“I didn't mean to upset you. I was only joking.”
“In addition,” I hear Dane’s “I heard about the broken nose of Vera and it seems that the reason for that was the two of us.”
His superior smile infuriates me to the climax.
“It is totally false. The fight started because she insulted me, not because of the two of you! If the idea would not be so annoying, I might even laugh. I never, in my life, heard of a more absurd reason for a conflict. For my part, you can be with any these stupid geese, with the entire high school. I couldn’t care less. What bothers me is that people treat me up just because I don’t have their clothing and their living conditions.”
They look at me carefully, but also with a certain sympathy. Their freak, unusual eyes move continuously on my figure, to come to a standstill, however, with insistence on the vein on my neck that struggles furiously. Their irises glow strangely and without realizing it, I feel like I go to shivers. The moment passes quickly, however, and the high tension in the air dissipates. It's sympathy again in their eyes. What makes me be slightly more cordial.
“Anyway, thanks for your help. It was kind of your part to gather out in the yard the garbage with me, even if your clothes significantly improved.”
I know it's a bit of irony in my voice, but I can't help it.
“Perhaps we don't look up anyone, than those fools, and you are far from being a fool.”
What Dane has just said to me made me raise my eyes to him. I did not give him the reply, but I note in my mind.
I return to my job. The remaining students are still perched on the windows, but no one is laughing. On the contrary. All the girls are but green with envy. I bet if they knew that not one ,but both brothers Stoler will talk to me, would have preferred a thousand times to collect not only the garbage in the yard, but in the whole town. Unfriendly faces begin to disappear, one by one, from the windows. I go with my job, but I must admit that now I do it with some satisfaction.
I do not know how that day went on. The fact is the evening came faster than I expected.
“The headmaster wants to see you, Geoffe.” The administrator announces me.
What does he want now? The administrator’s speculative gaze irritates me.
“Did you call for me, sir?”
“Aaaah! Geoffe! Of course…”
I take a sit in a corner chair. I have a cautious state, as something unpleasant is about to happen. The director’s gaze creates an alarm in my head. For a moment long enough, he doesn’t say anything. He just looks at me. From my head to toe. I feel increasingly uncomfortable.
“Well?”
The director startled as I would have awakened him from dreaming.
“What? Aaaah, yes...”
He rose from his chair behind the desk and then he approaches me with the steps of the devil. My first instinct is to jump and break up the run. I do not even know why. I imagine things that are not. It's like being in danger, but you do not know how to define it. The director’s eyes have a strange misty glow. I cannot give it a name, but I feel disgust and fear. Outside, there is downright dark, but the branch of the tree in the yard that touches the glass makes a noise. The director does not seem to hear it, but suddenly I look in that direction. I do not see anything strange, but I feel like someone looks at us. I have the same feeling I had on the river. Although I don't see anyone, I feel a strange presence. Then my attention is again distracted by the attitude of the Director. He leans too much toward me and put his hands on one side and the other on the chair I sit. This approach seems to be prohibited and hideous. I try to put some distance between me and him and I lean a little on my back. It seems that I thought quite stupid this movement, because he is getting closer and I already feel the edge of the chair in my spine, a sign that I don't have where to go further than that.
“You and me… we could understand each other very well, Geoffe. Patricia... It's your name, is not it? Patricia. A very cute name. And you're really pretty.”
I know that everything he says is a complete lie, as I begin to understand the kind of referring, especially after I made the connection between his words and his attitude. Nausea tightens my stomach and neck. My mouth is filled with water that when you feel like throwing up.
Suddenly I pushed him and he loses his balance. I jump off the chair and I rush to the door, looking distraught its handle. I am unable to open the door, but only for a quarter, for he sticks his hand in my hair and he pulls me roughly back.
“Leprosy!” He yells at me. “I tried to be nice to you. But it seems that I have to behave dirty with you. I think you like dirt!”
Although I panicked at first, the anger that I feel now exceeds the initial fear. His hands pull my shirt. The old material had no way to resist. With one hand he holds my neck, so can barely breathe: and the other tries to unbutton his pants. I lift my knee and hit him roughly in his crotch.
“You bitch!”
He is groaning in pain, but my satisfaction is short-lived. I cannot free myself from him. On the contrary. He gives me a punch that stuns me.
“No one will believe you! Nobody, do you hear me? Neither police, nor anyone. Nobody listens to people like you. It will be your word against mine. People won’t believe a rag like you!”
And then everything becomes hysterical. I bite, I scratch, and I kick. With fists and feet. I hit him. I am strong enough, and my shots are not easy. Unfortunately, nor his. He takes me by my throat and he hits my head on the wall. My ears are ringing loud. I see yellow in front of my eyes and I get dizzy. I feel getting softer, and powerless. He puts me on the desk and slaps me across the face deeply several times while yelling at me.
“You slut! You rag! You'll pay for everything! Did you hear? For everything! And how I’m going to laugh!”
Already my shirt is made rugs. I hold on to the jeans, but I have no power. I'm on the verge of fainting. With the last drop of lucidity, I promise myself I will kill him as soon as I will be myself again. Then I hear glass being made pieces. Cool air entering... Shards that cover me... And then... Nothing.
The first thing I'm aware it's the cold air. I am surprisingly well. My head is still ringing. I instantly verify the zipper of my jeans. It is locked. Tattered shirt is arranged over me as well as possible. My face burns. Everything hurts me. My flesh, my bones... I have a few cuts from broken glass shards. I still do not realize exactly what happened. I stand. I am at the river. I do not know how I got here. I do not know who brought me here.
It's a long time since I cried. I do not know why I’m doing it now. I began to tremble uncontrollably. I think it's just a delayed reaction. I stripped off my clothes, almost tearing them off me. I'm sick of them. I jump in the water and start to rub my skin with anger bordering hysteria. Disregard the pain of bruises, cuts or broken. But it doesn't matter. I want to be clean again. Tears leak on my face in silence. I am aware that I will never be right in such a world. No matter what it will happen to me, no matter what happens, I will never have my justice. And so I feel that something dies inside me. I wonder how, I escaped and how did I get here. I feel like someone is watching me again. I look in all directions carefully, but I don't see anyone. Perhaps it's only the fact that now I’d see monsters where they are not. I come back to the shore. It was already night. No matter how much I hate now my clothes which were the best, I can't go home naked. I dress back. My clothes are wet and cold. In front of me, something shines. It's a crock. I remember the moment when the Director grabbed me by my hair… If I had my hair shorter, I would have got rid of all of this. I take the shard and the hair. I don't hesitate a split second before I begin to cut with anger. On all sides. It seems to me that I hear a sigh. I do not stop from what I am doing. One thing is certain. Fear creates monsters. I ... I admit that now, I'm scared. Fear is not good. I won’t feel it. It's best to turn this feeling into anger, hatred, and disgust. And with a little effort, I will succeed. I have to. Because although I always knew that the world
is full of beings who call themselves humans, I only now realized that calling yourself and actually being one does not mean the same thing. Are there real humans in this world? I thought rapidly to Stoler brothers. Maybe, just maybe, there still are.
I move hard and I head home. I already started to get used to the sensation of being watched without actually seeing anyone. It's better not to feel so damn lonely.
Chapter Five
“Patricia, what happened to you?”
My mother looks at me panicked. In the morning light I probably look more awful and creepy than I thought I would. I shrug.
“Don’t worry, Mom. I had a little accident, that's all. You know how I ramble through the woods. It happened like that.”
“And your hair... Oh, God, what did you do to your hair?”
I take the shard of mirror and I look at myself. If it was uniformly cut, I think I would have loved my hair actually. But my hair is disheveled in all directions, obviously crippled by clumsy hands cutting so-so. Just on my forehead, my hair remained longer, allowing me to keep my eyes behind it
“I really like it.” I say only half lying.
Then she sees the torn shirt.
“Patricia,” she tells me in a stern voice “you tell me truly, what happened to you?”
Yeah, as if she could do something about it....
“I already said nothing. I had a little accident, that's all.”
And of course, she pretends to believe me.
The shirt that I'm wearing now is very tight and its sleeves are even shorter. You can almost see my belly, as it is so very short, and it has a hole in one of the elbows. I really need to get some better clothes and I know how. Anyway, today I won’t go to school like that. I'll go to one of the nearby towns and looking through trash. But first I’ll wait for the nightfall.
I'm lying for quite some time on the grass. I've got one hand placed under my head, between my lips a blade of grass and I look at the sky. I don't think of anything, and it is better this way. I've noticed that when I do not think about anything, I have more peace. I hear a rustling. You could say that someone intentionally does that as to inform me that he’s coming. Of course, it's ridiculous to think that, because it would be like someone cared for my feelings, which I know for a fact that's not the case.
Somehow I knew that the person that bothers me is Dane. I could not explain very clearly what I suspected this, because I can’t. The saying “you cannot escape what you fear” crossed my mind in the same instant. Now don’t get me wrong. Not afraid of him. But somehow I disliked the idea that he would see me wearing this shirt. Not necessarily him as him, but I hated the idea of anyone seeing me dressed like that. I sigh a sound of annoyance. Of course he heard it. That's what I intended.
“Hello!”
He pretended well that he didn’t hear my sigh, that he wasn’t surprised by my appearance that showed exactly what I was: a victim of a near rape.
I mumbled something instead of an answer. I do not initiate any discussion. I don't feel like doing anything. And he sits upright, somewhat away from me. I suddenly get up like I was commanded to. My heart beats more powerfully. I dislike his closeness. It makes me think about Director Watson and his actions. I know it's not like Stoler would throw himself on me, I am aware of this. But I still do not like it. And he would not throw himself on me, anyway, because there are at least a dozen well-dressed pretty girls who would throw themselves at him. However, my too tight blouse reveals the curves of my small breast, and I feel even more stupid because of that.
“I'm not welcome, right?”
He speaks slowly and calmly, as if reassuring a frightened child, or a wild, agitated stallion. Involuntarily, his voice calms me down a little though. I take a glance at him. My quick look is sharp enough though to notice his strange glowing, yellow irises on my bare neck. I notice as well the way he clenches his jaws, the way he swallows as bidding for something. But his eyes do not look like the director’s. They look rather like mine, when I think of a steak.
“Are you hungry?” I ask him.
His body stiffened. He frowned at me. His voice is also stiff.
“What? What do you mean?”
I watch him, bewildered.
“You look like you'd be hungry. Nothing more. Why do you ask?”
He relaxes, imperceptibly. He even smiles.
“Excuse me. I didn’t want to rush you.”
“Rush me?”
Is this what he thinks to be rushed? I start to laugh.
“Not at all. You do not know what it means to be rushed.”
Perhaps my voice sounds bitterer than I intended, because he looks at me again.
“You have really been through a lot, haven’t you?”
His compassion makes me sick. Even physically. His compassion causes me a real pain in my chest. Pitty I wouldn’t bear. Pitty would make me mad. But compassion makes me sick.
“Have you skipped school today too?” I ask him.
He understands my need to change the subject. Or at least this is what I get, for he then responds calmly.
“I haven’t. I went to school, but classes were canceled. It seems that the director is in hospital.”
I lift my head suddenly.
“At the hospital?”
“It seems that he has been attacked by an animal or something like that. Apparently, in this region you can suffer a bear attack at any time.”
Dane has his voice very low. My laughter swells.
“Really? An animal being attacked by another animal. How convenient!”
“What do you mean?”
“You have a very fine hearing.” I say a simple observation.”I tell you, that animal that attacked him, bear or whatever it was, it was very smart.”
“How so?”
“It doesn't matter. But trust me on my word. I am glad. I am glad that animal Watson is in the hospital. In fact, I would have preferred to be something more serious than this. But I'm going to thank for what I have anyway.”
And I start laughing again. I feel a great satisfaction at the thought that Watson is in the hospital and suffering. I'm pleased. Then, I suddenly freeze. Not a bear brought me to the river, my favorite place.
“What bear? There was no bear.”
“Why do you say that?”
His voice is as tensed as mine.
“Believe me, it was not a bear. It was something that came through the window.”
“What?”
“Yes, yes, I tell you. I was there. Something has entered through the window and I can assure you that it was not a bear.”
“You were there? How so? What were you doing there at the time? And what was it? What did you see?”
I hide my face behind my hair.
“I...I… I mean...” I'm beginning to stutter,”I don't know, as a matter of fact, too much. I don't know what I say. Honestly, Dude, I don't know what it came to me.”
And then there was silence. Each of us was thinking about different things, perhaps. I'm thinking about how to fix my blunder, and he was thinking about what I was doing there, probably. He may, of course, imagine what's worse.
“Why are you calling me 'Dude'?”
His question is so surprising, that I widen my eyes, uncomprehendingly.
“What?"
“Why are you calling me, ‘Dude’?”
Clearly, he's upset because of that.
“So just like that,’ Dude’. What's wrong with that?”
“It annoys me. Like we are all some little things in your eyes, we are all the same for you.”
I still don't know why the idea upsets him so much.
“But everyone's the same to me. I don’t get it, why this gets you mad.”
“I have tried to show you that me and my brother, we're not like the rest of the people. And yet, you treat us as ugly.”
“Look, Dude, I don’t treat ugly no one. I don't even talk to people. Had I interfered with you? Or to a specific person?”
/> I can clearly hear him grinding his teeth. His irises are glowing from yellow to orange.
“What?”
I flip to him because I don't understand at all what he meant, because I don't understand why he is upset.
“You know what? You were not invited here, so you can leave with your apishness away from here.”
“You know what?” he paraphrases me. “I am going to go when I want to!”
“Fine!”
“Fine!”
We both bark to each other. I lay on my back again, without paying him any further attention. But I boiled. It's his fault that he came here and he found me with this horrible little, drilled blouse. He sits so still that he seems unnatural. He looks into the void. I study him for a few seconds. He doesn’t blink. His chest is not moving in any way that would give me the impression he would breathe. He gives me the creeps on the spine.
He suddenly moves. I was back upright in the same instant. I do not know, however, why I did it. He speaks slowly, with the same voice from the beginning, soothingly. So soothingly that I cannot stop myself calming down. I thought his voice would contain something that could make someone submit and obey him. The truth is that he did nothing, but showed me kindness, ever since we met. It's my fault for being so callous and mischievous.
“Listen, dude...”
I stop when he looks back at me.
“Well then… how would you like me to call you?”
He slightly smiles. I can see his dimples. I find him really nice. Well, as nice as a man who acts nice to me can be.
“’Dane’ I think it would be great.” He says.
“Listen, Dane, I have a rather rushed way of behaving, I admit. But I cannot apologize for what I am.”
He is silent for a moment, as if he ruminates my words.”
“You're right.” he says very slowly. “We cannot apologize for what we are.”
He remains silent again then. It isn’t a disturbing silence. I laid myself back on the grass, with my hands under my head. My blouse lifts a little more up, leaving almost my entire belly naked. His gaze is heading back towards my naked skin. I can't help it and pull the blouse down as much as I can. He doesn’t say anything.
The Huntress Book 1 Memories Page 3