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Chapter 20
I dream of a valley. A valley overlooking a beautiful mountain range. From here I see the frost-covered peak and its ridges leading to heaven. I sit down, amazed at the beauty of this place. I look around before my hands come into contact with its soft, almost silky, grass. I think to myself, this must be a dream. My thought is confirmed as I feel someone behind me. I turn and see a woman with long black hair walking away. My heart screams "Franziska" but my mind warns of danger. I stand up, shaking, and follow her. No matter my pace, I can't catch up to her. She stops suddenly and its enough for me to catch up.
I reach out for her but she slips away. Her hand leaves mine as I try to hold on to her. I reach out for her and, smiling, I turn her but I am horrified a moment later. This thing is not my sister! Her face... Her glorious face is gone, replaced by a black mask. Her face, clouded, twists up and her hand reaches behind me. I turn to see what she is pointing at and find myself staring at Kryzstofer. I smile at him and call out, "Kryzstofer! Oh, god Kryz. What happened to her?"
He stares at me, eyes solemn, and turns away. My heart turns over in fear. "Kryz!" The thing behind me, my sister without a face, points at him and then at itself. Again and again, at him then itself. I look between them. Guilt and sorrow is written all over his face. Finally I get it...
I wake up in a fit. Kryzstofer, who is asleep next to me, doesn't hear me wake. I stare at his beautiful face. Sadness swells within me, sadness mixed with anger. His tear-stained cheeks make my heart constrict. He regrets it. Gently, I lean closer to him. Tracing his collar bone from end to end, feeling the smoothness of it, I stared into his sleeping face. I want to reach down to his collar and plant warm kisses along it, I want to kiss his sleeping form until he wakes but I can't. I just can't.
My sister's image flares in my mind. And then IT passes by. Its empty black face in the form of my sister. My anger overpowers my sadness and want. I close my eyes and all I can't think of is Franziska's body and that thing's face. Her arm stretching out to point at Kryz, blaming him for her appearance. I look back at Kryz: his calm, angelic face, before my anger flares and tears fall. "Meine Schwestern!" I hear myself yell as I push and pull at him. "My sister!" The tears fall freely as I continue my assault on him. He finally awakes, eyes wide and confused. I push him out of the bed and throw the pillows at him, positioning myself at the farthest, furthest corner, away from him. He stand up and looks at me.
“I'm sorry!” He exclaims. “I'm sorry!”
“You-” I choke out, “you made me forget!”
“I-” I throw another pillow at him but he dodges it. “I'm sorry. I couldn't take it anymore.”
“My sister!” I yell angrily. “You erased my sister!”
“Hixak-”
“Hixak?!” I moved farther away. “Hixak did this? You made him do this?”
“He suggested it,” He said stepping closer to me. “I'm sorry, Mikaela.”
“No, you are not,” My voice was a whisper that trembled beneath the scale of my wrath. “You couldn't take it, so you had him... had him take her away from me. You know how much she meant to me and you still you did it!” The last of my words rose abruptly in volume, ending in a high-pitched shout that echoed loudly throughout the room.
It was his eyes that bothered me the most, though, even as I cried to myself in the corner of the bed. I could feel their weight on me and I knew that if I were to look at him now, I'd see no emotion in them but guilt. All I would see within their tired, brown-red depths would be guilt. It fanned the flames of my anger even further: this was not my Kryzstofer, this was the Guardian Angel Kryzstofer, a totally emotionless vessel and not the fun, loving man I loved. I stood up from the bed and seized the loose folds of his shirt jerking him forwards. Still unresisting, he stumbled into my grasp and I found myself yelling words directly into his face, shaking him violently, well, as violently as I could.
"You're as much to blame as he!" His gaze remained on my face; I knew he already suffered the horrible consequences of his decision. I knew he'd told himself over and over what he had done was wrong. But those eyes, those emotionless eyes, fed my anger and I hissed, "say something!"
"There is nothing for me to say," he replied softly. "I thought of nothing but the end of my suffering. I didn't think of the consequences," his voice was heavy and thick with sorrow. “I didn't think of you. I'm sorry.”
But my temper, my convictions, all which had been pilling up a century, could not be satisfied with those simple words. I saw again the face of the creature which was now my sister in my mind, saw it again and again pointing at Kryzstofer, and these memories suddenly flooded together with those from the years I'd spent alone, crying for my family. Losing all control suddenly, I lashed out and time seemed to slow; I watched wide-eyed as my own hand, open-palmed, connected solidly with the side of his face, my nails scratching his soft pale cheek. His head snapped to the side but he didn't step away from me. Instead he reached up to touch gently the mark my nails had left as they connected with his skin. In silence, I stared at him wide-eyed, covering my mouth with shock, as bile rose within me as I realized, with horror, what I'd done.
But as he turned again to face me, I saw his eyes, a depthless chasm of an agony beyond my belief. I tried to convince myself that the man that stood in front of me was a shell, an empty shell that looked like Kryzstofer. Angry, at him, at the world, I lunged at him. The sound he made, finally the reaction I wanted, as I grabbed him, shoving him until he slammed up hard against the wall on the opposite side of the bed. Closing the distance between us I pushed the length of my arm up hard against his neck, as I'd seen on television set so many times. Slowly, I applied pressure, cutting off his breathing, if he had any, willing for him to strike back. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew this was wrong. He was my lover, my best friend.
But he took her away. He erased her from your memory. All for what? For himself. My mind retorted.
I breathed in, my anger subsiding a bit and I collapsed against him, the tears returning suddenly. Letting my arm fall from his neck, I placed my hand flat on the wall next to his shoulder, leaning into it. My head on his shoulder, I cried. As his hands circled my waist to pull me closer to him, I realized that he had known all along what he had done and how I would react. He knew me so well, too well. He knew what I would do, maybe not to what degree, but he knew I would lash out.
He loves me.
Up until now, I'd been only able to focus on the fact that Krystofer had done this for himself, to relief his own pain at seeing me so broken. I'd cast aside his feeling and mine at the time and concentrated only on hating him for what he had done. It was only now, as I leaned against him, his long powerful arms, lost in a whirlwind of emotions, that I was able to realize that in harming him, I'd committed as big of a folly as he had for I hadn't thought of the consequences. I'd let my emotions, as misguided as they were, take the better of me.
"I'm sorry," he whispered into my hair. "Mikaela, I should never have—"
"It's alright," I told him. “I'm sorry for what-”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he whispered, pulling me closer.
I shifted and lifted my head in order to see his face. His eyes, on the verge of tears, split open my heart. I sobbed, pushing myself against him even more, demanding the attention of his hands. His hands, around my waist, tightened as he pulled me closer to him. I felt his breath speed up and his emotions, probably the ones he bottled up during my attack, spilled. His normally calm and rational demeanor shattered and he sobbed as quietly as I was loud.
We stood there, pressed against the wall, against each other, until we ran out of tears, until the lonesome feeling left me and I realized I would never be alone. Not with Kryzstofer by my side, physically or spiritually. For as short of a moment I would have, here with him, I hadn't appreciated it-him- as I should.
"Es tut mir leid," he whispered into my hair, "I'm sorry." He didn't need to, however, because my anger was all but burned out. It's ashes buried deep within me, hopefully never to resurface again. We collapsed on the floor, arms around each other. I vowed to never let my anger get in the way again. I vowed to never hurt him again. He had been right after all: I was hurting him as I cried for my sister. The more I had missed my Franziska, the more I had detested my decision to be a reaper- to be with him. I understood then what he felt, why he did what he did. And some part of me actually thanked him.
"I'm the one that should be sorry," I replied as I traced the scratch I'd made when I slapped him. The thin red line on his cheek, a blemish in his seemingly flawless skin, was the image of the hideousness of who I was- who I am.
"I deserved it," he told me, taking my hand from his face and entwining his' with mine, "I deserve no less after what I did."
"No, you didn't deserve that."
"Yes, I did. I still do," his sad eyes looked at mine, "I don't deserve you."
"Shut up," I leaned towards him pressing our lips together, "I am the one that doesn't deserve you."
"No, I'm-" he said, before I pushed him against the wall and leaned onto him. My legs wrapped around his waist as best as I could, considering where we were, I pressed myself to him, enjoying the feel of his lips on mine. Burying my hands in his messy hair, I pulled his face even closer to mine, and our kiss intensified. As his tongue slipped past my lips, I pulled back.
"Too soon?" he asked.
"Too uncomfortable," I retorted with a smile. I got off of him and pulled him up. But instead of leading him to the bed, I moved us to the bathroom. Turning to me, Kryzstofer gives me a confused look, but I merely smile. All the animosity gone, I feel as fresh and new as I do every once in a while with Hixak's 'treatment'.
Opening the shower door, while still holding on to Kryzstofer with my left, and turning the hot water on, I clear my mind. I turned back to Kryzstofer, who was now getting a hold of what I wanted, and pull at his night shirt. His eyes never left mine as he pulled it off. For a moment I see a want in them, a want so powerful I almost faltered. He sees this and pulled back, alarmed.
"No," I tell him, placing my hands on his slim waist. I take my tank top off and throw it on the floor. My shorts soon follow. Kryzstofer stands there, looking at me and only me. I am left in a bra and panties while he has only my shorts on. Oh, Tom Cruise help me, but he looks wonderful in them!
"This is too soon," he tells me as he takes a step back, "just a few minutes ago you were pinning me against the wall, yelling at the top of your lungs and now you want to-" he gulped, "you want to shower together as if everything was forgotten." The water stoped running, all of a sudden. Another Guardian Angel power? Throwing me his shirt, running his hands through his hair, he waits as I grab the shirt. Amused, and aware of what he is saying, I put it on slowly, loving the way his gaze lingers on my body, before stepping towards him.
"Mikaela..." His voice is hoarse, I think. "We have to truly talk about this, about what I did, before we-we move on to other things."
"Fine," I sat down on the toilet seat, "let's talk."
"Not here," he replies, exasperated.
"In the shower then?"
"How can you just move on so quickly?" he asks, astonished, "you realize what I did, right?"
"Yes, I do." Rubbing my temples in frustration and leaning forward. "I'm a reaper. I can't sustain emotion for very long. I think that is the longest I have been able to hold on to anger..."
"It was scary," he said chuckling. "I'd advise you not to try it again."
"If you aren't gonna shower with me," I tell him, removing his shirt, "then leave me so I can do it alone."
He nods and takes his shirt back. Before closing the door, he flashes me a smile that warms my heart. How in the hell could I have even harmed him? I step into the hot water and before long I feel them, the emotions I suppressed. The pain and hurt, the rage and anger that I felt, all came raging back. But this time, reigning them in, I pushed myself against the hot shower head and cried. As the salty tears fell, I wished Kryzstofer had taken my offer. I wished Kryzstofer hadn't read into my motions and, as nice as possibly, took himself out to let me sort this out by myself. He knows me too well, I echoed. Far too well.
*So i think for this Chapter i might have switched between present tense and past tense a lot. I made some changes but you guys tell me if more are needed*
*thanks to Invisiblylonely for editing the first versions!*
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