Not an Object, Not a Weapon

Chapter 2: quivering, trembling, wobbling

"Meet Seathan, biggest player here. Don't fall for his charms."

"Puella?"

"It means sweetheart, in some language. Spanish maybe? No that is not right. Latin, yes definitely latin."  .

"Gross," I tell him. Once Elias and I reach our final destination, he opens the door for me to act all gentleman-like. The minute that soundproof door opens a gunshot explodes through the air. "No," my lips part only a little so I don't think Elias heard me, "bam," my chest starts moving rapidly and discomfort settles in my stomach.

"Get her out of here!" I hear someone vaguely shout. Time just stops, my legs lock and my eyes are straight, not moving. A person in my line of vision falls to the ground in agony and mimicking their actions, I start to crumble, although Elias catches me, can't say the other person was too lucky. "Get her out! They are after her!" Those four words snap Elias in some odd way because without pausing or hesitating for a moment, she throws me over his shoulder and he bolts out of there.

"No," I tell him.

"Give it a rest," Elias tells me bitterly, "I cannot and will not deal with this right now. I don't care about your random words or sudden outbreaks of whatever." So I guess he was only saving me because that's what his order were? That stings just a little, okay a lot. I guess it is his duty, his label, protect me, be my protector and care for me. But guess what? Those titles are just titles and those labels are meaningless if he just does as he is told and puts on a show for others. Funny how he was caring when people were looking.

"Traitor," I tell him with a clenched jaw which almost made my word undetectable, "you," I tell him and at this point, he has for sure tuned me out but I decide to waste my breathe anyway, "potential," I spit at him like a bug that flew into my mouth, "future." I just repeat the two words he said to me, "liar." With that last closing words, I decide to end my five word monologue, which is not necessarily a monologue but, hey, let a girl exaggerate.

"Shut up," he warns, "I should be somewhere else, I should be up there, not guarding a simple, peasant-like girl."

"Peasant?" My eyes shoot daggers at his, how dare he call me a peasant! "Joking, right?" I finally make some actual sense. He's got to be kidding me, a peasant-like girl, I repeat his words. I was so focused on peasant that I temporarily forgot that he called me simple. Does a simple girl have a complicated past that is not in her memory? Does a simple girl struggle to say the most common words? Simple? Yeah right, I seem to be anything but that, especially considering that there is a war upstairs that because of me. Simple? Not at all.

"S-sorry I didn't mean it," he says hoping for me to forgive him but the damage is already done. I don't tend to forget things, with the exception of my memory from whatever happened before this situation but that's different. I also have a hard time trusting people, so with the mixture of those two things I'm impossible to handle.

"Not this time," I somehow say, "not this time." I tell him, not in response to his words necessarily but in response to his smile and hurt. "Now," I say forcing him to look at me. I narrow my eyes at his ordering him to tell me what is happening without actually moving my mouth because the more I try to talk the more I struggle.

"Um," his eyes search the room for any moving object or forbidden eyes, "I am not the one who is supposed to tell you anything." I raise my eyebrow at him and he chuckles, only a little bit, "seriously, I think Avarija wants to tell you himself."

"Not him," I tell Elias with a strong tone that he will for sure ignore. I don't know why I bother talking to him when my words go unnoticed and unappreciated.

"Listen, I feel your hesitancy towards him, but he isn't all that bad," Elias defends someone who is comparable to the devil.

"Memories," I say, "gone," my voice becomes detached from my emotion, "why?" I curse at myself for not being able to just say what I want but there is some sort of barrier keeping me from saying my thoughts out loud, "him," I say the last word as bitterly and as harshly as possible.