Zaira
When I reached the address Remy gave me, I was shocked by how normal the place seemed to be. One of several victorian style homes in a line, the house gave of your typical Vichy feeling, meaning that it was old and well taken care of.
Not what I was expecting of Henri’s house. Although, I guess Remy had told me that it belonged to a friend of theirs who was out of town.
Walking the short distance to the front, I could feel my heart begin to race. Once I was standing outside the door, knowing that if I reached for the handle it was supposed to be unlocked, it suddenly became hard to move.
Could I do this?
Should I?
I was already here, so wasn’t the decision made?
With one extremely shaky hand, I reached forward to grab the handle. I paused for a moment, then forced myself to turn it. It came as a bit of a shock when the knob really did turn and the door really did open, Remy hadn’t lied about the door being unlocked. Taking one, deep breath, I stepped in and let the door fall shut behind me. Out of habit I bit my lip before starting down the now dark hallway.
Third door on the left.
My mind counted the doors and my hands fell to clenched fists at my side. When I reached the that led to the room that Henri was supposed to always be in, I once again found it hard to move. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly going dry. One of my hands slipped into the pocket of my jeans, putting the pepper spray in the palm of my hand. I’d ditched Caroline’s dress the moment I was clear of the house, which I was quite grateful for. If it came to violence, I could move much more easily in my jeans than I could in her dress.
The door was right in front of me.
The answers were there.
The man who killed my parents…
Why can’t I move my hand?
It was such a simple task. Open the door, talk to the man, then call the police. It was the chance to finish everything. Maybe I’d be able to sleep at night and get rid of the circles under my eyes. Or maybe I’d be able to stand just being in the dark for a few seconds. Perhaps I could speak a sentence to a stranger without stammering.
It could change everything. I just needed to finish this.
Forcing my hand into motion, I turned the doorknob and shoved it open. My eyes immediately found him.
Sitting in an old fashioned rocker, Henri had turned into a skeleton. The man who I could remember having such strong muscles before now seemed to be nothing but skin and bone. His greasy dark hair had thinned and even grayed, but stayed just as dirty as before. When I walked in the door those eyes that appeared in all too many of my dreams simply looked at me, not reacting at all, just looking.
Then he smiled.
“Mon chaton,” he greeted. “It’s been too long.”
Chaton? Hadn’t he always called me little doe, not kitten?
“Come closer, let me get a good look at you. I don’t get around as much as I used to, you know,” Henri continued.
It was surprising how calm he was. Didn’t Henri hate my family and I? Hadn’t Remy said that, that lone fact hadn’t changed? With all of this going through my mind, I almost stepped forward as requested, but caught myself. Despite how frail he seemed, it would be a bad idea to get too close.
“Are you going to ignore my request,” he asked, looking amused. “I’m not mad, Chaton, not anymore. I just miss you. Come closer, please.”
Was this really the same man that I had been scared to death of all this time?
Somehow… it was almost disappointing. He hadn’t just ruined my family, but himself as well.
When I neither moved or said a word, Henri frowned.
“What’s wrong, Elise? Do you hate me that much? I thought we’d gotten past all of this. Just come here, I want to see you better.”
He had called me chaton, now Elise. It suddenly clicked.
Henri hadn’t recognized me. He thought I was someone else… his daughter.
Wordlessly, I walked closer. The man squinted, then frowned even more. It wasn’t a look of anger, but one of disappointment.
“You dyed and cut your hair,” he accused. “When did you do that? You know, I’m still your Papa, no matter what that damn mother of yours said. You should at least tell me about these things.”
I shouldn’t.
“I didn’t dye or cut my hair.”
Henri scowled and raised one hand to gesture towards my head.
“I have eyes, Chaton, I’m not blind yet. You’re the same color as that damn… that damn…” he complained, then began to trail off. He didn’t seem to be looking at me anymore. “No… no… that’s not right. Elise is twelve… she’s… no… somethings…”
Was it possible for me to both hate and pity the man? I’d expected to feel something, anger, fear, guilt… but all I found inside me was pity and regret.
It wouldn’t help me to question a man like this. When Remy had called him a madman, he’d been right. Nothing about this situation would help me. I’d come here for nothing, it’d be better to just call the police now and leave before Kyoya discovered where I’d gone.
“No! You’re not Elise!” Henri suddenly shouted, baring his teeth in a snarl. “Your that damn bitch. Mon chaton is dead, dead! It’s all THEIR FAULT!”
I was frozen to the spot in shock as Henri lurched to his feet.
“I WANT HER BACK. GIVE HER BACK TO ME.”
For a moment I thought it was just my imagination when he reached back in his chair and pulled up an object. A fabrication of too many nightmares and memories that had melded with reality in the stress of the situation. He couldn’t have been holding it. Surely Remy would have taken it away from him. Who would leave it in the position of an obviously unstable man?
How could he be holding a gun?
I finally made my feet move, only to be sent sprawling backwards on the floor when my foot hit something behind me. My eyes never left him.
It wasn’t possible.
It wasn’t.
“SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE FINE. GIVE. HER. BACK.”
Henri raised his hand, the object pointing in my direction. I couldn’t breathe, let alone move.
Was this how my parents had felt?
CLICK!
Even I knew that meant he’d turned off the safety. It was as if everything suddenly fell into slow motion and utter clarity.
I could die here.
The same way my parents had- by a madman’s gun.
His finger seemed to tighten on the trigger. He continued to yell, but it had all faded into a distant roar, none of the words seemed to make sense.
I squeezed my eyes shut, my hand tightening around the object it held.
Wait… the object… I realized. No, does it really matter? I can’t beat him. My parents couldn’t. I should just wait, then I’ll get to see them again.
My parents didn’t have a choice.
The thought hit me and my eyes snapped open.
They hadn’t had a choice.
They had to leave me behind. This man took it from them. Neither Mama or Papa would have chosen this- there were too many people who would be left behind who needed them. Me, the servants, those that worked with them… Kyoya and his father…
Kyoya…
Kyoya.
Hadn’t he been the one who convinced me so many months ago that my parents didn’t want this?
As if on it’s own occured, my hand left my pocket, my other ripping the cap from the bottle. My thoughts had only taken a second, and the decision even less time than that. Perhaps it was because it was the one that somewhere I’d known to be the only right answer.
When the pepper spray hit his eyes, Henri screamed. Some part of me wondered if he’d even see it coming. If he’d really seen me.
The other part was acutely aware of how the gun had hit the floor only a foot away. The thud it made upon landing seemed even louder than Henri’s screams. Again, I moved without thought- lunging forward and gripping the cold metal in my hand.
My eyes then darted up to meet his. My finger lightly brushed the trigger. I doubt Henri had noticed between his cursing and clutching his eyes with his hands. I could probably do it before he even knew what had happened.
It was as if everything that had happened in the last nine months suddenly flashed through my mind. Everything that was this man’s fault.
I began to shake.
“Why?”
Was that me?
“WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE THEM?”
I guess it was. Strange, I hadn’t even thought about speaking, let alone asking the question that bothered me the most.
“IT COULD HAVE JUST BEEN ME? WHY DID YOU TAKE THEM AND LEAVE ME ALIVE? WHY COULDN’T YOU HAVE KILLED ME THEN, TOO? I WANTED TO DIE… I WAS WITH THEM SO LONG… I WANTED.. WANTED…”
Tears were streaming down my cheeks. My voice cracked.
His neighbors had probably heard the screaming, I realized distantly. I wondered if they would have called the police.
The station was too far away for them to arrive quickly.
It was hard to point the gun at him when I was shaking so much.
“I CAN’T ANYMORE! EVERYONE… EVERYONE WOULD HATE ME… AND I DON’T WANT… YOU SHOULD HAVE… YOU’RE A BASTARD! A FUCKING BASTARD!”
Was it really me yelling? It was my voice. I knew because it was hard to yell without choking up when I was crying this much. I didn’t talk like that, though. I couldn’t.
“A…. A….”
He should disappear. I needed him to be gone so that I could breathe. So that I could think. So I wouldn’t cry.
He couldn’t hurt anyone else if that happened. He couldn’t hurt me.
Distantly, I heard a noise, followed by another.
Was someone calling my name? I wondered. It sounded like it. I thought I heard something.
I should get rid of him. He may have fell to the ground while I was yelling. He may have been desperately gripping his eyes, he may have seemed helpless to any other eyes- but that was just for now.
Why wouldn’t my fingers move?
“Zaria!”
There it was again. Someone called out my name.
They’d have to wait. I was busy.
If only I could keep the gun still and get my fingers to move. I’d had enough with the shaking. Why couldn’t my body listen to me just this once?
“Zaira.”
The voice sounded relieved this time. My eyes didn’t move from Henri.
“Can you give that to me?” the voice asked. “Please? We’ll take care of this.”
“Zaira, give her the gun.”
“It’s alright, we’re here to help you.”
I slowly realized that other people had entered the room. When had they come in? Didn’t they know that something was going on? They shouldn’t be here, they shouldn’t see him.
I had to get rid of him.
Why couldn’t I do it?
“Zaira,” the firmer voice said again. It was the one who’d told me to hand over the gun. Vaguely, I recognized it as an important one. “Just hand it to her. It’s alright.”
That voice got closer as it spoke. To see who it was, however, I’d have to turn around. If I turned around I wouldn’t be pointing the gun at him. If I wasn’t pointing it at him, then I wouldn’t be able to do it again. They’d take it away. If they did that I couldn’t get rid of him.
Wasn’t I supposed to get rid of him?
Something wrapped around me from behind. Arms, I realized. They were arms.
“Be careful,” the first voice urged.
Hands touched mine and I couldn’t help but turn my eyes to them. They were familiar. The fingers slowly pulled mine away from the trigger, then pulled the gun from my grasp.
Why hadn’t I fought to hold onto it?
I needed it, didn’t I?
“Take it,” the firm voice commanded.
Then the gun was completely gone from my sight. The arms tightened around me and I felt the tears begin to fall even faster than before.
“It’s over, Zaira. You found him. Let them take care of the rest.”
“I… can… can I do that?”
“Yeah. You can. Everything will be fine now. It’s all over. You finished it.”
I collapsed into his arms, unable to keep myself supported any longer. It was as if everything had just drained out of me.
It was over.
He said it was over.
“Come on, Zaira,” Kyoya said, slowly standing with me held to his chest. “Let’s get out of here. Everyone’s worried about you.”
Someone stepped forward and laid a blanket over me, but I barely noticed. My eyes were focused upwards on the only thing I could pay attention to at the moment. His reassuring, calm look. The expression that told me it was alright to keep crying, to stay curled up against his chest when I should have been explaining the situation.
I could have stayed there forever.
It was all over.
A/N: So, what do you guys think? Did this reach your expectations for this chapter? I hope so! It was so fun to write, even if it took a few days to get going. Goodness, I loved writing it, so much. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE give me feedback!
And, ya know, do the follow/voting if you'd like. That's cool too. :P