Euphoria

Chapter Thirty-Six: The Final Rain

March 15th, 2001

I don't usually write so soon, but something's been troubling me. Celine saw the Colonel with that woman, and she wouldn't speak to him for an entire week and two days, but they seem so close all of a sudden. It's like nothing's changed at all. I would speak to her, but I'm uncertain.

There's no way he could've known I sent that woman up to him, right? But if he explained it to her... The only conclusion would be me. I didn't think this through.

But this isn't my fault. The Colonel is to blame, that beast is to blame. The man I keep seeing in my dreams, in my shadow, by my side. He won't leave me alone. I'm beginning to think this was his plan. Maybe they're conspiring, him and the Colonel. They must be working against me, I just know it.

I've had to tape my journal under my desk because of my paranoia. Or maybe it's not paranoia. Perhaps I'm right.

Dark placed his fountain pen in-between the binding of his book, his fingers brushing against the soft pages as he wrapped the leather strip around the cover to keep it in place. He tore strips of tape, stopping for a moment to listen out for anyone who could be nearby.

Eventually, he was satisfied that no one had heard him or snuck into his room without his knowledge, securing the book under his desk before standing up.

Along with the scent of earth, he finally noticed the delicate pattern of rain tapping against the windows of his room. It nearly gave him comfort from the anxiety rippling in his lower body, almost like the effect of a stone striking the water if the stone were Celine and all the mistakes he'd made to get to this point.

Dark stood in front of his floor-length mirror, the same one he'd spent hours just staring at as he laid in bed. It wasn't an egotistical thing per se; it was more of the fact that when he closed his eyes at night, all he could see was the monster he had become, all from the influence of something. He didn't understand. When he would look at anything other than the mirror itself, he was reminded of his days with his sister and his ex-friend.

Every item in his room held some sort of significance.

After a long while, Dark grabbed his trusty cane and straightened himself, pulling his tie and tidying his suit before leaving for his sister's room, his knuckles lightly rapping on the door. "Eli? Are you there, sister? I must speak with you. It's about my concerns with the Colonel--"

The door clicked open, revealing Celine's slender, pale face, her lips glossed with a dusty rose-purple. Her chocolate brown eyes, which generally shone with happiness, were uncertain and disdained. She gave him a good look before moving back from the door, allowing him in. "Are the windows open, Dami?"

This was a question she would typically ask, but her playful tone had changed into something much more adult, but even so, it was still as delicate as she was. Celine was the flower in his barren and plain garden, a rose among his heart of thorns. "They're open, Eli." He said, his hands tucked into his slacks pockets.

"They shouldn't! It's raining. The wood will mold." She said, closing her windows and clasping them. "You don't want to spend more money fixing the sill or floor."

"But you're never worried about that, Celine. Where's my fun-loving sister?" Dark said, slowly approaching her, his eyebrows furrowed. "I kept the windows open just for you."

"Did you do it?"

His heart sank. "Did I do what?"

"Did you send that woman up to him?"

"No. Of course not!"

Celine released the breath she'd been holding, rooted to the spot, her back still turned to him as she spoke, staring into the garden outside. "You're lying to me. William told me that you sent him to that room upstairs. And the woman was so hysterical that she told us a man with black hair and pale skin told her where to go, threatened her. That's not like you, Dami. What's gotten into you?"