My heart was a cold fist of horror. I crouched there for another beat before slowly rising from my crouch; cautious, like I was confronting a dangerous animal. Keeping my eyes in his general direction but not daring to sneak a peek at his face, I took a breath, "Andy--"
"I said," he slowly repeated, voice low and trembling with what sounded like barely controlled fury, "What the fuck are you doing?"
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched his fingers curl as though fighting the impulse to ball into fists. I cursed my stupid curious impulses internally. Why did I ever think this was a good idea?
Because you didn’t think you were going to get caught.
"I just...," I breathed slowly, deeply, trying to fight off the sick trembling anxiety in my belly. My heart was pumping so hard I could hear it in my ears, "I was just..." The words wouldn't form and my panic began to increase.
"You were 'just' what?" His voice; that was the worst part. It was slow and shaky and bubbling with black fury, but it was controlled all the same and I was anticipating the moment he would snap completely. I didn't dare look at his face but instead stared very hard at the paper on the ground nearest to my feet. On it was scrawled 'our hearts bear crosses'.
I only remembered his journal was still in my hands when he began to walk towards me. I backed up, but hit the dresser I'd been standing next to. He snatched the book out of my hands, and it was then I looked into his face, and instantly regretted that choice. Andy’s expression mirrored his tone; eyes blazing and his mouth set in a stony, hard line like a fissure in granite. I stared helplessly up at him, feeling more and more trapped by the second.
"How dare you? Who the hell do you think you are?" He was angrier than I'd ever seen him.
I cringed away, holding my hands out to placate him, "I know, I know, Andy, I'm really sor--"
He flung the journal to the ground, and the sound stung like a slap, "I've been patient enough with you, Mallory, but I come into my room and I see you there with my personal, private journal, and you think that fucking 'sorry' is going to make everything okay?" His voice began to rise and rise, growing icier and harsher by the second.
"Andy, I just--"
"You just what?" Andy snarled suddenly, making me flinch, "You just what, Mallory? Because I'd love to hear the explanation as to why you thought it'd be okay to sneak around behind my back."
There was a moment of silence as I attempted to gather my thoughts into some logical explanation, "I...I…wanted some answers." It sounded pathetic even to my own ears.
"You're still fixated on that? I told you to leave it! We all did! Maybe no one's telling you anything because it's none of your fucking business?" He was getting right in my face, so close and yelling at me I could've counted his pores had I so desired. Instead, my palm smacked him squarely in the chest and I cried, "Stop yelling at me!"
He broke off, nostrils flaring and eyebrows knitted together in a glare, looking ready to explode all over again.
“I don’t get why you’re so mad. What have you got to hide?” I asked him quickly, filling the silence before he could. My feet edged to the side, thinking maybe I could worm around him so I wasn’t so confined, but he gave me a livid look that plainly stated don’t even fucking try.
Andy took in a breath, calmer now. He glared some more, if that was possible, “It’s not so much what was in the book, but the breach of my privacy, Mallory.”
I was torn between swallowing my pride and getting the fuck out of there, or standing up to him and letting him know just how much of a jackass I thought he was. From his expression, perhaps the former would be the wiser choice. I tried not to grimace as I muttered, “I know. Sorry. Again.”
He made a funny noise that might have been a laugh or a strangled cough, but said nothing. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, I noticed.
Just as I was beginning to think the worst was over, he audibly took a breath as if to compose himself, “How much did you read?” His voice was frigid and harsh, as though holding back a yell.
“Hmm?” Out of spite, I tried to wind him up again by pretending not to pay attention.
“The journal,” His voice was tight, “What do you know?”
I sighed, and fixed my gaze to a point somewhere over his left shoulder, “I know that you had this girl, and then something happened and she’s gone and you’re never going to trust anyone again, yada yada yada,” I paused, “Happy?”
The line of Andy’s shoulders visibly relaxed, even though his face was still pissed. Whatever he was hiding, I knew I hadn’t uncovered it; I was almost annoyed. He shook his head, eyes hard, pulling a cigarette from the pack in his chest pocket, “Just stay out of my personal affairs, Mallory. It’s like you’re messing with my head.”
You know what? Fuck trying to be civil. I’ve had enough, I really have. I laughed a little hysterically, “Oh, that’s rich.”
"What's that supposed to mean?" Andy froze.
You’re kidding me! “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
His eyes narrowed, “Try me.”
"It means that you're being ridiculous," I threw my hands towards the sky in utter exasperation, "That you're being the coward you tell me and everyone else not to be."
“Takes one to know one.” He retorted, going to light the cigarette between his lips, and in my anger my hand flew out and hit his lighter halfway across the room.
“I’m the coward? Me?” I can’t believe this guy, “Hang on a sec, let’s take a step back and analyse this,” I snapped sarcastically.
“Well, you are the one who’s fucking sneaking around trying to get people tell you stuff that doesn’t even concern you!” his anger emerged again as quickly as it had left him.
“There wouldn’t be a need to if you’d just tell me already!” We were screaming at each other again.
“Are you fucking deaf? It’s none of your fucking business!”
I wasn't done, "You can't expect me to act with complete maturity and composure when you're the one creeping around in the first place telling everyone not to tell me whatever the fuck happened in the past -- and I feel like I'm surrounded by spiteful thirteen-year-old girls! It can't be that bad, whatever it is. I really thought you were better, Andy," I made sure to make each of my words count, hard and precise and unmistakeable. My eyes fixed on his, a challenge.
He kept opening his mouth to snap out an angry retort, his eyes flaring every time I cut him off, "You can go around contradicting yourself and trying to be the leader they want you to be, but all this bullshit isn't making you look any better to anyone. Everyone else might still have their image of you, and they might still look to you for answers, but I've had it.”
“Oh, you have, have you?” Andy mocked furiously. I ignored him and continued.
“Throughout my time here, you've done nothing but confuse me, belittle me and just generally make me feel awful about myself. I may have my flaws and my issues -- but at least I'm open about them! At least I'm not the one trying to be someone they're not."
"Don't you even--"
"At least I'm real!" My voice rose to carry over the torrent now spilling forth from his lips, "Can you say the same about yourself and mean it?" He'd fallen silent again, "Can you?"
He stared hard at me for a beat. Then his hand was suddenly fisted in my shirt. For one horrified, insane second my stomach lurched and I thought he was going to take a swing at me, but instead I was yanked forwards and then his mouth was crashing against mine for the second time that week.
Except this time was so, so different.
The edge of the dresser dug into the small of my back as I was pressed back into it, but if it hurt I didn’t notice. All feeling had melted down to the ash taste of his lips and metal edge of his lip ring on a forceful angry mouth. My fingers were twisted tightly in his hair and I was almost sure our teeth had clunked together more than once but I couldn’t find it in myself to care.
It must've lasted all of ten seconds. He shoved me away roughly, abruptly; my back hit the wall, which only added to my inability to properly breathe. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he spat, "Was that fucking real enough for you?"
I was speechless. The words just wouldn't form and my heart was hammering like it never had. I stared. The silence in the room was thick.
A flash of something passed over his face, I was near certain. But he turned away before I could decipher it.
“Andy—“, I found my voice again. I stumbled forwards.
“I’m leaving.” He wouldn’t look at me.
"But--"
"No, Mallory; just no. I'm done here."
He stalked across the room, pausing only to retrieve the lighter from where it lay on the ground beside the door. Should I follow him? I didn’t even know what to do with myself anymore.
Andy flung the door open, and a group stumbled hurriedly backwards like they’d been eavesdropping. They all stared at him, every pair of eyes round and wide. CC watched him with an expression I couldn’t classify; Sammi frowned at me and Laurence just looked somewhat confused.
"Sound carries." Suki explained after a long silence.
I saw Andy’s shoulders tighten, and prepared for another angry outburst. But instead he just shoved past them all.
Their gazes turned from his dramatic exit to where I stood on the other side of the room. But rather than explain myself, I watched him leave with an ache in my temples and a bitter taste in my mouth, overcome with confusion and hurt and a whole ugly, twisted pile of emotion, resisting the sudden stupid urge to burst into tears.
~*~
Once Andy was out in the corridor, he broke into a sprint.
Down the corridor, turn left, left, then right, dodge group of people, left again, right. The route was so familiar now he could’ve run it in his sleep.
When he got to the ladder, he didn’t even pause for breath before scaling it. His movements were almost mechanical as he uncovered the door and pushed himself up through it, then out of the car bonnet and onto hot, dusty ground. The heat of the day hit him and already the back of his neck was perspiring.
His hands were shaking now he’d unclenched them. He continued to stride. To where, he didn’t know, but he just had to get away for a while, get away from all of them. Maybe it was a bad idea, but Andy didn’t give a fuck anymore. The whole place was slowly suffocating and he couldn’t bear it any longer – and that argument had been like the last of his oxygen, or a pillow pressed over his face.
He had known something was up when he came up the corridor to see the door of the meeting room open. Despite its weight, Andy always took the time to shut it, and the only time any of the others would go in there was for a meeting (none were scheduled today) or to find him -- and they knew where he was.
His feeling of suspicion increasing, Andy had stepped into the room to see his bedroom door open. He’d called out, made a joke of it, knowing that one of the guys would’ve good-naturedly answered him. But he received no response, and then a faint crash of something hitting the floor. He hated sneaks more than any other type of person (besides F.E.A.R. that was), just because of all that’d happened so long ago--
Irritably, he brushed the thought away. Don’t think about that shit right now.
Within a few seconds he had a cigarette between his lips, but the damn lighter wouldn’t spark, plus tremors still shook his hands. His frustration at the world was increasing rapidly and he didn’t think he could take any more. He hurled the plastic away in his anger, knowing he’d probably get lectured on wasting supplies but not caring.
Just breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Walk: one foot in front of the other, again, again again. Don’t think about anything else.
Andy sighed, looked up. The sky was deeply blue, a colour he’d never seen anywhere else. The only thing breaking the azure expanse was a circling bird, a black dot on the blue. Probably a vulture. There was hardly any life out here, minus the tiny desert creatures, F.E.A.R.’s small herd of cattle and these damn birds. They always made him uneasy.
The slope he’d been making his way up came to a peak. He stood there and stared down at the drop on the other side. Stood on top of the dune, Andy allowed himself to sigh, the breath stretched out and ragged as it left him.
He froze where he was, the hairs on his arms and neck prickling. Wait, wait. Something's not right here. Cold spread through him all of a sudden despite the baking desert heat.
Behind you. Turn around. There's someone there. The little voice in the back of his head sent shivers down his spine, but he could sense the abrupt change of atmosphere like it was tangible.
He slowly turned. Stood a little way away were three minions, silent and motionless, their black robes billowing in the wind like ink in water. Each of them gripped a long golden spear tipped with a deadly point.
Andy was unarmed. Not even a knife on his belt. Stupid, stupid.
Though they were wearing masks that covered their faces, the front one appeared to be grinning wickedly.
"Hello, Prophet." The gravelly voice came from underneath the dark gold of the skull's teeth. It sounded like stones deep underground dragging across each other, tectonic plates. It sounded like the lid being pushed onto a coffin, like bones creaking and skin blackening. It sounded like death.
Andy turned and ran for his life.
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Hey readers!
I apologize profusely for the three-month wait; I feel really bad, I honestly do. I hope this chapter will make up for it, what with the drama and all. Also, take note of the song in the side (it's one of my faves) and the beautiful picture ;) Votes and comments are welcome and MUCh appreciated. If you still actually care about this story, know that I love you for it! Okay, I'd better go now and begin chapter 19.
Love you ALLLLLL!!
~Lilyxox