Leavened

| Chapter 8 |

A meeting occurred between the PSHI and SSSRI and the outcome was, in fact, riotous. I was present at the meeting. I had no solid explanation as to why I was appearing before the few majority of the world's top rulers in scientific operations but it was defined within those finely built pillars and grosque architecture that it was a sign that the end had come.

As it were, in previous years, years since the 16th century, that an individual would be selected for his/her( mostly his) perseverance through rigid and sophisticated tasks - physical, emotional or psychologically. It was, however, according to the pioneer board members, a methodology used to discover the endurance and capability status of such individuals. But down the lane of such tedious exercises, it had become an utopian.

In some books I read for an educational documentary, it was said that the exercises included a 47-hour lack of sleep and food with an hour only for injecting multiple syringes usually to deactivate the brain's functionality. After these and many more inexplicable experiments, the scientific institute was banned after two years of it's establishment. A few more years went by, and after months and months of court adjournment, the institute was finally revived but this time, the board of members created a sub-merge resulting to the current PSHI and SSSRI.

Time had rolled by so fast that I didn't notice when the meeting had ended. Adrenaline rushed through my system as Hulvey and Ms. Quince stood at the far-end of the room, discussing with gesticulations and wild laughters.

In the early hours of this morning, a different turn took place. As opposing to the usual routine, the man who was on duty to inject me came in with a clean tuxedo and sleek shoes. His hair wavy and black. The white shirt, tight and sparkly, extended to his wrists, a little after the length of the suit. He took steady steps around the room with his shoes clanking against the ground.

After examining the room so calmly and critically, he looked down at me. His stare intimidated my spirit. I detached my gaze from his. He had a one-sided smile smeared on his face when be noticed my vulnerability. He walked further closer, the detailing of the soles of his shoes and the deeply shazen part of his moustache glaring.

He cleared his throat. I had thought he'd wanted to speak, so I levelled my head at a 90 degree position. As soon as our eyes linked, his stern look resumed on his face. Although, he had shades on, I could see perfection and a long for happiness. Even a short-term happiness would do, as long as he found solace. All these while, his eyes remained fixated on me, studying every skin that covered my entire skeleton. My mind racing as to why he'd been here in the first instance while his mind, most probably, a million kilometres away. His cheeks sagged, lips dry and chapped and ears flaring at every blink I made.

He had untied me. It was a simple yet harmonious setting where I had my legs in his hands. His warm hands. As they wiped across my soles, causing a tickle, our eyes met at several occasions. He moved behind me and pulled off the twine as well. While he untied the twine on my wrists, his breath from his nostrils raised hairs and his fingernails poked me.

I thought of all the as a charade - a perfectly planned scenario to clasp me once again into their ferocious paws. The sharp paws of wild science but when he offered a hand, at the sound of his voice, so humble in texture, I had released the sigh I had been holding in. He stretched his hand forth to pull me up. I was unwilling but I settled my palms into his. As his other palm covered both of mine, I felt protected more than ever. His calm aura created subtle anxiety. The type of anxiety where your inside does a slow spin and stops at your worst meal but still doesn't propound it. It's complicated. You can sense the danger but you're sure of a possibility it won't end badly, so you go on with it.

We were out of the room. We strolled down the hallways, ignoring each other's faces. Soon, we landed by the elevator door. He was first to click the button and I was first to gain entrance. The atmosphere in the elevator was tensed and dense. It was while he looked at his watch that I stole a glance at his ear. His earpiece blinked repeatedly, blinking in red and green colours.

"A few doors away, sir. Yes, she looks," he takes a look at my overall appearance and swerved his face back at the elevator's mirror. "Presentable."

I didn't know when my heart fell. For some undefined reasons, I felt disappointed at his remarks but in another perspective, which was his, I looked just presentable. I sighed out loud, and then we walked out of the elevator. Walking down a few more hallways and elevators was never an issue, but walking down the aisle with someone like him, was.

There was quite a comfort surrounded by him, but suddenly, it was caution. As a result of the new aura I felt, I ran backwards, not reaching for the elevator but the stairs. I felt him run after me and the thought of it caused me to trip over the steps. I was about to take off once more, when a smooth clothing embodied my naked arms. I was too scared to look but I remained stable, listening to his heartbeat. He lifted me up, threwa me at his back and ran as fast as he could thorough the stairs.

The run was bumpy and when it stopped, I knew we'd gotten here. He released his hands off my thighs, and I slowly slid off his back.

"Thanks," said I but he didn't stop to respond, instead he pushed the doors open. Before entering, he brushed off the sweat and dirt off his tuxedo. He turned to face me, wanting to say something. He walked away, like as if he had a change of mind.

And I was alone.

His figure scrambled around the crowd, avoiding bumps of the people in the hall. His height overshadowed the others as his legs were invisible through the pitter-patter of the elite group. I stopped to look somewhere else. There was mirror by the wall filling the entire space. My reflection stared at me, more and more, as I walked closer to it. Torn red lips. Hyper-pigmentation. Messy hair. Sores-filled skin. It all was terrifying.

I skipped my gaze all around the hall. I made a step, and two, and all in a snap. I was lost in the midst of heavily-perfumed women and mild alcohol-reeken men. As I maneuvered my way out, I experienced a sudden exodus. The women had their bags and dresses swaying mindlessly in the air while the men, calm and reserved as the alcohol they consumed and the fragrance they oozed of, stood by their opposition's front, for confrontation.

In the opponents party, they were not masked in any form. They had all their scalp scraped into bald. They looked nothing like antagonists but if assumed based on mere appearance and composure, acquaintances. Both sides - subject and acquaintance - stood facing opposites. Each taking a stance bold enough to be stabilized even after an attack. The whole room was filled with able-bodied and thick and tough men.

Except me.

"Non siamon que par litigare o coinvolgere lasciarci in discussioni inutili."

" We're not here to argue or get involved in useless conversation, said one of the bad men. It was very confusing, at this moment, to discern which were the bad guys there.

Both parties countered and concurred each of their statements. Most of which were allegations comcerning either misappropriation of funds, embezzlement or fraud of several billions of dollars, also, side-lined with the rumour that alleged the institutions of the impersonation of the head of board. It was there, as they bickered on and on about the genuienity of the institutional organization, that the truth concerning the deaths of the top officials and its circumstances surrounding them became known.

Like the words of the mouth fly into the air and disappears, the firing of the gun flew into the chest of an obese man, full of hair and skin. His death was irrelevant as bullets spiralled across the room. Glasses shattered. Bodies fell. Blood gushed. Legs trampled.

From where I was, I saw my supposed-newly-found-love in trouble undress himself from the tuxedo. He slammed his tuxedo on the floor, letting free of the tiny metals that escaped his pockets. As I strode into the scene, he unbuckled the button on his collar, the cufflinks and almost removes his belt when all of the sudden, I felt my neck crush into the arm of a muscular fellow. My nostrils blocked by the thick skin of his arm, I pinched into his skin to be free. His arms tightened as he dragged me off the ground and moved out of the battle ground.