Eighteen troubled teenagers wake up one morning to an even more troubling discovery. They are all vampires...
Given the chance to correct their Scrooge like behaviors, they must accept the guidance of a keeper. Assigned to each of the eighteen, Dek...
My fingers mindlessly trace the swirling gold calligraphy of the Fated Lambs academy emblem. As the tension in the air turns my movements from fluid to sloth like.
All while my mind chases me around the brim of my hat, taunting me.
I can't help but to feel responsible for the success or failure of the seven. Technically, there are now eight of them.
Fates, why did I let Flynn join? It would have been a painless operation to just sit back and watch. Like every keeper before me.
Yet, I'm the keeper who can't keep. I can't keep filthy secrets against the others. The cycle has to end somewhere, doesn't it?
Footsteps from somewhere else in the house make their way towards me in a quite theatrical crescendo.
Everything about the moment is slick with warning, yet I can't help but be still. Before I can even demand that the visitor show their face, the door closes just as gracefully as it opened, silently.
I'm greeted by a headful of fiery hair that could set the entire room ablaze.
Except, he shouldn't be here...
He should be with his assigned partner...
Learning his lessons...
Fixing his past...
Preserving his future...
I hold my breath as he makes his way past the high end furniture, standing directly in front of me.
Looking above my head, I can't help but to squirm as he twirls one of my curls around his finger. May the Fates make it end.
"Oh Dekka, here we are." He is nothing short of sadistic. I won't even wait to curse him beyond the fates.
He speaks as if we've spoken before, as if this is a reunion.
Pushing my mental boundaries, I step closer to him. Examining his deep brown eyes that are nothing short of a muddy void.
This seems to please him as his lips stretch to reveal a toothy grin. An unevenly toothy grin.
FATES...
The air threatens to choke me then and there, as the relaxation to who Flynn really is sinks in.
I escalate into the well of my past. Back to the dank streets and moist air. To ever present mud on my jeans and my hole laden sweaters.
Shudders rack through my body. Thoughts and memories start and end in spastic convulsions.
Looming over me, uncertainty colors his face like face paint. It starts and ends, bleeding into the very essence of who he was. What he's become.
I will myself to take Ace's advice. Bringing my mind back to the earlier memory.
"Ace, can I ask you something?" I turn to him, looking him dead in the eyes.
"Huh, what don't you know is the real question." He smiles and nods his head. I almost forget what I even bothered to ask because of that smile.
When he smiles, his shoulders drop as does his guard. Then his face takes on an almost earthy glow, rounding out all of the angles and edges. Leaving his face lit up in a boyish state of wonder.
"H-h-how do you c-cope with your memories?"
Everything that was just built up comes crashing down. His shoulders tense at the same time his mask is put back into place.
Fates, what did I just cause?
He's not the only one who stutters his responses. "I-I um, I push them down, down, down, and away, so very far away."
The restrain it must take, the strength.
I must be a mirror of my own worries, because his face almost breaks me as much as the memories do.
This time it's his turn to cradle me in a hug. Reaching beyond the space between us, wrapping his arms around my shoulders.
Leaning closer into our embrace, he whispers in my ear.
"When they come, pull out your magic mind strength" He smiles his smile while pressing his fingers to his temples. "Make sure the fates curse them all the way home."
That is exactly what I do. While "Flynn" attends to what he thinks is a medical emergency, I curse the thoughts down, down, and away.
Tugging at the strength beneath my skin, I mold it out of its rawest form. Capturing the picture of the item I desire.
As the knife materializes, I angle it towards his weeping form.
Lunging forward, the knife plunges deep onto his stomach. Looking up into his eyes, they are no longer brown, but their natural blue.
His face mirrors the same betrayal and anger I carry within me as the last of his glamorous fades.
Ending in our matching blond curls...
اوووه! هذه الصورة لا تتبع إرشادات المحتوى الخاصة بنا. لمتابعة النشر، يرجى إزالتها أو تحميل صورة أخرى.
