***
"What have I just done?" I choke.
My eyes wonder over his narrow jawline, his sharp long nose and underneath his slightly bushy eyebrows, lay narrow eyes. But now that I have stripped skin away from his face, and with blood blossoming to the surface you wouldn't know that he was once quite cute.
I fight back the tears that threaten to spill.
I beat this stranger; actually I beat him until he was nothing but a bloody mess. And even knowing that he once did the same to me, I couldn't help but hate the feeling of guilt that stabbed at my stomach.
Rather than feeling the sweet taste of victory, I felt the sickening, sour taste of guilt.
I was no better than he was. I had completely destroyed him!
What kind of a leader beats others for revenge? Apparently me.
Father always told me to think things through; to make sure that what you were about to do would impact you or your pack's life in a positive way, especially when driven by panic. But he had never mentioned guilty panic! And as I sat on top of him with by breath caught in my throat I whispered every single name I could think of.
And by name, I mean every curse word known to the human race.
He still didn't move. Not even a budge, or a flicker of his eyelid, not even his chest heaved, and as time passes my heart jumps from my chest.
He's not dead. I didn't hit him that hard. He can't possibly be dead. Surely he would put up a better fight to stay alive wouldn't he? Could he be dead? He is so totally dead. He's looking down at me right now as his lifeless body floats to the heavens, cursing me to death.
"Hey!" I shouted, slapping the side of his cheek desperately. Panic is overriding my senses. "Don't you dare float up to heaven or sink down to hell!" I shout, before I slap him again.
Nothing.
I cuss at him.
And once again, I am cursed with nothing.
Time passes; each agonizingly painful second I grow closer tears. Close to accepting defeat, I slowly drop my head to his chest; a headache pounding it's way into my thoughts.
"Please, don't go. You may be a fuck-head but I don't want you to die," I barely whisper, guilty finally pushing the tears to fall down my cheeks. The warm salty liquid stinging as it mixes with my scratches. And just like that, I feel his chest vibrate under me before it starts to rise and fall rapidly. I feel him breathing, but certainly don't hear the sound of air being sucked in and pushed out from his lungs.
No, instead, I hear laughing. That's right, I hear the crackling laughter that erupts from his smiling lips.
"Sorry girl, but damn...the faces you pull are bloody hilarious!"
I bolt up straight, my eyes are wide and although they see a bleeding stranger laughing hysterically in front of me, they couldn't quite believe it. His eyes fall back on me, and for some strange reason, he loses himself in laughter once again. His head tilts back as the sound escapes his lips, his eyes closed shut. With my arms crossed over my chest and eyebrows knitted, I wait for him to stop.
Soon enough, his chest stops rising and his gaze moves to me. He looks at me, then the position I was currently in, and slowly a smirk creeps to his lips. "I'm flattered Nicola, you barely know my name and look where we are," he teases through a smirk. My jaw drops and quicker than a hungry cheetah, I jump up. His grin turns to a small smile as he attempts to get up, his arms noticeably shaking as he puts his weight against them.
"You are a complete and utter dickhead!" I kicked him down, "You were pretending the whole time?" I couldn't help but feel the anger rise to my cheeks. My fingers curl into a fist and I imagine the exact angle I need to punch him into a comma. He chuckles as he nods before he begins to shake his head like this is the funniest thing ever.
"I'm Andrew," He extends his hand as he greets me, his Australian accent rolling off his tongue. I don't bother to shake his hand however. He grins as he moves his hand into his pocket.
"Thanks for the fight, I haven't had that much fun in ages, " He admits.
"Are you joking? I basically turned you into a smurf!" I shout, my instinct to slap him growing. He grins. I couldn't help but notice just how right I was, bruises that mixed with blood had blossomed to the surface of his skin enough to pass for one.
It didn't matter that it was healing too quick, the point was it was still there, and I don't know how long it will take to shake off this guilt.
"That is true, but it's nice to see someone who knows how to put up a fight," He says before picking up his football.
"Hey," He thinks out loud as he shifts his gaze from the ball to me with his eyebrows knitted, "Have you ever played AFL?"
I was stunned to say the least. Not even 5 minutes ago had I delivered his ass to him and he wanted to have a conversation? I felt like throwing him to an insane asylum right then. Eyeing him questioningly, I shook my head. He cracks a smile, the easiness of the action surprising me.
"Here, let me teach you."
**2 Hours Later**
I let out a shout of joy as I watch the egg shaped ball bounce against the green grass after it had gracefully –in a straight-line too- sailed through the air. With a large grin, I whip to face a clapping Andrew.
"Why, thank you very much," I say in my best Elvis Presley voice. I earn a small chuckle from him before he picks up the now stationary ball. I smile proudly as I watch him jog over toward me, the cool breeze hitting against his shirt. The edges of his lips were slightly curved into a content smile that reached his eyes.
"You're not half bad," He jokes before squatting down to lay on the grass. The corners of my lips somehow manage to curl further before I too collapse on the grass.
Who doesn't love hearing someone else admit that they are good?
I sigh, as I feel the prickle of the blades through my shirt as my eyes open to see the changing colour of the sky. Strangely enough, the realization that my farther was going to kill me for being out so late doesn't faze me at all. I am content, even with a stranger by my side.
I'm not quite ready to loose that.
"Why did you have to move from Australia to Starlight City?" I ask. I see him shift in the corner of my eye, his strong body falling back as he let his head, rest against the ground.
He shrugs, "Dunno, I guess it was the idea of being somewhere new.,Believe it or not, but the Aussies are a bit boring compared to what we get here." I turn my head slightly, my gaze moving from the clouds to Andrew. There was something odd about that answer, like it had been said too many times and now it was just an over rehearsed line from a script.
I don't press on.
"Oh," I whisper lamely.
Silence passes. I take in the last of the setting sun's warmth as the memories of today flutter through my mind. I am grateful for today; I changed an enemy into an acquaintance and I learnt the traditional Australian football. What is there not to be proud of?
"I'm sorry, you know about doing all that stuff to you," He mumbles, closing his eyes as he presses the words out. I stiffen beside him, something inside me wanting to forgive him, but not quite finding the words. Yet, there was still a part that had built a foundation of brick to block the forgiveness that wanted to escape.
He turns onto his side, his eyes locking with mine and I find every part of them filled with sincerity. I don't know what to do, so I just force the edges of my lips to turn into a tight smile.
He turns to face the sky once more.
"Why do you follow Xavier, I mean what power does he have over you that makes you want to follow a human?" I ask, the words slipping from my tongue before I process what I had said. His fingers curl beside him, and he clenches his jaw for a moment.
"Xavier wasn't always bad, after a long time you see who he really is and you work past his violence. Not that, you'd want to I mean after what he did to you," He whispers.
I shake my head. "You're right, I don't want to get to know him. But he didn't touch me that night, every one of his 'pets' – no offense – did and they had enough power to say no," I state and I notice how his features soften slightly as he thinks it over.
"Xavier has done more for us than you can imagine, even after what we did to his par-" He cuts himself short before he cusses. I perk up, curiosity exploring any possible word he meant.
"What?"
"Nothing," He says before he uncomfortably checks his wrist. "Would you look at the time, better go, busy, busy."
I give him a blank stare, "You're not even wearing a watch."
He smiles sheepishly before a quick goodbye and in less that a second, he disappears.
Soon enough, I am left alone again to think about Xavier, who seems to have more secrets than I thought.
***
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