The Huntress Book 1 Memories

by Mihaela Gheorghe

  I didn't even bother to respond. I hasten. I have laundry to do and I’m quite sure it will snow soon. Not the snow itself would be the problem, but the fact that the after frost will snap my hands.

  Brrr!

  The water is ice cold. True, it can be cooler than that. The ground is icy too. That does not prevent me to hear the sound of footsteps approaching. I know, without having to look, exactly who it is. I expect him to greet me to totally ignore him with satisfaction. To my surprise, however, he says nothing. He just stands next to me, more annoying. So my plan failed. He is still silent. I shut myself up.

  The only sound that can be heard is the one that I'm doing, washing my dirty linen. As I wash them manually, I try to ignore my discomfort that I feel because of doing it in front of him: more embarrassed as I need to rub my hands against each other and then putting them between my legs to warm them up a little.

  Then Dane moves. Without saying a word, he grabbed my palms between my legs and he stared at them, frowning.

  “What do you think you're doing?”

  I forgot that I promised myself that I will not address a word to him, ever.

  Even his hands seem warmer now. The skin on my hands is now red and purple. My fingers are swollen. I can barely move them. I try to take back my hands between his. But Dane but is very powerful. I could not even budge him. He looked into my eyes. The iridescence of orange dances again in his eyes. Although I am perfectly aware that he exudes a kind of hypnosis on me, I cannot stop myself falling for it.

  “What a…”

  “Just keep your mouth shut, all right? Just shut up.”

  His voice is soft and persuasive. Again, unwillingly, I obey him. I think I remained some time looking up at him, my head thrown back, and his mouth half open. His gaze veils again in those shades that disgusts me. I make a sound of frailness. Then, just as suddenly, he released me. So suddenly that I lose a little my balance. Until I have time to react, he takes the rest of my clothes and starts to wash them.

  “Wait! Stop!”

  I know that I yelled at him, but he ignores me.

  “Why are you doing this?” I ask him with breathless shame. “Why do you humiliate me?”

  He spins the clothes before returning to me to answer.

  “And what about you? Why are you doing this?”

  I look at him as I don’t understand. /’What's this’? /

  “Why, by anything I do, you think I humiliate you? Why, by all I'm saying, I become your enemy you can’t even look at? You think people are evil because they are judging you without actually knowing you? You’re as bad as they are. For that is exactly what you are doing with me. I am so undesirable in your eyes, even without you knowing anything about me. I don't even want to think about how you’d look at me if you knew," he added, afterwards, more slowly.

  His pale skin becomes paler. His weird, glowing eyes were shaking. It is not difficult for me to read in his eyes what I find almost impossible to believe: suffering. Powerful. Deep. A pain I know very well, a pain that I see every time I look in the mirror. It's the same with mine. However, his, it just seems even deeper. For that this suffering of him seems to come along with a sort of melancholy, which it cannot describe.

  More unwillingly, I am drawn to him inexorably. I release my hand and put it on his cheek. For a split second I thought that he will prevent his head from my touch. And that wouldn’t make me wonder. However, on the contrary, what I was wondering about was to see that, after a moment of hesitation, he closes his eyes as if he would rejoice under my touch. And then I realized that he was not afraid because he didn’t want me to touch him, but because, for some obscure reason, he thought that I didn't want to do that.

  Then I felt something wet and cold touching us both. I looked up. Large snowflakes, very large snowflakes, began to drop on us. It was snowing.

  My hand was in his hand.

  My other hand was on his cheek.

  His yellow-orange eyes looked at my blue ones.

  And standing so, we seemed frozen in the snow that had just begun...

  Chapter Seven

  It's Christmas Eve. It has no special significance for me. On the contrary, it gives me a greater feeling of bitterness. My experience has taught me that it's better you do not want anything, but to desire and be disappointed. I gave up with many years ago masking wishes. And Christmas is the time when people make their wishes that supposedly come true. Well, magic never worked for me.

  I love to see snow-covered town and glitters. Everywhere there are colored lights. It seems to me that people are even better, more sympathetic throughout the atmosphere.

  I get along with Sky quite well. With Dane, almost the same. Why almost? For I do not know why, but around him, I feel a sort of embarrassment which leads me to be prickly and ironic. As if I should stay away from anything. For when the first snow fell and I realized that somehow incomprehensible, he's as lonely as me, our relations have improved.

  We cordially talk often in the schoolyard, or in high school, or at the river. Sometimes we laugh together. We come together at school and leave all together. Of course, not quite home or from home. Most times Sky is us. However, as I already said, I feel awkward in Dane’s presence.

  Because... He has moments when he looks at me strange again, as then, by the river, when he mocked me. Of course I have not forgotten it, and whenever I remember it, I get mad. Therefore, I respond a little gruff when Sky catches me and asks me:

  “Hey, have you thought about what you're doing tomorrow, at the Christmas Ball?”

  “Oh, my God, you made me crazy with this!”

  He looks a little blank of my a little edgy reply.

  “Are you, at least, coming at the Ball?”

  The idea itself is very queer. /’No.’/ I want to laugh.

  “Me? At the Ball? I think you're totally scatty if you can imagine my presence at such an event.”

  He opens his mouth as if he wants to say something, but he stops.

  “Anyway, I thought maybe you wanted to go with me. Or with Dane or with both of us.”

  And then he launches himself into a verbose that terrifies me.

  “Come on, you just think about it.” he insists. ”Do not worry about the dress, corsage and shoes. We will give them to you as a gift...”

  He suddenly stops when he sees my horrified eyes.

  “What? I do not need anyone's pity and charity; I thought you understood that much about me. Who needs silk dresses and shoes, when people are starving? These are garbage! Trash!”

  “Pat, do not misunderstand me...”

  “I do not interpret anything wrong.” I cut him short. “And because I am not going to argue with you, I think I'll go now.”

  I see my way, gnashing my jaws. However, I do not feel quite so mad at him. Rather mad at myself, because although it's not a practical thing, but on the contrary, useless, I realize that I would have wanted to see how I look in a princess dress. I hear behind me Dane's voice that speaks to Sky.

  “Who's the fool now?”

  I don’t look back. I keep going. If there's anything I've learned in all these years is that the best thing you can do is to not cry the spilled milk. Skip everything and then move on. You might believe that I speak too much in stereotypes. And you just may be right. But believe me when I say that our lives are themselves some stereotypes.

  It started to snow again. I love it. Because when it's snowing, it's warmer than when it's sunny during the winter season. People are smiling more. That's clear. Even now they get around. It's as if they’re too preoccupied to give more attention to me.

  They flock in shops and boutiques to buy gifts, at the last minute. To make pleasure to other people besides themselves. Perhaps for real, Christmas is a magical time.

  “Hi, Mom. I’m home!”

  She does not answer me. I lean to get into our shelter made from cardboard, quite worried. She is sleeping. This just worries me more, because I have never seen her sleepi
ng in the afternoon. She seems very weak and I can tell she is so very cold. I get the feeling she might be dead. I panic at the thought. I squat beside her. I cry softly:

  “Mom?”

  I am afraid to touch her. Because I know she is cold, and I do not want to think about death. She sighs slightly. I sigh of relief. I take off my jacket and all the clothes around to cover her, including the jacket I had on me.

  “I loathe her sleeping instead handling some house jobs.”

  I do not even know if the old man is drunk or not. Because I came to understand that this way of his miserable behavior is not necessarily influenced by his drink. I say nothing to him, loathing, but just hoping that he will leave her alone.

  “She's a fucking lazy whore! A parasite that ate my life!”

  He kicks her. Mom doubles up with pain.

  A haze is clouding my eyes. Despite the cold, heat goes through me from head to toe. My ears are clogged. I began to tremble, hoping to detain my rage. But I fail.

  I sunk into him with a forearm to his neck. He opens his mouth, shocked and with his breathtaking cut. His eyes are almost removed from their orbit.

  “She is not the parasite here!” I hiss among my clenched teeth. “She's not an animal here! She's sick, do you understand? Sick! And if you ever, ever hit her again, I will kill you!”

  His face is increasingly getting purple. He has oxygen no longer enough. I think I would feel so good to see how I drain the life out of him, slowly.

  The idea scares me though. I release him. He slips and he falls down like a sack.

  I stop paying any attention to him, and I go back to my mother. I put a hand on her forehead. It's much warmer. Maybe a little too warm. But perhaps it's because of the clothes I covered her with. At least she was warm up. I stare at her. I think she’s the only person in this world that inspires me affection. Perhaps there were times when I blamed her, or when I was angry with her. However, I know she did everything she could. And perhaps it was not necessarily the best, but the how she could. But at the idea that she would be dead, I shudder with horror. My heart beats strongly, and in my throat I have a knot that I can barely swallow. And me, imagining dresses and other nonsense! Ridiculous!

  I watched over her. I do not know for how long and it does not really matter. When I saw her opening her eyes, I was so relieved that I smiled. It was dark already.

  “What's with all these on me?” she asked me.

  “It seemed like you needed some heat”.

  She stood hesitantly.

  “Mother, what is it? Are you sick? Don’t you feel fine?”

  “Nonsense.” she said, making a vague gesture with her hand.”Of course I’m just fine.”

  But her voice is very hoarse. Her paleness turned into a red lit. Her eyes shine unnaturally.

  “Are you sure?” I insist. “Because you surely don’t seem”.

  “I'm sure.” she says. Go, get out and enjoy the snow. It's Christmas Eve!”

  I clicked my lips. What to tell! Big deal!

  The snow fall intensified. It's so dark that if I did not know my path with my eyes closed, I would not see which way the river was. Snow creaks under my feet. The sneakers that I got from Kyrya are already wet and my feet are pretty cool. But I have not yet begun to starve with cold. Anyway, I need to clear my mind a little.

  I clear some snow on a stump as much as I can, then I sit down and look into the void.

  Since Sky told me about dresses and corsages, I kept thinking only about that. Eventually I am only 16 years, to 17. I was a little sarcastic, I know, but I cannot help it. Just once, to see what it's like to feel in the most beautiful dress ever! Only to satisfy my curiosity. So, if I can make a wish, perhaps that would be. To have a princess dress. But as I said, my wishes never came true. And they never will.

  Perhaps the snow creaked again. I do not know. But when Dane came literally out of nowhere, I was convinced that I didn’t hear any footsteps in the snow. Or maybe I was too absorbed with my thoughts to hear him. So it's no surprise that I flinched when I heard him talking.

  “I am still surprised how you can stand the cold, moisture and frost.” he says.

  “You said something like that once.” I smile.

  “That doesn't mean I'm less surprised.”

  He has his particular voice that calms down involuntarily.

  “You know that it's past midnight?”

  His question has nothing to do with the discussion. But as a matter of fact, this is pretty much the way all our discussions are. With questions with no link between them. So all I can do is shrug with a total indifference.

  “So?”

  It follows a moment of silence.

  “Why aren’t you at the Ball with the others?”

  Again, an unrelated question. But this time I was the one who asked it. But he did not respond. Instead, he asks me something else.

  “You know it's Christmas?”

  I answer as the first time. I only shrug and say:

  “So?”

  He approached me. Like every time he does this thing, I strained, being about to move to a retreat.

  “Don’t do that.” he says.

  Somehow, his tone sounds like annoyance, somehow frustration.

  “Do what?”

  “You think I do not see how you retire whenever I take a step towards you?”

  The discussion becomes too personal and I start to dislike it.

  “Oh, that.” I say carelessly. “I think it's an instinctive reaction. Not necessarily when it comes about you. I think I do that with everyone.”

  He is silent for a moment, and then he continues.

  “That's true.”

  And then silence again. But he takes another step towards me. The movement was very smooth, like he floated.

  “You know you're weird, right?”

  Dane slightly frowned. I can see suspicion in his eyes.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Hey, come on! Your movements are too lined, and sometimes you're so still, that you look like a statue. As if you haven’t anything human. “

  My words are followed by a tense silence from him. His question is just as tense.

  “You think so? I had nothing human in me?”

  He sounds wounded. Therefore, I rush to disagree.

  “Gosh, no! You misinterpreted what I said! Forget about it! But if it does you any good, let me tell you that at least from my point of view, you are perhaps the most human I’ve ever known. And your brother as well. And I am convinced that your whole family is the same.”

  “I think it's the most beautiful thing you've said since we met!”

  He seems pleased about my words. But, how Dane is now very near me, I see myself forced to stand. I breathe in my hands. I wag one foot to another to take the chill off me a little. Neither of his side, I feel any heat emanation. Perhaps he is as frozen as I do, although it does not appear so. He speaks again, with that tone from the start, soothing.

  “You know I said it's Christmas?”

  I breathe once more in my hands, before answering.

  “Yes, so?”

  “You have no wish for this Christmas?”

  I laugh at the absurdity of the idea.

  “I'm not the type who makes wishes.”

  “Okay, but if, for example, someone wanted to give you a gift, you get to receive it.... in the Christmas spirit?”

  Then again, I laugh.

  “Can you be you serious?”

  “I assure you I am very serious.”

  “If you say so...”

  But he insists.

  “Tell me, would you receive it?

  “I do not know. As I have not received any gift, ever, I don't know how it is and if I should get it or not. But, for all this talk about is hypothetical, because it snows so pretty, because ultimately, it's Christmas, and most of all, I repeat, because we talk about assumptions, I suspect that yes, I think I would receive it.”

  “So, let's say, t
hat if I would have got you a Christmas gift, would you receive it?”

  Dane is too serious, and I realize that he never spoke hypothetically. He does what he does and he puts me in embarrassing situations.

  “I do not know.” I say a little harsh. “But I hope you did not do such a thing.”

  He sounds mad again.

  “You don't know what you're talking about!” he says. “It is obvious that you have never cared for anyone and that you never wish to offer something. Because if you did, you understand that, by receiving a gift from someone, you're causing a great pleasure, in the first instance, to the giver himself.”

  “I don’t have to hear all these! How do you know that I didn't want to give?” I start criticizing at him. “Just because I couldn't do all this, it does not mean that I don't know how it feels the need of giving!”

  “Then, if you do know what I mean, why don’t you accept?”

  “Okay, fine!” I shot at him.” I will, are you satisfied?”

  He loosens his features into a smile and I can see his dimples again. He takes out from his long garment a large box. I stare.

  Because I was expecting a small thing, not a big box. He gives it to me with satisfaction. Unwillingly, I put my hands behind my back.

  “What... What is this?” I ask.

  Still smiling, he responds.

  “Open it and look for yourself.”

  I look at him. There were yellow sparkles of joy in his eyes. A rather awkward moment passes before I find my courage to take the box. I lift the lid and I take my hand to my mouth, as in shock.

  The most beautiful dress I've ever seen it, or I've ever imagined, glitters under my eyes. I'm thinking that maybe I’m dreaming. With an almost unnatural respect, I pet the gossamer material with a finger. I jump when Dane leans and pulls out that wonder of its abode.

  I'm sure my pupils dilate when they see it in all its glory. The bodice is made only of shiny silver stones. They all are like small mirrors and they shine to every move. Immediately beneath it, yards of fabric turn blue ink velvet. No sleeves, no straps.“It’s... It's beautiful…” I manage to babble.

  “Then... Will you accept it?" he asks me again.