Chapter 24 - Sketches
Warmth rushes to greet me, the relentless sun pounding down on my back. I can already feel sweat beginning to bead on my forehead as I walk out of the school, sitting myself down on the half wall that rims the front courtyard. My gaze continues to flicker through the current of people flooding from the school with the expressions of a starving man finding food. But as I sit there, Harry still has yet to be spotted.
I smile as I catch Clayton's gaze for a moment. Only then do I realize that by his side is a pretty blonde with bright blue eyes. The grin Clayton flashes makes me laugh because the girl by his side isn't just anyone. It's Sydney, the girl he was assigned to.
They'd been best friends since freshman year, obviously resulting in Clayton falling in love with Sydney. Following all stereotypes, she was clueless. So Clayton's bright grin is thrilled to pieces as Sydney's hand finds his as she pulls him towards her car.
But as the pace of the high schoolers slows, the flow slowing to only an occasional student leaving, my hope slowly sinks to nothing. I'd seen Harry in first period and at lunch, yet I hadn't seen him leave. The heat is only growing worse as I wait hopefully to see the tall and lanky boy come sauntering out of the school. But time goes on and on and on.
Still no Harry.
Exasperated, I turn to my bag to dig out pencil and an old and crinkled paper. So I begin
to mindlessly sketch, waiting for the curly haired boy to come out. I've covered the page in the dark sketch, gawking when I realize what I'd been drawing. I'm no artist, but it didn't take a lot to recognize the haunting picture.
I'd drawn a dark puddle that seeped away from a figure laying on his back, head turned away so all that was revealed was the back of a beanie covered head.
I gasp, crumpling the paper back into the wretched ball I'd found it in, shoving it back into my bookbag. The only thing I can think of is how thankful I am I drew the boy facing away. I already know who the boy I'd drawn was, but I still don't want to see his face.
I sigh, turning to lie against the warm concrete surface, resting my head on my bag. So I lay there, still waiting. After a few minutes, I hear the old door creak, my eyes opening at the sound. From the corner of my eye, I catch a dark tshirt, tall figure, and flickering eyes.
But when I fully register who it is, my heart sinks. Not just with disappointment, no.
My heart sinks in full panic.
It instantly drops down to the bottom of me, keeping me pinned in fear as those icy eyes meet mine. It seems like an eternity ago when in reality it had been less than two months. But it's the same boy who Harry had beaten in my defense.
And he was making his way towards me.
"Diana!" He calls with a friendly smile that sends chills down my spine.
I can't do anything but stare, a deer caught in headlights. When before I know it, he's in front of me. Less than two feet away, arms folded over his chest with a cocky smirk and dark hair spiked up, is the boy who's cold eyes had haunted my nightmares for days.
His head tilts to the side as he stares at me lying with my legs crossed comfortably.
"How've you been?" He asks good-naturedly, looking me over in the most sickening way. His gaze reminds me of the way a lion would assess a gazelle before attacking.
"Fine." I can barely choke out, my voice much quieter and breathless than I would like.
"Where's your boyfriend?" He asks with a smirk that makes my skin crawl.
"Boyfriend?" I echo stupidly, staring blankly. His shoulders bounce once with an amused snort.
"Harry." He prods.
I sit up, in the motion discretely sliding my hand towards my bag, prepared to grip it and swing if necessary. Fear flashes through me when his eyes flicker to my hand. He isn't stupid, he knows what I'm doing. As soon as his gaze moves back to mine, his smirk fades, eyes hardening.
The second his hand touches me, I react. I just wish I could've reacted a little more smoothly.
I immediately jerk away from his hand, tumbling backwards off the half wall and my back slamming to the pavement with a force that knocks the wind out of me. I lay there, stunned as I stare up at the blinding sun. A dull ache fires up towards the back of my skull as I slowly register that I hit my head against the hard ground. But now there's a high pitched whine that hurts my ears.
And suddenly the air rushes back into my lungs. I can move, I can think, my hearing comes back into focus, but my vision is blurry. The tall and dark figure is throwing his legs over the half wall, his feet coming into contact with the ground by my side.
A choked scream drags its way up my throat as I roll onto my stomach, fighting my way to my feet. But there's a hard grip on my wrist, jerking me back with such a force I can feel my heart stop.
My somewhat foggy mind struggles to decipher the blur of motion flying by when I smack into something firm but soft. I realize half a moment later I've slammed into his chest.
No way is this happening again.
So as the frightened gasp bursts through my lips, I struggle to bring up my hands between both of our chests as his arms keep me pinned there. I pound relentlessly on his black tshirt, jerking with all my might against his arms as I keep my eyes squeezed shut. His voice is in my ear, panicked and concerned.
"Julia! Julia, it's me! Hey, it's me, you're okay, you're safe!"
I pause in confusion, my eyes opening.
Harry's arms are around me, green eyes wide and startled. His lips are parted as he pants, holding me firmly to his chest.
"Harry!" My whimper bursts from my chest, my heart following it and stopping in my throat as I throw my arms around his neck, pressing myself to him as tightly as I can.
"What's going on?" He asks, his large hand rubbing my back in attempt to calm me down. I bury my face in his neck, closing my eyes tightly.
"It was him! The guy who attacked me! He found me out here and he was going to hurt me!" I blubber out, panicked.
Where had he gone?
I quickly open my eyes, looking over Harry's shoulder as I search for the boy.
"Julia, there was nobody here. You were here alone, just lying here.." His voice trembles, still alarmed.
My mind backtracks.
"What?" I ask, pulling my face back to look at him.
His brows furrow deeply, his grip on my waist tightening and sending a little comfort through me. His confused green eyes watch me, his tone low as he explains
"You were out here on the wall..asleep... You scared me cuz for a second I thought you were dead or something. So I tried waking you up and I touched your arm, you fell off the wall and just kinda froze... I thought you'd gotten a concussion or something, you scared me.. You were just staring up at the sky so I was gonna help you up but you got up and you were gonna cry and run, you scared me. I grabbed you and I was trying to calm you down but you just kept hitting me and now this."
By the end, his brows are furrowed deeply in concern, a frown painted on his lips. An odd thought goes off in the back of my head that this was probably the fastest I've ever heard him talk. His eyes continue to follow me for a few moments as I struggle to piece together his explanation. There's a long pause as we stand there in the sweltering heat, but then his voice comes out in a small and childish voice as he repeats for the thousandth time.
"You scared me..."
I exhale deeply, relief flowing through me. "Sorry..." I laugh a little sheepishly. He smiles a little, still watching me as if he's expecting me to run away screaming.
"I'm fine now." I try to assure him. "I was just.. disoriented.." I trail off biting my lip.
I look to the side towards my bag, the mechanical pencil laying abandoned where it had dropped after I'd realized what I'd drawn. Harry follows my gaze, noting the pencil before looking back to me with an eyebrow raised. "An artist too?" He chuckles, shaking his head. "Is there anything you don't do?"
His words immediately bring heat to my cheeks. His smile widens as he goes on, his arms tightening on my waist. "You read, quote Shakespeare, draw, and save people on top of it all. Incredible." I look up to him, his face bright and smiling.
The sun catches my eye, causing Harry's face to darken in comparison.
And that's when I have a vision.
It all happens in an instant, shorter than a second. But within the vision, time seems to slow down. Harry's laughing face plays in my mind, the same picture repeating over and over, occasional black specks flickering across the image.
Suddenly white bursts in the corner, rimmed by black as the spot grows, slowly enveloping the image of Harry's face, leaving black streaks behind. An image of comparison flashes to mind, a film burning up, breaking and melting down to black oil, nothing left but the dark smudges.
An inhuman screech bounces around inside my head, tormenting me as I see another image. Except this time Harry's face swings towards me, his eyes widening in terror. Then with the force of an eighteen wheeler hitting me head on, everything goes black.
The screeching stops.
But another sound fills my ears.
Screaming.
With a shock, I recognize the sounds.
It's my screaming.
And as if I'm looking upon a scene in third's person point of view, I see her. This girl looks exactly like me. She has the same face, the same scream bursting through her lips. But this girl can't possibly be me.
Her eyes are huge in horror, bloodshot and rimmed with tears. Her thin hands are cupped over her lips, bloodcurdling shrieks bleeding between her shaking hands. When I follow her gaze, I'm frozen to the bone.
A boy.
A boy who looks exactly like Harry.
But it can't be Harry.
Because this boy is dead.
Crimson splatters across the side of his face, his limbs laying in an unnatural angle. The thick blood runs from his curls and onto the ground, his green eyes glassy and empty as they stare blankly up at the girl.
This image is hardly different from the ones from my nightmare, but somehow it's worse.
Because here is this girl who looks exactly like me, now kneeling beside the boy who looks exactly like Harry, her knees soaked with his blood as she screams and screams, sobbing and pleading for him to come back.
And as she cradles the broken and bloodied boy in her frail arms, I can't make myself move. She just sits there and cries. She cries for the love of her life. She's cries for his death. And she cries for her death too. Because without him, she's dead.
Years seem to fly by as I'm frozen in place, watching the girl hold the mangled boy. But then her dark eyes meet mine, sending a shock through me. Her tortured voice barely comes out in a pleading, shivering whisper.
"Save him."