Memory

Chapter Six- Dimitri

It's been a week already, and I can still hear my mother's wailing plea ringing in my ears as the Law Enforcers tore her away from my protective arms. I cried and yelled, but that didn't help. It never would. I fought and struggled, but my efforts were in vain. I close my eyes as a fresh wave of nausea and sadness washes over me, and I bite my lip to remind myself that it already happened and that it's over now.

To distract myself, I think of the countless times Trystan and I spent time together during the week, and the thought brings a smile to my face. We've grown quite close to each other, it's easy to consider each other best friends.

I now wait outside the door of Trystan's home in Oakdale. It's pretty quiet out in this neighborhood on a sunny Thursday. Looking down the street, I see that it is empty. Well, go figure. You won't see anyone that is Treated out much.

Today's the day that Trystan and I will go to the Survivors; but, in the meantime, I'll take her somewhere.

I hear a few clicking noises, and I look behind me to see the dark brown door of Trystan's house open wide.

She stands at the door, and to me, she looks stunning today, as she does everyday. Her long, jet-black locks are pulled into a high ponytail, exposing her soft, richly tanned cheeks to the air. She has colored her lips in a soft pink, bringing out the clear, light blue hue of her eyes.

I now notice that the sight of her has quenched my sadness in a matter of seconds.

I let my eyes travel the length of her body. I know, I'm sorry. But it's in my nature. Anyways, she wears a gray graphic tee today that has a picture of Mickey Mouse, and light blue skinny jeans, showing her lithe figure. Her school book bag is strapped to her back.

"Good afternoon, Dimitri," says Trystan, her gentle voice spitting into my observation of her. I nod to her, sure of the fact that my skin is gaining a reddish tint. "Hey there. You...uh...you look nice today."

Really? That's all I can say?

Trystan raises a slender eyebrow, her gaze scrutinizing my face. Something registers underneath the mask of guardedness, as if taking notice of my pain buried behind my eyes. But she doesn't ask me anything about it, much to my relief. "Then how did I look the other days you saw me?" Her tone is suddenly scoffing, and I do not know what to say to that.

She then laughs gently, music to my ears. Giving my arm a soft pat, she looked up at me. "Just kidding." Quickly, she turns around to lock the door of her home, then she turns back to me. "Well, where's our ride?" she asks.

I turn to face forward, pointing ahead of me to my motorcycle standing by the curb. "There."

She nods, and begins to walk down the stone walkway that lays in front of her home. I watch her as she walks in front of me, constantly whipping her head side to side, seemingly on the look-out.

Reaching my motorcycle, I take one of the maroon helmets that hang over the handles and hand it to Trystan. Our fingers brush as she takes the helmet, and I try to ignore the tingling feeling after the touch of her fingers. Once she slips it on, I put my helmet on as well, climbing onto the Ducati first.

I turn on the engine, and I feel Trystan mount on the motorcycle behind me. I can tell she is not comfortable with putting her hands around me. I smile softly, turning my head to say to her over my shoulder, "It's alright, you can hold on to me. It's going to be a bumpy ride."

Slowly, I feel her slender arms wrap around my waist. I twist the handles twice, hearing the engine roar. I kick my legs up and speed down the street. I hear Trystan squeal over the wind, and I laugh loudly, then stop abruptly as her grip around me tightens so much that I can hardly breathe.