(2014) Deep Inside

by Jack Parker

  He leaned back against the grass as she watched him, vehemently, waiting for an answer.

  "Whenever he asks you a question, you either avoid telling him or use sarcasm to skirt around it. And he doesn't prompt you on it because he thinks that you don't want him to. He thinks that the best way is to give you time to open up for yourself. But what you really want is for him to prompt you because you don't have the guts to open up for yourself."

  "What are you, my shrink?" she commented dryly.

  "Your sarcasm proves that I'm right."

  "That doesn't make sense."

  "Yes, it does."

  Her fingers were still coiled around the grass and she was pulling harder now, with more urgency. "How so?"

  "It's your defense mechanism. Whenever you don't know what to say, you're sarcastic."

  This time she pulled out a clump of grass and dropped it without tearing, then reached down again. "What the hell is your problem?"

  "You."

  "Why don't you just leave then if I'm bothering you so much?" she said icily.

  He cast his gaze across the water, then picked up another pebble. "You've never had anyone figure you out before, have you?"

  "Your point?"

  "Stop being so defensive."

  "Why?"

  "It's not getting you anywhere," he replied placidly. He tossed the pebble.

  She groaned. "Why do you love to irritate me so much?"

  "You're extremely irritable."

  "So that gives you an excuse?"

  "No," he replied. "Just a reason."

  "What brought on the sudden urge to analyze me?"

  Why did he suddenly decide to "analyze" her? But, then again, he didn't analyze her. Analyzing would involve paying explicit attention and focusing on the person at hand. Everything about her was so simple that he didn't need to focus. He just picked it all up.

  "I'm bored."

  "Then go back."

  He shrugged. "I like it here."

  She bit her bottom lip, then frowned. "But you just said you're bored."

  "Just because I'm bored it doesn't mean that I don't like it."

  Her forehead creased. "So you like being bored?"

  She said the stupidest things sometimes.

  "Does anyone like being bored?"

  "I don't think so, but if you're answer to my question is yes, then the answer to that question is yes, because then you'll become that 'anyone' who likes being bored."

  He ran his fingers over the grass, searching for another pebble. "Brilliant logic," he said sarcastically.

  She grinned. "It is, isn't it?"

  "I was being sarcastic, so the answer to that would be no."

  Her grin became a frown. She pulled out another blade of grass, this time allowing it to rest between her fingers as she tore it into shreds. "Shut-up."

  "The answer to that is no, too."

  Her frown deepened. She cast her gaze above the water once again. A few minutes passed and then she replied. "Maybe you're right."

  Whatever he had expected, it hadn't been that.

  "Oh?"

  She coiled a blade of grass over her finger. "Carmon's really…sweet. And at the same time he's too nice, too eager to forgive, I guess. Our opinions are just so different that I don't feel comfortable talking to him. I don't feel as if he would understand, you know?"

  Cal shrugged. "You won't know unless you try."

  "What if I don't want to try?"

  "Then it's your loss."

  She bit her lip. "Maybe."

  "Maybe?"

  "Yeah." She grinned.

  He stretched his arms. "How long have you known him?"

  "A little over four years."

  "When you lived in that area?"

  She nodded. "Yeah." Something flickered through her gaze, an emotion that he could not quite decipher. She opened her mouth, about to say something, then decided against it.

  Cal lifted up another pebble and juggled it between his hands. The sky was getting slightly darker now, but the fire was still there, burning.

  "Carmon," she began. Her voice cut through the silence. "He's not going to be well for a while."

  "And?"

  She bit her bottom lip. "Michael is probably going to stick us together in a lot of missions."

  "What makes you say that?"

  "I know Michael."

  "What's your point?"

  She furrowed her brows. It looked as if what she was about to say next took her a lot of effort. "We should try to get along."

  He raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?"

  "We don't have to be the best of friends," she continued dryly. "But we should at least be civil."

  He shrugged. "Okay."

  She creased her forehead in disbelief. "Okay?"

  "Yeah, okay."

  She looked at him for a moment as if contemplating something, then replied. "Okay, then."

  He yawned. "Okay."

  She rolled her eyes. "Shut up."

  "I thought we were being civil."

  "Please shut up," she said wryly.

  "No thank-you."

  "That gun sure looks tempting."

  "Too bad you're not allowed to use it."

  "Yeah…" She let out a wistful sigh.

  Cal closed his eyes and let the cool air encompass his lungs, then frowned. "Why do you take advantage of it all?"

  He knew the question was abrupt, that it would change the atmosphere entirely. But he didn't care. He wasn't going to dance around the subject; he wasn't like her. He was blunt and he didn't care what impression he made on others.

  "Take advantage of what?" her tone sounded guarded, annoyed even.

  "You have so much, so many friends and people who actually care about you, people who don't fake it because they're after something. But you always victimize yourself so much and refuse to open up to them when, in reality, you actually want to open up to them. It doesn't make sense."

  "I don't expect you to know me inside out, Cal," she said icily.

  "You're just so easy to figure out."

  "I'm flattered."

  He continued as if she hadn't said anything. "So many people would kill to be in your place." He made sure to keep his tone placid, calm. He couldn't afford to say more than was necessary, to let his guard down too much.

  "I have nothing that anyone else would want," she hissed. The self-pitying was coming through now and she wasn't even trying to hide it. She was angry. It was funny how he could make her flip from one mood to another with such ease.

  "Have you ever looked down, Leanora-" He lifted up another pebble and tossed it in the air "-or are you so deeply engrossed in wishing for what you can't have that you can't stop looking up."

  It was a statement, a rhetorical question, and just by looking at her he was sure that it had made her angry.

  "You don't know enough about me to judge. Wait, scratch that, you don't know anything about me."

  "I know what I see."

  She regarded him with distaste. "You can't form an opinion on someone within a month or so of knowing them."

  "It depends on the person."

  "Don't be so quick to judge me."

  He tossed the pebble into the air and watched as a few beams of light bounced on its surface. "That's hypocritical coming from you."

  Silence.

  He tossed the pebble into the air once again, then flung it into the water. Instead of rebounding like it had before, it merely sank to the bottom.

  The glass had finally broken.

  "You don't have any faith in humanity, do you, Lia?"

  He could tell that the sudden subject change had caught her off guard.

  "It depends on what you mean on 'faith in humanity'," she replied dryly.

  "I'm going to ask you a really clichéd question-" he began, then smirked before continuing, "-and it's up to you whether or not you want to give me a clichéd answer."

  She looked uneasy, but replied, "Fire away."

&nb
sp; "Do you believe in love?"

  She quirked an eyebrow. "Now that is a clichéd question."

  He dug his hands into his pockets. "I did say it was."

  She shrugged. "I do and I don't. I mean, it depends what sort of love you mean. I mean, I believe in the whole family loves thing, but with a guy and a girl I reckon it only goes as far as liking a lot."

  "You sound like you're talking from experience."

  Her tone of voice was calm, wistful. "Maybe I am."

  She had cast her gaze out over the water once again.

  "Is he the reason that you're so cut off from everyone?"

  She smiled lightly. "There's usually more than one reason behind that sort of thing."

  "True."

  There was a silence for a few moments and then she spoke. "His name was Dan." She said it calmly but there was an urgency to her tone of voice, as if she had to let it out and this was the last chance that she had.

  He contemplated leaving it there but thought better of it. He had brought her to the point where she would tell him and he was curious, he couldn't deny that.

  "What happened?"

  "Why should I tell you?" she bit.

  She was trying to act defensive again. She had probably realized her slip up. "Because you have no one else to tell."

  Her tone of voice softened considerably, but it had a harsher quality to it, one that he had never heard her use. It sounded cynical and colder. "Do you remember that boarded up building that we passed when we were in my old area?" She didn't wait for an answer; she merely continued. "It used to be an orphanage. I used to live there." She stopped for a moment, as if in deep thought, she was remembering something, then she carried on. "And do you remember that burnt out wreckage? The one next to the orphanage. That used to be Dan's house."

  "Used to be?"

  "Some gang thought it would be funny to burn it down." If he had thought she sounded cold before, it was nothing compared to what she said next. And her words…she spoke as if reciting facts –her tone of voice was icy, emotionless. "With him in it."

  Whatever he had expected, it hadn't been that.

  The sky had become darker by now. He looked toward her as she gazed out over the waters. The few wavering beams of light shone in her eyes and tinged her irises a faint red, like pools of fire.

  "All that was left of the place was ashes. Only ashes. And do you want to know what they spray painted on the wall after they had done it?" He didn't. She let out a cold laugh, then clenched her fists. "What's black, orange and very pretty? A Cadlian on fire." She laughed again, only it didn't sound like a normal laugh. It sounded cold, dry, inhuman.

  He didn't know what to say.

  "It's getting pretty dark. We better be getting back."

  She nodded absently, lost in her own train of thoughts.

  He knew that he would never see her in the same way again.

  * * *

  The monster tilted its head to the side, then ran its long fingers over the bed. It inclined its head toward the window.

  "You haven't opened it yet, have you?"

  Jack shrugged. "Why should I?"

  "It might do you good."

  "It might," he replied absently.

  The monster slipped off of the bed and gave him a toothy grin. Its fangs glistened.

  "If you don't open it, you might never get out." It ran its fingers over the curtain, its claws tearing into the thick material.

  Jack stepped forward and held out his hand. "No, don't."

  It grinned again, then its eyes became pools of fire. "You're trapped."

  And then the walls caved in.

  An alarm beeped.

  Jack shot up, panting. He cast his gaze toward the window, a few beams of light penetrating the thick blue curtain.

  He ran a hand over his forehead, then slipped out of bed. It was nine-thirty, which meant that he had half an hour to get to Ganners. He pulled on a shirt and some trousers along with a black hoodie, then made his way out to the main room.

  Damien was sat on the sofa watching television. A small tub of hair gel lay open on the table beside him.

  "Aren't you going to work today?" asked Jack.

  Damien shook his head absently, his eyes focused on the television. "Day off." He dug his left hand into the tub of gel, then ran the gel through his thick, black hair.

  The spiked hair already made him look like a porcupine and by pulling it back it made him look paler than he already was.

  He lifted up the tub. "Want some?"

  Jack raised an eyebrow. "No thanks."

  He made his way to the kitchen and buttered some toast, then came back and sat beside Damien.

  The doorbell rang. He sauntered toward the door and opened it. It was Rory.

  "Damien in?"

  Jack inclined his head toward the sofa and made his way back, Rory in tow. They sat down. He took a bite out of his toast, then placed it on the table.

  "I'm going to the bathroom."

  Damien and Rory nodded absent-mindedly, both their eyes and mouths wide open. Jack followed their gaze, then rolled his eyes.

  He made his way to the bathroom. When he came back, the toast was gone.

  Rory grinned toothily. "You wasn't eating it."

  Jack sighed. "Bye, Damien, Rory."

  They both nodded slowly.

  Jack held up his hands in defeat, then groaned. "I give up."

  It didn't take him that long to find Ganners, seeing as he had been past it quite a few times. But he had never bothered to actually go inside; it was well known as one of the trashiest cafés in town.

  He scuffed the pavement with the sole of his trainer, then entered. It wasn't as bad as he had expected, but it wasn't brilliant either. He spotted Melan instantly and sat next to her was Val.

  Melan was wearing denim trousers today and a tee-shirt and her hair was in two French plaits.

  As usual, she looked hot.

  She spotted him, then grinned. He sat down.

  Val raised an eyebrow. "Jack, right?"

  "Yeah. Val?"

  Melan fiddled with the end of her plait. "You guys have met?"

  "He was at the party with Damien."

  Why did she have to remind him about that party? A wave of embarrassment filled his chest.

  "The New Year’s one?"

  "Yeah."

  "I saw him there, too," replied Melan.

  They both nodded in affirmation, evidently satisfied. He felt like an escaped jail convict.

  Val tilted her head to the side, then flipped back her thick blonde hair. She opened her purse and took out some gum. She popped it into her mouth and chewed it slowly. "Do you want anything, Jack?"

  Jack was taken aback for a moment before Melan smiled lightly, then said, "She means do you want to order something?"

  Jack nodded. "Yeah. I'll have a drink."

  Val smiled acerbically. "What kind of drink?"

  He swung his legs beneath the table. "Water's fine."

  Melan rolled her eyes, then shook her head. "Val, quit making him nervous!"

  Val shrugged and continued to chew her gum. "He shouldn't have anything to be nervous about."

  Melan sighed. "I'll go call Kel."

  Val blew a bubble with her gum. "KEL!"

  Melan rolled her eyes with contempt. Kel appeared from behind the desk adorned in a red tee shirt which said GANNERS across the front in bold type. She made her way toward them.

  "Yeah?"

  Before Val could speak, Melan intervened. "Kel, could you please get Jack some water? And ignore Val, she's having one of her mood swings."

  Val glared. Melan tossed back one of her plaits and glared back, then turned her attention back to Jack, who, throughout all of this, had been watching silently.

  Kel smiled and nodded. "Okay." She left.