom with new fresh clothes, I sit on the edge of the bed, stroking her hair. "I have to send you home, girl. We'll talk about it when I get home."

She grasps my hand as I begin to stand up. "I know why you sleep in these," she mutters sleepily, "It's like sleeping in one of my brothers shirts, like you used to . . . " Gently extracting my hand from hers, I walk out gently shutting the door behind me. Resting for a moment against one of the walls, I clear my head for the day to come. Who would think that such a small girl could be so distracting and provoke so much thought?

I lock my door as I leave, all thoughts of my past safely tucked away. Opting to walk to school, I begin walking down the road, wondering if I have all I need. Distracted, I walk into my first class, settling in a back corner. "Miss Amara?" Looking up, I glance up at my professor curiously. "Are you alright? You're normally awake and avid at the front of the class."

"Ah, I'm just a bit out of it today."

He smiles kindly, still flitting about the class. "Wake up early today? Or was it a late night?" He stops at the end of my row, resting a hand on the back of a chair. I shake my head, smiling nervously. He'd think I was crazy if I told him the truth of my life. "You just moved here a couple of years ago, right?"

"Yeah, after mom died, I couldn't stand living there any more. So I left." And I'm for staying any longer than a year. "Why the sudden curiosity, professor?"

"Well, I've always been curious. Your file is an interesting one. You studied under some great swordsmen, had private lessons all your life until you came to college, are fluent in several languages, and have an excellent vocabulary. And you know every book I've mentioned in class, probably well enough to give me page numbers for the passages you give me. I'm sure your classmates don't notice, but you give them to me almost word for word."

I smile at his rant, though I'm secretly shaking in fear. Please tell me he's not one of them! If I can't tell at this range, I may as well give up now. "Why haven't you asked before?" A couple of students file into the classroom, looking sleepy eyed.

"You are very unapproachable. Well, class is about to start, and I still have a few things to take care of. If you will excuse me?" Immediately, the phrase that I had been taught to tell the staff when they wished to leave is on the tip of my tongue: 'Advenis servus, cras.' Come back, servant, tomorrow. Of course, the 'tomorrow' could be substituted with any time measure. He catches that I have something caught in my mouth, and smiles as he goes back to his desk.

I follow down warily, a bit nervous about my professor now. Nonetheless, I'm going to give him a show of my knowledge, and why not? I'm going to have to leave soon anyway. The rest of the room fills in, making sure that I stay in my front row seat. Relaxing my nervous, I watch the beginning of class unfold before me. There's an unusual sparkle in my professor's eyes, one that looks like him . . .

A question interrupts my daydreams, causing me to look up at the smiling old man. Grinning back, I answer, only showing off a little bit. "My all time favorite book? Well, I don't have one per se. Which category do you want? Ancient, modern fiction, modern non-fiction?"
"Ancient."

"Metamorphosis by Ovid."

"Translated?"

"Now where's the fun in that?" I smile as the rest of the class watches in amazement. We had had conversations soley between ourselves before, but it was never so obscure. Some of them openly gaped at us, a few stare at me, seeing me for the first time. Waving, in a flirty manner, I receive a few winks and a couple 'call me' signs. Shaking my head, I secretly look a couple of them over . . . Hmm . . . He's not so bad, maybe I'll call him. An image of the little girl sleeping in my bed pops into my head. No, I would not call anyone, I'm going to send her home and then find a new one myself. Who knows who will show up on my doorstep next.

"Hmm . . . What's your next big reading project?" He settles onto the edge of his desk, white hair all in array. There's an unusual edge in his smile, almost confirming my suspicions about him. "Something else that most haven't heard of?"

Shrugging, I settle into my chair, slouching a little, my hair partially covering my face. "I wouldn't say it's a 'big' project, and I'm fairly certain that everyone's heard of it." He gave me a 'well' look, so I continue. "I plan on reading Stoker's 'Dracula.' But who knows, maybe I'll up the ante and read it in Arabic or something."

Something flashes in his eyes . . . surprise? Recognition? Mentally shrugging, I watch him shrug it off and laugh. "What, rusty on your Arabic?"

"Just a tad." Something brushes against my mind, causing me to stiffen almost imperceptibly. Glancing at the professor, I see that he's watching me with concern. Now knowing that it wasn't anyone here in this classroom, I'm paralyzed as fear grips me. "No . . ." I whisper, nothing more than a breath. Confidence surges through me, it wasn't he-whom-I've-been-avoiding, I'd recognize his touch anywhere. Must just be some college kid messing around with stuff he or she doesn't understand.

Nevertheless, my guard stays up, my mind becoming an iron fort. "well, class, if you aren't done with your projects, use this time wisely. If you are, I suggest you read. I will be." With a wise smile, he lounges in his chair, pulling out a large tomb Standing, I shoulder my bag, approaching with a grace that I normally keep for my training room. I really must be throwing all caution to the wind today. I suppose it doesn't matter, I am going to be leaving tonight. "Excuse me, Professor." He looks up, taking off his old fashioned glasses. "Since I've finished, and I don't happen to have a copy of 'Dracula' in Arabic on me, do you think I could go? I don't mean to skive, it's just . . . Well, one of my friend's little sister stole away during the night to my house. I have to send her home before her brother freaks out."

He waves a wrinkled hand at me, acting as a grandfatherly figure again. "I hope she gets home safely. Older brothers can be very overprotective. Though I'm sure you can handle him. Have a good day." A surreptitious wink as I leave.

Though I don't know why, there seems to be a bad feeling around my house. I really wish that I had put up some kind of protection shield or spell or something. Shari is just a little girl, n matter what her species may be. Stopping outside the door, I tentatively lower the shield around my mind, casting myself out onto the world for a brief moment before centering in on my house and its immediate surroundings. Only one foreign person, standing in my training rooms. I smile, of course Shari would be able to get in there. She always did have a talent for mechanics.

Shutting and locking the door behind me, I cast a quick but powerful shielding spell, protecting all within. I make a quick peanut butter sandwich and travel lightly downstairs, happy to have someone to come home to. I'd had an empty house for far too long. Spinning the handle of the door, I open it, shouldering it aside as I step in. "Hey, are you hungry? I mean, for mortal food of course."

"No thanks," a distinctly male voice answers. No . . .

AN: Yep, I'm going for it. Trying to juggle Fanged Heart and Forgiveness. Please review, and if anyone wants to beta, I'd love them forever. Not that I don't already love my readers :] I don't know, does this seem a bit short? I'll try to get chapter two a bit longer, and yea, I've already started it, and I'm a couple of pages in, so hopefully it won't take terrible too long. Just review and yell at me, kay?

With love,

Ember Black