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Kings And Bishops (The List)

Kings and Bishops (The List): Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE.

“I don’t like it here.”, the little boy complained. “This house is old and smells weird. Can’t we go back, mommy, please? I don’t want to live here…”

The boy was only five years old, with short, light brown hair. He was thin, even skinny, and the clothes he was wearing were too big for him. He looked up at his mother, his eyes open wide in a pleading look.

…Oh, and I think it’s time for me to say that this little boy was me.

“We already talked about this, son.”, my father’s rough voice sounded from behind us, as he entered the room, carrying two big suitcases, one in each hand. “This is our home now.”

“But…” I sighed and gave up. I knew that arguing was pointless and would only get me a slap in the face in the end, so I murmured: “…Okay, daddy.”

“I’m sure you’re going to love the neighborhood.”, Mrs. Bostwick smiled, but her smile was unsure, as if she didn’t really believe her own words, herself. Why do adults always think that kids don’t notice such things? We do, and my mother’s tone alarmed me. I already knew what she was going to say before she actually did: “You might find a lot of new friends here.”

I had been listening to this the last couple of weeks, while we were arranging our departure. We didn’t move far – we just changed the quarter. Back then I didn’t really know or care why. Now I think it must’ve been because my parents couldn’t afford paying for the big apartment downtown, where we used to live.

I stood there for awhile, in the middle of the living room, looking around and observing the poor furniture, wondering if I was ever going to get used to it. The room was small, there was a table with five chairs around it, a cupboard, an old sofa, and that was pretty much it. The sixth chair was set at the door, to keep it open. There was no carpet. There were no paintings on the wall. It looked empty and inhospitable.

I sat on the edge of the sofa and watched my parents carry the rest of our baggage inside. I was so tiny that my feet were barely touching the floor, which was good, because I was afraid there might be cockroaches and rats under the couch, and that they might crawl on my shoe if I step down, or something. Just silly, childish fears. I wasn’t the bravest kid around, just like I wasn’t the strongest.

“Can I get a cat now, when we live here?”, I asked quietly after a few minutes. “I mean, we live in a house, there’s enough room for a pet…”

My mom opened her mouth to say something, but Mr. Bostwick interrupted her harshly:

“Of course not, Kellin. You know how dangerous keeping an animal in the house is.”

I didn’t understand how a little kitty could be dangerous, but I just nodded. I had learned not to argue with my father. He had slapped me only a few times, but the memories remained sealed in my mind and they scared me enough to remind me not to try to object again. I could sense my mother didn’t like how daddy treated us sometimes, and they often had fights about that, and about… other things.

“Or maybe your dad just doesn’t want to clean after your pets.”, mom tried to joke.

The look my father gave her let me know that he wasn’t in the mood for this conversation at all.

“Mary, don’t you realize you’re making me sound lazy in front of my son?” His eyebrows knitted above his eyes warningly.

“Jesus Christ, I was just trying to brighten the mood.”, she rolled eyes. “And he is our son. Our son, not only yours.”

I lifted my feet up on the couch, as far from my parents as possible, as I sensed the upcoming argument.

“…I know that, what do you think I am, stupid?”, Mr. Bostwick spat out.

“I’m just saying that you must stop neglecting me when it comes to parenting. Why do you always have to make all the decisions in this family? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re the only one, who tells Kellin what he’s allowed and not allowed to do. But when I let him do something you disapprove of, you accuse me in being a careless mother.”

“Because that’s exactly what you are!”, my father raised his voice.

“Well, I don’t think you have the right to judge me, considering that you are the one, who comes home drunk at night and starts breaking things!”, she yelled back.

My fragile body slightly shuddered at the sound of my father’s fist meeting the table. I hated it when they fought, I hated all the screaming, and yelling, and tears, and hits, and then more tears… I hated it with all my heart, I just wanted it to end, but I knew it never would. I had grown up with this. Nothing would ever change.

Trying to remain unnoticed and ignore the loud voices behind me, I sneaked out of the living room, and found myself in a small, dark corridor. There, in contrast with the room I had been in until this moment, was one big painting hung on the wall. It was done in oils on canvas and it represented a deep blue sea during thunderstorm, and a steep black mountain coming straight up from the water. There was a purple snake-like sea monster swimming towards the mountain, and in the dusk of the corridor, its sharp, yellow eyes seemed to watch me accusingly.

I stared at it for a few moments, in fear and at the same time some strange fascination, so frightened that I was unable to move, as if I was hypnotized. How didn’t I notice this painting on our way inside? Accompanied by the loud noises, coming from somewhere behind me, it looked even creepier. Years later, when I was older, it still scared the shit outta me.

“…DON’T YOU DARE TALKING TO ME LIKE THIS, YOU HEAR ME? DON’T, OR, I SWEAR, I’LL FUCKING-”, my dad’s voice brought me back to reality.

At the moment I wasn’t sure what I was scared of more – the creepy painting or my father’s threats. What I knew for sure was that I wanted to get out of there, to go someplace quiet and safe… I looked around, my eyes searching for an escape, and I finally found it – wooden staircase was leading up to the second floor. Without thinking twice, I turned my back on the canvas on the wall and rushed up, my feet making soft, muted thuds as I ran upstairs.

I found myself in another corridor, but this one was cleaner and there were some windows. I still couldn’t call it cozy, but it was better than the somber atmosphere downstairs. I peeked out of a window, standing on my toes, and saw our new backyard. The plants were wildly growing all over it, making the garden resemble a real forest, but I knew that mom could do miracles with it once she finds the time. My breath made a small dimmed spot on the glass and I used it to draw a smiley face with my finger, something that every normal kid would do; then I walked away, towards the nearest door. In a mood for exploring the mysteries of my new home, I had almost forgotten about the fight between my parents.

The first two rooms I ‘discovered’ were nothing special – a bedroom and a small bathroom. Behind the third door, though, I found something intriguing – another wooden staircase, and the interesting about it was that from the outside I hadn’t noticed that there is a third floor. With my head full of magical wardrobes, leading to magical worlds, dragons, princesses and lost treasures, I cautiously started going up, all the dust, covering the stairs, was making my footsteps almost inaudible and letting me hear every little sound. The scratching inside the walls (probably mice, but back then it sounded to me more like trapped demons, desperately trying to scratch their way out), the soft sighs of the wind (which seemed to be the snoring of a huge sleeping giant)… Yeah, I was a kid with great imagination, and I was yet to find out that this is a horrible quality for someone with an abusive father and a neglectful mother.

I finally reached another door and I stopped in front of it, unsure if I should come in or go back down. Come on, Kellin, I told myself. The brave knights aren’t afraid of some stupid doors. If I wanted to get to the magical kingdom I had to open it.

After another moment of hesitation, I finally put my hand on the doorknob. It was cold and dusty and it filled me with doubt, but once I had started it, there was no going back. I had to finish this.

My heart was beating wildly in my chest as I pushed the door, revealing… another room. Oh. The disappointment was even worse than if I had found evil ghosts and witches. Because evil ghosts are at least exciting.

Still, the place was pretty cool. A few huge windows were throwing light across the wide attic. It was absolutely empty, except a big wardrobe in the far end of the room and an old wooden bed without a mattress. Even though obviously no one had cleaned up for months, I liked it here, it had some weird kind of charm.

I came closer to the window to see that when I looked out of it I could basically see the whole street. I could spy on our neighbors while they were coming home from work, walking their dogs or doing the garden. It could be fun.

This moment I decided. Yup, that was going to be my room, I was going to buy binoculars and become a professional spy, and I was going to have a gun, and special glasses that see in the dark, and I was going to fight ninjas, and terrorists, and pirates, and, and other things. Oh yes, the fun I was going to have here! Excited for a moment, I grinned widely, the memories of the bad things in my life quickly fading in the childish desire for adventures and my hopes for an interesting, brighter future.

Things are going to be alright, I told myself, smiling. Everything was going to be great…

* * *

Exactly eleven years later I still hadn’t become a spy, and things just seemed to had gotten worse. Much worse.

I curled up in the corner, burying my face in my hands and trying not to cry, as someone was angrily pounding at the door.

“KELLIN!”, my father’s voice roared from outside. “KELLIN, OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR!”

I just weakly shook head, hoping I could sink into the wall I was leaning my back against, and disappear.

“KELLIN! I SWEAR, ONCE I GET IN, I’M GOING TO TAKE YOUR SKIN OFF FROM BEATING!”

I let out a quiet whimper. I knew he would do it, oh yes, he would hit me, he would hit me until my skin starts to bleed and I almost lose consciousness from the pain. He’d hit, and bruise, and hurt, not caring about the consequences, not caring about my feelings, not caring about anything.

I never got the chance to fight with ninjas and pirates, but for years and years I had been fighting with one thing – my own demons. The monster from the painting. My father.

My fears.

“COME ON, YOU SON OF A BITCH, WHO DARES TO CALL HIMSELF MY SON, OPEN THE DOOR NOW!”

Why did he do that? Why did he get so pissed off for the smallest reason? Why would he always take it all out at me? I closed my eyes, praying that he’d leave soon.

Please… Please, leave me alone…

This time he was so furious because I refused to go and buy him alcohol. I was sixteen, old enough to try to stand against his horrible habits, or at least I thought so. I was sick of being treated as some kind of a servant, as a housemaid, whose job was only to cook dinner, buy beer and clean after him, but there was something else too. I was worried about him. I knew the man he was when he was sober, and I preferred him this way. It would be better for both me and him. But it wasn’t that easy, you know. He was a fucking alcoholic, he was addicted and he’d become really irritated if he didn’t get his dose.

Only an hour ago I had told myself: “That’s it, that’s the end, I’m not gonna stand this anymore. Next time he asks me for alcohol I simply won’t give it to him. And if he keeps treating me this way, I’d just pack my things and leave.” And I had decided, I was so confident in myself, I actually believed I could do that. Oh, how wrong I was…

But really, could I blame myself? I was a reckless teenager, obviously with more guts than brain. It seemed easy – I’d simply take everything I have and move to my friend Justin’s house for awhile. A few days later my dad would feel guilty and he’d ask me to come back home, and promise me he would quit drinking, and everything could be fine… If he didn’t come looking for me, it would be fine too, I’d just keep living at Justin’s until I find a decent apartment. Everything seemed so perfectly planned, but I hadn’t considered one little detail…

…He’d never let me go.

But that was an hour ago. Now all my courage seemed to have vanished, leaving a scared, depressed little boy, crying in the corner and hoping that in some magical way he could get out of this situation without getting hurt. I knew that’s impossible, though.

“LET ME IN, YOU LITTLE BITCH!”

A tear slipped down my face. What hurt more than his punches were his words. He’d eventually start calling me names, saying I’m useless and pathetic, saying that he’s ashamed of being my father. And what was worse was that sometimes I actually believed him…

I started wondering if the door was solid enough to keep my raging parent outside. It was old, after all, from long before we moved in, maybe the wood had rotted because of the humidity and bullshit like that. What if he managed to force it open?

Suddenly the pounding stopped. My eyes flickered open, widening in confusion.

“Kellin.”, now his voice sounded calmer, but still slightly shaking. “Darling, if you go out and get me what I asked you to, I’ll let you go to the cinema with that bunch of friends of yours, even though I really disapprove of watching horror movies, as you already know.”

I looked up, wiping my tears away, hesitating.

“…Bullshit, you’re never gonna do that.”, I spoke up, my voice raspy from all this crying. “You’re lying, only to make me buy you alcohol.” Then I murmured to myself, quietly so he wouldn’t hear me: “You always do that, you fucking drunk.”

The sudden silence outside let me know that I wasn’t careful enough and he had heard me, after all.

“Kellin, honey…”, he started again after a long minute, full of tension. His voice was so sweet that I could almost taste it in my mouth. “Kellin, honey, would you please repeat what you last said, YOU PATHETIC LITTLE CUNT?”

The sudden change in his tone and the loud thud at the door made me jump and let out a soft sob. It wasn’t over yet. I mentally cursed at my stupidity. Maybe if I remained quiet he would disappear, but no, I felt obligated to sharply answer him like the stupid bastard I was. I leaned my head back at the wall, desperately trying to calm down. I couldn’t.

I closed my eyes again, wishing everything could go away, just go away, wishing all this pain could leave me empty. It would be so much easier this way. I thought of my friends. All they had to worry about was dumb stuff like if they were going to get a good mark at biology, or if the girl they currently like likes them back. They didn’t have abusive fathers to be afraid of. They didn’t have countless bruises covering their arms, and they didn’t have to constantly try to hide them.

They didn’t have to worry that their parents might beat them up if they asked them to go to the cinema. It was just how normal families worked. Everyone lived in peace, and even if they had problems, they were the usual ones that every family had to deal with sooner or later.

The noises outside continued for a few minutes, then stopped once more. For awhile it felt like the air was electrified, the silence was buzzing in my ears, making me attentively look for a sign that my father might have given up. And here, a minute later I heard his heavy footsteps go back to the first floor, the wooden stairs creaking under his feet.

I stayed there for about ten or fifteen minutes more for a few reasons. I was too cautious, I wanted to be absolutely sure he was gone before I unlock the door. After all, this could be some kind of a trap, couldn’t it? Maybe he just pretended to go downstairs, but he was actually still waiting for me patiently outside, like a monster stalking its prey…

The other, more important reason was that I still couldn’t completely calm down and stop sobbing. This was stupid, I was crying like a baby. My dad threatened me? Not such a big deal, he did it all the time, it wasn’t like he physically harmed me. But then why were tears still running down my cheeks? I sighed, wiping them away once more, then got up, my body still shaking from the stress. I walked to the bed, pulled the big suitcase from under it and opened it.

I kept the case there full of everything I would need if I have to urgently run away. Water, clean clothes, medication in case I get sick on my way to wherever I’d be going, some books, money, spare shoes and even a knife. Now, intended to finally get out of here, I added some extra money, an umbrella, a few hats and my phone, then closed it with a thud, grabbed it and headed to the door. It was surprisingly heavy, so when I was halfway there, I found myself dragging it behind me.

I cautiously opened the door, just a little so I could peek out. No angry fathers waiting for me outside. The coast was clear. Still trying to remain really, really quiet, I sneaked out and started soundlessly going downstairs, keeping the suitcase from hitting the ground, which wasn’t easy. Finally I found myself in the corridor on the first floor. Almost there…

For a second I stopped and hesitated. Wouldn’t it be better if I leave a note? That I’m leaving and not coming back, shit like that? Would my dad even care to read it? No, he probably wouldn’t, therefore leaving a note was pointless. I threw one last glance at the painting of the sea monster that was still there, on the wall. Yeah, I’d be happy to finally leave this place. I was sick of it, so sick of it…

I was just putting my hand on the doorknob, when suddenly someone grabbed me by the hair and pulled me back, causing me to drop my suitcase and moan from pain. Rough hands lifted me a few inches from the ground and a deep, smelling of alcohol voice murmured in my ear:

“Where are you going, son?”

“Let me go!”, I mumbled and tried to struggle.

“Where? You’re home, there’s nowhere else you could possibly go, right?”

“Let…”, I repeated, trying to hit him in the stomach and break free. “…me go!”

“You were running away, weren’t you, you little bastard…”

His grip around me tightened and I felt his strong hands bruising my arms, where he was holding me. I cried out softly, but still not giving up. I twisted my head to the side and managed to bite his wrist. My father gasped in pain and surprise, and for a moment he let me go, a moment long enough for me to run for the door again, forgetting about the suitcase, just wanting to leave.

Oh, no. Oh, no, I thought, if he catches me again, he’s going to kill me. He’s just going to kill me. Tears started rolling down my cheeks once more as I reached for the door, so close, so close…

A hand grabbed me by the ankle and threw me on the ground. I let out a quiet “Uh!” as my head hit the floor and a sharp pain in my right arm let me know that I must have scratched my elbow on a nail or something. Nasty.

“You’re running from your own father? Really? Well aren’t you ashamed of yourself, Kellin? Isn’t family important to you at all? You skinny sorry bitch…”

“Stop calling me that…”, I whispered, almost inaudible, lightly flinching as I waited for the kick. I knew he was going to kick me. I just knew.

And he did. I gasped, unable to breathe for a moment, my dinner fighting to get out of my now hurt stomach. When I finally managed to take a slow, shaky breath, my salty tears entered my mouth and nose, almost suffocating me.

“Please, dad, don’t…”, I closed my eyes, knowing that begging him was useless.

Another kick, this time in my ribs. And then another one, and another one… I couldn’t even cry anymore. I just lied there, waiting for it to end…

When he was done, I was unable to sit up. Every inch of my body hurt, except my face. For some reason he always kept my face untouched, maybe because he wanted to keep the beating a secret, and he knew I would never tell. For a minute he stayed silent, just staring down at me, all I could hear was his heavy breathing and my own heartbeats. Finally, he spoke up:

“Sometimes I feel ashamed to have a son like you.”, his cold voice sent chills down my spine. Did he really mean it? What had I done, after all? Did I deserve this…? He continued: “Now go to your room. You’re grounded for two weeks and I’m confiscating the suitcase. You can have its content back tomorrow, though.”

I managed to somehow weakly nod.

“Come on now.”, his tone softened a bit. “Get out of my sight. Take care of the bruises or whatever.”

Then he turned and left, disappearing in the dark living room. I lied on the floor for a few more minutes, listening to the TV he had just turned on, and after awhile I decided it was time to try to get to my room. After all, I didn’t want him to get angry at me again… I crawled to the stairs and got up, leaning against the railing.

And the monster from the painting was still watching me mockingly…

* * *

Three years later I was packing my things once more. This time I was leaving for real, forever, and I would never go back here again.

Nineteen years old, a bit taller, with longer hair dyed in black, I was saying my last goodbye to the attic, the place, which had been my hideout, my escape from reality, my shelter, my only retreat for the last couple of years.

I carefully put the last of my belongings in my suitcase, the same one I had taken with me when I last tried to run away from home. Now, though, when I was older, I could easily carry it around. Perhaps because now I was stronger. Or maybe because now I just needed to take less things.

I sat on my bed for a moment, in thought. I didn’t know what I would do from now on, I had no idea what I wanted to do for a living, or where I wanted to live. I was just glad I was finally leaving this house and this miserable life of mine.

I spent maybe ten minutes like this, then I took my suitcase and turned my back on the room, trying not to look back. Still staring straight ahead like this, I walked out of the house, out of the yard, and to my father’s car. Yes, I was taking it too. I never asked him for a permission, I just decided that if he doesn’t use it anywhere, considering that most of the time he was too drunk to drive at all, it would be fair if I had it. He would be pissed when he finds out I took it, but that didn’t matter, I wouldn’t be here when he does, and he wouldn’t be able to do me any harm. I wasn’t taking any of his shit anymore. I was old enough to take my own responsibilities and live my own life.

Certain that I would never see this home again, I drove off.


* * *

…I was wrong, though. Here I was, eight years later, back in the attic, staring out of the window. Back at the house that never managed to become my home.

When I first moved in here the neighborhood was great, there were other families and kids. Later, though, they slowly started leaving and now almost the whole street was abandoned. My eyes moved from the dusk nightfall sky to the nearby houses, looking for any signs of life. A small grey cat calmly crossed the road, but that was all.

Our yard had gone through a real metamorphosis through the years. It looked like a fucking jungle when we bought it, later, when my mom took care of it, it was just a normal garden, and now it was a true desert. The plants had died since I left. My father wouldn’t water them, so only the stubborn bushes that surrounded the fence had survived.

I heard quiet approaching footsteps and someone stood behind me.

“Are you ready?”, Vic asked softly and took me by the arm, to get my attention. His touch was gentle and caring, and by his tone I could tell he was slightly worried about me. I think we both feared how my visit here would affect me, but all it had brought me for now was relief.

“Just give me one more minute, okay?”, I said and raised eyebrows, surprised by how upset my own voice sounded.

“As you wish, Kell. I’ll be waiting downstairs.”, he smiled a little, his hand slipped down to mine and squeezed it gently before he walked away.

Once I was alone again, I ran my fingertips across the glass, thinking of how I used to draw smiling faces on it when I was little. Then I suddenly remembered something, walked to the bed and moved it aside. It was heavy – after all it was wooden and it wasn’t meant to be moved a lot. When I finally managed to push it away, I revealed a small door in the wall. It was there I used it to hide things from my father. Now I tried to open it, but from all the heat and humidity and dust it had stuck, so doing this turned out to be even harder than moving the bed. Finally it swung open, letting out a small cloud of dust and cobwebs, even though I didn’t see spiders anywhere. I carefully peeked in, wondering if what I had put inside was still there. Yup, there it was – lying in the far end of the small cupboard, there was a black notebook. My old journal was probably the only thing I didn’t want to burn in the fire, so I cautiously took it and put it in my bag. Then, after looking around for one last time, I followed Vic downstairs.

I found him in the living room, looking at the books my parents had arranged on the shelves. When I came in he looked up and smiled.

“Ready now?”

“Yeah.”, I nodded. “Do you have the gasoline?”

Victor patted the big can he had put on the table. “Yup, here it is.”, he hesitated. “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

I nodded decisively.

“Of course I am. I gotta finish this. Come on.” I took the can from him and headed to the corridor. It was as dark and creepy as I remembered it and the painting was still there, the one that used to scare me so much.

I took it off the wall, set it on the wooden staircase and made sure I poured enough gasoline on it. Then I spilled some around too. I probably didn’t need to do it, almost the whole house was made of wood, it would burn easily. That was what worried me, though. If I wasn’t careful, I knew we might remain trapped into the fire. That’s why I wanted to do the firing myself, without any help from Vic. I didn’t want him to get hurt. We had already discussed it and it took a lot of convincing and aruging until I made him promise he’d stay out of the way.

“Vic.”, I spoke up once I was ready. “The door.”

“Yessir.”, he nodded, walked to it and opened it.

I waited for a moment, untill he gets out, then I pulled a box of matches out of my pocket and scratched one. For one long second it painted the walls in soft orange nuance, the warm light filling the otherwise always dark corridor. Then I threw it at the painting.

It’s hard to describe what I saw next, and it was most certainly all in my imagination, but the moment the canvas caught fire, I could’ve sworn that the sea monster made a hissing sound, something between a scream and a roar and then it burst into flames. I stayed there, staring at it with my eyes open wide, absolutely convinced that for a second I saw a figure standing in front of me, the blazes crawling on him, dancing with him… My father… I couldn’t move or make a sound, as everything around me was slowly turning red, and hot, and burning

I don’t know for how long I stayed there, but suddenly I felt someone’s hands grab me and start dragging me out through the flames. Slowly the sounds and colors started returing to my world and I realized I was lying on the ground outside with Vic looking down at me accusingly.

“…What the hell did you think you were doing?! You could’ve died in there!”

I opened my mouth to say something, but I just coughed.

“Jesus fuck, Kellin, you scared the crap out of me!”, he shook his head and knelt down next to me. “…You okay?”

After I checked if all my body parts are still at their places and functioning, I nodded.

“Yeah.”, I said, my voice raspy from the smoke I had inhaled. “I’m fine, I… How long did I stay in there?”

“Only a few minutes, but you scared me, I thought something went really wrong.”, he sighed and shook his head, then suddenly took me in his arms. “You stupid bastard, what were you doing? Why didn’t you go out?”

“I’m sorry…”, I said quietly as I hugged him back.

His grip tightened around me. “Don’t be, it’s okay now…”, he shook head and then he added something I couldn’t quite hear, but it sounded like… ”Damn, I love you…”

…He didn’t say that, did he? Did he, really? Oh God, oh God, if he did… Well, I can’t say I didn’t see it coming, but it would definitely make things more confusing…

I pulled back a bit to look at him.

“What? What did you say?”

“I said I was worried about you. What, do you have soot in your ears?”, he knitted eyebrows and frowned, but then he grinned, showing he wasn’t really serious about being angry at me.

Oh. Oh, okay. So he didn’t really say it.

Good. I mean, I didn’t want him to have said it anyway, right? I didn’t want to make things more complicated than they already were. Yeah.

Then why was I feeling slightly disappointed?

“Let’s go now.”, Vic looked up at the now burning house. “Somewhere far enough from the fire. We’ll watch from a distance, and then you’ll explain what was that about.”

“What was what about?”, I asked innocently.

“You know what. Again, you could’ve died in there… And don’t give me the ’it’s not a big deal’ look, Kellin.”

Before I could reply, he took me by the elbow and helped me stand up, ignoring my complaints that I’m not hurt and I can walk by myself. Once on the other side of the street, we sat on the wooden fence and looked at what used to be my home, as the flames were slowly overtaking the roof. We didn’t talk. We didn’t have to. We just watched. My thoughts drifted back to my childhood, reliving all these unhappy memories over and over again, until the image of the fire blurred in front of me…

“What are you thinking about?”, Vic’s voice startled me and got me out of this strange condition of dreaming with my eyes open.

I didn’t answer, because I knew he already suspected what I would say. He nodded, confirming that.

“Right… Well… It’s over now…”, he sighed. It wasn’t easy for him to have these half-silent one way conversations, almost monologues, with me. He perfectly knew that I hated discussing my past and I wouldn’t talk about it much. Anyway, I appreciated the fact that he always tried to comfort me, even though I barely showed it.

Vic coughed, which automatically meant he was going to change the subject.

“So…”, he turned his head to look at me. “Now, when you’re done with The List, what are you gonna do? You have a little more than two weeks left to live…”, I felt him slightly shudder next to me at the thought. “…so how are you gonna spend them?”

“Hmm, let me see…”, I pretended to be thinking, then held out a finger. “First, I’m gonna spend the rest of my money on cool things I don’t even need, because yeah, that’s what badass bastards like me do. Second,” another finger joined the first one. “I’m gonna take a vacation. You know, someplace sunny, near the sea, like… lemme think… How about Florida?”

“Florida sounds good.”, Victor shrugged.

“Alright, let it be Florida, then.”, I agreed. “And third, but not less important…” I leaned a bit closer to him. “I’m gonna spend time with my wonderful boyfriend.”

“With your wonderful boyfriend, hm?”, he raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Interesting, who might that be?”

“Well, I don’t know, you tell me… He’s smart, handsome, talented, funny, but really sneaky, could be a great actor if he tried, but instead he became a criminal. Do you happen to know such person?”

“Not sure… I don’t think I’ve met him, but I’m sure we’d get along well.”, Vic poked me, giggling a bit.

“You surely would.”, I smiled, too.

His wide grin, just like the smiling faces drawn on a dimmed window, easily made me forget the demons of my past. This time, though, I doubted I’d go back to thinking of them anytime soon. They were all dead now. They were unreal. And this, this here, it was real, and I had to capture the moment before it’s gone.

I pulled Vic closer and kissed him, surprising both him and myself. It took him a moment to kiss me back, and another moment to wrap his arms around me, his lips slightly wetting mine, which had become dry from the smoke inside the house. His eyelashes were lightly tickling my face, but I chose to ignore that, it was kind of pleasant, in fact…

Suddenly a small explosion made my eyes flicker open. I broke the kiss, startled, and turned to see the windows on the second floor shattering into pieces, crimson flames with blue edges reaching out of the now empty window-frames, like the hands of desperate people dying in the fire.

“…I think it’s time to call the firemen.”, Vic spoke up, his voice nervously shaking as he did. “I know you’d like to see the place burnt to the ground, but it would be better if we stop it on time, before other houses catch fire as well.”

“Good point, and yeah, I think that’s enough too. But first…”

I took a piece of paper out of my pocket, a piece of paper I had held in my hands so much that even by touching the edge of it I would still recognize it. The List. Using a pen, I ticked off the last name written there, then folded the sheet, crossed the street and, standing at a safe distance, I threw it in the fire. It hadn’t even touched the ground yet, when it was already burning.

That was it. The end. I had done it.

I looked back at Vic.

Now I’m ready.”, I smiled and walked to him. “Let’s go now.”

He smiled back and took my hand, getting off of the fence, and we both started walking away towards our car (yeah, our car; we figured that motorbikes aren’t quite comfortable for long trips).

I was done with all this work. Now… Time to have fun.

END OF CHAPTER 21.

Notes

So obviously this is coming to an end. There are three more chapters left, if we count the epilogue.

Here you get to see some more of Kellin's childhood D: I'm sorry if the italics confuse you, I use them to indicate the past moments.

Also, this awkward moment when Vic makes a confession, but he's too shy to admit he did. X3

The next chapter's gonna be intense and it's going to get you unprepared. I suppose you could say it will scare you, but not in the "boooo, zombies" way, more like in the "OMG WHAT IS HE DOING" or "OMG OMG DON'T DIE" way. XD

So yeah. Just thought I'd warn you.

Comments and subscriptions are much appreciated! :3

Comments

OMG I know it was written a long time ago, but this is the best fanfic i've ever read<3

elena580 elena580
10/8/14
Hey I've read this whole story twice, and have you ever heard of a book website called Quotev? Well I have an acount and a story called 'Queen For A Day' Maybe you can help c:
hihihiiii hihihiiii
12/2/13
oh my god i just read the end of this again and i'm all choked up

ATTENTION WORLD THIS IS THE BEST KELLIC OF ALL TIMES

I still have yet to get over this, even though there's a sequel.

send help
clairephernelia clairephernelia
10/6/13
@fuentits

Thank you, thank you, I'm really glad you liked it so much!

There is a sequel, by the way :3
KingForADay KingForADay
8/2/13
Okay, finished. And it only took like two and a half days, wow.

Seriously, I smiled so wide as soon as I read 'Somewhere in Mexico, Harry was trying to cook breakfast. And failing.' I was like YES omfg so badass!

Seriously...so perfect **round of applause**
fuentits fuentits
8/2/13