On a String

Chapter 16

-Silenced like death. )

"Stay with me, Kai," Cole commanded, watching his friend's eyes cloud over. When no response came from the Ninja in red, Cole rested a light hand on his shoulder. "What are you thinking about?"

Kai blinked; the contact seeming to wake him. "I-" Clarissa deathdeathdeath-Clarissa... he shook his head. "Let's just get this back to everyone," he muttered, standing up and gesturing at the pile of papers. "We can't figure this out now,"

Puppet Master, Puppet Master.

They were dancing on strings.

And the nooses were tightening.

Cole rose (and the bed creaked) and nodded at Kai. "I agree. It's time to move out," he said, moving to the end of the room and flicking the light off.

(Kai swore he felt the darkness breathe).

Carefully, he followed Cole out of Clarissa's bedroom and down the corridor towards the kitchen. On the wall, photographs of Clarissa and her friends watched him; frozen eyes silently following each step he took down the wooden floored hallway.

You don't belong to this world, those paper eyes seemed to say. Our world. Leave, and never return.

Kai was more than happy to do just that. Clarissa- she'd been his friend and his support; one bright stronghold made of laughter shining in an otherwise dark world created from abandonment, manipulation and pain. She'd given him someone to support- something (someone) to fight for and believe in. But that was all. He didn't belong to her world anymore, and she shouldn't be part of his.

Life and death didn't mix.

She'd seen too much, he'd seen too much- heck, they'd both seen too much pain- and it seemed so wrong to trample through and destroy this one last memory of her. Her life had gotten tarnished and swept away by the very thing she'd fought against in hope for a better tomorrow. Her memory -the so very tiny pieces which were all that was left- shouldn't be tarnished as well.

This house was hers.

She deserved to rest in peace, and he felt sick with guilt after rummaging through her possessions and disturbing what was left.

[And he ignored the fact that deep down, he couldn't bring himself to even feel the pain and guilt that her death had brought with it, for fear of being crippled by sheer, shattering agony. He'd rather dance around the pain- or maybe it was dancing around him; taunting him, but he'd never know for sure- and be manipulated by it than feel it.

(Him or the pain. He'd never know which was dancing; which was manipulated. And Kai didn't care to find out.)

But what he did know was that he should have been more. He should have fought harder, he should have planned more carefully, he should have been more observant. If he had been, she wouldn't have died. If he had, this house would not be a graveyard, her bed would not be a coffin, and those paper eyes would not be haunted with pain or blame or death.

But, no.

He just couldn't.

He refused to face or admit the pain. Because pain was a weakness and weakness had cost Clari- her life.

-He just wished that the ghosts in this house would stop chasing him. He couldn't see them, he couldn't fight them. He was helpless-

Because he couldn't understand that the only ghosts in the house were the ones in his mind].

Together, the two Ninja waded through shadows to the kitchen. With every step they took down the corridor (away, away from those eyes), Kai couldn't help but feel relieved. Soon, they'd past through the kitchen, then the lounge. And beyond the lounge lay the hallway to the front door, and that door led to the gate (the gate between life and death) and freedom...