Grave

Chapter 5

I let the dark take over me

I drank her then, entirely

Here the hunger be sated yet

Returned forever thereafter

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"Because of a spider? Because of a spider?" Agatha's words played over and over and stabbed the shame deeper into Lorcrar's heart. He was dimly aware of being lifted by someone, and got awkwardly to his feet. A fresh spasm of terror washed through his body and he tried again to shake off the spider's gangling limbs.

But it was only Loura's hand on his arm now. The spider was gone. Pathetic was the word – pathetic. Everyone in the café was laughing at him, so pathetic. He raised his head and looked right into Loura's face, with its soft mask of pity. He forced himself to stare into those eyes. He had thought he could befriend her without being belittled.

Stupid.

Loura tugged at his arm, coaxing him forward. He whirled and threw her hand away. Loura tumbled back into the table. The laughter ceased. Lorcrar strode out the café door without looking back.   

Loura took a deep breath. She looked at her friends, who stared back with blank faces.

"Panic attack?" Agatha said finally. Loura winced. She pushed away from the table and made for the door when someone grabbed her wrist. She turned to see Collin leaning out of his seat, grasping her.

"What, let me go."

Collin shook his head, "No no. Don't follow him."

"Collin," Loura said, glowering.

"I just think we should leave him alone for a while."

She yanked her arm away. "Sure. You leave him alone for a while."

With a scowl she flicked her hair and stormed out of the room.

Lorcrar was retracing the path they had followed on their way to the café, so that he could return to his home and the dark. In the dark it was easier to trap the urges of grim hunger settling in his stomach. And in the dark his mind would not thump and swell while trying to reconcile the nauseating thought of-

Loura.

Surely some malicious reason lay behind why a person so normal would be showing any interest in pursuing friendship with a loser like him? She was his opposite: kind and confident, unafraid and animated. And such unconventional beauty.  She scared him.

No one had made him smile before. He disliked how comfortable he had been telling her things she did not need to know, and the influence she had over his mood. It terrified him, because one night she had dissolved his monstrous frenzy with her gaze alone.

Suddenly Locrar was brought to a stop. A gear in his mind had just clicked closer to remembering something horrible. In his stillness he tried to make sense of some broken, gory memory, but it was just out of reach.

After a few minutes Lorcrar started to walk again, faster now as if he could outpace the rush of a memory that was something he did not want to remember. Dread shook his bones so sharply that it felt like the chills would tear out of his skin. He wanted to scream. Energy started to leak out from his pink bloody pores, and the wounds felt like they were opening again. He felt the urge to scratch the skin off his hands.

Then then heard someone calling.

"Sebastian!"

The pain muted. Lorcrar turned. Loura was running along the path to catch up. He continued to walk, hiding half his face with a gaunt hand. He was afraid.

"Wait up."

Before Lorcrar could pick up his pace Loura landed into step with him. He was unnaturally happy to feel her there, yet refused to show any sign of it, so ignored her presence.

She wasn't having that. Loura immediately saw what he was up to, jogged a few steps ahead of him and turned to block his path. Lorcrar stopped and looked into her face. He couldn't avoid her now. He realised that he didn't want to.

"Damn, Sebastian you can be a real git sometimes, can't you?"

"Listen," Lorcrar tried to step around her, "I'm sorry about what happened back there-"

"No, you listen to me."

Lorcrar stilled and slowly raised his gaze back to Loura's eye level. She paused to observe his expression. Then she started: "Okay. I'm sorry about the others. They can be really judgemental, for people who claim to be the victims of social mainstream. But it's not really their fault – I dragged you there. I just wanted you to know that if you ever need anyone to talk to about anything... Well, I won't judge you. Like, so what if you take medication, that's nothing to be ashamed of."

Lorcrar nodded. 

They walked together in a silence that was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. Lorcrar watched Loura's feet beside his.

"Thank you," he said.

Loura smiled, and they continued walking.

"I don't have the problems you think I have." Lorcrar blurted it out.

Loura looked at him expectantly, and he tensed but forced himself on. "I'm not sick- well, not in the head. I don't hurt myself, like your friend was implying. My father's just hard to live with, and that's it. That's what hurts me."

Loura sighed.  "I know what you mean. My parents hate me. I know they wish I had never been born and that sucks. It sucks that I'm not- enough like them to be worth it."

How easy it was to confide in her. She was trying to relate to him now, and he debated whether to let out more. It was far too easy, and once again it slipped.

"My trouble is that I might be more like my father than I want to be. And I'm scared of my life just becoming an imitation of his. His miserable, horrible life."

Loura stopped and rested her hands firmly on his shoulders. She pulled his face closer to hers.

"No. We have a choice in the person we become. If you don't want to be like your father, then don't. Make the choices that will stand you apart from him. You're good, any idiot can see that. I mean, yeah you're weird, and you can be kind of creepy – but you're good. "

She nodded slowly, mulling it over. "Yeah," she said, satisfied.

Locrar laughed.

If only she knew what I was, she would run and have them kill me and be done with it. It should be her, she should do it.

"What?" Loura stared accusingly at him.

"I'm not good."

"Then what do you think you are?"

"I'm a drunkard, remember?"

She scoffed, and released his shoulders, resuming her walking. Lorcrar looked at her out of the corner of his eye. Her smile was simple, and real, and he had never seen such mundane yet extraordinary beauty.

"Yeah, I forgot – I found a brochure for AA that has your name on it. Literally. It was more of a 'Missing Alcoholic, please return to AA' poster. You coming or not?"

They soon walked past a house with a small front yard that was full of garden beds, which had flowers and blooming shrubs filling out their constraints and spilled over onto the sidewalk, littering the pavement with older petals. Amidst the unkempt, beautiful bed was a white lily. Its single lovely flower was heavy, and the soft stalk bent over the path. Without thought Lorcrar plucked the lily from its stalk. He rubbed the stem between his fingers as he walked and took in the sound of Loura's voice. 

After a few minutes Lorcrar stopped Loura with a hand on her shoulder. Then he held out the flower. Loura raised her eyebrows, and Lorcrar's pallid face would have flushed if enough blood had flown inside it.

He dropped his hand, and the flower sunk with it.