Rise and Fall [[BEING MOVED TO ANOTHER ACCOUNT]]

Chapter Six

Six

                    My scream chokes off as light penetrates my closed lids. I can feel my body shaking on the couch, and I wish I had a sheet to cover it. To obscure the tremors. I hear voices shouting and feet pounding, and I squeeze my eyes shut tighter. Others. I know now that Keyne isn't one of them. He would be here already.

                    I wrap my arms around my body, and bring my knees to my chest. There are people in the room now. I hear a few words. Snatchings of hushed conversation.

                    "New-"

                    "Screaming like-"

                    "Thought he was being attacked-"

                    Suddenly, they all fall silent.

                    "Alek? Are you okay?" It's Sasha. I slowly open my eyes to her voice. It's her I trust. Her I know. Her I look at. Not the others.

                    I sit up. "Yeah, I'm fine," I say hurriedly. I try to smile, but feel tears roll down my cheeks instead. I drop my gaze, and watch the floor as Sasha and the others come towards me. Slowly. Like they're approaching a wounded animal. After a moment, someone speaks.

                    "It's okay. We know how it is. It's hard, isn't it? Losing so much in such a short time."

                    I look up as the voice blows me open and pierces my heart straight through the center. It comes from a girl with the sun in her hair, the sea in her eyes, and a blade of grass imprinted on her forearm. Spring.

                    Unable to speak, I nod. She nods back in thoughtful agreement, then holds out a slender hand. "I'm Adelaide," she says, and her eyes sparkle wildly.

                    "Alek," I choke. Taking her hand for a brief moment before dropping it back into my lap. I look back at Sasha, and after an eye roll obviously meant for the girl, she nods encouragingly. Introduction time. I swallow hard, and turn my attention to two girls that have suddenly materialized before me. Their faces convey a sort of happiness. How they could possibly be happy, I do not know, but I attempt to smile anyways, and commit their names to memory, but don’t catch their markings. They’re covered. Jacie. Raelyn. Raelyn drags a pale boy behind her, and behind him, comes his brother. They’re Spring, and everything about them is washed out. Their hair, their eyes, their skin, their expressions. I nod. Two more names.

                    After Victor and Stefan comes him. I recognize him immediately. The dark piercing eyes. The jaunting walk. The slow smile.

                    Gavyn Gabriel.

                    Son of Darick Gabriel.

                    Head Superior of Summer.

                    The man who murdered my family along with countless others, and destroyed Fall.

                    The sun tattooed on the inside of his left forearm only tells me I'm right.

                    Without thinking, I lunge. My body connects with his solidly, and we fall. The look on his face conveys surprise, but also a strange compassion. The compassion makes me angrier.

We hit the floor, and I plant my knees on either side of his waist. Grabbing both of his wrists, I pin his arms to the ground as he writhes beneath me. Trying to throw me off. We're evenly matched, and neither of us seems to be able to do much else. Our joint strength keeps us both at bay. I hear shouting, and I feel hands on my shoulders and arms, but I don't know what they're saying, and I shake them off. In this moment, Gavyn is mine, and I'll kill his father like his father killed me. By destroying the things that matter most. Starting with his son.

                    I let his wrists go, and wrap my hands around his throat before he can do anything to stop me. My thumbs find his windpipe, and they press down. His face begins to turn red, and his flailing arms find a purpose. I feel his hands on my neck, but I don't care. I don't even notice that he's not squeezing. That he's not killing. The only thought in my head is of time, and how I have more than he does. I'm beating him. I'm beating him at his father's twisted game.

                    I smile.

                    I laugh.

                    Something hits me solidly in the chest, and I let go of Gavyn. Falling backwards. My head meets the floor with a loud crack, and my ears ring as black spots dance across my vision.

                    "Are you insane?!" a voice screams. It's Victor. Victor who's knocked me off of Gavyn. Victor who holds me down as I try desperately to shove him off. "You could have killed him!" Wasn't that the whole idea?

                    "It's okay," a voice rasps, and my body burns with hate for it. "He obviously mistook me for my brother." I stop fighting Victor.          

                    The voice coughs hard. Once. Twice. Dark eyes find mine. They're full of the strange compassion I'd seen before taking him down. "I'm not Gavyn," he says, as if reading my mind. "I'm Tallan. His brother." His face fills with disgust at his words. At the title.

                    Brother of Gavyn Gabriel. I can see that he won't even consider his other title.

                    As the son. The son of the murderer.

                    I blink slowly, and Victor gets up. Eyeing me warily as I lie on the floor, shaking with pent up anger. I watch Raelyn's hand finds his, and I see his face relax. I drop my gaze. Turning instead to Tallan, whose neck bears the purplish hue of bruising that's already begun. I don't feel bad. Not yet.

                    "I'm sorry. I should have warned him. I should have guessed he'd take it this way. I should

have-"

                    "I said it's okay," Tallan says. Cutting Sasha off. "I would've done the same thing if I were him." He winces as his words limp out, and Sasha winces too. He sets his jaw, and looks at me. His eyes pierce my mind's defenses, and I feel suddenly naked. Vulnerable. Like I'm laid out before him, and he can do as he pleases. I subconsciously curl into a ball -protecting myself- and his eyes drop to his hands. A wounded expression twisting his handsome features. He doesn't want me to be afraid of him. He doesn't want to be hated for who he is not. I wince at the silence. Guilt settling in my stomach.

                    "I'm sorry," I whisper, and that's all I can manage. I don't know what he's feeling. I can only guess. And guessing's not enough.

                    He looks up. His eyes, softer now, finding mine. "It's okay," he repeats. And he means it.