ã€ŠIn The Light Of Fireã€‹


 Act 1: Hidden from Shadows Scene 1: Gnawng Sensation

    April 16

    Thursday 215a.v

    She was slowly making her way down Orchard Lane in Fairgarden, Minnesota, New-America, the midday sun blazing down on her tiny body in the chilly spring day, but she kept moving, her tiny hands clutched at the straps of her school-bag.

    Subtly, she flinched with each slow step she took, eyebrow twitching in carefully concealed pain and a frown etched on the face that was half-covered by a curtain of messy golden brown bangs.

    Fabricated birds sang above her head, thrilling their shrill off-tune melodies that almost tore at the insides of her ears, irritating her to no end.

    Seriously, if people would go to such lengths as to recreate extinct species in laboratories, why couldn¡¯t they make sure that they actually sounded right before releasing them? And if that was indeed impossible to accomplish, at least don¡¯t release them whilst they still sound like (excuse to use an old expression) nails on a chalkboard, allowing them to torture the every-human with their ghastly tunes.

    Finally, she reached Nr. 6, stepping up to the front door.

    She flashed the light pink crystal lotus hanging from the zipper on her bag in front of the metal plate on the door where the handle would have been. A few seconds later, the plate ejected the handle. Cecilia waited for the handle to fall into place before she slowly reached out to grab it, allowing the metal to scan her fingerprints and waited for the edges of the handle to light up green, listened for the sound of the door unlocking before she pulled the door open.

    She threw the bag to the floor after the shut the door behind her, bending down slowly, flinching slightly along the way in order to reach the laces on her black mid-high leather ankle-boots, rising up to kick them off her feet before she shed the black trench-coat, letting the garment drop haphazardly to the floor as she stalked further into the house, heading straight towards the door at the end of the short hallway in front of her.

    She slowly pulled the bottom of her blouse up from the top of her skirt as she reached the door, stepping into the bathroom as she lifted it up even further, allowing her teeth to bite down on the fabric as she took her place in front of the mirror.

    She wasn¡¯t even shocked at what she saw.

    The side of her rib-cage was fully visible, and a large, swollen, almost black bruise now stretched out over her pale skin, pounding something fierce and looking quite horrible, but Cecilia could say with utmost seriousness, that that was not the worst her body had been covered in.

    She was proud to say that she only slightly flinched as she reached out to open the mirror-cabinet, pulling out the large jar of bruising-gel and twisting off the cap with a practiced flick of the wrist that sent the lid almost flying off.

    The jar was almost half-empty, and it hadn¡¯t been bought that long ago.

    She hesitated before she put her fingers into the transparent, bright blue goo.

    She¡¯s never liked this particular part of her now reluctant almost routine.

    She twitched at the uncomfortable sensation of the gel reacting to the moisture and heat from her fingers, the unpleasant tingles immediately spreading out over her whole hand, making it all the more urgent in her mind to slowly press the goo coated fingers against her bruised skin.

    She¡¯s too used to doing this, she didn¡¯t even flinch at the pressure.

    Slowly, she spread the gel over the entirety of the bruise, moving her fingers with frightening ease until each spot was completely covered, moistened by the blue substance and glistening in the light of the bathroom lamp.

    As soon as she was done, she washed her hands of the remainder of the goo, letting out a relieved sigh as the tingles finally released from where they weren¡¯t needed.

    She finished her task by covering the bruised area in gauze and bio-tape, securing the treatment and making sure that the goo would not be disturbed during the 12 hours needed for the gel to work its magic.

    She released her blouse from between her teeth, and when she did, the faces of the people who gave her the bruise flashed through her head.

    She shook her head frantically, turning on the tap to splash water into her face, taking a few breaths as she brazed her weight against the sink as she almost glared at her reflection in the mirror, hating herself for being so weak.

    ¡°Get a grip, Cecilia,¡± she whispered into the silence of the bathroom.

    <hr>

    The hunger was building in her stomach and Cecilia couldn¡¯t handle it, with the kitchen so close, it was there her feet steered her as she readjusted her blouse over her torso.

    She¡¯d skipped lunch that day, not because she¡¯d wanted to but because her lunch-box had been rendered absolutely useless after it had been stolen as she¡¯d walked through the hallway that morning and been made to watch as it was chucked straight into the concrete wall, sending its contents flying everywhere.

    And so, currently, she was running on the fumes from her small breakfast.

    She walked over to the other side of the room and put her hand on the wall, pressing down a little and immediately, the wall caved in with her touch and slid aside to reveal the staircase leading down to the basement. Stepping down, Cecilia was soon walking through the large hidden room that now made up her mother''s expansive pantry.

    She slowly walked through the many over-stacked shelves, looking over tinned cans, bags of bread, jars of different types of jams, bags of flour, sugar, many other baking ingredients, dried fruits, pickled vegetables, and that was just to name a few of the things her mother had in there.

    Cecilia honestly didn¡¯t know how much stuff her mother had in there.

    Eventually, she hit what she personally considered a jackpot.

    At the end of a shelf, almost hidden from sight, was a surprisingly sizable stash of one-minute-meal packs, the foil wrappings glistening in the weak lighting of the basement. Her mother didn¡¯t like those things, didn¡¯t think they were healthy, but she bought them for the many, many days Cecilia found herself alone at home when the bakery called.

    Cecilia sorted through the multiple packs, looking at the colored labels. She might be hungry, but she¡¯s surprisingly picky about her foods, not in the sense of health, but in the sense of what she craves at different times.

    Right now, it was comfort food time.

    Finally, she found a few red and yellow packs, turning them over to read the meal description on the back for just the mean she wanted, and soon enough, she found it.

    Pack in hand, she left the pantry, pushing the tile to close the door behind her.

    She threw the pack into the rehydrator, pressing the buttons necessary before she continued walking and jumped on top of the counter, her hand reaching out to the fruit-basket next to her, fingering a cluster of grapes.

    She hates sitting around and doing nothing as it is then that the memories resurface.

    She could usually handle twice as much treatment from her classmates, it was just that that particular day had been a particularly bad one.

    She¡¯d woken up that morning with the most annoying gnawing sensation at the back of her neck, she¡¯d tried to ignore the sensation for the entirety of the day, but it had messed up her mood more than her classmates had been doing.

    Being shoved into a concrete bench had just been the final drop in her goblet of endurance.

    The sound of the rehydrator dinging snapped her out of her thought process.

    Her head snapped towards the appliance, jumping off of the counter.

    She shouldn¡¯t have done that. She should have known that jumping like that was not a good idea, and she immediately regretted the action the second she landed.

    As her feet touched the ground, her head was thrown into a frantic spin, sending her balance out of whack, her knees buckling under her, causing her to immediately fall face-first in the direction of the stove.

    Not wanting to face-plant with hard metal, Cecilia¡¯s arms shot out to slam her hands down on top of the stove. She managed to keep herself upright and her face away from the cold surface, silently cursing her rotten luck as she slowly forced her legs into movement, raising herself off of the tiled floor and moving her to the rehydrator.

    She pulled the plate of McDonald¡¯s out of the appliance, immediately popping a fry into her mouth, relishing in one of her few comfort foods as she pirouetted around towards the table, balancing the plate in her hand.

    She mentally patted herself on the back when she managed to make it to the table with both herself and the plate in one piece, not even one single fry had dropped, and it satisfied her more than it would have satisfied anyone else.

    She still feels a dull ache in her side as she sits down at the table, but thankfully, it¡¯s nowhere near as bad as it had been before, the gel works wonders, otherwise, she wouldn¡¯t be using it.

    She dipped another deliciously salted fry into ketchup and nibbled on it, almost moaning at the taste that filled her mouth.

    The treat was not something her mother would approve of her eating, despite being the one owning a bakery filled with fattening fructose products that Cecilia had grown quite tired of eating after all these years.

    Her legs crossed under the table as she thought about how her mother would react to her skipping out on half the school day.

    Again.

    She was never the most understanding of women.

    <hr>

    She was turning sixteen that year.

    And for whatever reason, for the past few days, she¡¯s felt as though her relatively normal life up to this point was terribly wrong. Something was going to happen, and soon. It was the gnawing at the back of her neck, telling her that something wasn¡¯t right. She couldn¡¯t tell what exactly, she never did when the sensation resurfaced, but she¡¯d learned to pay attention to those feelings.

    The last time she had that sensation she has shoved down a staircase and woke up a week later in the hospital.

    Hopefully, this time it didn¡¯t get that far, and that comes quickly.

    She wasn¡¯t sure how much longer she¡¯d be able to handle that feeling.

    With a sigh, she turned her light brown eyes back towards the canvas stationed in front of her, resting on top of her knees, resuming the movement of her slender arm guiding the tiny limb that was her right hand holding the brush.

    She had different sized and colored flecks of paint splattered all over the white short jeans overalls she always wore when painting, the orange T-shirt under it was left unharmed. Her messy, shoulder-length golden brown hair had been tied up into an equally messy bun at the back of her head, she was worried she might have to cut off the elastic is she was ever going to get her hair down again.

    Painting was one of the only things she could do right. One of the only things that managed to give her some kind of peace.

    The thing that had caused her to pause in the first place, had been the sudden sound of a bird singing over her head.

    Sure, she¡¯d heard several birds over the course of the day, but this one was different.

    Being in the 23<sup>rd</sup> century, real birds that hadn¡¯t been born and grown in special animal restoration laboratories were a rare thing to find. The creatures developed in labs never quite sounded right, but those born in nature always did, even when the parents were lab-grown. And this bird that she heard now sounded real.

    Trilling it¡¯s pure song from one of the lamp-post mounted onto the concrete fences splitting the properties of the large suburban district.

    She¡¯d watched the bird until it took off over the rooftops, taking its song with it.

    With a final smear between the darker and lighter color of green, Cecilia allowed herself to lean back and take a look at the final result of her four hours on the porch.

    This weeks painting was a forest clearing, a clearing that she¡¯d actually painted several times before in different weathers and seasons. In this painting, the tree¡¯s greenery parted ways for the piercing rays of sunlight, allowing the bright white flowers mixed in with the grass to glow as they basked in the light¡¯s warmth. She allowed her eyes to wander over the expertly placed shadowing.

    A small smile played on her lips.

    She¡¯s always been proud of her sense of shadows.

    Shadows and lighting had always been particularly easy for her, particularly live light coming from flickering flames and fires. She¡¯d gotten comments from her art teachers through the years that whenever a painting of hers included a fire, they could almost see the fire moving, feel the heat from the canvas.

    She had no idea why that clearing kept popping up, why it became a reoccurring subject in her paintings. She couldn¡¯t remember having ever gone to a scene even remotely similar to the one she¡¯s painting. She never went into her casual paintings knowing what she¡¯s going to paint, she just lets it become what she finds it becoming whilst looking at it through a blurred vision.

    The clearing had become more and more common the last couple of years.

    Suddenly, the familiar beeping sound rang through the house behind her, a sound to indicate that someone had just unlocked the front door.

    The sound made Cecilia let out a long, exhausted sigh at the conversation she knew would soon follow. She got off of her chair, settling the painting down, letting it lean against the outside of her house before she turned towards her supplies.

    A few seconds later, Jennifer Brandet stepped into the kitchen.

    The petite middle-aged woman froze when her eyes fell on Cecilia moving around on the terrace.

    The woman adjusted the position of her bag hanging over her shoulder, letting out a long sigh. She knew, and Cecilia knew, that the woman should have expected this.

    ¡°Did you skip again?¡± she asked shortly.

    Cecilia didn¡¯t answer the woman, carefully putting each utensil back into the wooden briefcase in which they had their home, listening as her mother dropped her bag on the counter, the steps steadily approaching the open terrace doors.

    She didn¡¯t need to see her mother know she was leaning against the door-frame, watching her as she wiped the paint off of her brushes.

    ¡°What happened this time?¡±

    Cecilia doesn¡¯t turn to her mother, answering more automatically than anything.

    ¡°Nothing out of the ordinary.¡±

    Cecilia inspected her paint tubes for leakage, not wanting them to color the wood inside the case, even going so far as to have them neatly wrapped in a rag, all the while feeling her mother¡¯s eyes drilling holes into her back.

    ¡°Ceci...¡±

    Cecilia¡¯s hands stopped moving at the seriousness of her mother¡¯s voice, although she still refused to turn around and actually face the woman.

    ¡°This can¡¯t continue.¡±

    Cecilia shook her head, her hands now moving to carefully wipe the paint off of her brushes, still not looking at the woman, trying to block her words from her mind, knowing perfectly well that there was nothing she could do about what the woman wanted.

    Instead, she focused on her supplies.

    ¡°We have to do something about this!¡± Jenna almost screamed.

    Every single utensil Cecilia owned has it¡¯s own assigned spot, not only in her briefcase but also in her room, and she always triple-checked that everything was in place before carefully shutting the lid.

    She didn¡¯t do that now.

    Cecilia slammed the lid on her supply case closed, snapping the locks in place before she grabbed the handle, rising up from the floor with a graceful spin, although she still kept her gaze away from her mother.

    ¡°There¡¯s nothing we can do.¡± came Cecilia¡¯s short reply, turning towards where she¡¯s set her painting to rest and picked it up, preparing to step past the woman back into the house and return to her bedroom.

    Unfortunately, her mother knew her just a bit more than she liked.

    Jennifer almost ran over to her daughter, putting her hands on her shoulders and forced her to turn towards her, although Cecilia still didn¡¯t look at her mothers face.

    ¡°Of course there is something!¡± Jennifer sounded almost desperate as she gave her daughter a shake. Cecilia got the feeling that her mother was trying to force her to look at her, and she decided that she would give the woman what she wanted.

    Sighing, she pushed her mother''s hands away from her shoulders, finally meeting her eyes.

    ¡°What?¡± she asked, almost exaggeratedly.

    Jennifer looked a little shocked at her daughter¡¯s word, the girl almost never raised her voice, she never felt the need to do that, her voice was clear enough that it carried out over a noisy room at just a natural level.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    ¡°Tell the teachers?¡± Cecilia felt as though she was about to burst into laughter at her own words, shaking her head. ¡°Mom¡­ we¡¯re teenagers. We don¡¯t listen to authority.¡±

    She ignored any other comment from her mother, closing her ears from the woman as she turned back towards the door. She felt her mothers eyes follow her even through the open door as she turned to the staircase, trailing after her as she scaled each step.

    The attic door had thankfully already been standing open by the time she reached it, allowing her to ascend the remaining stairs behind it into the absolute mess that made up her sleeping quarters.

    Expertly navigating over the junk-covered floor, Cecilia picked down last weeks painting portraying a beautiful, glowing cityscape and replaces it with the one she¡¯s just finished. This particular spot on the wall was something she¡¯d designated as the ¡°drying spot¡±, or simply ¡°painting of the week¡±.

    Once upon a time, she¡¯d tried to put each and every one of her paintings up on the wall, but as said time passed, the number of paintings increased, until she discovered that trying to fit all of her paintings on the walls would literally cover her walls. Now, the paintings from the previous weeks were stashed at the back of her closet, the only place she could put them really as her bedroom had a severe lack of storage space.

    After having fetched her art-supplies from downstairs, the young woman changed out of her paint-splattered clothing, putting them on a hanger she¡¯d previously set out in case she¡¯d wound up with more splatters on them, which always happened. It wouldn¡¯t matter if the walls were splattered with pain, Cecilia was thinking about re-painting them sometime soon anyway, so it didn¡¯t really matter to her.

    With the paint splattered article of clothing hanging on the wall as well, Cecilia changed into a pair of jeans hot-pants and a pink and white striped sweater who¡¯s sleeves went way past her wrists, clinging to her figure in the most comfortable way possible.

    Her clothing was practically the only things in Cecilia¡¯s bedroom aside from her art-supplies and desk stationaries that actually had a proper, designated place where she¡¯s decided they belong, and thus¡­ one of the few things in her bedroom that actually have some semblance of order to them.

    Her floor was covered with discarded papers, books, half-filled sketch-books, make-up of different pharmacy-bought brands, jewelry, other types of accessories such as shoes, purses, hats. Not to mention the small collection of antique toys her father had bought her from overseas over the years for her birthday¡¯s, Christmas¡¯s, and really whenever he wanted to as she was growing up.

    Some toys he had gotten her were simply too beautiful to be put away, which the majority of the toys had been, and so, they had made their place in her bedroom as beautiful decorations that were rarely seen through the rest of the mess that covered her floor.

    Thankfully, she knew where to put her feet so she wouldn¡¯t step on them.

    Her mother never once tried to step into her room because of this.

    She really needs to get more storage space¡­

    At the moment, however, that didn¡¯t matter to her as she allowed herself to drop down into the soft feathery covers and pillows of her bed, the mattress immediately forming according to her lithe frame as she reached down to fish her tablet from her bag.

    She breathed in the strong scent of fresh oil-paint as she unfolded the tablet, activating it as she removed the touch pen from the cover.

    Her life was¡­ to put it simply¡­

    Boring.

    She had just graduated middle-school with barely passing grades and started high-school just two weeks ago. Somehow she had gotten a strange idea that high-school was going to be different. For it to finally give some change in the lifestyle she¡¯s had for the past almost eleven years.

    A good change.

    How wrong she was.

    High-school was just the same, if not worse.

    Where middle-school had been filled with kids sporting low self-esteem at the beginning of puberty, high-school was a gathering of hormonal carnivores that had just developed their claws and fangs, just waiting for something to sink those new aspects of them into, be it their claws, fangs, or even their private parts if they were desperate enough.

    More often than not, it just so happened that that little something was Cecilia.

    Not the last part though, thankfully.

    She couldn¡¯t help it, she really, physically couldn¡¯t. No matter how many lessons she took in classical ballet, her sense of balance remained the same. Nonexistent whenever she actually paid attention to it. She could trip over practically anything, the ballet just gave her the reflexes that prevented her from falling on her nose all the time.

    She also had this thing with test-taking situations where she would find herself unable to focus during times of stress. She would try to sit down and take a test and just find her brain crumbling.

    She hasn¡¯t passed a test since, ever.

    She really couldn¡¯t help it though, they had believed she could in the beginning, but thankfully that had changed after about a year, and now the teachers were also well aware of this fact.

    The only reason she was able to graduate from Middle-school was that she¡¯d passed her homework-assignments with flying colors, and the teachers had allowed her to prove her knowledge through other means than sitting down and take a test and thank the stars, she¡¯d managed to pass them with enough points to survive the grade.

    Unfortunately, the ¡°special treatment¡± she receives from the teachers in class has gotten her classmates believing that she¡¯s being favorites by them, and got them gossiping about just how she¡¯d gotten their ¡°favor¡± in the first place.

    She never bothered to correct them, they wouldn¡¯t believe her.

    Adults were the only ones that understood, or even knew that Cecilia really couldn¡¯t help everything she was being picked on for. It truly wasn¡¯t her fault that her brain had absolutely refused to fully develop, making it so that Cecilia¡¯s functions completely fall apart whenever she tries to motivate herself to do something or even decide to do anything in particular.

    Just the thought of calmly putting one foot in front of the other caused her to trip over thin air.

    The doctors had no idea what to do about it, and so, Cecilia just had to live with it.

    The mere factor that she¡¯d managed to graduate from Middle-school was a huge step for her.

    But no, she was stuck in a class filled with hormonal monsters that were all trying to make themselves feel better by trying to make her feel like something less than human, making it so that Cecilia had almost come to regret her one moment of actual good luck in life.

    And so, she buried herself in her own little world of art and dance.

    Had she been of the weaker structure people seemed to believe her to be, she probably would have ended her apparent suffering a long time ago, but Cecilia Brandet was not that weak. At least, she didn¡¯t think she was.

    She was her father¡¯s daughter, and even if there were only a few traits that the two of them shared, the almost overpowering strength of will and stubbornness she¡¯d inherited from him made it all the easier for Cecilia to power through every day that passed by, even if the man that had given her those traits in the first place wasn¡¯t there.

    The gnawing sensation was still there, and with it came the strong, very, very strong, suspicion that something serious was about to happen to her, something that would change her life completely. She hoped it would be a good one.

    She would just have to suck it up and deal with her life as it was until that day finally comes.

    <hr>

    April 17

    Friday 2215

    Cecilia woke up the next morning to the sound of her alarm-clock blaring at a medium-high volume. Its strange combines sound of rooster-cries, vibrating bells, the smashing of fragile objects and a strange melody more than likely having once being played on a xylophone-like contraption echoed around the room.

    When she¡¯d chosen the alarm that first day, she¡¯d laughed at the ridiculousness of it, but now she just groaned in annoyance as she was slowly yanked from her peaceful world of fantasies and actually nice people.

    Truly, she¡¯d made the right choice.

    She¡¯d long since discovered that it was easier for her to wake up to the smaller sounds that the louder ones for some reason. She didn¡¯t complain though as it worked, and she didn¡¯t have to worry that she¡¯s waking up the neighbors with the sound of her alarm, even though she did sometimes feel as though she did so anyhow with the shock of the sudden noise.

    Leaving her hair in the usual mess it was in, Cecilia pulled on the uniform she¡¯d just started to become used to wearing. Reaching out for the blue plaid pleated skirt instead of the gray one, the black thigh-socks instead of the white knee ones, the black button-up blazer with golden details instead of the dark gray sweater-vest, and the blue blazer with golden edging instead of the pain yellow one. The only part of the uniform that hadn¡¯t really changed was the plain white blouse really.

    To be honest, Cecilia preferred the new uniform to the old one in an artistic sense.

    She allowed her hand to run over the embroidered crest patch over the left side of her chest.

    Fairgarden high-school.

    Letting her hand drop, she didn¡¯t bother checking her reflection in the full-body mirror standing in the corner of the room. She knew she probably looked like all the garments apart from the skirt and socks were two sizes too big for her, and her hair being more of a resemblance to a bird¡¯s nest than actual hair.

    She had picked the size of the uniform with a possible future growth spurt in mind, even though that was highly unlikely and very much against her mother¡¯s wishes, a woman who wanted nothing more than for her daughter to show off that perfect ballerina figure she¡¯d trained so hard to obtain over the years, and now she was paying for that choice in the mocking voices of the students around her in class and in the corridors believing that she was too ashamed to show off her figure since she most likely didn¡¯t have one.

    Their words, not hers.

    Sometimes, her observational skills worked against her.

    Picking up her tablet from her desk and unfolding it, Cecilia went over her presentation once more. Displaying the most exotic looking pastries and bakes from her mother¡¯s store. It was the only subject she could think about for her Social Studies assignment.

    Why did they have to make a presentation on a relative¡¯s profession when the only relatives Cecilia was aware of were her parents? Said parents absolutely refusing to talk about their own relatives, optioning to keep either side of the family an absolute secret from their daughter.

    Why they did this, Cecilia had no idea.

    Wandering into the kitchen, Cecilia was her mother standing at the counter like she always did in the morning. It was almost the only time Cecilia would see her in the whole day before the woman would slip away to the bakery and not be seen until the late hours at night if she didn¡¯t get lucky like yesterday where her mother had to return to the house to fetch something.

    At the moment, the woman was wearing that regular pink apron with her shoulder-long chocolate brown hair twisted up into a bun at the back of her head.

    It had been jaw length three years ago, but her mother found that she hadn¡¯t liked the look all that much, and so she had optioned to grow it out. Now, it just brushed over her shoulders. It actually looked longer than Cecilia¡¯s did with her hair the way it was, they didn¡¯t even know how it would look like should she actually take the time to take care of her hair.

    Neither of them knows how to manage ringlets.

    ¡°Morning.¡± Cecilia greeted her mother with a breathy voice, letting her school bag slip down her shoulder to rest it on the table''s leg before she let herself slide down into the chair.

    ¡°Looking bright, Sweetheart.¡± Jennifer greeted right back, though she sounded a bit awkward. The previous day''s conversation still hanging in the air between them as she turned around towards her daughter with two plates expertly clutched in her one hand a glass of milk in the other as though she was carrying a tray of the things.

    Cecilia liked to believe that, should her brain actually have been normal, she would have had her mother¡¯s almost ethereal balance.

    She also wished she¡¯d have her mother¡¯s hair.

    It was odd to Cecilia that her mother had such a dark brown color of her hair and her father (the half-Italian that shall forever remain a secret to her schoolmates) had such a dark blond color it almost looked like a straw-color, Cecilia had been left with something more akin to golden-brown. Only, as her hair was at the moment, that particular factor was way out of eyesight, it looked more like a muddy brown but that was just because she hadn¡¯t washed it in about three days now.

    She should probably get to that before she went to bed that night.

    Jennifer settles down a plate of egg and bacon in front of her daughter, a cooling piece of toast on the other plate and proceeded to just sit there, head leaning on her knuckles as she watches her only child slowly eat the food with as much trained etiquette one can access that early in the morning. She usually did this, but this time¡­ aside from the obvious air of awkwardness, she had a worried look on the face that greatly resembled her daughters.

    About half-way through her meal, the look became too much for Cecilia.

    ¡°Mom.¡± the girl spoke up, setting down her fork as she turned towards the woman.

    At the sound of her daughter¡¯s voice, the woman jumped slightly. Too caught up in her own thoughts to register anything else Cecilia suspected.

    ¡°Mom, what is it?¡±

    It took a few seconds, but the woman eventually lets out a long breath, allowing her hand to slide down onto the table as she straightened out her back, looking at her daughter with a concerned look in her eyes.

    ¡°There¡¯s just something...¡± the woman began, closing her eyes for a moment before she looked at her daughter again. ¡°I feel as if something terrible is going to happen today.¡±

    Cecilia couldn¡¯t help the frown creeping onto her face.

    Biting her lip, she reached out to tentatively take her mother''s hand.

    When was the last time she¡¯d done that?

    This wasn¡¯t really something that happened often, she¡¯d always been a lot more of a daddy¡¯s little girl, so she¡¯s never been as close to her mother as she¡¯s been to her father.

    The father that hasn¡¯t physically been there since she was ten.

    ¡°Nothing¡¯s going to happen,¡± Cecilia assured her mother. ¡°It¡¯s just school.¡±

    Calming down a little, Jenna smiled again.

    ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right.¡±

    <hr>

    A few minutes later, Cecilia was walking down her usual path towards school, her head held as high as she could as she tried not to think about the looks that followed her as she went.

    She was one of the people in their small town that everyone could identify, only the reaction towards her was vastly different depending on the age of the person looking at her.

    If the person was just over three years older than her, they would look at her either with thinly veiled pity or admiration for apparently being able to stand at all (as if putting one foot in front of the other was a huge miracle). If the person was just over three years younger than her, they would greet her with cheers of excitement and maybe even rush towards her to tackle her with a hug (playing with them whenever she finds the time will do that. But if the person was within that six-year time-frame just around her age, the looks they would send her would be filled with contempt, disgust, or even hatred if the person was spiteful enough, even though all she¡¯d done was walk past them in the hallways of the school one day.

    She brushed a few strands of messy hair out of her eyes, finding the annoying locks to tickle her forehead.

    It was then that she heard them.

    Footsteps, right behind her, rapidly approaching.

    She couldn¡¯t help the sense of dread that was slowly creeping up inside her. They were in a part of town where almost no one passed unless it was on the way to school, and at the moment, she could see no one else there.

    Memory after memory of moments of brutal bullying flashed through her head one by one, making the dread build up higher and higher inside her.

    But it didn¡¯t matter, she still kept her back straight, her shoulders squared and her head held high like she always did.

    No matter what happened to her, she would always stand strong.

    ¡°Brandet!¡±

    At the sound of the familiar voice, Cecilia allowed herself to calm down.

    There were precious few people that didn¡¯t bully her, even less that showed her no contempt, but there was only one person that talked to her with such a carefree and even happy tone on his voice.

    She spun around and met the smiling face of the very well known Asian athlete running towards her.

    ¡°Ben Tanaka...¡± she allowed herself to acknowledge him softly when he finally reached her side, towering at over a head taller than her and that wide smile plastered onto his attractive features.

    The second he stopped running, the smile was twisted into a teasingly scolding expression, his hands landing on his hips as he bent down over her.

    ¡°You disappeared half-way again.¡± he tried to pass it off as a joking statement but Cecilia could hear the genuine concern and the actual question hidden in those eyes.

    She would not answer it.

    ¡°Can you blame me?¡± she asked, turning her feet around to continue walking.

    It wouldn¡¯t do if they were late for class.

    ¡°This is worse than middle-school.¡±

    Ben quickly followed after her, claiming a spot at her left side before he kept talking, easily keeping pace with her.

    ¡° ¡°Can you blame me¡±?¡± the athlete mocked the shorter classmate good-naturedly. ¡°That is really becoming your motto isn¡¯t it?¡± he asked, nudging her gently with his elbow.

    Cecilia swatter the offending limb away from her, rolling her eyes at the tone of her voice.

    ¡°Not even close.¡± she easily replied, not even bothering to look at her long-term classmate. ¡°It needs to become a mantra before it becomes a motto.¡±

    Ben¡¯s eyes locked on Cecilia, an unreadable look plastered on his attractive features as he looked at the casual face of the girl next to him. The fact that she¡¯d said something like that so easily¡­ it worried him.

    He plastered a smile back on his mouth, making sure it reached his eyes.

    ¡°I¡¯m just learning more and more about you.¡± he chuckled.

    ¡°That¡¯s what you wanted.¡± Cecilia shot right back.

    He was not used to that, she was usually so quiet, and yet, she could have such quick retorts¡­

    He chuckled once again, shaking his head before he reached out, putting his hand on her head to give her hair a good ruffle. Something that visibly shocked Cecilia but she quickly brushed it off, along with his hand.

    ¡°And I don¡¯t regret it.¡± Ben laughed.

    Cecilia raised an eyebrow at his comment.

    ¡°Are you flirting with me?¡± she asked, her steps freezing for a short moment before she continued walking, her attention now fully locked onto the athlete.

    ¡°What would you do if I did?¡± he countered, voice dripping with a teasing tone that forced Cecilia to fight the smile from spreading across her face.

    She was not comfortable enough with him yet to show him her smile.

    Cecilia found her answer as they passed the school gates.

    ¡°Run.¡±

    For a few long seconds, there was nothing but silence between the two long-term classmates, until suddenly, the athlete broke out into loud echoing laughter that seemed to shake his entire being. His torso bent over to clutch at his stomach before he allowed himself to straighten, finger wiping at his eye as he shook his head from his mirth.

    Truthfully, Cecilia hadn¡¯t thought it was that funny.

    ¡°Why have we never talked before?¡± the athlete asked once he¡¯d gotten his breathing in order.

    ¡°You¡¯re the only one that can answer that,¡± Cecilia answered almost immediately, sending the two classmates into a state of uncomfortable silence.

    It was at that moment that Cecilia noticed a larger group of students standing some ways away from where the two of them had stopped. She noticed Ben didn¡¯t. He didn¡¯t see their frantic jumping and the enthusiastic waving of their arms, desperately trying to capture his attention.

    She took a deep breath before she turned to the athlete.

    ¡°I think your friends are trying to get your attention,¡± she said, jerking her head in the direction of the spirited students.

    Ben followed her movement, and Cecilia could have sworn that she saw the smile that was almost permanently fused to his face falter for a split second.

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡±

    Cecilia¡¯s brows furrowed.

    The way he answered, the way he¡¯d said that one word. It was clear to Cecilia that Ben wasn¡¯t as psyched about hanging out with his group of associates as they obviously were to hang out with him. It was so obvious to her that she actually came to wonder how no one had caught onto that before.

    Then, before she had the chance to ask him about it, his expression did a one-eighty, a smile replacing the look of resignation as he turned to her.

    ¡°I¡¯ll see you in class?¡±

    He sounded so sincere, so genuinely curious and maybe even hopeful that Cecilia couldn¡¯t stop the response from slipping through her lips.

    ¡°I don¡¯t see why we wouldn¡¯t.¡±

    The smile she was awarded with at her answer would have shattered anyone else¡¯s jaw.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you go disappearing again!¡± he screamed, sending a large wave her way before he turned around and kept sprinting towards his cluster of teammates and admirers, leaving Cecilia standing there with her arms crossed, a heavy sigh escaping her lips.

    ¡°No promises.¡±

    <hr>

    Groaning slightly, Cecilia pulled her tablet from her bag and unfolded it, preparing herself for the lesson that was about to roll around. Several others in the classroom were following her example, though they would never admit that they were doing that even if they had a gun pointed at their heads.

    First class after lunch, everyone was pretty much running high on the energy they had stuffed themselves with. Almost running around the room like two-year-old toddlers. She really should have expected something like this to happen.

    She was once again going through her presentation, trying to commit most of it to her faulty memory when a small cluster of boys in the back of the classroom caught her attention.

    They had gathered up in a tight circle, whispering about something that Cecilia was too far away to really hear, but she was sure they were whispering about her if the looks she could practically feel digging into her back were anything to go by.

    Seriously¡­ some people just didn¡¯t have lives.

    Suddenly, the group parted.

    There stood Terrance Justice (Terrance for short), one of her more relentless bullies from the Athletic division, his face plastered into an almost permanent smirk as he slowly began to raise what could only be a 21<sup>st</sup> -century gun, it¡¯s barrel pointing directly at her.

    Cecilia would later be proud to say that her blood only froze for a split second before the logical part of her brain kicked in and calmed her down.

    ¡°I¡¯m tired of your face Messy,¡± Terry said with a deep, wannabe-menacing voice. ¡°Just die already.¡±

    In normal circumstances, the sight of a gun should have frightened everyone. But seeing as it was a 21<sup>st</sup>-century gun that looked like it was in pristine condition, and after throwing a look around her at the rest of her classmates, she found some of them snickering into their hands in a lame attempt to try and look scared at the sight of the weapon.

    So this was just a lame attempt to scare her then¡­

    Frickin¡¯ bullies¡­

    Rolling her eyes, Cecilia turned back to her screen, returning to casually swiping her fingertips over the screen still folded up in her hands.

    This, however, didn¡¯t seem to sit well with Terry.

    Growling, the boy stomped over to Cecilia¡¯s desk, grabbing said girl by her arm and yanked her up to her feet, forcing the barrel of the gun under her jaw.

    ¡°PAY ATTENTION TO ME YOU USELESS PIECE OF SHIT!¡±

    Much to his surprise, however, Cecilia¡¯s face remained stoic.

    ¡°Hey, stop that!¡±

    All sound in the classroom stopped at the sudden commanding voice, all eyes snapping towards the unspoken leader of the first year Athletic division, Ben Tanaka, getting up from his own seat, a never before seen serious look in his eyes as he pushed Terry away from Cecilia, positioning himself in front of her, glaring down at Terrance in a clear power battle.

    He was not amused by their classmate¡¯s treatment towards the girl he¡¯d just started to get to know.

    ¡°You¡¯re taking this a little too far Justice.¡± the star athlete practically growled at the shorter male, eyes narrowed as he established his superiority.

    Glancing at the back of the athlete¡¯s head, Cecilia couldn¡¯t help but think that maybe it was because of this tiny little reason that her bullies had become much more brutal in their advances towards her the past couple of weeks.

    Alright, it may not be such a tiny little reason¡­

    Suddenly having one of the most popular boys in school acting nice towards the most bullied person in the school is definitely one way to capture the wrong kind of attention if you¡¯ve got the luck of Cecilia Brandet.

    Many believed that she was forcing him into acting that way towards her, but she¡¯d much rather have him ignore her if everyone would bully her even more than before.

    Why did THAT have to happen?

 Act 1: Hidden from Shadows Scene 2: Human Fragility

    March 27

    Friday 2215

    Cecilia had been walking out of the local school supply and uniform store, her arms weighed down by the shopping bags she¡¯d just had filled up at the counter.

    Her mother had been with her when she¡¯d first gone in, but shortly before they were to pay for the things, Jennifer had a call from her assistant Viola Oswald, a poor panicky woman who freaks out if she accidentally applies icing on the wrong side of the cake.

    And yes, on a round cake you could just rotate and it¡¯d be right.

    Anyway, Jennifer had to leave and so, Cecilia was left alone to carry all of her shopping home.

    It was when she was walking through the shopping district that something suddenly ran into her. Usually, these kinds of things didn¡¯t get more than a muted groan from her when in school, but this wasn¡¯t school, this was in town, she didn¡¯t have her usual walls up here, and so, the collision resulted in her letting out a cry of mixed pain and surprise as she suddenly found herself splayed out on the asphalt.

    A stinging sensation raced up her arms and knees, telling Cecilia that her skin had been scraped open.

    Great, just great.

    It was nothing new, but she couldn¡¯t help the groan that slipped out of her throat.

    With her luck, the one that had run into her would actually cherish the pain she was in¡­

    Looking around, Cecilia had to keep herself from letting out yet another groan, only this time more an annoyance than pain.

    All of her things¡­ everything that she had just gone through the trouble of getting, were now scattered all over the asphalt around her, the only thing keeping the clothes from getting dirty being the plastic packaging they were put in as they were paid for.

    Thankfully, it didn¡¯t look as though anything was broken.

    Cecilia was so caught up in her own thoughts that the sound of a familiar voice breaking through the surrounding white noise almost made her jump out of her skin.

    ¡°Oh stars, are you alright!?¡±

    What threw Cecilia off the most wasn¡¯t that the voice sounded familiar, but that it actually sounded genuinely worried.

    Worried?

    For her?

    Well¡­ there¡¯s got to be a first for everything.

    Slowly, Cecilia used her arms to peel herself off of the asphalt, carefully adjusting her hands so that her scraped palms wouldn¡¯t take the brunt of the pressure before brushing her messy hair behind her ear and brushing off as much dirt that could have gotten onto her.

    She didn¡¯t know why she bothered really.

    It¡¯s 2215 for horizon¡¯s sake, there is barely a speck of dirt on both the paved ground and buildings.

    Thankfully, the buildings weren¡¯t pure white and shiny like they are usually portrayed in the Sci-Fi movies from the 21<sup>st</sup> century. Instead, they were painted in the softer pastel coloring and sported non-reflective windows where the buildings were closer knit. Even the sun is no longer white in the sky, having long since regained its original yellow color thanks to the air and water purification stations littered in secret locations all over the globe, the sun is¡­ well, still the sun, and is thus still very blinding even if it is no longer as dangerous as it once were.

    ¡°Y-yeah¡­ I¡¯m fine.¡± Cecilia answered quietly, keeping her back turned to the owner of the voice as she looked out in dismay over her sea of scattered belongings.

    For a moment, there was complete silence between them, but then¡­

    ¡°Brandet?¡±

    The voice didn¡¯t even bother hiding the absolute shock in his voice.

    Suddenly, something inside Cecilia¡¯s mind clicked into place.

    She now realized why that voice sounded familiar, knowing very well where she¡¯d heard it before.

    Every day for as long as her memory reached.

    Slowly, every muscle in her tiny body tensed up as she forced herself to turn around, raising her head to look into the face of the person that had so violently crashed into her.

    ¡°Ben¡­ Tanaka¡­?¡±

    For a moment, the two of them just stared at one another, then, the athlete finally found his voice.

    ¡°I am so, so sorry,¡± he said, getting down on his knees as he looked over the scrapes now littering her skin, a concerned frown etched into his eyebrows. ¡°I should have watched where I was running.¡±

    Cecilia could only stare at him, unsure of what she should do.

    She hasn¡¯t opened her mouth around her classmates for several years, and now, one of the schools most popular boys was crouching in front of her and sounding genuinely concerned for her.

    This just¡­ doesn¡¯t¡­ happen.

    He must have noticed her staring, a sigh escaping his mouth as he began picking up her things and stuffing them into her upturned bags.

    ¡°Right, not talking.¡±

    The sight of Ben Tanaka picking up her things of his own will forced the words out of her throat.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡±

    Pausing for a moment, Ben looked up at her, eyebrow raised.

    ¡°What does it look like I¡¯m doing?¡± he asked, holding up the one bag that he had already finished packing, making his obvious point all the more obvious.

    For a moment, Cecilia couldn¡¯t find her words. Not that that was anything new, oral communication had never been one of her strong points, even when she still talked to people.

    Swallowing, Cecilia braced herself.

    ¡°People¡­ doesn¡¯t just help me like that.¡±

    For a split second, Ben¡¯s movements faltered, almost freezing in place before he quietly continued.

    Once everything was back in the bags, the athlete turned back towards her, his eyes hovering over each and every one of her scrapes. They didn¡¯t look too bad, none of them actually bleeding, but they were still there, and they were probably stinging something terrible if the bright red color and swollen patches were anything to go by.

    Sighing, he scratched the back of his neck.

    ¡°Do you have anything to treat those scrapes with?¡± he asked, looking at her with a soft expression.

    Cecilia frowned at the question.

    ¡°Why are you asking?¡±

    Ben groaned at her, rolling his eyes as he grabbed her by the wrist, turning her hand around to look at the scrape marring her tiny, fragile looking little hand. It truly looked tiny too, almost dwarfed compared to his own.

    ¡°Do you have one or not?¡± he groaned, glancing up at her.

    Sighing, Cecilia reached into the bag still hanging from her shoulder.

    ¡°I always do,¡± she answered, pulling out a small first-aid kit from her purse.

    Not even bothering to ask why she would have one, to begin with, Ben quickly snatched the kit from her hands, unzipping it to reveal the supplies inside of it, picking through the different objects with something of a clueless expression on his face.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Cecilia asked, narrowing her eyes as Ben plucked a bottle of disinfectant from the small pack.

    Ben groaned again.

    ¡°What does it look like I¡¯m doing?¡± he asked with a surprising amount of annoyance given his reputation, obviously unsure hat he¡¯s supposed to do with that particular type of disinfectant, fingering the cotton balls.

    ¡°Well, you¡¯re doing it wrong.¡± Cecilia quickly snatched the bottle from his hand, expertly wetting one of the cotton balls and went to dabbing them over the scrape.

    She as forced to stop when the cotton was snatched from her fingers.

    ¡°You¡¯re¡­ pretty used to this, aren¡¯t you?¡± Ben asked, sounding quite awkward as he picked up from where Cecilia had left off.

    ¡°Why do you care?¡± Cecilia asked, leaning back against the one hand that wasn¡¯t scraped.

    This made Ben freeze up again.

    ¡°Brandet...¡± he sighed rather heavily, resuming in treating the scrapes the way he¡¯d seen Cecilia do, wrapping them up in bandages or covering them with bio-fabric as he judged the size of the scrape and deciding what it needed. He glanced up at her. ¡°We¡¯ve been classmates since preschool.¡±

    Cecilia rolled her eyes at his words.

    ¡°Yes, and you haven¡¯t exactly paid much attention to me before.¡± she lifted up her hand, adjusting the bandage in a way that wouldn¡¯t as easily unravel the second she started moving again.

    Ben sighed, tightening the bandage around her knee.

    ¡°Can you blame me?¡± he asked lightly. ¡°You don¡¯t really appear to be the warmest of people in class.¡± he shook his head lightly, briefly allowing his eyes to meet hers before he returned his attention to what he was doing. ¡°You¡¯ve never spoken to anyone for as long as I can remember.¡±

    Cecilia rolled her eyes.

    ¡°Can you blame me?¡± she asked, voice dry. ¡°No one has ever really talked to me without some sort of insult planned.¡± she picked up another cotton ball, handing it to the athlete. ¡°So I just stopped talking to people altogether.¡±

    For a moment, Ben just looked at her, the cotton lying completely forgotten in his palm.

    ¡°Brandet...¡± he whispered.

    Cecilia just shook her head, taking the cotton back as she finished up the very last scrape.

    ¡°It¡¯s done.¡± she declared, getting up from the ground.

    ¡°Brandet,¡± Ben spoke up again, more assured this time, grabbing onto her wrist as he too got off of the ground, staring her straight in the eyes.

    The sudden touch made Cecilia flinch, unexpected pain shooting through her arm, making her yank her wrist right out of his grip, it was more out of reflex than anything.

    For a moment, Ben just stood there, still as a statue, staring wide-eyed at Cecilia as she clutched her wrist.

    She was too unused to physical contact for that.

    ¡°What?¡± Cecilia asked, shaking her head before opening her mouth.

    Taking a deep breath, Ben scratched the back of his neck.

    ¡°If you¡¯d let me...¡± he muttered, glancing around before his eyes once again found Cecilia¡¯s. ¡°I¡¯d like to get to know you.¡±

    For a moment, the two of them just stared at one another, neither of them quite sure how to continue.

    Finally, Cecilia tilted her head to the side.

    ¡°Really?¡±

    Ben swallowed again.

    ¡°Like I said...¡± he paused, trying to collect his words. ¡°We¡¯ve been classmates since preschool...¡± he trailed off, hoping that she¡¯d understand what he was trying to say.

    Cecilia¡¯s eyes found the ground.

    ¡°And I¡¯d be surprised if we weren¡¯t again.¡± she finished for him, optioning to pick her bags off from the asphalt than actually looking at him.

    ¡°Exactly.¡± Ben agreed, sounding a lot more excited than before, his mouth quirking upward into more of a smile than the sheepish look he¡¯d sported before. ¡°We could at least try to get to know one another for once.¡±

    Cecilia¡¯s fingers clenched around the handles of her bags, lower lip caught between her teeth as she mulled the suggestion over.

    This wasn¡¯t something that had ever happened to her before.

    At least¡­ not that she could remember.

    But¡­ she figured it couldn¡¯t be¡­

    ¡°Alright...¡± she finally breathed, glancing up at the athlete. ¡°But just because you actually asked me.¡±

    The smile that greeted her at her words served as the indicator that she¡¯d made the right decision.

    So happy¡­ so genuinely relieved.

    She couldn¡¯t possibly go wrong with this, could she?

    ¡°I¡¯ll see you Wednesday then?¡± Ben asked, taking a few steps away from her, smile still playing on his mouth.

    Cecilia allowed her head to bob in a slow, hesitant nod.

    ¡°Wednesday.¡±

    Slowly, she turned around and walked away.

    ¡°By the way Brandet!¡± freezing, Cecilia slowly turned back around to face the athlete, who¡¯s usual heart-breaking smile as once again plastered on his handsome face.

    She gave him an expectant look.

    ¡°You should talk more often.¡± The words shocked her eyes wide. ¡°You¡¯ve got a nice voice.¡±

    And with that said, he turned back around, leaving Cecilia standing there, feeling the blood rushing to her cheeks, turning her pale skin rosy in color.

    <hr>

    Ever since school started, Ben has done almost everything he could to spend time with Cecilia, catching up with her whenever they found themselves walking to school at the same time, and this has only served to freak out Cecilia on multiple levels.

    And not only that apparently.

    Seeing Ben Tanaka serious was a very rare thing as he usually smiled at everything, so seeing him with his eyes narrowed in actual serious anger, practically glaring at his shorter classmate, was a new thing for everyone. A new thing that, apparently, no one particularly liked seeing.

    ¡°Calm down Ben...¡± Terry breathed shakily, lowering the gun and taking a step away.

    Letting out a nervous laugh, Terry gestured with the gun in his hand, still pointing it in Cecilia¡¯s general direction.

    ¡°It¡¯s only a prop from a historical drama my uncle was starring in.¡± he held out the gun, tightening his fingers on the trigger. ¡°It only fires blanks, see.¡± and so, he pulled the trigger.

    BANG!

    <hr>

    Inside of the Crescent bakery, a plate slipped out of Jennifer Brandet¡¯s hands, crashing to the floor with a loud crash that had Viola shrieking.

    <hr>

    The silence that followed that cringe-worthy sound was even more deafening than the sound itself. Even though it didn¡¯t sound at all like a 21<sup>st</sup> century actually sounded on the dramas, the sound itself had been rather loud and had come so suddenly that the class couldn¡¯t find the words anymore.

    Terry himself looked around the room with a slight smile on his face.

    ¡°You see?¡± he asked, waving the gun in his hand as if that would prove just how harmless it actually was. ¡°Harmless.¡±

    Not one eye was turned to Cecilia.

    They probably should have been.

    Slowly, said girl removed the hand that had, on reflex, flown to clutch at the side of her abdomen, her eyes slowly lowering down to her palm, and much to her horror, she found her fingers coated in a thick, red liquid.

    Eyes widening, Cecilia suddenly realized just how hard it was to take a proper breath.

    ¡°Blood...¡± she murmured over the silence.

    Because of the state of the class, Cecilia¡¯s naturally overwhelming voice, even at such a low tone managed to carry out over the whole room. Especially since it was the first word the absolute majority of them had ever heard her say.

    As if on cue, all eyes turned towards her in absolute sync, just in time to see her knees give out underneath her weight, forcing her to fall backwards in what probably would have been a very uncomfortable position, or even crashing into the desks behind her, had Ben not quickly spun around to her with incredible speed, quickly catching her in his arms, gently turning her around as her breaths started to come out in hiccups.

    He stared down at her stomach, watching something start glistening on the black fabric of her blazer. Hurriedly, he unbuttoned the thing, shoving the fabric aside and immediately paled.

    The pure white fabric of her blouse was quickly soaking up a familiar thick red liquid that any living thing was dependent on to stay alive.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°Brandet?¡± he asked rather frantically as he carefully maneuvered her tiny body to lie on her back, her entire form shaking at the immense effort of simply taking one breath. He cupped his hands over the wound, frantically trying to keep her from bleeding out, but if the blank had pierced an organ, that wouldn¡¯t help for long. ¡°Brandet, stay with me.¡± he practically pleaded, staring down at her face.

    Her eyes were still open, but as he looked at them, the pain was starting to cloud over the previous glow they had had no matter what emotion she¡¯s showed him.

    All around them, everyone was in a state of panic.

    The students were staring, screaming, shaking one another as they all tried to decide what to do.

    Apparently, calling the emergency hotline was too hard for them to figure out.

    The worst one off in the situation, however, was Terry.

    For a long moment, he just stared at Cecilia, at the two large hands cupped over the white blouse that was not turning red at a much slower rate than before. His hand fell at his side, the prop gun falling out of his hand and landing on the tiled floor with a clatter that was swallowed up in the chaos surrounding him.

    ¡°What is going on here?¡±

    Everyone in the classroom absolutely froze at the sound of the cold voice that they had all been forced to learn how to distinguish among thousands of others ever since middle-school. Ben was the only one brave enough to peel his eyes away from what he was doing and actually look up at the speaker.

    Kenneth Hale, head prefect of Fairgarden high and number one law enforcer of the building looked around the room with an expression that promised pain for whoever had caused the chaos.

    Then¡­ his eyes fell on the petite girl gasping for breath on the floor, and his expression turned absolutely murderous.

    Even though the head prefect was notably shorter than most of everyone else in the room, despite him being two years older than the lot of them, everyone shrunk away from his sight when his attention snapped towards the surrounding crowd, not even bothering to address the one person obviously trying to save the life of the member of the student body that everyone was able to address by name.

    Well¡­ the name they had given her at least.

    ¡°Explain,¡± he ordered, his voice even colder than before it that was even possible.

    That was the moment that Terry¡¯s legs gave out on him, his brain seemingly not having to even register the head prefects preference was still locked on Cecilia¡¯s lithe, quivering frame, looking as though she was freezing. The prop gun still lay on the floor, not too far away from his leg, forgotten to everyone.

    That was all the explanation Kenneth seemed to need.

    Quickly, Kenneth fished out his sleek black obsidian type gem-phone apparently out of thin air. One were within the line of sight to notice him dialing any form of number, they just saw him press the gem to his ear and waited for the call to connect.

    He worked fast that prefect.

    His eyes never once left the pair of hands covering Cecilia¡¯s bleeding stomach, even though his free hand seemed to be itching to magically produce his concealed weaponry, this was not the time to make even more victims. If he did, it would probably take longer for Cecilia to get any form of help, and at the moment, every minute she was still breathing was golden.

    Ben could feel the feat building up inside him as he noticed Cecilia¡¯s large, now slightly clouded eyes blinking slower and slower with every passing second. Her breaths still came out in gasps, but at least she was still breathing.

    After a short, stiff conversation, Kenneth ended the call and stuffed his gem away as she stalked over to the girl whose life was slowly draining out of her, his eyes hidden behind his pitch black bangs.

    Crouching down opposite Ben, the athlete was shocked when the prefect put his hands over his, though his attention was firmly locked onto the girl¡¯s face, his free hand reaching out to gently cup Cecilia¡¯s clammy cheek, almost forcing her to turn her hazy gaze towards him.

    ¡°The ambulance will be here in five minutes,¡± he said, his voice the only thing steady in the class¡¯s current condition, leaving no room for anyone to tell him that no one could predict actually when an ambulance would arrive. He probably wouldn¡¯t allow that either way. ¡°You think you can hold on till then herbivore?¡±

    Ben looked at the prefect in thinly veiled confusion.

    Because he was so close to him, he could clearly hear the tone of actual, genuine, gentle concern in his voice, and the look in his eyes as he said those words¡­

    No, he must be imagining things.

    But¡­ even the one word he usually used to demean people with was spoken with endearment when it was turned on Cecilia¡­

    No!

    Imagination, it had to be his imagination.

    For a frighteningly long moment, Kenneth got no response from the struggling girl.

    Then, her lips moved.

    ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ try...¡±

    The most gentle smirk Ben has ever seen crawled onto Kenneth¡¯s striking face.

    ¡°You¡¯re stronger than you look herbivore.¡± he complimented with uncharacteristic gentleness. ¡°Most people wouldn¡¯t be able to keep out of delusion at this stage.¡± his hand brushed over her absolute mess of hair, moving her bangs away from her sweat covered skin.

    Ben found himself freezing at the sight of Cecilia¡¯s full face.

    He had been able to see her eyes through gaps in her hair, but he¡¯d never seen the entirety of her face before, and it was clear that despite what everyone was saying about her, she had nothing to be ashamed of looks wise.

    Loosely, Cecilia shook her head.

    ¡°Not¡­ strong...¡± she denied weakly through her gasping breaths. ¡°Used¡­ to pain...¡±

    And it was true.

    As much as Ben wanted and wished to deny it, it was true.

    He¡¯d seen her limping home, the bruises forming on her pale skin at the end of the school day, and most, if not all, originating from her classmates becoming tired of harassing her with words alone, and thus took to physically hurting her. Pushing her down the stairs, shoving her into walls or lockers, pulling her hair, throwing her to the floor. Anything they could possibly think of that would help them vent their frustrations one way of the other made its way to her.

    Both she and Ben were glad that none of it had gotten even remotely sexual.

    Probably because they believed her to be too disgusting for that kind of thing. Which was mean, but none the less a blessing in Cecilia¡¯s position.

    It was probably better that they didn¡¯t see her whole face then.

    This thought made Ben feel bad.

    He¡¯d never actually been there when any of this abuse happened, but he felt as though he should have done something to at least try and put a stop to it.

    Cecilia didn¡¯t deserve anything that life put her through.

    Ben watched as a look of silent, comprehensive fury spread across Kenneth¡¯s face before he took a deep, calming breath, closing his steel gray eyes as he took a deep breath.

    He turned his attention towards Ben.

    ¡°Keep up the pressure on the wound,¡± he instructed in that same steady voice, though there was a layer of fury in there. ¡°It¡¯s going to give her a few extra minutes at least.¡±

    His steel gaze suddenly snapped down to where his own hands were resting on top of Ben¡¯s. He immediately proceeded to retreat his limb as though the touch of Ben¡¯s skin had physically burned him.

    Quickly, Kenneth stood up with a spin, turning him towards the rest of the class, his hard eyes burning with rage that he didn¡¯t even bother to try and keep hidden once his face was out of Cecilia¡¯s eyesight.

    ¡°I will not tolerate bullying inside my school,¡± he growled, glaring at everyone around her. His voice had been rather quiet, but just like Cecilia¡¯s one word, he was heard by each and every one of them, making their blood freeze over in their veins, and forcing 80% of the students to instinctively take a step backward in fear.

    These were the students that had actively taken part of the bullying at one part or another.

    The ones that hadn¡¯t, were easily spotted.

    Abbigale Summers almost ran to Cecilia¡¯s side, awkwardly falling to her knees at Cecilia¡¯s head, trying to navigate her skirt so that it wouldn¡¯t show off too much of her legs. Her hands found their way into the girl¡¯s hair, gently stroking her over her clammy skin, muttering as many soothing, encouraging words as she could.

    Denice Kaufman had hesitated before she too had fallen to the floor at Cecilia¡¯s shoulder, taking the girl¡¯s hand as she muttered to the girl to ¡°prove women were stronger than that¡±.

    Class president Yuri Kondou had calmly walked over, carefully adjusting Cecilia¡¯s position so that she lay in the most comfortable position possible before she set to packing up Cecilia¡¯s things, careful not to actually look at anything for too long before settling the finished bag at Ben¡¯s desk, at his request.

    He would take it to her when she woke up.

    Because she would get through this, no doubts about that.

    The final person was the most surprising one.

    It was one of the male students that have shared Cecilia¡¯s ballet class since the start of the school year.

    Going by the name of Donovan Picket, the ballet dancer had stood there staring at Cecilia, hands clenched and shaking at his sides before he had just as shakily found his legs moving towards Cecilia¡¯s trembling body, falling onto the floor where Kenneth had just been crouching, letting his hands fall on top of Ben¡¯s, adding additional pressure on the wound.

    Kenneth threw a glance back at the scene before he turned his attention to the rest of the class.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have you punished.¡±

    <hr>

    By the time the ambulance arrived three minutes later, Kenneth was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed in front of his chest and one eye permanently focused on the shell-shocked class trembling in the corner, silently thanking the horizons that the head prefect actually hadn¡¯t seriously hurt any of them.

    But then again, if he had, Cecilia probably wouldn¡¯t have been carried off by the paramedics as quickly as she had been.

    Ben and Donovan had both been a little reluctant to remove their hands from Cecilia¡¯s bleeding stomach, but the paramedics had been very convincing, and so, they had wheeled Cecilia out of the building, leaving the remaining students to stare out the window as the ambulance drove away with their classmate.

    The head prefect has actually gone with them, them not even bothering to tell him no, his town-wide reputation allowing him to just jump into the back of the ambulance with the injured girl before the doors closed and they sped away.

    He probably wanted to personally make sure that Brandet got the best treatment possible.

    Cecilia had passed out about a minute before they had arrived, and this had made many of them almost panic, but Abby, the angel, had been caring enough to keep her fingers almost permanently planted on Cecilia¡¯s jugular vein, keeping track on her pulse to ensure them all that her heart was still beating.

    It had been tricky to pry her away from Cecilia¡¯s side as well.

    It had been one of the most traumatic experiences the class had ever gone through, something that would most certainly automatically sign them up for individual visits to the therapist in the future.

    One student desperately fighting for her life.

    One student having to live with his joke backfiring on him.

    Five students have desperately tried to make sure that the dying girl would survive for five looong minutes.

    And a whole classroom of frightened students having to juggle the shock of having witnessed someone getting injured by a blank bullet and the fear of having to face the punishment of the scariest person in school. And it had been bullying that had landed them all in that position.

    As the paramedics had disappeared with Kenneth in tow, Ben Tanaka had remained on his knees, staring intently at the blood-stained hands resting on his lap.

    Ben had never actually thought about just how fragile a life could be, why should he have? He was turning sixteen in just a few days! And now, he had been forced to experience actually holding such a fragile life in the palm of his calloused hands.

    He never wanted to go through something so terrifying again.

    The five students stood for themselves, Abby¡¯s hands resting on Ben¡¯s shoulders, Denice staring out the window after the retreating ambulance, Kondou having wrapped her arms around Donovan¡¯s shoulders, them being childhood friends keeping this from being too awkward.

    They all tried to gain some strength from one another as they thought about what they had all been working towards just a few moments ago.

    Keeping Cecilia Brandet alive.

    Silently, and really without knowing it, all five of them silently agreed on one thing.

    From that moment on, they would work to stop bullying in their school.

    They would do anything, and if that just happened to Cecilia Brandet was anything to go by, then bullying can be a lot more dangerous than anyone would have liked to know.

    <hr>

    Jennifer¡¯s hands had been covered in flour when the call had arrived at the bakery.

    She¡¯d been forced to answer it through vocal commands, and thus the whole staff had gotten to hear the news of their irregular helper having wound up in the hospital emergency ward.

    It hadn¡¯t taken much for them to convince Jennifer to leave, ensuring her that everything would be alright and she needed to be with her daughter right now.

    And so, there she was, pacing in front of the operation door, it¡¯s red light blaring down at her, mocking her with its existence.

    She didn¡¯t want to know that her daughter was still being operated on, she wanted to know what the hell happened to her in the first place and whether or not she would survive the night!

    What would she tell Carl if she didn¡¯t make it?

    When she¡¯d first arrived at the hospital, she¡¯d been greeted by one of the prefects from Cecilia¡¯s school, telling her where to find her daughter before she had left to deal with the situation he had most likely left Cecilia¡¯s class in by getting into that ambulance.

    Letting out a shaky breath, Jennifer sank into one of the chairs by the wall, burying her face in her hands.

    She should have listened to her instincts that morning.

    She shouldn¡¯t have let her daughter leave her house.

    If she¡¯d just been more confident in her motherly intuition, none of this would have happened!

    Jennifer struggled to keep herself from crying.

    Finally, after what felt like ages, the red light went out from above the door.

    Jennifer practically flew to her feet as the doors opened and a doctor walked out, removing the rubber gloves from his hands.

    His eyes fell on Jennifer.

    ¡°Mrs. Brandet?¡± he asked with a breath.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Jennifer answered, hands clenched in front of her chest.

    The doctor looked as though he was bracing himself for an incoming punch.

    ¡°We have done what we could to the hole in your daughter¡¯s stomach.¡± Jennifer¡¯s face paled drastically.

    Hole?

    What hole?

    Why would there be a hole in her daughter¡¯s stomach?

    ¡°But I¡¯m afraid she¡¯s lost too much blood, so she¡¯ll be out of it for a while as her body gets used to the transfusion.¡±

    Jennifer couldn¡¯t take it anymore.

    ¡°What happened to her!?¡± she almost screamed, knowing that should she actually scream in this building, she would most likely get thrown out.

    The doctor put a hand in his pockets, letting out a long sigh.

    ¡°It would appear that one of her classmates brought a prop gun to school for a class assignment and wasn¡¯t aware that even a blank bullet can cause considerable damage if fired at a close enough distance,¡± he answered slowly, looked the distraught mother right in the eyes.

    Jennifer¡¯s hands found her mouth, forcing herself to keep the tears in.

    Swallowing, she looked up at the door.

    ¡°Can I see her?¡±

    The doctor nodded slowly and guided Jennifer through the doors.

    <hr>

    Jennifer had never seen her daughter look so weak.

    Lying on the operation table with her messy hair fanning out around her, naked, her skin paler than she¡¯d ever seen and beads of sweat still clinging to her clammy face.

    It as a frighteningly long time before Jennifer finally spotted the light rise and fall of her daughter¡¯s chest underneath the thin papery cloth covering her private parts.

    She didn¡¯t look anything like the strong-willed young woman she¡¯d raised basically on her own for the past six years.

    This girl looked more like a porcelain doll that had been dumped into a muddy puddle than she did a teenage girl, and the sight did not serve to make things any better for the pastry-chef as she slowly walked up to the table, her hands trembling.

    Cautiously, Jennifer reached out her hand to stroke her daughter over the cheek.

    She was almost scared that she¡¯d collapse in on herself if she applied too much pressure.

    ¡°Ceci?¡± she whispered, hoping to high heaven for some form of response. ¡°Ceci, can you hear me?¡±

    That¡¯s when it happened.

    CRACK!

    It was like the sound of metal suddenly snapping, echoing through the room for a split second become everything went sideways.

    It all started when Jennifer suddenly felt as though her palm touching her daughter¡¯s cheek was on fire, the monitor checking on Cecilia¡¯s temperature suddenly shooting up, and then the tiny girl¡¯s whole body suddenly erupted in violent spastic movement looking to be originating from her chest area, thrashing around on the operation table as though she were a fish that had just been taken out of the water and thrown there to have her head chopped off.

    Jennifer barely had the time to register the doors being thrown open behind her and the figures rushing up all around her before she suddenly found herself thrown out of the room, barely having the time to regain the balance.

    For a moment, she just stood there outside of the operation room door, the red light once again blaring down on her, staring down at her palm, at the bright, flushed red color it had taken on from the brief contact it had had to her daughter¡¯s skin.

    No...

    She started shaking.

    This couldn¡¯t happen, it just couldn¡¯t

    She was too young, it just couldn¡¯t be real, Jennifer wouldn¡¯t believe it.

    She told herself that, and yet, her hand still slid down into her pocket to retrieve her gem as her feet steered her out of the building.

    This was one conversation she couldn¡¯t afford to be interrupted.

    <hr>

    Inside of a darkened room, an elderly man watched with wide eyes as a flame flickering inside of a transparent crystal ball roared into a large, blazing inferno that looked to be threatening to snap the apparently thin line of glass keeping it in.

    It was time.

    <hr>

    April 20

    Monday 2215

    Cecilia let out a weak groan as she slowly forced her eyes open.

    The first thing that hit her was the sheer brightness of the room, blinding her for a split second before she blinked the light away. The second thing was the pressure surrounding her hand. The last thing, however, was the thing that had almost sent her shooting out of the stiff bed she found herself lying in.

    Before, she had felt as though her body hadn¡¯t belonged to her, as though she was constantly wearing a comically large costume of a school-mascot, several sized to big for her to comfortably walk around in, way too heavy for someone of her stature to have on her shoulders, and she also suspected that she might have been severely allergic to the material of which the costume had been made out of.

    But now¡­

    Never mind the almost ghost-like pain in her stomach, she felt as though someone had finally noticed her predicament with the costume and thus had decided to exchange it for one that was more her size. It was still a few sizes too big, way too heavy, and obviously made out of the same material as the first one, but she found that she wasn¡¯t quite as bothered by her own body as she had been before.

    She tentatively tried to move her limbs to see if anything was wrong with her, but all she found was the pressure around her one hand keeping her arm in place, otherwise, she could find no problems with her motions.

    Okay, she did have that one moment when she attempted to move her back and white-hot pain shot through her stomach, but she was fine.

    The events from the classroom came flooding back to her at the sensation though.

    She let out another groan.

    Of course, of course, she would wound up getting mortally wounded by a prop gun.

    When was her bad luck going to turn around?

    Slowly, mindful of the wound in her stomach, Cecilia lifted herself off of the mattress, looking down at whatever had weighed down on her and so much.

    There was her mother, lying on the mattress from where she was sitting in the visitor¡¯s chair and clutching onto her hand as though her life depended on it.

    Seeing her mothers usually maintained hair looking more like her own, Cecilia lashed back to the last time she¡¯d seen her mother, the awkwardness of their conversation, and more importantly, what she¡¯d said to her.

    She sighed.

    ¡°Looks like you were right Mom,¡± she whispered, slightly surprised to find nothing wrong with her voice apart from the natural hoarseness that came with its lack of use.

    Gently, Cecilia allowed her hand to slide out of her mother¡¯s grip, allowing her fingers to stroke over her mother¡¯s chocolate colored strands.

    She couldn¡¯t remember the last time she had just had a quiet moment with her mother like this, or even the last time she¡¯d had physical contact with any of her parents.

    They used to have movie-nights every Friday, sitting down with unhealthy snacks in front of the TV and just relish in the company, but those had just started happening less and less until they just stopped happening altogether.

    When was the last time she¡¯d even been hugged?

    Feeling the grease under her hand, Cecilia¡¯s attention returned back towards her mother.

    When was the last time she¡¯d showered?

    At the touch of her hand, Jennifer began to stiffen.

    Opening her eyes, Jennifer was met with those identical pairs of light brown eyes that she had been waiting almost three whole days to see again whilst waiting at her daughter¡¯s side. She had only left the hospital to get some sleep and food in her stomach. Even the frantic Viola had been understanding enough to not call Jennifer in a panic during this time, no matter how much she must have wanted to.

    ¡°Ceci!¡± Jennifer called out in absolute joy, tears streaming down her face as she threw her arms around her daughter¡¯s neck, hugging her as close to her chest as she allowed herself, fearing that her daughter¡¯s wound would re-open should she be too violent. ¡°Thank the stars you¡¯re awake.¡± she breathed into her messy curls.

    It took a moment before Jennifer finally let go of Cecilia, sliding back down into the chair, wiping away the tears from her rosy cheeks.

    ¡°How long was I out?¡± Cecilia asked slowly, carefully adjusting her position on the bed as to not aggravate the wound more than necessary.

    ¡°It¡¯s Monday,¡± Jennifer answered shortly, still wiping at her eyes and cheeks with the handkerchief she¡¯d whipped out of her pocket.

    Cecilia was quick to do the math.

    ¡°Two full days?¡± she asked, not really wanting to believe it. The last time this had happened she hadn¡¯t been allowed to leave for almost a month for several reasons. She squared her shoulders and looked at her mother. ¡°What did the doctors say?¡±

    Jennifer lowered the handkerchief with a sniffle, straightening herself out.

    ¡°You need to stay in bed for a few days,¡± she instructed, once again taking her daughters hand. ¡°The wound needs to heal up more before they can give you a skin-grafting over the stitches.¡± a smile formed on her face. ¡°After that, you get to come home.¡±

    Jennifer was well aware of her daughters dislike for hospitals. There was just something about the atmosphere that rubbed Cecilia the wrong way, and with how many times she¡¯s had to visit them over the years¡­

    ¡°I¡¯ve just woken up and I¡¯m already sick of this place,¡± she muttered, looking away from her mother.

    That as when she noticed them.

    Flowers.

    Two beautiful bouquets of flowers adorned the room that had been assigned to her. One of roses stationed on her left, a beautiful vase holding them on top of her nightstand. The other was a beautiful purple kind of flower that Cecilia was afraid to say that she didn¡¯t know the name of as flowers had never really been that big of an interest for her.

    Slowly, she allowed herself to glance back at her mother, who appeared to be studying her quite intensely.

    ¡°Who are the flowers from?¡± she asked softly, her eyes gravitating back to the flora.

    Jennifer allowed herself to smile at the wonder in her daughter''s eyes.

    ¡°The Hyacinth¡¯s are from one¡­ Terrance Justice,¡± she answered slowly.

    Oh, so that¡¯s what the purple ones were called¡­

    Jennifer kept talking.

    ¡°Purple ones mean ¡®I¡¯m sorry, please forgive me, and sorrow¡¯ in the flower language,¡± she said this with just the tiniest hint of anger in her voice. Obviously, she¡¯d been able to guess (quite correctly) the reason behind the meaning of those flowers.

    ¡°Really?¡± Cecilia breathed right back.

    Terry¡¯s family owned a flower shop, there was no surprise to her that he¡¯d known the right kind of flower to send her to get what he wanted across, but it was still strange to receive something like that in the first place. Not to mention apologizing at all, that was a first.

    Not to mention, the flower was quite beautiful in her eyes.

    ¡°The roses.¡± Jennifer began again, motioning with her hand to the flora right at Cecilia¡¯s side, her smile back and the anger completely gone, now replaces with a tone that Cecilia could only describe as suggestive. ¡°I don¡¯t know his name, but he was quite charming.¡±

    Cecilia did not want to know why her mother was raising her eyebrow like that, turning off her logical reasoning and observational skills for a moment to remain blissfully naive to her mother''s hidden meanings.

    She couldn¡¯t deny that the roses warmed her heart though.

    ¡°Why did he¡­?¡± she whispered her half-formed question, only half registering her mother telling her that she was going to fetch the doctor and leaving the room, allowing her to lay back down onto the mattress.

    Slowly, Cecilia reached out her hand, allowing her fingertips to brush over the deep red petals of the closest rose, desperately trying to recall the face of the boy that had given them to her in the first place.

    For the first time in her limited memory, she wished she had actually paid attention to her classmates.

 Act 1: Hidden from Shadows Scene 3: Happy News

    April 21

    Tuesday 2215

    Cecilia silently cursed the hospital policy of no foreign technology activities within the walls as she turned yet another page in one of the many books her mother had brought her.

    She was well aware that humanity was practically locked to the moving screens nowadays, but Jennifer really had no idea what books Cecilia liked to read, so now she was stuck flicking through the pages of one of the most cringe-worthy ¡°romance¡± novels Cecilia has ever had the misfortune to get her hands on.

    She had nothing against romance, so long as it was a realistic romance, and falling in love with a vampire that did little more than constantly stare at you was definitely not romance.

    She¡¯d much rather be reading a book of concept art for a fantasy movie right now, at least that would give her inspiration for future painting and actually keep her interest for as long as she needed it.

    She¡¯d been so locked in her own thoughts that she¡¯d almost missed the sound of the door opening.

    ¡°Yo, Brandet.¡±

    The sound of that familiar voice almost made Cecilia drop her book.

    Now that she thought back at it, she probably should have allowed that book to drop. Instead, she removed her eyes from the pages and turned her attention to the fifteen-year-old standing in the doorway.

    Actually, he¡¯d be turning sixteen in three days, wouldn¡¯t he?

    ¡°Ben Tanaka?¡± she asked uncertainly, not even bothering to mark her page in the book before almost snapping it shut in front of her, placing it on the table next to the roses that had somehow managed to keep blooming through these days as she allowed herself to be distracted from that incredibly horrible read.

    The athlete was smiling brightly at her as he stalked into the room.

    Cecilia couldn¡¯t help but notice that there was something tucked under his arm¡­

    ¡°Your Mom called the shop... said you woke up,¡± he explained softly, settling down on the visitor¡¯s chair in front of Cecilia as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

    Of course, this statement confused Cecilia.

    Sure, Ben had almost gone out of his way to being nice to her for the past few weeks, but Jennifer didn¡¯t know about that, so why would her mother call Ben¡¯s father¡¯s shop to tell them she¡¯s woken up?

    ¡°She¡­ did?¡± Cecilia found herself asking tentatively, anxiously rubbing her hands together over the sheets.

    ¡°Yup.¡± the athlete answered with a bright smile, as though that would answer everything. He leaned back in the chair, making himself comfortable as he looked Cecilia over, letting his eyes quickly run over her body. ¡°So, how are we feeling?

    Cecilia tried to quell the unease she felt at the question.

    It had been strange enough when Ben had started going almost out of his way to being nice to her, but as it really necessary for him to visit her in the hospital as well? It only made her rub her hands even harder, the pain helping her confirm that she really was awake and that this wasn¡¯t some kind of morphine-induced dream.

    Not that she was on any morphine.

    Hospitals had exchanged that for another substance that eased the pain on a much more thorough level without having to muddle-up the brain as it did so. And even so, Cecilia wasn¡¯t in much need of that, seeing as her wound only hurt whenever she moved around either too much or too quickly.

    Something that she managed to do right now.

    Sitting up in the bed, Cecilia had completely forgotten herself in her confusion, the pain shooting through her stomach reminded her by forcing her to double over, her hand clutching at the stitching as a gasp escaped her lips.

    ¡°Hey!¡± Ben exclaimed, almost shooting out of the chair to grab her by the shoulders, carefully laying her back down against the pillows. ¡°Careful.¡±

    Staring up at the ceiling, Cecilia thought back at the question the athlete had asked her, slowly waiting for the pain to ebb away before she finally decided to open her mouth.

    ¡°Honestly...¡± she muttered, almost shocking Ben as she did, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m feeling better than I have in years.¡±

    For a moment, Ben looked at her in confusion, before the look morphed into an expression of disbelief.

    ¡°Really?¡±

    Cecilia rolled her eyes, taking a deep breath as she slowly pulled her legs up to her chest, allowing her head to rest on top of her knees in one of the first successful attempts to fold herself in threes since she got shot.

    She let her eyes rest on the athlete.

    ¡°Wound aside,¡± Cecilia mumbled, taking a deep breath as she tilted her head slightly to the side. ¡°I¡¯m feeling better than I have in years.¡±

    Now, Ben just looked confused.

    He somehow looked very different than he did when surrounded by their fellow classmates.

    She decided to finally put the poor boy out of his misery.

    ¡°My body feels more like mine now.¡±

    As she expected, Ben looked even more confused than he did before.

    ¡°And it didn¡¯t before?¡± he slowly asked after a moment of silence.

    Taking a deep breath, Cecilia slowly shook her head, messy strands of hair falling in front of her eyes as she allowed her legs to slide just a bit away from her chest.

    She locked eyes with the athlete, her face stone-cold serious.

    ¡°No.¡±

    Not for a moment, the two of them just sat in silence, not looking at one another as they thought over the situation in their heads.

    Who would have thought that either of them would be there?

    This sparked a question inside Cecilia¡¯s mind.

    Awkwardly turning towards her long-term classmate, she cleared her throat, succeeding in catching his attention.

    ¡°Can I ask you something, Tanaka?¡± she asked timidly.

    Seeing her so uncomfortable brought a reassuring smile to Ben¡¯s mouth, hoping it would make it easier for her to talk to him.

    He never seemed to have a problem talking to her.

    ¡°Shoot.¡± it wasn¡¯t until just after he had said it that he realized just how insensitive that word probably was to her, his caramel colored face paling as the realization hit him.

    The word brought a rather uncomfortable look at the young man¡¯s face. Groaning in shame, he scratched the back of his neck, looking at her in shamed apologies.

    Cecilia just shook her head, waved a hand in the air, swallowing hard as she gathered up the courage to actually ask the question that was burning away at her brain, worried about the possibility that she might insult him.

    ¡°Why are you here?¡±

    It may have sounded slightly as if she was complaining, but they both knew that it was more or less a valid question. Whilst Ben may have started to pay more attention to her very existence for the past couple of weeks, he¡¯d never really done anything more than smile and talk to her, anytime before that, he had barely looked her way.

    Huh¡­ that was a rather sad thought that they have shared the exact same class since middle-school, same school building since they were six. It was like someone was desperately trying to make them interact, and yet, nothing had come from their plans, and now Cecilia was confined to a hospital bed for the second time in her life.

    Sighing heavily, Ben appeared to be reaching out for Cecilia¡¯s hand, only he stopped himself before his fingertips had the chance to brush against her skin.

    Fingers clenching, he retracted his limb.

    ¡°Brandet...¡± he sighed, one of his hands scratching at the back of his neck, his fingers weaving into the ruffled black locks at the nape of his neck. ¡°I think it¡¯s impossible for someone to have someone else¡¯s blood on their hands without feeling the need to be close to the person.¡± he seemed to freeze for a moment, thinking over his words before he started speaking again at a much more hurried pace. ¡°Unless of course, you were the one that shed the blood in the first place, then I really have no idea what you would feel.¡±

    Realization dawned in Cecilia¡¯s light brown eyes, a stark contrast to his pondering hazel ones.

    ¡°You mean...¡± she swallowed hard, trying to force her words out. ¡°You mean that¡­ you were the one who...¡± she couldn¡¯t finish the sentence.

    ¡°I was the one who pressed down on your wound until the paramedics arrived, yes,¡± Ben admitted slowly, once again locking his eyes with hers. Then, a thoughtful look passed over his face. ¡°Well¡­ me and that Donovan guy.¡±

    Cecilia frowned.

    Donovan?

    She knew that name¡­ where did she know that name?

    For a long moment, the two of them just stared at one another.

    It was at that moment, Cecilia felt a strange connection to the athlete. It wasn¡¯t a romantic connection in the least, but she still felt like her life was somehow connected to his in a weird, spiritual way.

    She didn¡¯t know whether or not that connection had been there all the time and she just didn¡¯t know, or if it had come to being the moment he had put his hands on her bleeding stomach, but she knew, she just knew, at the back of her mind, that she was connected to this young man in a way that she had yet to figure out.

    ¡°Tanaka...¡± she muttered, forcing the both of them out of their thoughts. ¡°You saved my life.¡±

    This earned her a light laugh and yet another scratch at the back of the neck from Ben.

    ¡°I¡­ I guess I did¡­ huh.¡±

    They remained there for a while, talking about whatever Ben could think about.

    The main subject was about just how school was coping since she was shot, and, according to Ben, their whole class had gotten rightfully punished for everything they had done to her, most of them even loudly declaring that they would never bully another person so long as they lived again. But of course, both she and Ben knew that that declaration wouldn¡¯t hold once their lives fell back to the way they were before they once again found that they had to take their frustration out on something.

    What Cecilia found the most relieving news, was that Ben had been suspended for his recklessness with the prop he¡¯d brought. Ben heard that he¡¯d even pulled out of Fairgarden high, and he would enroll in another school once he felt like he was ready for it.

    Surprisingly, Cecilia found herself not dreading the thought of returning to school.

    Something told her that her school life would be a lot easier to live once she was finally released from the white-painted walls that were constantly trying to blind her with just how bright they were when the sun hit them from the open windows. Whilst the outside buildings were painted in soft colors so as to not blind people, the hospital obviously had no such qualms.

    She was kind of looking forward to going back to school after so many days of locked up in this prison.

    The two classmates had been talking for a few minutes when Cecilia¡¯s eyes fell on the little something that had completely skipped her attention for several minutes.

    It was a school bag, the one that had been tucked in under Ben¡¯s arm when he had stepped into the room. It wasn¡¯t Ben¡¯s own bag, she knew that. Ben had a baseball patch sewn onto the front, with several autographs and gem contact information from his dedicated female fanbase who ¡°happened¡± to get hold of his bag when he was practicing. The bag was now leaning against one of the legs of the chair, just waiting for someone to notice it again.

    Biting her lip, Cecilia made up her mind.

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± she found herself asking before she could stop herself.

    It had gotten a lot easier to talk to him over the past couple of weeks, considering she hadn¡¯t done much talking to anyone in school for a long, long time, and now, here she was, conversing with one of the school¡¯s most popular boys as if it was the most natural thing in the words to her.

    Well¡­ more natural than anything else at least.

    Glancing down, Ben¡¯s eyes widened.

    ¡°Oh, I almost forgot!¡± he exclaimed, leaning down to fish up the bag from the ground with expert swiftness.

    He allowed the bag to fall into his lap, letting Cecilia see it clearly.

    It was her school bag, the silver strap sporting a crystal bead with golden wires wrapped artistically around it tied to the zipper next to the crystal lotus being the strongest indicator of that fact.

    ¡°Kondou packed up your things for you that day.¡± he looked at her somewhat apologetically, obviously apologizing for someone going through her things without asking her first, but she didn¡¯t hold it against him. Someone had to take care of her things when she was out after all. Finally, he cleared his throat. ¡°I figured might want to have them until you can get out of this place.¡± he fingered the handle of the bag, awkwardly clearing his throat. ¡°Of course, I had to turn off your gem and tablet because...¡± he waved a hand in the air. ¡°Hospital.¡±

    Handing Cecilia the bag, he leaned back as he watched her almost frantically zipping it open, strap flying as she looked through her belongings.

    Her eyes brightened suddenly, as she fished out a thick, black, leather-bound book sporting what looked like a golden crest carved and painted into the leather with golden paint. For a moment, she just sat there, letting her hand run over the detail of the cover, almost entranced at the sight of the object in her hands.

    To be honest, Cecilia was quite surprised that she got to see that thing again.

    Ben watched the look in her eyes. It was such a pure, open expression, one that he had never seen on her before, one that he doubted anyone aside from her own parents had seen before.

    ¡°That important to you?¡± he asked, snatching Cecilia¡¯s attention away from the book.

    Still smiling lightly, she nodded, turning back to the book.

    She had always been worried about keeping her things in school, in case one of her bullies decided to go through her desk and think it would be a ¡°funny prank¡± to destroy all of her belongings. So having them in front of her, looking like they hadn¡¯t been away from her line of sight at all, was a great relief to her.

    Looking back at Ben, Cecilia gave him the biggest, most genuine smile that she could remember ever giving anyone for several years.

    Even her mother.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± she breathed, voice barely louder than a whisper.

    Slightly taken aback by the sudden smile, Ben had to shake his head before smiling right back at her.

    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it.¡±

    Suddenly, a loud beeping sound rang through the air, almost making Cecilia jump out of her skin.

    Ben¡¯s hand flew to his wrist where he had a special 21<sup>st</sup> century styled wristwatch strapped, his thumb jamming down on the screen that was blaring a bright blue light.

    The noise immediately died down.

    For a moment, Ben just stared down at the annoying noise-maker, finally, he sighed in frustration, tapping on the screen to make sure that the alarm wouldn¡¯t start off again.

    Grabbing his bad as he got up from the chair, Ben looked down at Cecilia who was looking up at him with a questioning look in her light brown eyes.

    ¡°I got to go.¡± the athlete stated, jerking his head in the direction of the door with a somewhat regretful tone to his voice. ¡°Baseball practice starts in about half an hour so-¡±

    ¡°I get it.¡± Cecilia cut him off, her hand raised with her palm facing him.

    She was well aware of how much baseball meant to the boy, and she didn¡¯t want to be the thing that stood between him and doing the thing he obviously loved.

    He smiled gratefully at her.

    He just shook his head, surprising her by reaching out his arm, his hand landing on top of her birds-nest hair and giving it a good ruffle and turned around to exit.

    Only for him to pause in the doorway.

    ¡°By the way, Brandet.¡±

    Looking up from the sketchbook, Cecilia was met with the signature smile that for better or for worse had basically became associated with the athlete.

    ¡°You¡¯re really good at that.¡± with that said, the athlete nodded town towards the sketch-book. His energetic smile turning more gentle before he gave her a small wave, and disappeared out the door, leaving the girl alone to stroke her hand over her book.

    In the span of three days, high-school had actually managed to change her life around in the one way probably no one could have ever imagined. First, there was the mere factor that one of the schools most popular boys had started talking to her, and now she was lying in a hospital bed with a hole in her stomach with the doctors currently checking out several tests to try and figure out why she was feeling differently in her own body.

    She was scheduled for an x-ray in just half an hour.

    Who would have thought that Cecilia would have had to get shot in the stomach before she got the chance to actually start living?This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    <hr>

    The first time Cecilia had been shoved into a brain scanner, she¡¯d been told horror stories about the old magnetic scanners that required the head being caged to a board with earmuffs to block out the loud pounding noise the machine would give off with every picture snapped.

    Thankfully, she would not have to be put through that, and by now, she was so used to pictures being taken of her brain that it was just standard procedure for her, almost falling asleep on the slab as doctors stared at 3D x-ray pictures of the squishy part of her that she¡¯d known had problems for several years now.

    They had decided to shove her into this device after she¡¯d informed them that she was feeling better and having fewer problems than what she¡¯d felt before. It had intrigued them, and they wanted to see if something had changed inside her skull.

    To be honest, she was legitimately curious.

    Finally, the doctors pressed the button to pull the slab out of the machine.

    As the slab was pulled out, she could hear the door open and the familiar sound of doctor shoes stepping in. She turned her head towards the approaching white-coat, immediately spotting the bright vibrant smile on his face.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong doctor?¡± Cecilia asked, sitting up and slipping off of the slab with grace that she hadn¡¯t been able to access previously. Thankfully, the pain in her stomach had faded away rather quickly, allowing her to move around much more smoothly than before, than ever in fact.

    The doctor just kept smiling.

    ¡°Nothing¡¯s wro,g.¡± he answered, stepping up to her as he activated the screen in his hands. ¡°We just discovered what might be the cause of your newfound comfortability with your body.¡± his smile turned a bit mischievous as he swiped his fingers over the screen.

    This got Cecilia¡¯s attention.

    ¡°What is it?¡± she asked, almost cautiously.

    Dr. Kondou tapped at the screen a handful of more times before a hologram was projected from the top of the screen, allowing Cecilia to see just what they had been looking at.

    Of course, she knew very little about such things.

    Two versions of her brain were next to one another, slowly spinning in the air between the two of them. They were just about the same size, but Cecilia could tell that there was something different about them aside from that. She couldn¡¯t quite put her finger how how they were different, but she could tell that they were.

    Thankfully, Dr. Kondou decided to enlighten her.

    ¡°Your brain has started to partially develop what you¡¯ve previously been lacking.¡±

    For a moment, Cecilia could just stare at the images, her mind trying to register just what it was she was being told.

    The one thing that had thrown stick in the wheel of her life with 100% accuracy for as long as she could remember, and it was starting to repair itself now?

    Before Cecilia knew it, the tears were streaming down her cheeks, her heart pounding in her chest as almost overwhelming happiness flooded through her system. It wasn¡¯t until she realized that her breaths were coming out in labored hiccups, a hand landing on her back trying to calm her down, that she understood just how close she was to hyperventilating.

    Sitting back on the slab, Cecilia furiously rubbed away the tears from her cheeks, Dr. Kondou sitting down next to her, hand still in between her shoulder-blades.

    ¡°Obviously,¡± he began, turning off the hologram on his screen. ¡°The adrenaline you experienced cause something to happen in your brain.¡± he set the screen down on the slab to pull a handkerchief of of his pocket, handing it to the teenager so that she may wipe the tears with something other than her hands.

    It took a few moments before she managed to get her voice working again.

    ¡°What are you going to do?¡± Cecilia hiccuped, still wiping at her eyes.

    ¡°We¡¯re not going to open your head and try and operate, don¡¯t worry.¡± Dr. Kondou answered with a light chuckle, taking his hand away from her back to get a better look at her. ¡°What we¡¯re going to do, is create special pills to make your body go through the same levels of adrenaline you went through during your injury, without actually feeling it.¡±

    Pills¡­

    They were going to give her pills¡­

    The thought of being on a pill didn¡¯t sit well with Cecilia, but if it could help her to get over a decade old problem...

    ¡°How long will that take?¡± she found herself asking.

    ¡°Not too long, don¡¯t worry.¡± came the doctors immediate answer, getting off of the slab with the screen in hand, already tapping away at it in obvious preparation to what he was telling her. ¡°You¡¯ll be just like any other teenager before you know it.¡± he helped her to her feet, her fingers still clenched around the handkerchief as he guided her out of the room.

    ¡°Stars that¡¯s a strange thought.¡± she muttered under her breath.

    <hr>

    April 24

    Friday 2215

    It was drawing closet to the afternoon as Cecilia sat cross-legged on top of the bed, her leather-bound sketch-book folded up in front of her as she expertly moved her pen over the paper, only removing it every once in a while to lodge the butt of the pen between her teeth, studying the picture that was slowly forming.

    It was almost finished, just a few more touched to the shadows¡­

    Biting down on the pen sideways as a make-shift storage of sort, Cecilia extended her pinky, smudging some of the lines on the sketch, creating a much smoother transition from bright white to black.

    Finally, she removed the pen from her mouth, hooking it in between her ring and middle finger as she held out the book in front of her, studying it with her self-critical eyes before nodding in satisfaction.

    Carefully, she pulled the sketch from the book jacket, gently folding it over before putting it on top of the bedside table. There it would sit until it¡¯s future owner arrived for his almost daily visit.

    It was at that very moment, that Dr. Kondou decided to enter through the door, almost startling Cecilia enough to drop her sketch-book.

    The man had only left her room a few hours ago after her daily check-up. She was scheduled for a skin grafting in just a few hours, officially released on Monday morning and thus was only required to meet with the doctors once a day, so there was no reason for Dr. Kondou to walk into her assigned room.

    Setting down the sketch-book on her bed, Cecilia turned fully towards the doctor.

    ¡°Is there anything wrong?¡± she asked, a sense of uncertainty forming in her stomach.

    The doctor just smiled, shaking his head before he stuffed his hand into his pocket, the smile turning mischievous once again.

    ¡°No.¡± he answered. ¡°Just got something for you.¡±

    And with that, he pulled out two bottles of colorful pulls, holding them out towards the confused girl, before her expression cleared in understanding.

    ¡°What are they for?¡± she asked slowly, taking the bottles from the doctors hands and looking at them in confusion, finding no labels on them.

    ¡°The green one.¡± he gently pocked the bottle with the small pastel-green hockey-puck shaped pills. ¡°Will increase the levels of adrenaline in your body, whilst the pink ones.¡± he pocked at the bottle containing tiny pearl-like pills that looked more like pink fish eggs.

    Taking a deep breath, Cecilia nodded in understanding.

    She didn¡¯t understand why, but¡­ the sight of those pills made her feel slightly uneasy, and not just the general shape of the things.

    ¡°How many times a day?¡± she asked slowly, glancing up at the doctor through her bangs.

    ¡°Once a day will be enough.¡± Dr. Kondou answered with a smile before a knock on the door interrupted them.

    A woman was standing in the doorway, holding up a plastic, soft-looking package.

    ¡°Oh yes¡± Dr. Kondou expressed, stepping forward to take the package from the woman. ¡°Thank you.¡± and just like that, the woman left, not really paying any attention to Cecilia.

    Dr. Kondou turned back to the teenage girl, holding out the package towards her.

    ¡°We thought you might want to have these back.¡±

    Putting the bottles on the bed, Cecilia slowly slid off of the bed, stepping up to take the package from the doctor¡¯s hands.

    ¡°I¡¯ll leave you to it then.¡± Dr. Kondou said, bidding goodbye before she turned right around and left the room, leaving Cecilia standing there in the center of it with a package in her arms.

    Cecilia shrugged before carefully opening the package, folding the plastic open to reveal, her uniform. The uniform she¡¯d been wearing when she¡¯d been shot, only they had been perfectly washed, mended, and folded.

    Of course, her mother hadn¡¯t allowed Cecilia to remain in the hospital robes for very long, seeing as they barely covered any of her skin, and so, her mother had been a perfect saint and had come to the hospital with a couple of changes, so right this moment, Cecilia was in an orange T-shirt with jeans shorts and a white cardigan.

    However, there was one thing missing to her outfit.

    One thing that she positively couldn¡¯t live without.

    Furiously, Cecilia dug through the package until her hands finally folded around the thin golden chain, a sigh of relief escaping her as she pulled out a pendant of sorts. The pendant itself was a smaller replica of the sigil on the cover of her sketch-book, a matching pair that she¡¯d gotten from her father last Christmas.

    She never went anywhere without this pendant if she had anything to say about it.

    She let the rest of the package drop to the floor, allowing herself the moment to simply relish in the feel of the small pendant in the palm of her hand, the touch of it under her fingertips before she hung it around her neck, smiling as the cold metal landed between her collarbones.

    Truthfully, she¡¯d almost felt naked without it.

    Then¡­ she recalled the pills.

    Slowly, she turned around, staring at the two bottles lying among the sheets.

    Truly, they were mocking her with their existence, not to mention the almost haunting feeling she got just by looking at them. But, she wanted to be rid of her handicap, she wanted to get better, so she walked up, plucked up the two bottles from the bed, desperately pushing down the uneasy feeling as she dropped one pill from each bottle into her hand and proceeded to shove them into her mouth, washing them down with the cup of water that had just been waiting for her at the bedside table since a few hours back.

    The feeling only got worse as the pills washed down her throat.

    The clearing of someone else¡¯s throat knocked her out of her thoughts.

    Spinning around, Cecilia couldn¡¯t help but smile at the sight of the star athlete standing in the doorway.

    ¡°Hey.¡± he greeted, though he had this frown on his face.

    ¡°Hi.¡± she greeted back, putting the bottled down on the table.

    Ben¡¯s eyes followed the bottles, staring at them for a moment before he turned his attention back to Cecilia.

    ¡°What are the pills for?¡± he asked, stepping further into the room. ¡°I thought you were just days from being released.¡± his voice carried a hint of worry in it.

    ¡°I am,¡± Cecilia answered casually, plopping herself down onto the bed, showing off just how much the wound wasn¡¯t bothering her anymore. She threw a look at the pills, nodding them as an indicator. ¡°Those are to fix a decade old problem.¡±

    Ben frowned slightly, dropping his bag to the floor as he himself collapsed into the visitor¡¯s chair, looking at her intently.

    ¡°What kind of problem?¡±

    Cecilia had to think for a moment.

    Could she tell Ben? Would it be a smart thing to do so? He probably would feel terribly guilty once the news was brought to light, but he just looked so expectant¡­

    Finally, she sighed.

    ¡°There was this part of my brain that absolutely refused to develop when I was younger,¡± she said, motioning with her finger around her head as she watched Ben¡¯s eyes widening just s fraction. ¡°It made it so that whenever I tried to set my mind on something, I would either lose all form of balance or completely shatter my ability to think straight.¡± she said, trying to make her voice sound as nonchalant as possible.

    Ben¡¯s hand flew up, stopping her from trying to brush off these news as though they were nothing.

    ¡°Wait...¡± he asked, voice surprisingly low as he looked at the ground.

    She did wait, staring at the athlete expectantly, somehow knowing exactly what he was going to say.

    ¡°So if you were to take a test...¡± he started off slowly, his words rolling out of his mouth almost hesitantly, fearing that Cecilia¡¯s reaction would be, which was a quick one.

    ¡°Brain turns into scrambled eggs,¡± she answered easily, turning around to fetch the folded sketch off of the bedside table.

    ¡°And if you were to pay attention to how you were walking...¡± Ben continued, even slower than before, voice sounding a pitch darker than she¡¯d ever heard it.

    ¡°Automatic face-plant,¡± Cecilia replied, acting as though it wasn¡¯t that big a deal.

    Slowly, Ben rose from his chair.

    ¡°So you mean to tell me that...¡± his voice was little more than a hateful growl as he stared down at Cecilia, eyes somehow portraying the interesting mix of shock and absolute anger at the same time. ¡°The whole school has been bullying you...¡± his hands fell on either side of Cecilia¡¯s tiny body on the bed, her staring up at him as his voice rose. ¡°Because of a handicap!¡± had Cecilia been any other person, she probably would have flinched.

    But Cecilia wasn¡¯t any other person.

    Not only was she accustomed to people screaming in her face, she was also more than used to angry people invading her personal bubble. She just tilted her head to the side, quickly thinking over the words the athlete had just spewed.

    ¡°Pretty much.¡± she nodded.

    For a long moment, Ben just stares at her, confused at her indifferent expression.

    Groaning, Ben plopped down on top of the bed, staring at his wrists as he buried his forehead into the palms of his hands.

    ¡°You have been bullied for something you couldn¡¯t control...¡± he grumbled, forcing Cecilia to strain her ears in order to properly hear him. ¡°And you just sit there as if it doesn¡¯t matter?¡± he glanced at her from the corner of her eye, watching as she fiddles with a piece of folded paper.

    ¡°I¡¯ve gotten used to it.¡± she shrugged, eyes pinned on the things in her hands.

    Ben buried his face in his hands, letting out a series of incoherent grumbles muffled by the palms of his hands, the self-hatred practically radiating off of him.

    Finally, he took a deep breath, filling his lungs before he allowed his forearms to fall to his knees.

    ¡°I¡¯m so, so sorry Brandet.¡± he mumbled, refusing to look at her.

    It was Cecilia¡¯s turn to sigh, shaking her head as she scooted over to the athlete.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be,¡± she said, putting her tiny hand on his shoulder. ¡°You haven¡¯t done anything.¡±

    This didn¡¯t cheer Ben up at all.

    Shooting back up to his feet, the athlete threw his hands into the air, angrily spinning around towards the petite girl settled on top of the bed.

    ¡°But I should have!¡±

    Rolling her eyes, Cecilia got off of the bed, her bare feet moving over the tiled floor towards the athlete as she held out the folded sketch out towards him.

    ¡°For you,¡± she stated, throwing the paper a brief glance before looking him right in the eye.

    Obviously still angry with himself, Ben almost snatched the paper from her, keeping his eyes firmly locked onto hers as he folded it up, only tearing them away once he had it straightened out in front of him.

    And what he saw froze him in place.

    It was him.

    Or, to be more accurate, it was a pencil portrait of him.

    Expertly made, confident lines, shadows that fell in the most realistic manner he had ever seen in a drawing before, and seeing that their class did have a few students in the Artistic division he¡¯d seen quite a few a few drawings over the few weeks they¡¯ve been in high-school, and yet¡­ this one pencil sketch had more life than any of them¡­

    Speechless, Ben looked back up at Cecilia.

    ¡°Wha-?¡± he couldn¡¯t find the words to express what he was currently feeling.

    ¡°It¡¯s your birthday isn¡¯t it?¡± Cecilia just stated in a question, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Ben could only nod, mouth partially open and eyes wide. ¡°It¡¯s the best I could make when still locked up in here but...¡± her tiny hand moved up to brush some hair behind her ear in the familiar nervous habit Ben had become quite used to seeing the last couple of weeks.

    Ben looked back at the drawing, and sure enough, at the bottom right-hand corner was something written in minute, flowing handwriting.

    Happy Sweet 16

    For a moment, Ben just stood there, staring at the writing. Then, a hand found it¡¯s way over his mouth, a breath sucked in through his nose as the gesture thoroughly registered.

    Cecilia Brandet¡­ the schools most bullied girl, with a (to him) newly discovered function handicap that he had done little to nothing to try and help for as long as they had shared the same class, and yet here she was, giving him a hand-drawn portrait of himself for his birthday. A portrait that she¡¯d obviously spent a lot of time on if the detail was anything to go by.

    Not that Ben knew that much about art, to begin with.

    Taking down her hand, Ben turned to Cecilia again.

    ¡°Why?¡± he asked, voice shaking slightly.

    Cecilia just shrugged.

    ¡°You¡¯re a good person,¡± she stated with the most steady voice he¡¯s heard her speak with. ¡°Why shouldn¡¯t I?¡±

    What happened next, Cecilia still couldn¡¯t quite wrap her mind around.

    She¡¯d just been standing there one second, looking at Ben as though that alone would help him understand just how genuine she was, and the next, her face was pressed into said athlete¡¯s muscled chest, strong arms wrapped around her small frame as Ben Tanaka hugged her close to him.

    It shouldn¡¯t have hurt as much as it did, it was just a hug and they shouldn¡¯t hug, but Cecilia still found herself squirming a little in discomfort, her skin burning where the athlete¡¯s skin made contact with hers.

    He must have noticed her discomfort, for he put his hands on her shoulders, gently pushing her away from him so that he could look at her face with determination in his eyes.

    ¡°I promise you Brandet...¡± he spoke, voice steady and deep. ¡°When you come back to school, it will be much better.¡±

    Cecilia couldn¡¯t help the sigh that escaped her mouth.

    ¡°Tanaka...¡± she didn¡¯t get to finish the thought.

    ¡°CECI-!¡± Jennifer¡¯s scream was cut short the second she¡¯d burst into her daughter¡¯s hospital room, only to freeze once she noticed that her daughter wasn¡¯t alone in there. And what a sight it must have been, her almost sixteen-year-old daughter standing in front of an admittedly handsome young man who happened to have his hands on her shoulders, both of whom were looking at the woman in wide-eyed shock.

    Jennifer blinked a few times before a small smirk formed on her lips.

    ¡°Am I interrupting something?¡±

    Cecilia narrowed her eyes at the tone her mother was using.

    It was WAY too suggestive for Cecilia¡¯s comfort.

    Ben removed his hands from Cecilia¡¯s shoulders.

    ¡°Not at all,¡± he stated, turning his attention back to the younger Brandet female, optioning to put his hands on top of her head, ruffling her hair slightly. ¡°I¡¯ll see you when you get back to school then?¡± he asked, meeting her eyes.

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Cecilia nodded, knocking his hand away from her head.

    Ben bowed his head swiftly to Jennifer, and then he disappeared out the door.

    The women stared at the doorway for a moment, Cecilia mentally counting the seconds, before Jennifer almost frantically spun around towards her daughter.

    ¡°What was that?¡± the woman asked excitedly.

    ¡°What was what?¡± Cecilia asked, turning to sit back down on top of the bed.

    ¡°Ceci...¡± Jennifer almost giggled as she said her daughter¡¯s nickname. ¡°That handsome young man just had his hands on your shoulders.¡± she pointed a slender finger towards the door. ¡°What was that about?¡±

    Cecilia sighed heavily.

    Figures her mother would get caught up on that...

    She was well aware that her mother knew who Ben was, apparently, he¡¯d come over after school ended the day she¡¯d gotten shot and he¡¯d given her the contact to his family¡¯s sushi-shop to call when Cecilia woke up.

    Still¡­ she didn¡¯t like the look her mother was giving her.

    ¡°He was feeling guilty about my previous school life.¡± She explained, picking up her sketch-book again, leaning back against the pillows as she set to run the tip of her pencil over the first blank page. ¡°He was saying something about...¡± she waved her hand in the air, as though trying to decide on the right words. ¡°Making sure I was having a better time in school when I returned or¡­ something.¡±

    Jennifer only seemed to giggle even more energetically.

    Cecilia sighed again.

    Sometimes¡­ dealing with her mother was a real chore.

    Looking up from the sketch slowly forming on the page in front of her, Cecilia gave her mother a hard look.

    ¡°What did you want?¡±

    It took a moment before Jennifer realized what her daughter meant.

    ¡°Right.¡± She said, walking up and sitting down in front of her daughter. ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking...¡±

    Cecilia would have raised an eyebrow if she was actually capable of doing so, instead, she furrowed them in suspicion.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve got plenty of room in our house...¡± Jennifer continued, looking straight into the air. ¡°Why don¡¯t we put up a room for rent?¡± she asked. ¡°Extra money and more people are out overly large kitchen table.¡±

    Cecilia thought about it for a moment, biting her lip as she did.

    Finally, she let out a light groan.

    ¡°Alright, why not?¡±

    <hr>

    Cecilia had been brought into a different room, one that she¡¯d never been in before, but that didn¡¯t say much as she hasn¡¯t exactly spent that much time in the hospital. Okay, so she has spent a lot of time in a hospital, but not with open injuries.

    ¡°Please lie down on the table.¡± the doctor instructed her, motioning towards a dentist-like chair.

    Cecilia really couldn¡¯t do much else than do what was asked of her, awkwardly settling down into the chair and watched as the female doctor pulled out a test-tube filled with something that looked to be some kind of powder.

    ¡°This is a skin sample we took from you during the operation.¡± she described as she moved towards a large, square, shiny machine at the corner of the room. ¡°We¡¯ve had it dried for easier access,¡± she said, twisting the lid off of the tube.

    Cecilia watched as the doctor opened a compartment in the machine.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to put this in this machine,¡± she said, sliding the tube into one of the multiple holes the open compartment now revealed, closing it before turning towards Cecilia with a smile. ¡°And it will create a roll of skin-grafting for you.¡± with that said, she hit a button on the machine and it immediately roared to life.

    This made Cecilia frown.

    ¡°Why am I lying down then?¡± she asked.

    The doctor chuckled at her question, stepping up to the chair in order to adjust a mirror hanging over Cecilia¡¯s body, ensuring that it was placed at an angle that allowed Cecilia to see her stomach whilst still lying down.

    ¡°Easier for me to show you how to apply it.¡± the doctor answered, smiling down at her.

    At that moment, the machine stopped the low humming. It had only been humming for about half a minute, a light fitted at the top of a larger compartment door lighting up a bright green color.

    ¡°There we go.¡±

    The woman opened the compartment to take out a roll of bio-material about the general size of toilet paper.

    Cecilia had always wanted to see bio-material, how it worked differently from bio-fabric what with it being made especially for your biological make up and could only be reached through hospitals and not your everyday convenience store.

    The woman smiled as she turned back to Cecilia, the roll in hand.

    ¡°Please raise your shirt for me.¡±

    Nodding, Cecilia set up a bit to easier roll the fabric up, allowing her to finally see what that bullet had done to her stomach.

    It wasn¡¯t a lot of damage, just a small scar that was a bit bigger than what the entrance hole had been before she¡¯d gotten to the hospital because they had to get the blank out. Thankfully, there was no damage done to her internal organs, the only real threat had been how much she¡¯d been bleeding at the time.

    The stitches were still there, and that was why she was getting the grafting.

    The woman pulled out a strip from the roll.

    ¡°You cut this off,¡± she said, picking up just a regular pair of scissors and cutting off a square piece of the roll. ¡°Remove the tape.¡± she set the roll down on a table next to the chair so that she could handle the square with both of her hands, pulling off a white piece of paper, leaving her with a thin piece of what looked to be synthetic skin. ¡°And gently apply it over the injury.¡± the touch of the woman¡¯s gentle fingers was uncomfortable to Cecilia, but she watched with great interest as the woman spread the square out over the stitched up hole in her stomach. ¡°Easy.¡±

    As the woman stepped away from her, Cecilia could see as the material immediately blended in seamlessly with the rest of her skin, leaving little more than the illusion of flawless skin in its place.

    Hesitantly, she prodded at the spot, not even able to feel the stitching under the soft, skin substitute.

    ¡°It always blends like that?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Yes.¡± the doctor said, coming back from having thrown the paper in the garbage, picking up the roll and stuffing it into a plastic bag. ¡°It will peel off in its own in 24 hours.¡± she explained, putting the bag in Cecilia¡¯s hands. ¡°Apply a new one when this happens to keep the wound from straining.¡±

    Cecilia nodded slowly.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said, reaching into the bag to feel the roll itself, and to her, it was incredibly strange. She kept fingering the material even as the two women stepped out of the room.

    ¡°Remember.¡± the woman started, catching Cecilia¡¯s attention. ¡°It¡¯s just an extra layer of protection for that injury.¡± she motioned with her hand towards Cecilia¡¯s abdomen. ¡°It doesn¡¯t make you invincible.¡± her eyes were narrowed in seriousness. ¡°You still need to take it easy.¡±

    ¡°Understood.¡± Cecilia nodded, running her thumb over the material, genuinely surprised when her thumb didn¡¯t completely melt into it like it had done to her stomach.

    Bag in hand, Cecilia returned to the room assigned to her, the counter to when she can finally go home going down in her head.

    Soon, she told herself.

    Soon.

 Act 1: Hidden from Shadows Scene 4: Luke Salafay

    April 26

    Sunday 2215

    A tall, lean man dressed in an expensive black suit strode down the roads of Italy, his fedora shadowing his eyes but a content smirk was playing on his lips as he fingered his tablet, seemingly absorbed by the article he was reading.

    He was a very handsome man, capturing the attention of almost the entire female population that he passed, even those that were obviously on dates with their significant others, and thus, he also pissed off a lot of people. He was well aware of this fact, he was used to it, and if anything, it only made him smirk even more.

    He moved his screen into his pocket, keeping both his hands hidden as he strode confidently into the pub he¡¯d been aiming for during his walk, not even bothering to spare a glance at the figure following him.

    Throwing up the doors of the pup, all activity inside stopped as they all turned to stare at the new arrival.

    Two suited men smirked at the sight of him.

    ¡°Oh, so you¡¯re here?¡± one of the men greeted, raising his shot glass towards the man. ¡°Got yourself a new assignment have you?¡±

    ¡°Ay.¡± the man confirmed with a sharp nod, his deep voice booming over the silence as he confidently strode into the building.

    ¡°Where is it now?¡± the other man asked, glancing at the man from the corner of his eye. ¡°Rome? Venice?¡±

    ¡°New-America.¡± the man answered casually, never even taking his hands out of his pockets.

    ¡°New-America!?¡± the two men immediately reacted, looks of shock plastered over their faces as they turned fully towards the man.

    ¡°That old man finally managed to make the lion give in?¡±

    The man allowed himself a light chuckle at the sight of their reactions.

    The man behind the counter set down a shot of amber liquid in front of the man.

    ¡°Looks like I¡¯m in for a long trip.¡± he mused, long fingers picking up the shot and downing it with little effort.

    At that moment, the shadow that had followed the man decided to finally step out, a knife raised high above his head as he let out a loud cry, bringing down the knife, going in for the kill.

    It didn¡¯t quite happen the way he¡¯d imagined it.

    The knife had barely come within an inch of the man¡¯s neck before it was suddenly knocked out of his hand, the bones in his wrist snapping, and the very next second, the wannabe-assassin was lying on the floor, twitching in pain as he clutched at his broken wrist, screaming in pain as he started up at the man, eyes full of fear.

    All the man did was smirk, downing another shot.

    Oh, he was going to have fun in New-America, that much was clear.

    <hr>

    April 27

    Monday 2215

    It was the day she¡¯d been waiting for.

    Cecilia was standing in the reception of the hospital, a light bag hanging from her shoulder as she waited for Dr. Kondou. The doctor had gone to schedule Cecilia for a time for a time at a local therapist, something Cecilia had completely forgotten that she¡¯d probably need as she has been shot in the stomach.

    Shifting from one foot to the other, Cecilia raised herself on the tip of her toes, relishing in the unnatural amount of balance she now possessed. Of course, she¡¯d been banned from participating in any form of physical classes, including her ballet lessons, but that didn¡¯t mean she couldn¡¯t practice the basics in her bedroom to keep her flexibility and the strength in her leg and back muscles. She didn¡¯t want to return to ballet classes after summer vacation and find that she¡¯s even more useless in the art that she¡¯s ever been before.

    She didn¡¯t look composed at all, what with all her restless energy that had been building up inside her during the time she¡¯d spent locked up in the building.

    ¡°Miss Brandet!¡± Dr. Kondou called out as he finally arrived into the lobby, making both women turn towards him as he approached them, a smile on his face. ¡°I¡¯ve got the time,¡± he said, holding out his tablet, ready to transfer the information.

    ¡°I don¡¯t feel as though I need it.¡± Cecilia said as she reluctantly pulled her alexandrite-type gem from her pocket.

    Dr. Kondou just laughed as he transferred the info.

    Just to be safe, Cecilia activated an alarm for the event, setting it to the day before just to make sure that she didn¡¯t forget it.

    It wouldn¡¯t do if she did.

    ¡°Let the therapist decide that, alright?¡± he put his hand on her shoulder, lowering himself down to look into her eyes at a more equal level. ¡°You take care of yourself.¡± his eyes narrowed as he held up a finger in front of her case as though he were scolding a child. ¡°Remember,¡± he even changed the tone of his voice to fit his demeanor. ¡°No ballet.¡±

    Cecilia rolled her eyes at his words.

    ¡°I know.¡± she responded.

    ¡°Ceci.¡± Jennifer¡¯s voice spoke up from behind Cecilia¡¯s back, making both the doctor and the daughter turn around towards her.

    ¡°Mom.¡± Cecilia breathed, letting her hands clench around the straps on her bag. ¡°You¡¯re late.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡± Jennifer answered with a deep breath, letting her hand run over her daughter¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± suddenly, her face spread into a wide, almost victorious smile. ¡°Your shelves arrived an hour ago.¡±

    Cecilia¡¯s eyes widened.

    ¡°Really?¡± she couldn¡¯t keep the excitement from her voice.

    Happily, Jennifer nodded, rubbing her hands over her daughters arms.

    Unfortunately, the doctor had to ruin their moment.

    ¡°You¡¯re officially signed out of our system.¡± he stated with a smile, gesturing with his screen before that mischievous smile once again returned to his face, she was seriously starting to get tired of that smile. ¡°Please do not make us register you back in again.¡±

    She sighed heavily, hands still clasped around the strap of her bag.

    ¡°I¡¯ll try not to.¡±

    The doctor just kept smiling.

    ¡°Keep shining.¡± he threw the women¡¯s way with a point, a goodbye term Cecilia had no idea how it came to be. She dislike answering it due to how cheesy she found it.

    Thankfully, Jennifer saved her from doing that.

    ¡°Brightly.¡± she replied, pointing right back with a smile as she turned Cecilia around towards the hospital doors.

    ¡°Why do we say that again?¡± Cecilia found herself whispering, her mothers hands still on her shoulders as they finally stepped out of that dreadful building.

    ¡°Don¡¯t question culture Sweetheart.¡± came Jennifer¡¯s immediate answer, giving Cecilia¡¯s shoulder a squeeze before they separated, walking about a foot away from one another, allowing the younger Brandet woman to reach into her bag to pull out the bottles of pills.

    She couldn¡¯t help herself.

    There was still just something about them that rubbed her the wrong way.

    <hr>

    Jennifer had said that Cecilia''s long-since ordered storage space had arrived, and now, they were standing in her bedroom, waiting to be put together and be filled with what more than likely still lay scattered all over her floor back home.

    Standing in front of her bedroom door, Cecilia felt somewhat uncomfortable, wondering whether or not she would actually open the door and face the mess she knew would great her on the other side. It just would feel right after having been locked up in the all-too-clean hospital for as long as she had. The mess that she''d gotten so used to before would now most likely feel so much worse than it ever has.

    She stared at the nameplate she''d made a few years ago, frowning slightly at the glittering lines her eleven-year-old self had probably thought of as pretty. It looked as though that too was due for a change.

    Finally, she shook her head, banishing her foreboding notions and decided to just get it over with.

    With that thought, she put her hand on the handle of the door and practically shoved the large slab of wood open.

    Each step up the stairs had been heavier than the one before, until finally, she stood at the top of the stars, facing the mess that she''d lived in for the past three years.

    Just like she had expected, the mess felt immense.

    The piles of used papers, dirty clothes, and other knick-knacks felt so much larger than how they had felt the last time she had seen them.

    However¡­

    Slowly, she turned her attention to the series of different-sized boxes that stood in the middle of the room, the mess that had previously been there having been viciously shoved away so that the boxes wouldn''t crush them.

    That mess would soon be dealt with.

    Taking a deep breath, Cecilia dropped her bag to the floor, rolling up the sleeves of her white cardigan as she marched to the boxes, only sparing a thought to fetch a pair of scissors from on top of her desk (the drawers were full of underwear, socks, and other things that would later find a new home) before she ripped open the cardboard to reach the pale brown wood that made up the shelves and other things she was going to put together.

    She didn''t even notice the fierce tingling sensation at the tip of her fingers.

    Now, Cecilia was by no means an unintelligent young woman. Her test results were nothing to go by, her sense of logic and general level of understanding was quite high. In fact, one of the three motto''s she went by was "I don''t know a lot of things, but I understand plenty". She understood and followed all the lectures at school perfectly fine, and so, she was able to understand and follow the instructions kept in the boxes equally perfectly fine.

    Truth be told, it wasn''t the first time she''d have to put furniture together on her own, what with her father not being around and all.

    Within a couple of hours, Cecilia had put together the shelves, the standing ones as well as the ones she was to screw onto the walls. Seeing as she had two shelves of the same height, she used them to help her raise the larger wall-mounted shelves before tightly screwing them in place. With the shelves in place, she moved around everything else to where she wanted them, screwing them in place as well. The last thing she needed to mount was the smaller shelves and organization above her desk, leaning back when she was done.

    It was strange, seeing so many empty shelves and drawers all around the room.

    If someone had stepped in right this moment, they would really have believed that Cecilia was a slob, too lazy to put anything where there was room.

    She was proud of her work, but then she looked down at her feet, reminding herself that her work had only just behind.

    The tingling sensation had now spread to the whole of Cecilia''s palms, but she was too busy to register that.

    <hr>

    At 06:48 pm, Jennifer knocked on her daughter''s bedroom with a tray of Juice and an assembly of snacks resting on her left forearm. She didn''t wait for an invitation and just walked in.

    What met her eyes, was something she had never expected to see in her daughter''s bedroom ever since Cecilia first started buying home seemingly useless things at the start of middle-school.

    At the moment, Cecilia was standing in front of a tall cupboard, carefully sliding her finished paintings into place. The piece of furniture was big enough that only half of the thing was filled up, leaving more than enough room for her future works. Jennifer suspected that Cecilia was only sorting the paintings after the order of which they had been painted right now, but if she knew her daughter, she would probably think of a way to sort them after motive on a later date.

    The difference in the room was already quite startling.

    All the discarded papers had either been thrown away for being useless or put into binders and folders that were now stacked in bookcases leaning against the wall, Notebooks, diaries, and the mountain of sketch-books were not too far away from them. Maybe they too would be carefully sorted at a later date.

    Jennifer could spot the antique porcelain dolls Cecilia had received for several years sitting on top of a wide wall-mounted shelf, twenty-seven dolls in total, all of varying sizes and makes, although they were all equally beautiful in beautiful dresses and glossy hair more often than not worn in ringlets.

    Perhaps that had been why Carl had bought them in the first place.

    After all, Cecilia''s hair would have been worn in natural ringlets should she actually decide to manage it.

    Her daughter had taken great care of the dolls through the years, even though the majority of them had been lost to the mess that had covered the floor.

    Looking at the dolls, Jennifer couldn''t help but sweep her eyes over the rest of the bedroom, her gaze locking on the white plush bunny with the orange ribbon tied around its neck that Cecilia had had since Jennifer had first made it for her sixth birthday. It amazed Jennifer how it had still maintained it''s pure white color.

    Next to the bunny (whom Jennifer distinctly remember having been named Snowy), on the bedside table, stood the antique music-box that was basically just a porcelain, spinning, figurine of a ballet dancer (not an actual box), that was winded up with the strange, golden, crest-like key that Cecilia even now was hanging around her neck.

    Her eyes continued, this time landing on the antique tea-set that was an actual real china set from France that Carl had bought for Cecilia when she had been around the age where girls liked to have tea-parties. It was a miracle that the girl was actually really careful with her father''s gifts and so, the most likely very expensive set didn''t seem to have a crack on it even as it lay among the sheets on Cecilia''s bed.

    Jennifer''s eyes moved over Cecilia''s desk where they froze again on the small, beautiful, just as antique as the china, decorated silver trinket box that actually had the name Cecilia engraved into the lid from its first owner, Cecilia used the engraving for inspiration whenever she did calligraphy so she didn''t mind the name. Jennifer knew that Cecilia kept something she considered special in that box, it was just that every time Jennifer had tried to get Cecilia to show her what it was, Cecilia would blatantly refuse her.

    It may be because Cecilia herself doesn''t even know what the box contains, and is afraid of what memories might resurface should she decide to open it. She''d forgotten it a few years ago.

    Continuing with her sweep, her eyes fell on the large mahogany jewelry box that had been temporarily stationed on top of the desk. It''s multiple compartments folded out, ready to be filled with the many pieces of jewelry that were most likely scattered all over the room.

    That Carl and showering Cecilia with gifts.

    If he''s feeling so guilty for not being around then he should just visit, really.

    He used to mostly send her toys. Beautiful, antique toys, mostly in the Victorian style or 21st century, until she entered her teen years, at which point he began to send her all types of clothing, jewelry, allergy safe makeup, shoes, accessories. Everything a teenage girl could ever wish for.

    The only reason he knew to send her allergy safe make-up being that he too shared that same allergy.

    One would think that all of these gifts would make her little girl spoiled, but not Cecilia. It may have been due to how everyone outside of her home was treating her, but Cecilia barely thought about herself at all.

    Most of the toys that Carl had sent were now packed away in the attic. Like that large, beautiful, antique Victorian doll-house with the realistic furniture and dolls, and the surprisingly large assortment of clothes for said dolls. Or that beautiful rocking-horse that had been shaped like a beautiful white mere with actual horse hair for a tail and mane.

    It was a shame that they had to be packed away, but Cecilia felt that they would take too much place in her room (even though Jennifer could see that Cecilia hasn''t wanted to pack away all of her toys either) and so, they were gathering dust in the basement at the moment.

    Perhaps when Cecilia gets married and has her own little girls, those things would be played with once more.

    The thought of Cecilia starting her own family with a kind, intelligent young man made Jennifer feel equally happy as she dreaded the wedding she was sure would happen one day.

    She trusted her daughter, she was too good a judge of character to get into a relationship with someone that would become a stalker should she break up with them, or even stay in a relationship she can tell is starting to fall apart.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    And so, an intelligent young man that treated her daughter as though she were their world was the best option that Jennifer could think of.

    Jennifer couldn''t help but smile at her daughters bedroom, even though accessories, make-up, shoes, and clothing were still scattered all over the floor (she really should get her her own laundry-basket), the room looked a hundred percent better than it had done when Jennifer had led the delivery men into the room.

    The room itself screamed teenager by the flat TV hung on top of the wall and the laptop sitting next to the jewelry box, not to mention the full-body mirror practically covered by discarded garments. But the things she kept for decoration showed that she had a certain level of innocence left from her childhood years.

    Not only on the toys.

    Even though her daughter''s favorite color was and probably would forever remain as orange, she had told Jennifer that too much orange over an extended period of time would only serve to make her eventually hate the color, and thus, Cecilia had optioned to decorate her room in the softer colors, pastels, the colors that the publicly owned buildings were painted in to keep your eyes from being blinded.

    She was an artistic child after all.

    Buying her own rugs and curtains, sheets and covers. Jennifer knew there was even an assortment of wall paints in the room somewhere that was to be opened once Cecilia had everything in order.

    Cecilia had even deliberately ordered shelves that weren''t lacquered so that she may paint them as well as the room once she was done.

    "I like what you''ve done with the place," Jennifer remarked as she stepped over the hair-brush her daughter had probably long-since forgotten ever existed, making her way towards the bed.

    Cecilia closed the doors of the cupboard, turning towards her mother as she made to sit down on the cushion covered chest standing at the foot of the bed. The one filled with curtains, sheets, covers, and embroidered handkerchiefs so it was absolutely useless for any other storage).

    "Actual storage space does make it easier." The teenager breathed, frowning as she finally registered the tingling in her hands, trying to diminish the sensation by brushing them against her jeans. It was like the tingling you get when a limb is waking up only¡­ hotter (temperature wise).

    "You going to gather up the jewelry now?" Jennifer asked, nodding towards the gaping jewelry-box.

    Cecilia had received that thing for her fifteenth birthday, only by that time her jewelry was already terribly scattered all over her room and she had just, never bothered to look for them through the mess.

    Now, however, searching for the glimmering pieces of metal and gemstones (both fake and real) would be so much easier. In fact, she could already spot about twenty of them with a quick look around the floor.

    "That''s the plan," Cecilia replied with what could only be described as a sigh of surrender.

    From one task that required a lot of lifting and stretching, she would directly move on to a task that required a lot of bending down.

    Who knew cleaning could be such a workout?

    Well, at least it would help her keep her leg muscles in shape.

    Jennifer, who had apparently noticed her daughter''s exhausted expression, twisted herself around where she was sitting and reached over to the tray to pick up the glass of clear pear juice. Standing up, she held the glass up to the tired looking teenager.

    "How about a little break first?" she asked gently with a warm smile. "Wouldn''t want you to end up back at the hospital when I''ve just got you back home now would we?"

    Cecilia smiled gratefully at her mother, taking the glass from her hand.

    The cold liquid had chilled the glass, cooling down her still tingling fingers, and Cecilia couldn''t help the relieved sigh escaping her lips at the feel of the cold.

    Wait a second¡­ was that¡­ sizzling?

    Eyes shooting down to her hand, Cecilia thought, for a split second, that she saw a light, almost invisible mist steaming up from where her fingers touched the glass, but the second she blinked, it was gone.

    Along with the tingling.

    "Is something wrong?" Jennifer asked, succeeding in snapping her daughter out of her thoughts.

    Looking up at her mother, Cecilia hesitated for a second before slowly shaking her head.

    "No," she answered, looking back at the glass. "Nothing at all."

    Brushing off what she''d seen as her overworked mind playing tricks on her, Cecilia brought the glass up to her lips, downing as much as she could in one go.

    Thankfully, her mother had brought a whole pitcher of the thing so Cecilia didn''t have to save anything.

    The liquid was a little more¡­ room temperature than the coolness of the glass had led her to believe, but it still worked wonders in unwinding her over-worked body.

    The sweet taste of the juice brought a smile to Cecilia''s mouth. That particular type of juice has always had that power, ever since she was a baby and it had been the first thing she had tasted that wasn''t breast-milk or formula (at least, according to Jennifer). The liquid didn''t have any added sugar or sweetening so it was alright for a seven-month-old baby to drink, and little baby Cecilia had loved it.

    Seeing Cecilia''s reaction, Jennifer reached out her hand to stroke her daughter over her terribly messy hair.

    Jennifer frowned for a moment. She remembered when she had been the one to take care of the girl''s hair, stars how beautiful it had been then, shining in the sunlight as if it had been spun out of gold, curling into those adorable ringlets that Jennifer had loved to put up into silk ribbons.

    Then, the hair had gotten longer, thicker, and maintaining them became more like plowing through a field before sowing than the calming process Jennifer remembered, and before either of the women knew it, it had become a birds nest.

    "You should really do something about this." Jennifer murmured, letting her fingers pinch the tips of Cecilia''s hair, stroking them between her fingers.

    It still shocked Jennifer just how close to the same height the two of them were.

    This earned Jennifer an eye-roll from her daughter.

    Brushing off her mother''s hand, Cecilia downed the remaining liquid in the glass.

    "Not now." She groaned. "Too much to do."

    Jennifer sighed heavily, putting her hands on her hips.

    "Alright." She gave. "But after you''re done, I want you to take a long shower young lady." She almost raised her finger in mock scolding.

    "Alright." Was the only reply she got.

    Cecilia put the glass down, stretching a little, listening with satisfaction as a few of her joints clicked before she proceeded to push her mother out of the room.

    "Now goodbye."

    The woman stopped herself in the doorway by grabbing hold of the framed, turning her head around to look at her daughter from the corner of her eye.

    "Don''t forget to brush your hair."

    "I know." Cecilia groaned, pushing her mothers back with a bit more force. "I''m not a child anymore, remember?"

    "I know you''re not honey, but-" she didn''t get to finish her sentence as she last shove from Cecilia caused her to lose her grip on the door-frames and she almost tumbled into the hallway, turning around just in time to see her daughter shut the door behind her.

    "You''re still my daughter." Jennifer finished in the silence of the hallway.

    Really, their house was way too big for just the two of them.

    She couldn''t wait for the new guest to arrive.

    Wait¡­ had she forgotten to tell Cecilia about him?

    <hr>

    On the other side of the door, Cecilia forced herself back up the steps, stopping at the top to look over what remained of the mess.

    ¡°Alright floor,¡± she muttered, brushing her filthy bangs from her face, a fire burning behind her light brown eyes. The strange tingling feeling in her hands returning. ¡°It¡¯s about time you showed yourself.¡±

    <hr>

    May 1

    Friday 2215

    Whilst Cecilia had been released to return home, she was basically grounded for another week before she could return to the army of hormonal carnivores that was the student body.

    And so, there she was, sitting on her bed and absentmindedly running her pen over a blank paper in her sketchbook.

    Her room looked very different than it had been for several years. For one, you could actually see the soft grass-green carpet that had been hidden under the mess, and for another, she¡¯d painted the walls in sky blue and shades of green, creating plain green kills. It wasn¡¯t just the walls she¡¯d painted though, she¡¯d also painted the shelves, cupboards, and cases, blending them into the walls the best she could. The only thing she didn¡¯t paint was the organization above the desk, the desk itself, and of course, the bed.

    <hr>

    This paint-job was just the start though, she had several details planned for a later date, but it would have to wait until she had a clear picture in her head and had them outlined on the wall before she attempted anything with a brush.

    She didn''t want to ruin all her hard work.

    She was brought out of her thoughts when she caught sight of her doodles from the corner of her eye.

    The whole page was littered with strange¡­ symbols.

    Hard lines, soft lines, curved and swirly lines, making up strange¡­ rune-like figures. Or maybe they were more like hieroglyphs that were trying to be secretive about what they really looked like.

    Cecilia had been frowning, turning the sketch-book from angle to angle in front of her eyes when there was a knock on the door.

    "Come in!" Cecilia called, still looking at the doodles as her mother walked up the steps.

    Jennifer didn''t have to say anything, Cecilia had a rather good idea of what she wanted to tell her.

    "Viola call again?"

    Really, that woman was a walking land-mine, one move in the wrong direction and she just explodes in a fit of panicked cries and calls Jennifer even though there are other competent employees at the Crescent bakery.

    Her mother nodded with a sigh, her hair already pulled up into a bun.

    "I''ll probably be gone for a few hours." She said slowly, "Which means that I probably won''t be back in time before the guest arrives."

    Cecilia almost dropped her sketchbook, whipping her head around to look at her mother, her eyes wide open in shock.

    "What guest?" she asked, voice almost frantic.

    Jennifer''s face broke into a look of realization, her hand flying up to slap herself on the forehead.

    "I knew I had forgotten to tell you something!" she exclaimed, taking a deep breath as she let her hands fall on her hips, eyes locked onto the newly cleaned floor.

    After a moment, she looked up at her daughter.

    "A young man called to rent the room just a day after I put out the notice." She explained. "He''ll be arriving in one, maybe two hours, so¡­ you think you could let him in in my place?"

    For a moment, Cecilia just sat there, shocked that her mother''s notice had gotten a reply that quickly.

    Sighing heavily, Cecilia picked her sketchbook back up from the mattress.

    "Fine." She breathed.

    "Thank you," Jennifer said before she slipped out of the room, leaving her daughter to her doodles.

    <hr>

    Cecilia could have sworn that she''d just been doodling for about half an hour when the sound of the doorbell echoed through the house. Though, when she checked the time, she saw that it really had been almost three hours.

    Taking a deep breath, Cecilia pulled herself away from the bed and marched down the two sets of stairs down to the hallway, immediately freezing at the tall, shadowed figure on the other side of the tinted window fitted into the front door. The most she could tell about the figure was that it was wearing some sort of hat.

    Squaring her shoulder, Cecilia continued the remaining steps to the door and opened it slowly.

    The man on the other side of the door was, without a doubt, a foreigner. Tall, lean, but with notable muscle-mass under what Cecilia suspected was a rather expensive black suit. His face was sharp, with pointed features and naturally narrowed impossibly dark lifeless eyes. The only thing that didn''t look prim and proper about this man was his ruffled hair, visible under the shining black fedora on top of his head. Cecilia mentally cursed.

    He''s hot.

    A dark chuckle escaped the stranger, and it was at that moment that Cecilia realized.

    He had been studying her too.

    "Jennifer Brandet?" the man questioned, her bass voice booming through the foyer.

    Snorting without humor, Cecilia met the man''s eyes.

    "What do you think?"

    The man chuckled at her reaction.

    "Cecilia Brandet then?" he asked, putting his hands into his pockets. "Are you usually like this when meeting strangers?"

    Cecilia shifted her weight from one foot to another.

    "No." she answered swiftly. "But you don''t really know me, so it''s fine." She sighed, glancing down at the flood before meeting the man''s eyes again. "You the new guest?"

    If the smirk could have gotten wider, it just did.

    The man lifted his hat from his head, putting it against his chest and bowed deeply for the tiny girl in front of him.

    "Luke Salafay, at your service." Straightening himself out, he dropped the hat back on top of his surprisingly messy hair. "I''m going to be the teacher of a new optional course at your school starting next week."

    "Right¡­" Cecilia sighed, not really caring.

    She liked her school schedule as it was, she didn''t want to add another course to it.

    Shaking her head, she jerked her head into the house.

    "I''ll show you to your room."

    Even though Cecilia hadn''t been aware that the man was even arriving, Jennifer and Cecilia had decided on which room to give to the rental guest, and their choice had been the first door on the left at the top of the second floor. It was a medium-sized room with a small balcony, painted in neutral colors of beige and green, it had a bed, a desk, a closet, and an empty bookcase, not to mention Cecilia''s absolute favorite part about the room.

    It was the one furthest away from her room.

    Cecilia returned to her doodling as she led the way up the staircase, running her pencil over the symbols that just continued to fill up the paper.

    She''d just reached the top of the stairs when she suddenly realized, her sketchbook wasn''t in her hands anymore.

    With the grace of a ballet dancer, Cecilia spun around to the teacher, finding him standing a few steps below her, eyes moving over the open page of her sketchbook, a look of mixed shock and confusion etched into his eyebrows.

    For a long moment, Cecilia stared at the man in front of her.

    He had snatched that book from her hands so fast that her brain hadn''t had the time to register it going missing¡­

    Just who was this man?

    The man finally raised his gaze to look at her.

    "Have you seen these symbols before?" he asked, sounding almost accusing.

    Cecilia frowned at the tone of his voice.

    ¡°No, they¡¯re just doodles,¡± she answered, taking her sketchbook back from his hands. She looked over the symbols again before glancing at the man. ¡°What?¡± she asked. ¡°Have you seen them before?¡±

    Mr. Salafay looked at her for a long moment, obviously going through his answer in his head.

    He didn''t get the chance to answer her as the front door opened.

    "Ceci! I''m home." Jennifer called out as she stepped into the house.

    Seeing the teacher turn around to greet her mother, Cecilia decided to take the opportunity to slip away, the mere presence of the man sending an uncomfortable sensation through her entire body.

    "Miss Brandet," Salafay called out as Cecilia''s hand landed on her door handle, forcing her to pause as she turned her head just the tiniest bit in his direction, showing that she was listening. "I would hope that you think about joining my class in the future."

    For a moment, Cecilia just stood there.

    Then, she opened her door and disappeared up to her bedroom.

    <hr>

    May 4

    Monday 2215

    Cecilia stood in front of her mirror, the front of her blouse pulled up as she gently cleaned the skin around the stitches on her stomach, trying to ignore the feel of the blemish every time her fingers brushed over it. Groaning slightly, she reached for the bio-material roll, cutting off a square and carefully applied it over the wound.

    As always, she watched with interest as the material blended in with her skin, leaving behind the unblemished skin she would rather have in place of the stitched up wound.

    "What happened?"

    The voice had come so suddenly that it took all of Cecilia''s training among her fellow students to not let out a scream as she spun around, almost jamming her blouse down.

    "Do you knock?!" she almost screamed, staring at the foreigner.

    The teacher has lived in their house for two whole days now, and so far all he had done is make Cecilia all the more suspicious with his presence. She''d lost count of how many times she''d heard the man either hint or outright suggest that she should sign up for his future course.

    The more he insisted she should, the less interested she was.

    Salafay only gave her an incredulous look, motioning with a hand towards her stomach.

    "What happened?" he asked again.

    Cecilia let out a sigh, readjusting her blouse as she turned back towards the mirror.

    "A misadventure with a prop gun loaded with blanks," Cecilia answered with a sigh, walking over to her desk where her bag was waiting for her, trying to ignore the teachers gaze drilling into her back.

    She didn''t need to see the man to know the question brewing in his mind.

    The man was shrouded in a veil of mystery, and Yet¡­ certain things about him were rather easy to read.

    Threading her arm through the straps of her bag, Cecilia turned around towards the teacher.

    "Why are you here?" she asked, giving the teacher a rather bored look. "If you''re a teacher, aren''t you supposed to be at school before I am?" she waved her hands in the air to the man.

    Salafay looked at her for a moment before a small smirk spread across his mouth.

    "Tomorrow, I will be," his hand submerged into his pocket as he walked up to her. "But I got you something that I wanted to give you before you left."

    Cecilia''s eyes narrowed, watching the man walk up to her.

    "What is it?"

    Slowly, the man pulled out a small, carved crystal bottle with what looked like a white gold screw-on top. It was about the size of the center of his palm, in which the bottle lay as he held it out towards her, looking right at her as she took in his glittering little offering. It was filled with something, something thick, glossy and black and Cecilia didn''t need to think too long before she knew what it was.

    Ink.

    Why was this man giving her ink?

    Slowly, Cecilia raised her eyes to look at the man.

    "What..?" she muttered, suddenly finding it difficult to structure her words.

    "It''s special ink imported from Italy." The man told her, turning the bottle over in his hand, the light caught onto the crystal, making it shine in all the colors of the rainbow. "It''s made of a special mineral that I think will give a different effect to your works."

    For a long moment, Cecilia just stared at the bottle.

    "Why are you giving me this?" she was rather scared to actually take the bottle.

    Salafay only sighed, taking another step towards her.

    "I don''t want us to be on odd ends with one another." He said, taking her wrist into his free hand and raising it, palm-up in between them. "Think of this as a peace offering." He put the bottle into her much smaller hand, allowing her to feel just how large it actually was before he folded her fingers around it. Much of the bottle could still be seen when held in her own, whilst it had been completely swallowed by Salafay''s hand.

    With a nod, the teacher descended the stairs, exiting her bedroom with no more words.

    For a moment, Cecilia just stared after him, bottle still clutched in her hand before she realized that she actually had somewhere to be. And so, she turned back towards her desk, slipping the bottle into one of the drawers of spare fabrics (in case she feels she wants to alter some of her father''s gifted clothes), allowing it to rest atop a pillow of soft materials where she was sure nothing too serious would happen to it before she closed the drawer.

    <hr>

    It had been hard work, dragging herself out the door and forcing each and every step as she almost stumbled to school. She suspected that she must have looked odd to the other people on the sidewalks, and even those sitting comfortably in the magna-vehicles that zoomed past her as she walked.

    She knew that Ben had promised her that her school experience would be better when she returned, and she knew that he would try and keep his words on that because he wasn¡¯t the type of guy to do anything halfheartedly, but there was only so much one could do when you can only really keep track on the one class and with them being in different divisions, there were plenty of courses that they took separately.

    She just hoped for everything pure that Kenneth Hale had put up a stronger search for anything potentially harmful and pulled strings to lessen bullying whilst she was gone.

    Sure enough, when she got to the gates of the school, she was met with one of the many black-clad members of the disciplinary committee.

    She didn¡¯t know his name, but apparently, he recognized her.

    ¡°We need to check your bag for weapons,¡± he said, nodding towards the bag hanging over her shoulder. He had this kind look in his eyes, almost as if he was feeling sorry for having to ask her of all people that question.

    He held his hand out towards her.

    ¡°If you please.¡± he almost sounded cautious.

    It was a strange sight, seeing as the disciplinary committee usually made a point to look strong and imposing, ¡°encouraging¡± the students to obey the rules of the building and the town. This one was looking as though he was asking his little sister to show her his bad at his parent''s orders, it was mind-boggling.

    She gave him a gentle smile, allowing her bag to slide down her arm into her hand, closing her fingers around the straps as she lifted it up, holding it towards the older student.

    Giving the bag a quick look-through, the disciplinary committee member handed the bag back, looking almost sheepish.

    Of course, no one but Cecilia noticed this.

    She was the only one that wasn¡¯t petrified from fear whenever one of those black coats appeared around the corner.

    ¡°Sorry for the inconvenience.¡± the teen offered with a short bow.

    She shook her head slightly at his words., brushing her hair behind her ear as she put the bag back on her shoulder.

    In school, Cecilia always made an effort to appear as small as possible, to try and direct the attention away from her as much as possible (which really wasn¡¯t all that much), but now, she was slowly straightening out her shoulders to look the elder student right in the eye (something that was very rare).

    ¡°No inconvenience,¡± she assured him, she could see the flash of shock in his eyes at the very rare sound of her voice. ¡°I may be the only one who appreciates this.¡±

    The young man gave her a look of calm understanding, nodding lightly before he jerked his head to the side, indicating that she should get a move on.

    And she did.

    Aside from the bag check, the first real change that hit Cecilia as she stepped through the school gates, was on the electronic notice-board, where a particularly large notice was flashing in bright, vibrant colors, gaining the attention of every student that passed it.

    NEW OPTIONAL COURSE ADDED TO THE SCHOOL!

    A.A.

    The meaning behind the name, as well as the meaning of the course, shall only be revealed to the students accepted to the course, hand-picked by the new teacher, Luke Salafay.

    Those interested in trying out for the new class, please report to classroom 3-G in the west wing after your regular classes have ended, Mr. Salafay keeps his door open at all hours so feel free to just drop in.

    Cecilia couldn¡¯t help the frown that slowly etched itself onto her eyebrows.

    A.A¡­

    What kind of a pretentious name for a class was that?

    And THIS was the class that Mr. Salafay was so insistent on her trying out for?

    The thought didn¡¯t really sit well with her.

    She could see several students gathered at the bottom of the notice-board, so obviously, the course had some level of interest from the student body. But as far as Cecilia was concerned, unless the teacher himself dragged her to the classroom, she sure wouldn¡¯t put her foot anywhere close to classroom 3-G.

    Shaking her head, she turned her feet around, moving towards the school.

 Act 1: Hidden from Shadows Scene 5: Bewildered Return

    When she entered the school, she realized that the weapon-check at the gates weren¡¯t the only thing the head prefect had done to stop the bullying.

    The hallways were patrolled by tall, uniform prefects, their black coats sporting red and gold arm patches. There was at least one of them in every hallway, at least, it felt like that as Cecilia moved through the building.

    Even with the "guards" lining the corridors, Cecilia could still hear the whispers following her through the school.

    "Hey, is that Messy?"

    "Didn''t she get shot?"

    "I thought they said she died."

    She''d just rounded one of said corners when she crashed into a surprisingly muscled chest.

    She probably would have fallen over, had not the person she''d crashed into gently grabbed her by the shoulders, keeping her upright as she regained her bearings.

    "Careful."

    The voice was deep and familiar.

    Had she been anyone else, she''d probably frozen to the spot with overwhelming fear, but instead, the voice filled up her body with a sense of comforting warmth that Cecilia seriously couldn''t understand why she felt that way. Especially, when she raised her head and saw Kenneth Hale''s second in command and childhood friend.

    Richard Knight.

    She knew, she knew that she should be terrified of him, she knew that she should be terrified of both high ranking prefects, and yet, all she felt towards them was comfort.

    It didn''t really help when he looked at her with the softest gaze imaginable.

    He recognized her, that much was apparent.

    "You alright to be back at school Brandet?" the deputy head prefect asked her, slowly taking his hands away from her shoulders. "From what the chairman told me, you were hurt pretty bad."

    There it was, that glint of concern in his eyes that made it absolutely impossible for Cecilia to feel any form of fear towards him, despite him almost literally tower over her.

    She couldn''t help the small smile that spread across her lips.

    "Yeah." She nodded, keeping her voice low. "Yeah, I''m fine." She ran her fingers over the spot she knew the stitches were, even though she couldn''t feel them. "They got me some bio-material, it''s no big deal."

    Richard followed where she ran her hand, a small frown forming before he seemed to realize what he was doing.

    Clearing his throat, he straightened out his back.

    Richard Knight was from a family of caretakers, caretakers in charge of the Hale family. Growing up with the head prefect, Richard had been raised alongside him, learning all of the well-bred traits that Cecilia had learned to distinguish as she observed the people around her. He was a proper young man, polite when the situation called for it and because of what his family did, he knew better than to act superior to the people around him, which was probably one of the reasons why Kenneth had seen it as a good idea to appoint him as his deputy.

    He was seen as a frightening man because of the power he held over the student body and his closeness to the even more frightening and physically strong Kenneth Hale, but Richard would never raise a hand against anyone unless he felt the absolute need to do so.

    Of everyone in the school, Richard was the only one capable of keeping Kenneth from beating someone up.

    He was a good man, and Cecilia thought it was a shame that there were so few people that knew that.

    "It''s good to see you back," Richard stated, looking down at her.

    Cecilia let out a brief sigh.

    "I would like to say that it was good to be back, but¡­" she trailed off. Thankfully, it didn''t look as though Richard was holding anything against her at that statement.

    He loved the school, and he could obviously see why Cecilia didn''t.

    Taking a deep breath, Cecilia motioned with her hand around them.

    "I see that the chairman''s doing something about it though." She nodded towards the prefect that just entered their line of vision.

    "Yeah." Richard agreed. "In the chairman''s own words, the school should be safe for any and all students within the building." A small smile played at the corner of his mouth. "He spent the whole three days you were out organizing these patrol plans for the committee."

    Cecilia found herself frowning again.

    "How did he know I was out for three days?"

    Richard stiffened for a second, then, he allowed himself to relax a little.

    "The chairman checked up on you of course." He stated with apparent ease, though there was a small tense note to his voice as he spoke. "You know how he is with people dying because of something that happened on school property."

    Cecilia felt herself nod, which was strange as most of the time someone came close to dying because of something that happened on school grounds, was caused by said chairman.

    Taking a deep breath, Cecilia adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder.

    "I should head to class."

    "You should." Richard agreed, his eyes softening for a second before he put his hand on her shoulder. "Take it easy, okay?"

    Again, Cecilia nodded and kept walking.

    <hr>

    She''d closed her ears off to the whispers, knowing that they were only going to become louder after her conversation with the deputy chairman of the prefects, but right now, she needed to get to class.

    She opened the door to the room as quietly as she could, hoping that she wouldn''t attract too much attention by entering.

    When was the last time her hopes came true?

    The second she put one foot into the classroom, all eyes were on her.

    She could feel herself freezing up, her fingers clutching at the straps of her bag so tightly her nails were digging into the palms of her hands, turning her knuckles white.

    They were studying her. Their eyes moving all over her body, looking for something that Cecilia didn''t really feel like she wanted to know what it was.

    Unconsciously, she took a step back.

    She hadn''t expected that she would back right into something hard, yet soft, warm, and very living, at the same time. Something that put something feeling very similar to hands on her shoulders to keep her from moving any further than she''d already done.

    Turning her head around, she found herself staring up at the face of Ben Tanaka, his hazel eyes warmly twinkling down at her.

    He smiled widely down at her.

    "Good to see you back Brandet."

    The effect those words had on her¡­ the feeling of someone of her own class actually being glad that she was there was kind of overwhelming. Her heart ached a little and she was forced to look away from the athlete, face heating up as she desperately tried to calm herself down.

    This whole morning was to her nerves like an ancient laptop trying to process too much data.

    Taking the situation into his own hands, Ben began to push Cecilia into the classroom, gently guiding her through the rows of desks before he stopped in front of hers. There, he spun her around, knowing that she would handle it now and pushed her down onto the chair.

    "There." He said, shining up like a two-year-old that had just managed to put a block in the right hole. "Now the balance has been restored."

    Then, with a pat on her shoulder, he turned towards his own desk, sat down, and the previous moment was forgotten.

    Feeling a bit miffed, Cecilia shook her head before she let her bag slide down her arm, allowing it to rest on her lap as she dug through the content for her memory stick, plugging it into the screen surface of her desk before she pulled out her pencil-case and notebook as well.

    There was still at least fifteen minutes until class started, she wanted to do some doodling whilst she still could, ignoring the looks of the students surrounding her.

    Sadly, her classmates did not want to give her the privilege of that.

    A gently, calloused hand landed on her shoulder, forcing her to turn around towards the athlete sitting behind her, his eyes gentle as he looked her over.

    ¡°You healing up alright?¡± he asked, even though he¡¯d visited her almost every day in the hospital to check up on her, but he hadn¡¯t seen her for a few days so she could understand just why he was asking her that now.

    ¡°Yes,¡± she answered easily with a short nod. ¡°I¡¯m banned from physical education until after summer break, but I¡¯m fine.¡±

    The smile she was given at those words filled her with the strangest sense of tranquility, relief, something that she was not used to feeling. His hand still resting on her shoulder.

    <hr>

    From a few desks away, Donovan looked at the ballet dancer and the baseball player, a dark emotion boiling in the pit of his stomach.

    He had shared the same dance class as that girls for those two weeks she was there for, and never had she even thrown him a second glace.

    He didn¡¯t notice his childhood friend looking at him from beside him, sadness in her eyes.

    <hr>

    A few minutes late, their homeroom teacher stepped into the classroom, looking at each and every one of the students. Then his eyes fell on the face that he hadn¡¯t seen for quite a long time now.

    ¡°Brandet, you¡¯re back!¡± Mr. Blanchet called out in obvious happiness.

    Immediately, Cecilia noticed how the mood of everyone around her turned dark, all thoughts about her returning from being shot leaving their minds as they recalled one of the reasons why they hated her so much.

    The teachers loved her.

    She didn¡¯t answer the teacher, instead, she reached into her bag and pulled out a piece of paper, holding it up in the air towards the middle-aged man. He looked a little confused as he walked over towards her, plucking the paper from her hand.

    The class all watched as the teacher unfolded the paper and read it¡¯s content.

    The look that spread across the teacher''s face was almost deliriously happy as he looked down at the girl at the desk.

    ¡°That¡¯s great news,¡± he said in great joy.

    It didn¡¯t exactly help the class¡¯s mood, if anything, they immediately began to make up rumors as to why the teacher would be so happy for her. Some even going so far as to speculate that she was sleeping with the man and had just discovered that she actually wasn¡¯t pregnant.

    They watched as Mr. Blanchet went and fetched the memory stick of everything they had gone through while she was gone, some even openly frowning as the teacher returned to the front of the classroom.

    ¡°Brandet.¡± a voice piped up from a few desks down, forcing Cecilia to turn around and face the speaker, slightly bewildered as it wasn¡¯t exactly a voice that spoke to her all that often. She¡¯d heard it, but she couldn¡¯t recall a time she¡¯d heard it directed to her.

    It was Abbigale.

    The adorable, frilly angel of the class. Her long loose curls of bright red hair put up stylishly around her pale, freckled face, framing her jade colored eyes.

    ¡°What was that note?¡± she asked gently, blinking adorably.

    Cecilia was almost overwhelmed.

    Not because of how unusual it was for her to receive a gentle question of genuine concern with no hostility hidden in the wording, although that was part of the reason, but also because of the overwhelming sense of off she got from the girl.

    She was not comfortable.

    She looked like the perfect little angel, and she did not look comfortable with her appearance at all.

    Cecilia blinked back at the girl for a moment before she remembered the question.

    ¡°Just an update on pre-existing problems,¡± she answered, not elaborating as she quickly spun back around towards the front of the class, ignoring the confused looks of the people surrounding her. The only one understanding her, sitting behind her.

    Ben found himself smirking a little, almost relishing in the fact that he was the only one who knew about Cecilia¡¯s brain problems.

    He would hold it over the class for a while, just to see their faces when he crashes their realities over their heads.

    <hr>

    May 6

    Wednesday 2215

    They were in the middle of class, in the middle of a lecture when there was a sudden knock on the door.

    All eyes turned to the entrance, just in time to see a (to Cecilia) familiar face slide the slab of wood open and step inside. Immediately, excited whispers could be heard from the female population and even a few of the boys.

    ¡°Oh, sweet sunlight, who is that?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s so hot!¡±

    Cecilia desperately tried to block the whispers from her mind.

    Yes, she knew he was hot, she knew he could probably get any woman he wanted with a well-placed smirk and a longer stare. With his looks, he could just say he was interested in them and they would quite willingly drop all their clothes. But he was a probable early thirty-year-old living under her mother¡¯s roof for heaven''s sake! EW!

    ¡°Mr. Salafay?¡± the teacher, who just so happened to be a woman in her tale thirties, blushed furiously as she allowed herself to address the man. ¡°W-what are you doing here?¡±

    Miss Richmond was obviously crushing on him...

    How long had he been employed at the school?

    From the look on Salafay¡¯s face, he was well aware of the teacher''s affections, as well as the reaction he had on the class. It wasn¡¯t easy to miss.

    What annoyed Cecilia, was the smirk that formed on his mouth.

    How cocky can a person get?

    ¡°I¡¯m just promoting my class Linea, not to worry,¡± Salafay stated with a casual wave of his hand, stepping into the room as another wave of whispers swept through the room.

    ¡°Fuck, he¡¯s a teacher.¡±

    ¡°Damn it all...¡±

    ¡°Why are all the hot one¡¯s unavailable?¡±

    Miss Richmond looked a little taken aback for a few seconds before she shook her head, sending her black hair flying. Taking a deep breath and clearing her throat, she forced her throat to work, her hands clenching nervously at her sides.

    ¡°Go right ahead.¡± she managed to keep herself from stuttering as she motioned with her hand towards the students blinking at the two teachers.

    Cecilia could see the smirk on Salafay¡¯s face as he stepped up towards the front of the class, though he made sure that it had been replaced by a somewhat genuine, friendly smile by the time he turned towards the class. His eyes locking with Cecilia¡¯s for a bit longer than she was comfortable with before he finally started talking.

    ¡°Good morning students,¡± he said, his dark voice booming over the whole room, successfully shutting up any remaining whispering, making sure that everyone¡¯s eyes were firmly locked on him. ¡°I¡¯m Mr. Salafay and I¡¯m the teacher of the new A.A class.¡± Cecilia could practically feel how badly her classmates wanted to start whispering again, but it was as if Salafay had stolen each and even one of their voices. ¡°I¡¯ve heard that there are a few questions about my class and so I¡¯m visiting each classroom to answer a few of them.¡± immediately, hands shot up into the air, much to the teacher''s obvious amusement. ¡°Ah, yes?¡± he said, pointing towards a guy.

    ¡°What is the class about?¡± the young man who¡¯s name Cecilia had never bothered to learn shot out.

    Salafay chuckled at the student¡¯s enthusiasm.

    ¡°That I am choosing not to answer,¡± he answered. It wasn¡¯t a satisfactory answer, he knew that, and he immediately kept talking to quell and complaints before they came. ¡°Only those who take the class will know exactly what it is about.¡± he waved his hands as he spoke, almost like a conductor, it almost served to distract Cecilia from the obvious manipulation no one else was catching onto, and it worried her. ¡°What I can say is that it has a lot to do with internal learning.¡±

    Internal learning.

    His class was about internal learning, and he wanted her to join it?

    Just what kind of internal learning was he talking about?

    ¡°What brought you to this school?¡± another student piped up, knocking Cecilia out of her thoughts.

    ¡°I heard Fairgarden was one of the most beautiful towns in New-America.¡± came Salafay¡¯s simple answer. ¡°So far, I have not been disappointed.¡±

    A standard reply.

    Fairgarden was known for being one of the few towns that have more vegetation than buildings. The town relished in their trees, bushes, floral beds. Anything that brought pure oxygen to the town, the town always put in additional money for gardeners to make sure that there are no dying or dead plants on public ground.

    It was the main tourist attraction in this world of atmosphere and ocean cleaning stations.

    ¡°Why are you bringing the course to our school?¡± a female asked after having been pointed out by the man.

    Immediately, the man¡¯s eyes locked with Cecilia. His mere presence had everyone¡¯s eyes locked on him, so he didn¡¯t have to worry about anyone questioning him about why he singled out her specifically.

    She, on the other hand, found herself feeling very, very uncomfortable.

    ¡°I think some of you students will benefit¡­ greatly, from my teachings,¡± he said, and Cecilia knew, without a doubt, that he was speaking to her.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

    Why he did though, she had no idea, and it freaked her out.

    ¡°Are you single!¡± a boy called out. He hadn¡¯t been pointed out, he obviously just thought the question needed to be asked.

    Thankfully though, immature question or not, it made the teacher look away from Cecilia.

    ¡°I think that¡¯s enough questions.¡± he immediately replied with a deep chuckle that washed over everyone in the room. Of course, the comment sent waves of objections his way but he silenced them all with a raised hand. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t keep you from your actual lessons.¡± he turned towards Miss Richmond, who had been standing there almost in a trance the whole time, giving her a quick bow. ¡°Thank you, Linea.¡±

    ¡°No problem...¡± Miss Richmond breathed her reply.

    Cecilia allowed her eyes to follow the man as he exited the room, their eyes once again locking before the sliding door shut.

    He just became more and more suspicious, making her more and more uncomfortable, with every passing moment she spent even within that man¡¯s mere presence. He had motives, strange motives for being in Fairgarden.

    Reasons that¡­ obviously involved her.

    She did not like knowing that...

    <hr>

    Physical class.

    Each student was actually required to sign up for some sort of physical activity whilst in school, it didn''t matter if you were in the Academic or Artistic division, you were still expected to sign up for some sort of sport, weapons training or even dance. Like Cecilia had ballet.

    But, even with this, the students still had physical class once a week.

    Cecilia was sitting in the bleachers of the gym, watching as her classmates picked teams for the round of dodgeball that was about to fill the room. If she''d been allowed to actually participate, she knew she would have been picked last, but as she was banned from physical activity until after summer vacation, she was on the sidelines, her head resting in her hands as she watched her classmates fighting over who was going to get Ben on their team.

    Seriously, sometimes Cecilia was baffled at how Ben was able to handle that much pressure.

    Just like Cecilia always got the blame whenever her team lost, Ben got all the praise whenever his team won.

    To most of the school, it was like there were no other members of the team whenever they were on the team and thus, none of them actually put any effort in playing, supposedly knowing exactly what the end result was going to become simply by having either Cecilia or Ben on their side.

    And of course, because they never make any effort, of course, they find themselves correct in their assumptions.

    At the moment, however, Cecilia wasn''t thinking about the upcoming game at all, her mind was focused on what was circling around the school''s rumor mill at the moment.

    Specifically, the A.A application test.

    It was only the third day in which the A.A. has actually been a thing, and it has already marked its spot as the hardest course to get accepted into. Despite the stunt, the teacher had pulled that very morning.

    Apparently, if you want to apply for the course, Mr. Salafay brings you into the classroom one by one and sits you down to answer a few questions on the desk screen, only as you do this, the teacher sits at the front of the room and spend the few minutes you answer the questions staring at you, not even blinking.

    When you''re done with the test, the teacher barely even glances at the answers before telling you that you are not suited for the course and sends you away.

    Picky about his students, that man.

    This just made Cecilia wonder¡­

    Why did Salafay want her in the class?

    Sure, she was rather confident that she''d be able to answer the questions without being bothered by his staring as she''s gotten more than used to it over the few days he''s lived in her house, but who is to say she would even answer the questions right? According to the students he never gives the same questions to the same students and they are each one more confusing than the other.

    A presence at her side snapped her out of her thoughts.

    "Brandet?" a soft, baritone voice asked, making Cecilia turn around to the sound.

    It was a boy in her class, with soft wavy locks of chestnut hair sitting on top of an androgynous head. His build was one she knew though, she''d be pretty stupid if she didn''t.

    A ballet built.

    "Can I help you?" Cecilia asked, brushing a few hairs behind her ears as she took in her classmates pale blue eyes staring down at her.

    It was quite unnerving, to say the least.

    There was no layer of ill will in it, like the majority of her classmates that were obviously straining themselves to be nice to her, even though they did slip up every once in a while when calling out to her.

    Messy.

    Cecilia could have sworn she saw a light blush forming on the boy''s surprisingly sharp cheekbones.

    "I-I was just wondering." The boy stuttered, almost collapsing on the bench next to her, making her flinch a little. "When are you returning to ballet class?"

    The question seemed to be so out of the blue that Cecilia found herself blinking in shock.

    "Why are you wondering?" she asked after a moment of silence.

    "It''s just¡­" the boy said, eyes locked onto his hands where he appeared to be in the middle of wringing his finger-bones out of their joints. "I like seeing you dance."

    Cecilia felt thrown out of the loop.

    "What?" she asked, voice barely more than a whisper.

    Thankfully, the boy seemed to have caught it.

    "Brandet¡­ I''ve seen a lot of dancers over the years, and not a lot of them have what you do."

    This brought a frown to Cecilia''s face, shifting her gaze back and forth between the young man and the crowd in front of them.

    "A lack of balance?" she asked hesitantly, wondering what in the world this person could be talking about.

    To his credit, the man only let out one small chuckle, one that actually sounded surprisingly nice from where Cecilia was sitting.

    Finally, he raised his head, looking directly at her.

    "Determination."

    Once again, Cecilia found herself a little thrown off.

    She hadn''t been able to become determined about anything before, it always screwed up her brain. What had willed her to continue before had been just that, a strong will? And, maybe stubbornness and perseverance that may have made it appear as though she was determined¡­

    It was still strange to have someone say that about her dancing!

    The man hadn''t stopped talking.

    "I suppose that comes with your¡­ lack of balance, but I have always admired the amount of work you put into every step in every choreography handed to you." He was looking back at his hands again, wringing his fingers in what Cecilia suspected was a nervous habit of his, though why he would be nervous around her¡­ she didn''t want to believe that. "You may not think it, but¡­" the man continued, swallowing slightly before he raised his head again, looking her right in the eyes. "You''re a great dancer, and I personally want to see you back in the studio."

    Oh no¡­

    He was.

    Cecilia watched, wide-eyed as the young man stood up, the coach having blown his whistle for everyone to take their place with the team they had been picked for. Blinking, Cecilia decided to take the chance.

    Nothing would change if she didn''t try it.

    "Hey!" she called out, making the young man pause and look back to her, his own eyes wide now. "I''m sorry¡­" she said, looking rather sheepish as she brushed some hair behind her ear. "I''ve never really seen a purpose to learning all my classmate''s names."

    For a moment, the man looked a little hurt, but Cecilia could clearly see the gentle understanding in his eyes.

    "Donovan Picket." He answered her unasked question.

    The name made Cecilia''s eyes widen a little bit more.

    She knew that name. She''d heard it when she was locked up in that white-painted prison.

    The second person to try and save her life, according to Ben.

    "You sent me roses in the hospital?" she asked, not really knowing where the question came from, but she just got the feeling that she already knew the answer.

    Donovan just gave her the gentlest, most genuine smile anyone outside of her family has ever given.

    "You deserve them."

    And with that, he turned back around, and joined the rest of the class for the game, leaving Cecilia sitting there, dumbfounded.

    <hr>

    It was the break before the last class of the day, and apparently, one of her classmates had had something on his mind that he finally decided to get off his chest.

    ¡°Brandet.¡± Will Stryder said as he settled down on the desk in front of the girl. A girl that had spent the last handful of minutes with her face buried in a very expensive looking sketchbook clad in black leather. As he had expected, she did little more than glance at him from above the edge of the books before she looked down again.

    It was something that Brandet had done for the short time he¡¯d known her.

    Very few in their class had shared a classroom with her for longer than two years, having shared at least one year with her in middle-school, but all of them had known Brandet to be the kind of girl to just look at you long enough to know that she was listening, and then ignore you for whatever it was they wanted to tell her.

    Talk about rude.

    Still, Will wouldn¡¯t allow that to stop him right now, taking a deep breath to gather his words as he watched Brandet move her pen over the page she had open in her hands.

    ¡°I have wanted to ask this for a while now...¡± he started slowly, watching as Brandet apparently ignored his very existence. He sighed, but he continued with a level of determination. ¡°Why do you never talk to anyone?¡±

    He didn¡¯t know why he bothered asking her that.

    The pen stopped moving, but she still didn¡¯t look at him. It was the only sign he got that she was even listening.

    ¡°Forget it-¡± he breathed, but to his surprise, he didn¡¯t get to finish his sentence.

    ¡°Why should I?¡± Brandet suddenly asked, still not looking up from her sketchbook, but the effect of her voice was enough to suddenly make the classroom go deathly quiet. All eyes pinned on the messy-haired classmate.

    It took a moment for Will to get his voice back.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± he asked, leaning forward on the desk.

    Sighing, Brandet lowered her sketchbook, allowing Will to see the light brown eyes peeking through her bangs, not bothering to acknowledge the looks of their classmates around them. To her, it was like they weren¡¯t even there.

    Carefully, Brandet bookmarked the page she¡¯d been drawing on and allowed it to lay on her desk as she looked at her classmate.

    ¡°For as long as I can remember...¡± she started with a deep sigh, brushing the hair behind her ear. ¡°No one has actually wanted to talk to me other than to demean me one way or another.¡± her voice carried out over the class with a surprising steadiness, her voice clear and having this natural tone that simply demanded everyone to listen to her. It was something that shocked most of their classmates. ¡°If you have nothing of meaning to tell me, I don¡¯t want to talk to you.¡± she shrugged her tiny shoulders, her head tilting with the movement. ¡°It¡¯s as simple as that.¡±

    Will felt as though his voice had been locked up in his throat, having to clear it before he managed to reply to the girl.

    ¡°So...¡± he started slowly, raising his hands to move them around in the air. ¡°If we were to genuinely want to start a conversation with you...¡± he trailed off, not really wanting to finish his line of thoughts.

    Brandet finished it for him.

    ¡°I¡¯d have no problem talking,¡± she answered with a short nod.

    This got Will thinking, his eyebrows coming together in a frown.

    ¡°But...¡± he started, leaning over the desk towards her in curiosity. ¡°How can you tell?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve learned how to read the signs,¡± Brandet answered easily, brushing her hair behind her ear again as she fingered the strange crest on the cover of her sketchbook.

    She can read the signs?

    She can read a person by their voice and behavior?

    That was a scary thought, and not just because she can do that at all.

    ¡°How long has this been going on?¡± Will asked, almost dreading the answer.

    ¡°How long have I been treated like shit by my classmates?¡± Brandet elaborated, leaning back in her chair as she answered easily, an answer that she¡¯d obviously known for a long time. ¡°Just over a decade.¡±

    The whole room fell silent.

    ¡°A decade?¡± Will repeated, eyes wide open.

    ¡°A decade,¡± Brandet confirmed with a nod.

    She¡¯s been bullied for a decade? There is no way that is possible, is it?

    How could someone be bullied for a decade of constantly changing classes, did someone make it a tradition to treat Brandet like shit? Or did they make it an unspoken rule somewhere?

    Those were the only reasons Will could think of, and both were just as illogical.

    ¡°I can vouch for that...¡± Ben piped up from behind Cecilia¡¯s back, stepping up to put a gentle hand on said girl¡¯s shoulder, his whole body showing off the shame he was feeling at what he was now revealing to them all. ¡°We¡¯ve shared a class since preschool.¡± he gave Cecilia a gentle squeeze on the shoulder.

    Sighing, she reached up her own hand to gently pat the one on her, hoping that it would calm the usually smiling young man down a little.

    Will looked between the both of them, and for the first time, he must have seen the complete lack of sexual tension or even romantic chemistry between them. Things that would have had to have been there should any of the rumors about them have been true.

    He swallowed heavily before he forced himself to speak.

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m so sorry,¡± he said, once again gaining the girl¡¯s attention.

    For a long moment, Cecilia just sat there, staring into Will¡¯s coffee-colored eyes, under the watchful gaze of the students around them.

    Finally, she let out a long sigh, breaking eye-contact.

    ¡°I believe you.¡±

    <hr>

    Cecilia was sitting in her room, taking a moment to flick through her old sketchbooks for a moment of assurance that she had gotten better over the years. Also, her imagination was better in her younger years

    ¡°You don¡¯t like me.¡± the voice suddenly asked, coming from the top of the staircase.

    It had come so out of nowhere that the sound almost tore a scream out of Cecilia¡¯s throat, the sketchbook falling from her hands as she spun around to face the intruder.

    There stood the great teacher himself, Mr. Salafay, leaning against the railing cutting off her room from the staircase with his hands stuffed into his pockets, looking at her with those strange, dark, dead eyes.

    ¡°Really, do you know how to knock!?¡± it was probably the loudest Cecilia had ever spoken to anyone in a long time, her hands quickly flipping her sketchbook closed before the manipulative man had the chance to see her old drawings.

    ¡°I do.¡± the teacher chuckled, watching her as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. ¡°I just choose not to.¡±

    Cecilia let out a long sigh, bending down to put the sketchbook down on top of the pile she had standing next to her bed, straightening it out under the almost unblinking gaze of the teacher. It was more than unnerving.

    ¡°What exactly don¡¯t you like about me?¡± he asked, stepping away from the railing, making her look at him with each slow step. The look on his face was borderline sultry.

    ¡°Well for one, I don¡¯t like the implication that you¡¯re trying to seduce me right now.¡± she immediately shot at him, straightening herself out, as well as wrapping her open cardigan around her torso, covering up as much skin as possible.

    Immediately, the look was gone, replaced with amusement.

    ¡°You can¡¯t take a joke, can you?¡± he chuckled.

    ¡°Not when they¡¯re not funny,¡± Cecilia replied seriously, pushing herself against the wall, bringing her legs against her chest. ¡°And to answer your statement...¡± she let out a long, deep breath as she brushed her hair behind her ear, shaking her head as she licked her lips. She did this intentionally, wanting to see if she could annoy the man with her body language as much as he annoyed hers with his.

    She wondered if she should give the man her reply, but she eventually decided to just go for it, wanting to get it over it.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got nothing against you, it¡¯s your motivations that put me off.¡±

    Salafay put his hands back into his pockets, chuckling as he shook his head.

    ¡°I¡¯m just a teacher,¡± he responded, almost not getting to finish his sentence before Cecilia spoke up once again.

    ¡°No, you¡¯re not.¡±

    The teacher fell silent, his whole towering frame freezing up.

    Slowly, he turned towards her again, his whole demeanor losing the humor he¡¯d carried since he arrived at the house, looking almost like a prowling predator as he looked at her.

    Her nerves stood on edge as her eyes met his.

    ¡°How are you so sure about that?¡± he asked, lowering his head.

    ¡°There¡¯s something about you that makes me feel really, really weird.¡±

    Salafay blinked a few times before chuckling, tilting his head so that his fedora shadowed his eyes, his fingers pinching the brim.

    ¡°It¡¯s frowned upon to have feelings for a teacher, Cecilia,¡± he said, obviously trying to revert back to the rather humorous persona he¡¯d taken on before, but the young woman sitting in front of him simply would not have it.

    The expression on Cecilia¡¯s face made it clear that she did not find the teacher¡¯s comment to be at all amusing. Her head tilted to the side as she looked at him.

    ¡°Come off it,¡± she said, shaking her head. ¡°You¡¯re a manipulative mystery who have way too much interest in me joining you little course for me to feel comfortable.¡± she let out a long sigh, brushing her hair behind her ear. ¡°You give me strange feelings.¡± her eyes narrowed at the man, paying attention to every subtle movement underneath his dress-shirt, not putting her guard down for even a second. ¡°The kind of feeling I always, always, pay attention to.¡±

    She shouldn¡¯t have said that.

    She regretted it the second the words were out of her mouth.

    The look the teacher was giving her now, only made her suspicions about him worse.

    ¡°Oh really?¡± he asked, taking a few steps closer to her. ¡°And what kind of feeling is that?¡±

    Cecilia didn¡¯t know if she should, but she didn¡¯t like leaving genuine questions unanswered, even if she didn¡¯t like the manipulative look he was giving her.

    ¡°A tugging at my mind.¡± she described slowly, shrinking back against the wall whilst still sitting on the bed, wrapping her arms around her whilst she kept her eyes pinned on the man. ¡°That¡¯s the best way I can describe it.¡±

    There was one thing that Cecilia really couldn¡¯t describe no matter how much she thought, but there was something happening inside the teacher¡¯s dark eyes with every additional work that made its way out of her mouth.

    ¡°You should really consider joining my class, Cecilia.¡± Salafay once again insisted, now standing close enough to her bed that he would be sitting on it if he took one more step.

    She wasn¡¯t particularly fond of that thought.

    ¡°With everything inside me telling me to be wary of you?¡± she narrowed her eyes at the man, her fingers clenching around her cardigan. ¡°Forget it.¡± seeing the muscles in the teacher¡¯s jaw working, she decided to cut him off before he had the chance to manipulate her into telling him yes. ¡°Now get out of my room.¡±

    She was adamant about him leaving her room, and with him paying her mother to stay under their roof, the teacher had no choice but to do what she asked.

    Although¡­ when he turned around to the stairs, Cecilia could have sworn she saw the man smirking.

    Why would he smirk?

    <hr>

    May 7

    Thursday 2215

    Walking to school had been a lot easier as of late.

    Cecilia couldn¡¯t remember the last time she¡¯d gone to the building without feeling a sense of foreboding dread. Without feeling as though she would get shoved into a wall when walking through the hallway, without walking with the thought at the back of her head that at least one of her belongings would get destroyed.

    She was walking through the hallway towards homeroom when a voice called out to her.

    It was starting to become something of a routine.

    ¡±Hey, Brandet!¡± Ben Tanaka called as he ran up to her, throwing an arm around her shoulder once he finally reached her side. It was strange to everyone that saw it, just how little romantic tension that came with that action.

    ¡°Tanaka.¡± Cecilia greeted right back, glancing at the man from the corner of her eye in mind annoyance. ¡°Good morning.¡±

    ¡°Looking splendid.¡± he laughed his response.

    ¡°Really?¡± she asked, raising an eyebrow at the athlete. ¡°I thought it looked cloudy.¡±

    Ben had to keep himself from staring at Cecilia in absolute shock. That was the first time he¡¯d heard her give any form of a joke, even if it was a sarcastic one. Instead, he allowed himself to laugh lightly at her words, mentally patting himself on his back at the light smile that spread across the tiny girl¡¯s face.

    ¡°It will always be splendid with good company,¡± he said, tightening his arm around her neck in a one-arm hug of sorts before he allowed himself to let go.

    ¡°Well.¡± Cecilia sighed, brushing her hair behind her ear. ¡°I don¡¯t usually have good company.¡±

    Ben had to fight the frown off of his face.

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry,¡± Ben replied with a large smile, his hand shooting out to roughly ruffle the top of her head. ¡°You will.¡±

    The two long-term classmates were too caught up in their own conversation, that they failed to notice the heated, angered glares sent their way. Or to be more specific, sent at Cecilia.

    Three jocks from the athletic division stood not far away from where the two slowly walked through the hallway, arms crossed over their chests as they looked at them, not even bothering to hide the absolute hatred in their eyes.

    Really, it was amazing how Cecilia couldn¡¯t feel it.

    <hr>

    The class watched in shock as Cecilia gracefully moved her hand over the smart-board, answering the question she''d been asked, and as she continued with the equation, the smarter people in the class realized that she was solving it using the correct method, as well as reaching the right answers using the method.

    Finally, she set down the board pen, turning around towards the teacher, who looked at Cecilia with a kind smile.

    "That is correct." She stated, gesturing for Cecilia to return to her desk.

    As luck would have it, Cecilia misjudged the distance between the small platform and ended up losing her balance.

    Everyone watched with little interest, used to Cecilia tripping, but then¡­ Cecilia expertly twisted the foot still connected to the floor, forcing her falling body to spin around, making her back face the ground. Then, with confidence that they didn''t know she had, she put her other foot down behind her, forcing her body back up into an elegant arch.

    For a long moment, even after Cecilia had collapsed, blushing, back in her desk, the class remained in a state of shocked silence.

    <hr>

    May 11

    Monday 2215

    ¡°Hey.¡± Ben caught Cecilia¡¯s attention with a tap on her shoulder during lunch, making the girl turn around towards him, chopsticks still lodged between her lips. ¡°What are you doing after school?¡± he asked with a smile, leaning his head onto his arms, lying down on the desk as his hazel eyes blinked up at her.

    ¡°Why are you asking?¡± she asked right back, removing the chopsticks from her mouth.

    ¡°Don¡¯t do that to me Brandet.¡± Ben playfully whined, raising his head a little as he reached out his hands to drip the front of his desk. ¡°I wanna know.¡±

    Cecilia popped a piece of chicken into her mouth, chewing slowly to drag out the athlete¡¯s waiting time.

    He playfully glared at her when he realized what she was doing.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to the therapist,¡± she answered after swallowing, blinking innocently at him.

    Ben slowly raised himself into a sitting position, his expression becoming a lot more serious.

    ¡°First visit?¡± he asked, bringing his arms closer to him, his hands intertwining on top of the desk as he looked at her.

    Cecilia nodded.

    ¡°You already went?¡± it was only logical that their classmates would need some form of therapy after what they witnessed that day. But she hadn¡¯t heard anything along those lines from the gossip in between classes.

    Then again, therapy wasn¡¯t that nice a subject to converse about.

    Ben¡¯s mood darkened slightly, still leaning his weight on the desk, fingers fiddling.

    ¡°Everyone in our class went while you were gone,¡± he explained, his fingers starting to fiddle as he looked at her. ¡°They brought a psychiatrist to stay in the building for a week just for that purpose.¡± he motioned with his finger around the room. ¡°Some are still going, depending on how traumatized they were.¡±

    Cecilia blinked at him, tilting her head to the side.

    ¡°Do you still go?¡± she asked, curious.

    To her surprise, Ben smiled at her.

    ¡°I cleared myself by visiting you in the hospital.¡±

    For a long moment, the two classmates just looked at one another. Then, Ben¡¯s face broke into a wide smile, his hand shooting out to gently put his hand on her shoulder.

    ¡°You know what,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m walking you to the office.¡±

    She blinked, momentarily thrown off at his sudden statement.

    ¡°Tanaka.¡± Cecilia tried, thinking about how she could persuade the man that he didn¡¯t have to do that. The thought of anyone taking away from their off-time to be with her made her slightly uncomfortable.

    Okay, very uncomfortable.

    ¡°No.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not going to let you talk me out of it.¡± ¡°I¡¯m walking you to the office.¡±

    Ben was a stubborn young man, she knew that, it was part of the reason why they were sitting there, talking, in the first place.

    Shaking her head, she let out a long breath.

    ¡°Just do what you want...¡± she said, turning back around to her lunch, picking up another piece of chicken and shoved it into her mouth.

    ¡°You know I will.¡± Ben laughed, leaning back in his chair.

    Cecilia found herself with a small smile on her face despite her rolling her eyes.

    Once again, she failed to notice the group of three jocks from the athletic division. Why they were standing in the doorway to the classroom, no one knew. They speculated it was because of the angelic red-head sharing a pleasant meal with her much more mature, dark chocolate haired friend at the center of the classroom but they didn¡¯t have to remain there.

    Once again, they were looking at Cecilia with the most heated, hate-filled glares, and she was completely oblivious to it.

    She usually weren¡¯t.

    There was just something about Ben that made her calm.

    <hr>

    "I can¡¯t believe you actually went with me..." Cecilia asked, throwing a glance towards Ben as she stopped in front of the therapist''s house.

    "Of course I did." Ben insisted, patting Cecilia on the head. "I need to make sure you actually went here."

    Cecilia frowned, knocking his hand away.

    "I would have gone even if you didn''t walk me you know." She said, giving Ben a look.

    "Alright." Ben laughed, putting a hand on her shoulder. "You take care of that trauma." He said, stepping away from her whilst pointing a humoring finger at her.

    Cecilia gave him a look of slight annoyance, watching him disappear down the road before she turned her attention back towards the door.

    Taking a deep breath, she opened the door, only to freeze in place once the sight of what was on the other side of the door registered into her brain.

    Terry was standing in the middle of the waiting room.

 Act 1: Hidden from Shadows Scene 6: Unforeseen Consequences

    For a long moment, the two teens just stared at one another, frozen to the spot, unsure of what they were supposed to do. She certainly had the urge to run away from the scene, ignoring the fact that she had been practically ordered to go to the office and just, lock herself up in her bedroom for another couple of days.

    It was only her sheer stubbornness that kept her feet nailed to the floor.

    It took a while, But Terry finally scratched behind his ear, groaning a little before taking a deep breath and opened his mouth.

    "You here for a therapy session?" he asked, sounding very awkward.

    This wasn''t the best opening sentence, and he knew it.

    Cecilia had to swallow before she could bring her voice out, though she couldn''t do that whilst she was still looking at him.

    "And who''s fault is it that I''m here?" she asked bitterly, wrapping her arms around her waist, covering up the area where he had managed to shoot her.

    Terry seemed to understand this action.

    "Fair enough¡­" he sighed, putting his hands into his pockets as he kicked at the floor.

    The silence between the two of them was deafening.

    "Look¡­ Brandet." Terry finally spoke up, voice shaking slightly. "I''m sorry."

    Cecilia froze at his words, her breath catching as her eyes widened.

    "What?" she whispered, her whole body stiff with the nerves that were building up inside of her. Had she not been so distracted by Terry''s mere presence, she probably would have noticed the tingling sensation that was slowly moving up her arms, starting from the tips of her fingers.

    "It was only meant to scare you." Terry tried to explain, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "I never intended to actually injure you like that."

    Cecilia rolled her eyes at his words.

    "Oh, and that has kept you from pushing me down the stairs?"

    Terry groaned at her tone, scratching himself behind the ear in an action resembling a dog.

    "I''ve seen you be pushed down stairs before, you''re always fine." He argued, holding his hands out in front of him, gesturing over her entire tiny body.

    "Big shock!" Cecilia almost screamed, throwing her hands out at her sides. "I wasn''t the first time it happened!"

    Cecilia would have thought back to said day, reminisce about the pain she''d felt when she''d tumbled down each step before blacking out at the bottom, but truth be told, she had no memory of said tumble down the stairs or even at what time exactly she''d blacked out during the fall, because the blow she''d taken to her head during that time, had made her forget all about it, that and more.

    For a moment, Terry just stared at her.

    "You''re¡­ surprisingly sarcastic." He commented, voice dripping with disbelief.

    ¡°No way...¡± Cecilia exclaimed, her voice more than laced with sarcasm. ¡°With my history, I would have thought I was a romantic.¡± she would probably have glared at Terry had she not believed she would have collapsed into a pile of broken nerves should she try to.

    Terry stared at her for a moment, eyes wide at the surprising character trait that he would have never expected the girl in front of him to possess. She''d always been so quiet, refusing to talk to anyone who decided to address her. Now that he thoughts about it¡­ she''d probably become used to people not really having anything important to say to her, and thus¡­ she just stopped talking altogether.

    The guilt welled up in him as he thought about everything she''s probably been through.

    "Seriously though¡­" he muttered softly, staring at the side of her face. "I really am sorry."

    It took a few deep breaths, a hand resting on top of her chest to calm down her speeding heart before Cecilia managed to find her voice again, and even then, it was hesitant, shaky.

    "I accept your apology." She said slowly, hands clutching at her upper arms. "But I don''t forgive you."

    Terry nodded, having understood that this would most likely be the case.

    "Alright¡­" he said, stepping up towards the door. "Well, I don''t suppose I''ll see you again?"

    "For the sake of my nerves, I hope not," Cecilia replied barely louder than a whisper, refusing to look at the man.

    To his credit, Terry actually chuckled at her words, shaking his head as he walked past her in the doorway, taking a moment to look her right in the eye, allowing her to see the full extent of his emotions.

    "Take care."

    And with that, Terry disappeared out the building, leaving Cecilia staring after him before she took a deep breath, shaking her head as she fully stepped into the building, closing the door behind her.

    <hr>

    Cecilia had been sitting in the waiting room for a good twenty minutes, sketchbook open in her lap as she doodled away. Once again, forming the strange sigils, or were they glyphs? She didn¡¯t know what they were but her hand apparently felt like she should draw them.

    They were pretty though, there was that.

    ¡°Miss Brandet?¡± a voice calling from the psychiatrist¡¯s door made Cecilia look up from the page, meeting the gaze of a man that looked to be in his forties, gray hairs already starting to show in his sandy hair.

    Dr. Charles McCallen had been recommended, he was apparently the best therapist in Fairgarden.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Cecilia responded, snapping her sketchbook shut as she got up from the chair, picking her bag up from the floor as she followed the middle-aged man¡¯s outstretched into the office.

    They spoke precious little as Cecilia settled down on one of the chairs in the room, stuffing her sketchbook back into her bag before she turned her attention back towards the man, watching as he flicked his touch-pen over the screen on his tablet.

    Finally, he put the folded up the device and put it down.

    ¡°From my report, you are recovering from an accidental gunshot?¡± he asked, leaning back in how own chair, his legs crossed with his hands resting on his knee, grey eyes finding Cecilia¡¯s own.

    Immediately, she knew that she was being studied.

    She did not like being studied.

    ¡°Yes,¡± she answered with a sigh, brushing her hair behind her ear. ¡°The guy who did it actually stepped out when I arrived.¡± she actually hadn¡¯t wanted to say that, but she knew that it was a question that would be asked at one point or another during the session, she didn¡¯t want to needlessly drag that out.

    The doctor¡¯s eyes widened at the revelation.

    ¡°And how are you feeling?¡± he asked, leaning forward a little, still studying her every move.

    Sighing, Cecilia started picking at the fabric of the chair, at the raised embroidery, refusing to look at the man.

    ¡°I could have been better,¡± she answered slowly. ¡°My nerves are on edge.¡±

    ¡°I can tell.¡± the man commented, eyes lingering on her restless, fiddling fingers. ¡°But how would you have described your nerves before you encountered him?¡±

    Surprisingly, her fingers stopped.

    She allowed herself a few, deep breaths, taking a moment with her eyes closed before she let herself smile. When she opened her eyes again, she couldn¡¯t help but to almost relish in the confused look on the doctors face.

    So she had something of a sadistic streak, so what?

    That¡¯s a decade of being treated like shit and bottling up the resentment for you.

    ¡°Better than they have in years,¡± she answered honestly.

    ¡°Really?¡± the doctor asked, both confused and intrigued by the looks of it.

    ¡°Yes,¡± she confirmed with a nod.

    The doctor was silent for a long moment, obviously keeping himself from openly staring at the girl in front of him. Now, it was her turn to study him, taking in his surprise, studying the wrinkles on his expensive suit jacket, his pathetic attempt to hide a coffee stain on his silk tie...

    She had to hide a smirk at her last find.

    The doctor shook his head to rid himself of the shock.

    ¡°You were shot in the stomach, and you¡¯re better off than you¡¯ve been in years?¡± something must have snapped inside his head for him to be so slow on the uptake right now, and Cecilia couldn¡¯t help but relish in it.

    ¡°Yes,¡± she said, holding herself back from dragging out the word like you would when talking to a child. Going so far as to copy the doctors sitting position. ¡°Because the accident helped partially restore a problem with my brain that I¡¯ve had since childhood.¡±

    Dr. McCallum blinked.

    ¡°So, you¡¯re saying¡­¡± he had to pause to gather his words. ¡°You¡¯re thankful for almost being killed?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Came Cecilia¡¯s immediate response.

    Once again, the doctor openly stared at her, blinking slowly as if he was trying to decide if either she or her words were the real thing or not. Each blink drawing out on the seconds ticking away, drawing out on the time that had been assigned to Cecilia.

    She had no problem leaving him like that.

    Her head was a much more interesting place that this office ever would be.

    Sadly, he managed to snap himself out of his thoughts once again.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever heard such a thing before.¡± he finally breathed out, pulling his tablet back up to document his rather¡­ peculiar find.

    Cecilia once again had to fight a smirk from spreading across her face.

    ¡°There¡¯s got to be a first for everything.¡±

    <hr>

    The session spanned out for a good twenty minutes, talking about what she¡¯d been doing since she got out of the hospital. How her classmates had reacted to her returning to the school and basically how she¡¯d been going on.

    Apparently, hearing that she was thriving without a therapist to help her after having been shot in the stomach was quite bewildering for the poor man.

    To be honest, a sick part of Cecilia was having quite a good time.

    ¡°Alright.¡± the doctor finally called out, clapping his hands as the watch on his wrist beeped, signifying the end of their session. ¡°You know what.¡± he started tapping on the tablet. ¡°I want you to come back here again after summer.¡±

    Cecilia bit her lip to sight the smile.

    She probably should have been called back after a week, this doctor just didn¡¯t want to deal with the craziness that was Cecilia Brandet¡¯s mind sooner than absolutely necessary.

    ¡°Okay,¡± she said, getting up off of the chair, threading her arm through the straps of the bag, watching as the doctor too peeled himself from his own seat.

    He guided her to the door, opening it and kindly motioned for her to leave, although she got the feeling that he was a little desperate for her to get out of the building. Her absence would give him a bit of normalcy after twenty minutes of confusion and bewilderment.

    ¡°I¡¯ll send you a notification once I¡¯ve set up a date for you,¡± he said.

    Cecilia nodded at his words.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be waiting,¡± she replied, stepping through the door into the waiting room.

    ¡°Stay strong.¡± the poor doctor said, smiling at her as he gave her a short wave, though the smile was somehow strained.

    Cecilia threw an awkward smile back at the man, nodding shortly before she turned around and walked out of the building, hoping that she wouldn¡¯t have to return there the next time she went there after summer.

    <hr>

    Walking home, Cecilia felt as though a huge weight had been lifted off of her shoulders.

    She¡¯d been dreading this meeting since she¡¯d first gotten the time, knowing that she was well and not wanting someone to pick and poke at her mental state, she did that on her own already what with her handicap and all.

    But she didn¡¯t have to worry about it anymore.

    Well¡­ not for a long time at the very least.

    Finally, she reached her house, stepping in through the unlocked front door and taking off her shoes just like any other day.

    ¡°So.¡± Cecilia jerked at the sound of Salafay¡¯s voice, almost making her fall over as she shot back to her feet, staring at the man where he stood at the bottom of the staircase, leaning against the pole holding the railing in place as he casually looked at her. ¡°How¡¯d it go?¡±

    Cecilia frowned at his words.

    ¡°Why do you care?¡± she asked, picking her bag up from the ground and moving towards the stairs, stepping around him with great grace.

    Salafay chuckled at her attitude.

    ¡°Can I not care about the psychological well-being of one of my landladies?¡± he asked, looking after her as she disappeared up the stairs.

    ¡°I¡¯m not talking to you!¡± she called out, almost running the remaining way to her bedroom. Slamming the door behind her.

    She did not feel like dealing with that man.

    Not now.

    <hr>

    May 13

    Wednesday 2215

    A test.

    Her class was having a test for the first time since Cecilia returned from the hospital. The class was sitting in their seats with their screen pens in hand, some even twisting them as their nerves got the better of them, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, Cecilia found that she was not a part of these people.

    She felt surprisingly calm, even though she was well aware that her brain should have already started to crumble.

    It was a strange thing, being reminded that she didn''t have to worry about what had previously caused plenty of problems for her.

    She could feel eyes on her.

    Her classmates expecting her to suddenly revert back to the patterns they have come to associate with her.

    A finger tapped her on the shoulder, making her turn around.

    There sat Ben, giving her one of his big smiles and holding up a thumb in that universal, good luck gesture.

    Cecilia couldn''t help the smile that spread over her mouth before turning back around.

    <hr>

    May 15

    Friday 2215

    Apparently, the changes to the character everyone seemed to have believed was Cecilia Brandet was pushing her classmates to what they probably thought of as the brink of insanity.

    She''s been so different, which had made everyone watch her more, and because they watched her more, they couldn''t help but notice that she noticed things all around her. Sometimes she didn''t even need to see someone. It was like absolutely nothing surprised her even though many of her classmates have attempted to do so the past couple of days, trying to see if she would fall over like she would have done before she was shot.

    It was like she had eyes at the back of her neck!

    And so, that day, one of the members of the athletic division who was currently using an observation exercise on his mirror screen to help him with volleyball decided to see just how good at observation she really was.

    During lunch, he ignored his friends and settled down in front of Cecilia, causing the down to frown at him in confusion.

    The boy ignored the look and shoves his mirror screen in front of her face.

    "Solve this." He ordered, making Cecilia frown even more.

    Finally, the girl sighed, taking the screen from his hands and turned her attention towards the test displayed on it.

    The whole class was well aware what that boy had been doing on his screen for several days straight, he''d almost been slaving over it trying to improve his observational skills, and so, they turned towards Cecilia''s desk when they realized just what the boy is forcing her to do.

    For several minutes, they just watched as Cecilia''s fingers flew over the screen, light ringing sounds resonating from the device to indicate a breaking of the personal high-score before finally, Cecilia removed her fingers and handed the device back to her classmate.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    He stared at the screen, wide-eyed, for several seconds.

    "She beat my high-score¡­" he finally muttered. "With 10 000 points."

    The class suddenly found themselves locked in place, eyes wide open as they stared at their seemingly useless classmate, watching her as she flexed her apparently tired fingers.

    Ben approached her from behind, putting his hand on her shoulder.

    She only turned her face slightly in his direction.

    "Wow." The athlete voiced, smiling at the girl. "Brandet."

    Cecilia rolled her eyes before she focused on the ceiling.

    "Are you really surprised?" she asked, knocking his hand off of her shoulder before she turned her torso around to face him more head-on than she did before. "I''m artist Tanaka."

    Her class formed at her words shocked that she would claim to be good at anything, until they heard Ben give off an amused snort, putting his hand on her head to ruffle her hair.

    "True."

    He was confirming it?

    Why was Ben confirming that Messy was good at something?

    The only one seemingly brave enough to ask the question on everyone''s minds was Donovan Picket.

    "Artist?"

    Turning towards the other boy, Ben only smiled even more. If that was even possible.

    "Yeah!" he exclaimed, moving towards his own desk, digging through his bag before he pulled out a carefully folded piece of paper that looked as though it had been carefully preserved. Ben turned back towards the class, carefully unfolding the paper. "Check this out." He turned the paper around, holding it out towards their classmates. "She gave it to me for my birthday."

    Immediately, the class broke into absolute chaos, freaking out over the hand-drawn sketch Ben was holding out, not to mention just how well made it was.

    Cecilia rolled her eyes, leaning her head on her knuckles.

    Was it really that hard to believe she was good at something?

    <hr>

    May 20

    Wednesday 2215

    It was the day.

    The day when they were to have their tests returned to them, and kind of, sort of, the day the class were finally going to get the final proof that Cecilia Brandet really hadn''t changed and she was still the same useless self that she''s always been. They could still silently make fun of her, even though Ben has expressed his desire for them all to treat Cecilia just like every other student.

    Finally, the scores appeared on each of the student''s desks, and everyone collectively threw a glance at Cecilia.

    Said girl was staring at her desk-screen, eyes wide in shock.

    46 %.

    She''d passed the test.

    It''s not exactly a passing grade, but she didn''t have to retake the test, and that was a big enough change that it left the whole class in a state of silent stupor.

    The only one not really surprised was Ben.

    Eyes narrowed, the athlete made up his mind.

    Bending forward, the athlete tapped the artist on the shoulder.

    "Hey, Brandet." He spoke up, making the girl turn around towards him. "You still on those pills."

    This made Cecilia frown, as well as several other members of their class as his question registered into their brains.

    "Of course I am," Cecilia confirmed, thinking back to the two bottles that were currently chilling in her bag, waiting for lunch when she''d pull them out like she''d done every day since she first got them.

    She still got the strangest feeling from them, but that didn''t mean she wouldn''t take them.

    Frowning, Kondou Yuki rose slightly from her desk.

    "What pills?" she asked, voice drenched in suspicion.

    Cecilia rolled her eyes.

    Did they think she was taking drugs now to make her scores better?

    Apparently, Ben caught onto this as well, as he stood up from his own chair, facing their class president with the fakest smile Cecilia had ever seen on his face.

    "The pills the doctors gave her to help her brain." He explained, sounding as though it was the most obvious thing possible.

    Which, Cecilia actually suspected that it was, seeing as she had just gotten out of the hospital. She actually would have been more surprised if she hadn''t been prescribed some sort of medications.

    That just showed how mean her classmates could be.

    "Her¡­ what?" Donovan asked, throwing a worried look to Cecilia.

    Sighing, Cecilia reached out a hand to grab Ben''s wrist, but he shook her off.

    "Tanaka¡­" Cecilia tried, but it didn''t look as though Ben had any intention of stopping.

    "Apparently, a part of her brain refused to develop when she was younger which gave her a function handicap." His smile slowly slipped away from his face with every word that escaped his mouth. "You know, not being able to think straight or tripping whenever she''s focusing." He ended the sentence with a hard look directed at everyone that had actively made it their business to bring Cecilia down.

    "Oh yes."

    "You''ve all been bullying a handicapped person."

    <hr>

    For the class to find out that the so-called ¡°favoritism¡± the teachers had shown her was because of a function handicap that no one had thought to find out about¡­

    They didn¡¯t feel at all proud of it.

    They had felt (in their own twisted imaginations) as thought their treatment of the tiny girl was warranted, with the way she treated them and with the way she passed the classes without (seemingly) doing anything.

    Now¡­ they felt like shit.

    <hr>

    May 21

    Thursday 2215

    She should have seen this coming.

    She had noticed the looks thrown at her through the corridors as she walked between the classes. She could feel the heat of the gazes, the anger surrounding her as she moved through the school, but she''d never actually seen the people giving her those looks and with the patrols living the corridors, she hadn''t paid the looks any more attention than for whenever she felt them.

    She prided herself on her observational skills, for nature''s sake!

    How could she have let her guard down!?

    She had been walking home from school that day, stopping for a few seconds in front of a vending machine and ruffling through her bag to see if she had any loose change anywhere in there. The afternoon such was glaring down at her, heating up the air around her even though it was only late May.

    She had been having this strange feeling of dread ever since she had stepped out of the school gates, out of sight from the watchful eyes of patrolling prefects, but she hadn''t paid any attention to it, too eager to get home, too hot to care.

    Stars she wished she had done that now.

    As her attention had been focused on the insides of her bad, and her ears had been filled with the sounds of her own things being shoved around inside of it, she never noticed the shadows or the multiple sounds of footsteps approaching her from where she''d just come from.

    That is, not until one arm had wrapped itself around her upper arms, and a hand slammed down over her mouth.

    As her arms were suddenly pinned down at her sides, her bag fell out of her hands, making her belongings scatter over the pavement, the glossy cover of her favorite sketch-book blaring up at the sky in the light of the sun.

    She tried, she really tried to get out of the arms but the more she moved, the more the person tightened his grip around her, clenching his fingers around her mouth the more noise she tried to make.

    It hurt.

    It hurt so much.

    Not just from the grip on her mouth but also because of the strain she felt on the stitches, the stitches that were just days away from being removed. She felt the bio-material loosen slightly from her skin.

    "Well, well, well."

    That voice, she knew that voice.

    "What do we have here?"

    Aaron Masters, her seventeen-year-old upperclassman stepped into her line of sight, his hands in his pockets and a look in his eyes like a predator, satisfaction, and something akin to hatred buried underneath it all, though why that look was warranted, Cecilia had no idea.

    The fencing captain lets his eyes wander over Cecilia''s body, sizing her up, leaving unpleasant shivers running over every inch of her skin in their wake.

    His mouth broke into a smirk.

    "If it isn''t the school looser." He chuckled, stepping closer to her.

    Two pairs of laughter followed that comment.

    Really? It¡­ it wasn''t even that funny.

    Aaron leaned in close to her, close enough that she could feel his breath brushing over her nose.

    Suddenly, she had to fight her lunch from crawling back up her throat.

    When was the last time he brushed his teeth?

    "You''re surprisingly hard to catch Messy," Aaron said, reaching out a hand to poke Cecilia under the skin, his dark eyes looking even more frightening up close.

    Desperately, Cecilia tried to pry herself away from the men, she tried kicking, clawing, even biting, but seeing as her feet were now dangling in mid-air, she guessed that that would be impossible.

    Seriously, just how strong is this guy?

    "Oh, don''t try to run," Aaron said slowly, almost purring. "After all, you brought this on yourself."

    Cecilia froze, staring up at Aaron with wide eyes displaying her confusion.

    Seeming to see said confusion, Aaron smirked, even more, running his finger down the skin of her neck, stopping at the collar of her blouse where he twisted his fingers into the fabric.

    "Your stepping over your boundaries Messy." He growled, getting even closer to her face. The only time Cecilia would ever be thankful that someone is covering her mouth with his hand. "Someone like you, hanging out with someone like Ben Tanaka." Cecilia could feel the tightness of her collar around her neck, beginning to cut off her hair supply the more Aaron clutched at it. "It just won''t do."

    Suddenly, Aaron let go of Cecilia''s blouse, stepping back to jerk his head down towards an alley.

    An alley that Cecilia knew was very deep dead-end usually filled with discarded cardboard boxes and housed a rather large trash bin.

    Aaron walked first, allowing his "lackeys" to follow him.

    They did, leaving Cecilia''s things scattered over the asphalt.

    It was then that Cecilia noticed the third member of the party, a tall lanky boy that she had seen every once in a while during archery practice on her way home from school.

    Cecilia could feel the tears burning behind her eyes as Aaron stopped, gesturing with his hand.

    The next thing Cecilia knew, she''d been violently thrown straight into the concrete wall, her fall broken somewhat by the pile of concrete boxes lining it.

    Gasping in pain, worried that her stomach wound would re-open again, Cecilia turned to face the three men, revealing that the one to have held her was a tall man with a strong muscle build, obviously from the wrestling club.

    What is the deal with the Athletic division and wanting to inflict physical damage to her?! If it hadn''t been for Ben she might have been traumatized to the point of refraining to be anywhere near any member of that division ever again.

    Aaron marched right up to her, grabbing a large chunk of her hair and yanking her up to face him, making her bite down on her lip to keep the cry of pain in.

    Crouching down in front of her, Aaron clicked his tongue.

    "I don''t know how you managed to work yourself into his circle, but it will end right now." He promised, tightening his hand on her head in a way that made her bend her head back, exposing her neck to him. "Someone needs to teach you a lesson on where you stand in the school food chain." He nodded along with his words, and a glance behind him showed Cecilia that his two friends were doing the same thing.

    The school food chain?

    What is this? A soap opera from the late 20th century?

    "Afterwards, maybe you can give me some of what you have given Tanaka, huh?" Cecilia''s eyes widened.

    They¡­ they believed that she was exchanging physical favors for Ben to talk to her? How stupid are they or do they simply not keep up with the school rumor mill? Or maybe they did and just got a hold of the wrong rumor.

    Suddenly, Cecilia found her face slammed straight into the concrete wall.

    The pain was absolutely excruciating, but she kept her lower lip firmly locked in between her two rows of teeth. Maybe a little too hard, she could feel a trail of something wet slipping down to her chin as she fell back against the cardboard, fingers clenched into tight fists, trying to keep her tears from falling.

    She wasn''t going to give them the pleasure of seeing her cry.

    At least¡­ not after this little.

    The tingles were back, the tingles that had become so very frequent over the past few days. Ringing through the tips of her fingers, moving to the rest of her hands quicker than they have ever done before.

    The tingling evolved into a major itching sensation when a kick landed at the side of her abdomen, and she felt the bio-material completely fall away from her skin.

    Now, she was in danger.

    Good thing she was too occupied panicking to properly register the itching in her hands.

    She needed to get away from these men, but how was she going to do that?

    She didn''t know how to fight, she was already at a disadvantage with her height, and then there is the added danger of the still healing hole in her stomach that she really, really didn''t want to re-open. She doubted these men would think to call for an ambulance should they realize that her stomach was bleeding rapidly. In fact, they would probably dump her in the bin and leave her there to die.

    Was it just her, or was the temperature rising even more than it was before?

    A pair of hands clenched around her ankles, pulling her away from the cardboard so that she was lying with her back on the asphalt, several scrapes forming over her skin as she stared up at the three men looking down at her.

    All three of them were smirking.

    "Truly, this is all your fault Messy," Aaron said, lifting his leg, preparing to bring it down on her stomach.

    Thinking quickly, Cecilia curled herself in a way that her forearm took the kick instead of her abdomen. Surely, she''d be able to survive getting her arm broken, anything to keep her stomach wound from re-opening.

    This reaction didn''t seem to sit well with Aaron.

    Bending down, he grabbed her by the hair again.

    "You don''t get to decide the target." He growled, slamming her head down on the ground.

    For a moment, everything became blurry, the lights too bright, and the hits that beat down on her didn''t register as much, but that didn''t mean that her body wasn''t instinctively protecting the most vulnerable part of her.

    Sweat was starting to drip down Cecilia''s brow more like a tap that had been turned on that the small individual bead that it had been before.

    Seriously, was she the only one feeling the head? It was like sitting too close to a fire, or the highest of fevers one could ever imagine having when down with the flu.

    Her brain seemed to return to normal, just as Aaron slammed down her shoulder, sitting down on top of her to straddle her stomach.

    Something glimmered from the corner of her vision, and her blood froze.

    A knife. Aaron was holding a knife in his hand, slowly moving it up towards her face. The other two men moved to pin down her arms and legs, leaving no room for her to turn as Aaron pressed the tip of the knife to her jaw.

    Alright! Cecilia felt as though she was on fire, how was none of them feeling the heat?!

    "You know¡­" Aaron muttered, brushing some of Cecilia''s hair out of her eyes. "You may actually be too pretty." He mused. "I''ll just have to make your face fit your social status, should I?"

    Before Cecilia knew what happened, Aaron had slashed the knife down the front of her jaw. It had come so suddenly that Cecilia hadn''t had time to brace herself for the pain, which resulted in her letting out a loud, ear ringing scream of terror and pain. It ha just wrenched itself out of her throat.

    This pleased Aaron.

    "That''s more like it." He chuckled, leaning down over her. "Scream all you like, no one is going to hear you."

    He raises the knife again, this time moving it closer towards her eyes, the glint in his eyes absolutely evil.

    "No¡­" Cecilia wined through the stinging of her jaw, trying to wiggle herself out of their hold, but only found them tightening their grips to a bruising one.

    As if she wouldn''t already have enough of those.

    Aaron''s knife moved even closer to her skin.

    "No." Cecilia wined a little louder, eyes widening and fear swelling up inside her at the sight of the knife''s tip slowly lowering towards her light-brown orbs.

    Aaron only chuckled, even more, Hand finding her bleeding jaw to keep her face still as he aimed his knife, lowering it even more, seeming to aim directly at her left pupil.

    The heat was absolutely stifling now, she could barely breathe, like she was sitting inside of an over.

    The knife was as good as touching Cecilia''s eye when everything burst.

    "NO!"

    The first thing that had told her that something had happened was the sudden outburst of pain from the man holding down her wrists only for said grip on her wrists to drop, then, the knife was away from her line of sight, Aaron scrambling away from her, eyes wide in terror as he stared at her and soon, the third guy joined him

    The fear was clear as Cecilia stared at them, and soon, they were sprinting away from the scene as though their lives depended on it.

    Confused and in pain, Cecilia moved her arms to push herself up, and it was then that she saw them.

    Flames.

    Bright orange flames lit up her hands, licking her wrists. So bright in fact that it most likely had been impossible for the three men to have not noticed them, especially since their position had most likely burned the man holding down her arms, which explained the cry of pain.

    Cecilia stared at the flames in silent terror, watching as they grew bigger and bigger.

    Slowly, the flames started spreading over the rest of her hands, climbing down her wrists, only growing more and more bright as they went, more fierce. And yet, she still couldn''t feel any heat from them.

    Had she become so scared that her brain has blocked away the sensation of her combusting into flames?

    Wait¡­ that, that''s not possible.

    This was even more frightening than anything she''d ever been through.

    In a panic, Cecilia tried to stand up, only to fall over and catch herself on a wooden crate that was loitering in the alley.

    The fire started instantly.

    It started with just the one crate burning, but it soon spread over to the cardboard boxes and whatever it was within the bin, surrounding her in the bright orange fire, locking her in the alley.

    Everything, was ablaze.

    The fear took over, she started screaming at the top of her lungs, frantically spinning around in the chaos, mind not working enough for her to try and figure out a way to save herself.

    The fires were almost covering her whole arms now.

    Trying to get away from the flames, Cecilia found herself on the ground again, her back pressed up as tightly as she could against the concrete wall, staring at the fires raging around her.

    Her screams had long since turned hoarse.

    It was her fault, she''d started the fires, fires originating from her own skin.

    She could feel the fires eating away at her clothes.

    So this was where she was going to die huh?

    She''d survived getting shot in the stomach, only to die from spontaneous combustion.

    Tears started streaming down her face, mixing with the blood still pooling out of the slash on her jaw, only to evaporate in the heat that radiated all around her.

    She was never going to see her mother again.

    Or her father.

    Or Ben.

    A small chuckle escaped Cecilia even as the tears still streamed.

    She would even be happy to see that teacher again at this moment.

    Just then, she spotted something through the flames.

    A shadow.

    A man.

    A tall, lean man dressed in a familiar looking expensive black suit, sporting a matching black fedora at the top of his head. She couldn''t see his face but she didn''t need to.

    It was Luke Salafay.

    For a long moment, Cecilia could do little more than stare at the teacher in open shock, momentarily forgetting the bright flames still licking her skin, devouring her clothes.

    Slowly, the man stepped through the flames, weaving through the roaring fires as though they were merely the no-name people you pass on the sidewalk on your way to somewhere important, and for some reason, it didn''t look as though the heat or the fact that they were surrounded by a blazing inferno was bothering him. As a matter of fact, the flames didn''t even latch themselves onto the fabric of his expensive-looking clothing.

    The teacher didn''t pause for even a second as he marched straight up to where she was still curled up against the concrete wall, burning arms held out in front of her as she stared at the approaching figure, his dark eyes not revealing any form of emotion that could have told Cecilia exactly what he was thinking.

    He was completely stoic. No emotions to read. The fluid movements of his body being the only indicator that he wasn''t actually an android.

    The closer the teacher got, the more Cecilia found herself unconsciously press herself even further up against the concrete wall behind her. It wasn''t until she could feel the pain of her skin being scraped as she moved that she realized what she was doing, but she didn''t stop.

    There was something about that emotionless look that sent alarm bells screaming in her head.

    Funny how they decided to turn on when the man that has been living under her family roof arrived and not when her hands suddenly lit themselves on fire.

    "Remoyama-sensei¡­?" she found herself muttering as the man came closer.

    Slowly, the teacher crouched down in front of her, his emotionless eyes locking with her own, fiercely holding them in place as he opened her mouth.

    "Calm down." He spoke, deep voice steady and the relaxed undertone washed over her.

    Still¡­ if he''d thought that would be all it took for her to calm down, then he had another thing coming with the way the alarms were still blaring inside of her head.

    The teacher took a deep breath, allowing the slightest tinge of annoyance to seep onto his face.

    "No." he firmly ordered, eyebrows furrowing as he leaned just a bit closer to her, obviously minding the flames that seemed to be ages away from ever dying. "Listen to me." He locked his eyes with hers again, allowing himself to show the urgency that he had obviously kept from her earlier. "You need to calm down."

    Slowly, the alarms began to quiet down at the emotion drawing forth onto the teachers face.

    Apparently, someone being able to block any and all emotion from being shown on their face was something that Cecilia''s instincts did not take kindly to and so they reacted rather violently at the sight of something that definitely shouldn''t be humanly possible.

    No matter how hard anyone tries, ones true emotions should be able to show in body language, the color of their faces, or even the glint in their eyes. But this teacher''s eyes never revealed anything.

    It was like trying to read the emotions of a corpse.

    No wonder the alarms.

    The fear still raged through her tiny body, the heat of the flames not allowing her to follow the man''s instructions.

    "I¡­" she breathed, voice shaking as she tried to gather the words. "I can''t¡­"

    "Cecilia." The teacher sternly told her, successfully stopping the babbling before it even started. "Right now, you''re trying to put out a fire with gasoline." Despite everything that was going on, Cecilia found herself frowning at the strange metaphor the man had come up with, not to mention the unfathomable amount of understanding said metaphor brought forward. "Calm down!"

    "I''m on fire!" Cecilia found herself screaming in a strange mix of annoyance and terror. "How can I calm down!?"

    For a long moment, the teacher looked hesitant, looking away from her with his eyes closed before his expression set in a fierce determination. His hands shot out, grabbing hold of Cecilia''s furiously burning wrists.

    "NO!" She screamed furiously, desperately trying to yank her hands away from him, but his grip made it like she was trying to yank them out of concrete shackles. "What are you doing!?"

    He kept his eyes locked with hers, his face not contorting into pain like she would have expected. It forced her to calm down enough to not scream, but her breaths still came out in hiccups.

    Glancing down, a gasp tore its way through her throat.

    His hands¡­

    His hands weren''t reacting to the flames.

    His skin wasn''t turning black, red, charring or any other thing that she suspected skin would react when coming in contact with direct fire. Despite anything, his skin remained flesh colored.

    On closer inspection, she did notice a small twitch in his eye to indicate that he actually was affected by the heat.

    "Calm down, or your flames are going to eventually eat away at my hands." The man almost hissed as she stared at him in open shock at what he was doing. "Everything is going to be fine if you just calm down." He yanked at her wrists to force her to pay attention to his face and not his hands. "Breathe with me."

    Nodding slowly, Cecilia closed her eyes, allowing herself to listen to the teachers heavy breathing. Each deep intake of air filling up her lungs before letting her chest deflate in a slow exhale.

    Slowly, she felt the pace of her heart level out.

    Eventually, she didn''t need to force her breath to come out evenly.

    The heat began to seep away from her direct premise, leaving behind little more than an irritating and persistent tingling sensation that probably would have been much more annoying had she not been so relieved at the absence of the heat.

    Finally, she was calm.

    "That''s it¡­" the teacher breathed, slowly letting go of her wrists. "Open your eyes."

    It took some time, but Cecilia was finally capable of doing as he asked.

    They were gone.

 Act 1: Hidden from Shadows Scene 7: Suspicions Confirmed

    The fires were gone, leaving nothing but her slightly raw, naked skin in its place.

    Of course, the fire around them was still raging on, but she couldn''t bring herself to care about them, her attention was solely locked onto her flame-free limbs.

    As she tried to keep herself from crying in relief, turning her hands around to get a good look at her palms, the teacher rose up from the ground, studying the roaring fire before the sound of ruffling fabric brought Cecilia out of her relieved disbelief, forcing her to look up at him.

    He''d taken off his jacket, holding it down to her as he almost pointedly refused to look at her.

    "Put it on." He said, looking very much like a colored statue with how little he was moving, not even a twitch. "You can''t go home in the state you''re in."

    The state she was in?

    Confused, Cecilia glanced down at herself, past her hands.

    Knowing now what such things might do to her, Cecilia had to keep herself from screaming.

    She could actually still feel the flames churning underneath her skin, just waiting for the one moment she lost control and rage once again.

    Her clothes were absolutely ruined, burned to a little more than charred, shredded remains, covered in burns and ash, some patches still burning or embering, things she was forced to quickly bat away with her own hands, which actually made to ruin her blouse even more than it was before. Her bra was just barely spared, her body was covered in ash, bruises, and dried blood, and yet, there wasn''t one single spot on her naked skin that showed any form of burn that she had been so sure she would have been covered in.

    She looked like she was dressing up as a burnt victim but someone had forgotten the wound prosthetics to complete the illusion.

    This wasn''t possible.

    Was she going crazy?

    No¡­ that couldn''t be right¡­

    She glanced around her at the still raging fires surrounding them, the heat of said flames feeling considderably less warm than they had been when directly on her skin, but it was deffinately there.

    They were deffinately there.

    Hesitating, Cecilia reached out and snatched the jacket from the teachers grasp, quickly holding the piece of cloth in front of her chest like the only piece of protection she would be able to get in this situation.

    And it probably was.

    Taking a deep breath, she looked up at the teacher.

    She most likely would have been blushing furiously had she not been white-faced from terror at the moment.

    "How is this possible?" she asked slowly, fingers clenching around the strangely tectured fabric held to her chest. She had spoke more to herself than anyone else. Taking a deep breath, she spoke again, looking intently at the teacher. "What''s happening to me?"

    He knew.

    He had to know.

    He obviously had a better idea of what was happening to her than she did.

    "I can''t answer that right now." The man answered quickly. At her frown, he let out a sigh of annoyance, shaking his head before he glanced out through the flames. "It''s not a conversation for a burning alley." He explained.

    Reaching down, he grabbed hold of her arm.

    It was a gentle enough grab, but the mere factor that her skin was still very raw from the flames caused her to flinch at the contact, pain rushing through her arm as the man pulled her up to her feet, making sure that the jacket wouldn''t fall from her hands.

    Howver, standing up wasn¡¯t as easy as she would have liked, her knees buckling under her weight the second she got up.

    She hadn¡¯t realized just how exhausted she was.

    "Come on." The teacher spoke, much quieter than he had done before. "Let''s get you home." He glanced out through the fires into the opening of the alley. "I can hear the AESD closing in, and we need to be gone before they arrive."

    That she could understand.

    She could deffinately understand it.

    There was absolutely no way the two of them could possibly explain the state she was in considdering where they would be found. She had a rather vivid image on how they could or even would react to the sight of her, she had many of them, and most of them would end up with her in some kind of laboratory.

    No¡­ not going to happen.

    Turning her back to the teacher, Cecilia allowed her grip on the jacket to loosen, allowing herself to slip her slender arms into the sleeves of the strange, almost skin-like material, buttoning up the whole thing. It didn''t surprise her when she found herself almost drowning in the size of the garment, the lenth of which ending at her mid-thigh and the sleeves almost entierlycovering her hands.

    But, as it covered up her now almost non-existed blouse, she didn''t complain.

    A pair of hands landed just below her shoulders, turning her around to see the teacher. He gave off this certain air of anxiety, something that Cecilia soon joined in on as the AESD sirens slowly reached her ears.

    Hand once again returning to her arm, The teacher steared her out of the alley.

    They wandered straight through the flames, once again, acting as though they weren''t even there, even though they were desperately trying to latch onto her socks but apparently, they weren''t all that successful as the two of them managed to step out onto the street with no stubborn flames eating away at what remained of her clothing.

    Soon enough, the two of them entered the spot in which Cecilia had first been taken.

    It was strange for Cecilia to see the place after having been surrounded by fire, and she became even more curious about the teacher when he bent down to pick up her bag from the ground. At a place where she knew she hadn''t dropped it. She frowned a bit at the sight as she could have sworn that her belongings had spilled out of the thing when she''d dropped it, but everything was perfectly packed.

    Walking with a hand on her shoulderblades and her bag thrown over his shoulder, the two of them moved down the street, trying to appear as though nothing was wrong despite her body covered in bruises and blood, despite her hair being even messier than it has ever been, and despite the tworn and burnt state of her socks.

    Before long, the Automatic Environment Safety Department vehicle zoomed past them where were walking, but thankfully, the sensors on the vehicle didn''t pick up on the fire residue that was most likely lingering on Cecilia''s beaten body.

    They did catch some attention from the people they passed, but thankfully, they didn''t decide to do anything.

    Most likely, it was due to the fact that she was being lead by a man she was more or less clinging to, a man whom had obviously given her his jacket. So whatever had happened had obviously already been dealt with and she was in no more need of any help.

    It was strange, haing to trust the man she''d been very weary of since the moment he had arrived at her doorstep.

    But¡­ he knew what was happening to her.

    She had no other choice but to trust him.

    She would let him talk, but she reminded herself that she would always have the right to refuse anything he might try and make her do.

    She would not do anything without having been given a solid enough explanation.

    <hr>

    A few minutes later, the two of them finally stopped in front of the Brandet Hoursehold.

    Before Cecilia could reach out towards the gate with her hand, Salafay stopped her, turning her towards him instead, bending forward to meet her eyes in a way that she wouldn''t have to strain her neck.

    "Go inside, go to your room, lock the door and focus on your breathing." His words were an order, and yet his tone was distinctively gentle, still, she could feel the fear building up inside of her. The pressure of her flames increasing underneath her skin, like a shaken soda bottle just waiting for the cap to be loosened.

    Half-paniked, Cecilia found her voice.

    "Where are you going?"

    "Stay calm." The teacher quickly ordered the soon-to-be frantic girl whilst giving her a sharp shake to momentarily shock her out of her frightened state. "I''ll be back within an hour at the very most, so you will have to remain calm on your own for as long as you can."

    The strange look in the man''s eyes made Cecilia frown despite the fear still bubbling inside of her.¡§

    "What are you going to do?" she asked quietly, almost scared to know the answer.

    Her question earned her a curious look from the man.

    They didn''t know one another, he had made several attempts to try and get to know her but she had always pushed him away every time he tried. Even the ink hadn''t done much to make her lighten up around him, and yet she had managed to somehow tell some sort of intent on him with one look.

    The revelation of that one skill the girl possessed almost made the man smirk.

    "It''s best if you don''t know." The man answered, the corner of his mout twitching as he stepped away from her. "You just remain calm and I''ll be back as fast as I can."

    Stepping away was probably his worst decision at the moment, for the moment the distance between them was pushing a meter, her breaths started to come out in more hecting, hiccuping spasms, boarderline hyperventilating as he took yet another step.

    Quickly, he was back in front of her.

    "Breathe." He ordered, more firmly this time. "You''ll do fine." He then gestured to the house with a jerk of his head once he noticed the terrified girl had gotten her breaths in more of less controll. "Now go."

    He didn''t leave any room for debate, turning around and walking away from her, leaving her in front of the gates of her house with her fingers tightly clenched around the straps of her school-bag as she desperately tried to keep her breathing in order like the teacher had instructed.

    Slowly, Cecilia allowed her one hand to loosen in order to open the gate as she moved towards the house, each step looking even more painful than the one that had come before it.

    Once entering the house, it didn''t take long before Jennifer came out from the kitchen and spotted the state her daughter was in.

    Cecilia knew her mother, she may not be all that close to her but she knew her. She blocked her mind from her mothers frantic questions, moving past her towards the staircase, expertly avoiding the older woman''s flailing limbs as she tried to stop her in order to get an answer out of her.

    Cecilia didn''t want to talk.

    She didn''t think she could talk.

    She almost ran up the stairs, sprinting to her bedroom where she threw the door open, bolting it behind her and for extra security, using voice command to ensure that her mother wouldn''t be able to access the automatic emergency unlock system in order to get in.

    She shouldn''t have rushed, that really hadn''t been a good idea.

    The fires were now pulsing underneath her skin.

    Gasping to keep her breaths at least moderately level, Cecilia pulled herself up the stairs and walked over to the bedside table as she almost yanked the pendant from her neck. Gently, she picked up the no-doubt priceless music-box from the surface and incerted the side of the pendant into the key-hole, giving it a good amount of turns before letting it go.

    Thankfully, the pendant hadn''t become disfigured in the heat of the fire.

    She wouldn''t have known what to do if she hadn''t been able to wind up the music-box again.

    The dancer immediately began spinning to the light, soothing melody that immediately filled the room, the movement of the device in her hands sending a nostalgic ease through her body, the melody itself filling her body with the cooling calm that it had so desperately needed.

    With a heavy sigh, Cecilia settled down on top of her bed, eyes still pinned on the spinning figurine.

    Memories of when she was younger filled her head, from younger than five and older than seven, the times she had spent with her father after he had come home from work one day and handed her that very music-box. He''d wind it up every night and allowed the melody to wash over the both of them before he had begun singing on the lullaby the melody had gone with, his deep husky tone souding rather odd with the light nature of the melody but Cecilia could still recall herself falling asleep to the sound.

    She didn''t know the lullaby. He had stopped singing it when she was about six and it had been in Italian so there was no way her young mind would be able to translate the text to American, she couldn''t even remember the words.

    Her mind and heart filled with the memory, Cecilia allowed herself to collapse onto the bed, gently settling the music-box back onto it''s designated spot as she snatched Shiro-bunny from the edge of the matress, holding the plushy tighly to her chest as she allowed herself to cry in the aftershock of what had happened.

    It was too much.

    Why did it have to be her?

    "Papa¡­" she whispered slowly into the room, not wanting her voice to over-voice the melody. "What''s happening to me?"

    <hr>

    43 minutes had passed since Cecilia came home.

    And for the entierty of those 43 mintues, Jennifer had been pacing back and forth in front of her daughters door, the first five of said minutes having been spent furiously banging on said door in a desperate attempt to get her child to open up and let her in, to talk about what had happened.

    But alas, Cecilia had refused the woman who gave birth to her any entry.

    What could have possibly happened to mess the girl up this much? Jennifer had seen her come home in a mess before but she had never been in that much of an emotional mess, always insisting that Jennifer would drop it every time she would insist on calling the principal to put an end to everything the students put her through.

    Cecilia had always said that getting through the day proved that she was stronger than they believed her to be.

    And Jennifer had seen that.

    Her daughter was strong, much stronger than any other teen she''d seen enter her bakery.

    To see her strong little wild-flower so broken and de-thorned like that¡­

    Jennifer furiously nibbled at her thumb-nail as she paced, mind racing at the many different possible scenarios her beloved daughter could have gone through to have ended up in that state, one even worse than the other.

    There was one scenario however that she absolutely refused to put on her long list of possibilities.

    At one point, she even found herself outside of her daughters door, knocking.

    ¡°Ceci¡­!¡± she called out, but she received no answer.

    She knocked again.

    ¡°Ceci, Sweetheart?¡± she asked again, leaning her ear against the wood, seeing if she could hear anything from the other side, but all she heard was the light, soothing melody of the lullaby Carl used to sing to Cecilia when she was younger.

    This only served to worry Jennifer even more.

    If she was playing that, it deffinately, deffinately, wasn¡¯t good.

    She was getting desperate.

    ¡°Hey!¡± she called out, forcing a cheerful tone as she knocked once again. ¡°How about you and I whip up some dill dip and watch a movie?¡± she forced a smile to her mouth, putting her hand against the wood. ¡°When was the last time we had a movie night huh?¡±

    No answer.

    ¡°Sweetheart?¡± her voice almost broke at the silence.

    She swallowed her worry, allowing herself to nodd.

    ¡°Alright...¡± she breathed, pushing herself away from the door. ¡°I¡¯ll be downstairs if you need me, okay?¡±

    Once again, there was no answer.

    <hr>

    The sound of the front door opening down-stairs knocked Jennifer out of her thoughts, her attention snapping away from her daughters bedroom-door to the staircase, the brown eyes she shares with her daughter hardening at the knowledge of who had just returned.

    Her daughter hadn''t come home alone, the jacket she had been wearing proved that.

    Anger boiled up inside of the woman''s admittedly small stature as she rushed down the hallway, almost jumping down the entire staircase, landing just in time to see the teacher close the front door behind him.

    "Mr. Salafay!" the tiny woman bellowed as she stormed over to the teacher. "What the hell happened to my daughter!?" she screamed her question right in the man''s stupidly handsome face.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    Of course, her Carl was several times more handsome.

    "Brandet-san¡­" the man muttered as he took off his hat, his long fingers running through his already messy hair all the while an exhausted sigh slipped from him.

    "You sure you want to know that?"

    Jennifer watched, fury rising inside of her as the man put the hat back on, making her take note of his lack of jacket and his rolled up sleeves. She shook her head to get her mind back on track.

    He was trying to throw her off?

    Was he seriously trying to make her change the subject?

    The rage inside of her just kept building, pushing to the breaking point.

    Jennifer was not the kind of woman that would fall for any form of trick of that nature.

    "Mr. Salafay¡­" Jennifer found herself almost growling as her face formed into a glare that she directed at the man in front of her. "I watched my daughter, my only child, walk through that door almost 45 minutes ago looking as though she''d just been run over by a hover-modile!" she pointed a frantic finger towards the staircase before she screamed at the top of her lungs. "WHAT HAPPENED!?"

    The teacher looked her over, then, with a sigh, he put his hands into his pockets.

    "I''m not really sure." He answered, making Jennifer drop her hand. "I found her like that in an empty alleyway on the way back from the school." He didn''t look at the woman as he moved to roll down his sleeves.

    The action cause Jennifer to briefly wonder what had made him roll them up in the first place.

    Slowly, the pieces of the puzzle that had presented itself to Jennifer the moment Cecilia had came home began to fall into place, and if her anger could become even worse than it already was, than it just did.

    "Those fucking bastarts¡­" she growled, surprising the teacher at both her curse and the absolutely murderous expression that now took over her normally gentle, kind, and happy features. "She''s just starting to piece her life together and those demons go and do that to her!?" the woman stompted her foot, her fist clenching at her sides as her whole being spoke of silent muder.

    For a moment, Remoyama honestly feared for the lives of the perpetrators.

    His lip twitched, his smirk almost slipping onto his face at the woman''s reaction.

    "Brandet-san." He spoke up once he finally got controll of his facial muscles, putting a hand on the woman''s shoulder to make her turn back towards him. "Please calm down." He spoke much like he had done with her daughter just over an hour earlier.

    "How can I!?" The woman screamed in a reaction that almost perfectly mirrored the reaction of her child. "My daughter is broken!"

    Much to her annoyance, the teacher rolled his eyes at her words.

    "No, she''s not." He argued firmly, emotionless eyes piercing her own. "If she''s your daughter, then you should know that she''s must stronger than that." His voice was almost annoyed, the fact that his eyes were still locked with hers starting to make the New-American woman uncomfortable. "She just needs someone to remind her of that fact."

    Taking a few deep breaths, Jennifer felt her anger slowly fading away.

    Body shaking, she joined her hands together in front of her before allowing them to fall against her skirt, she resigned herself to the words she would have to force out of her mouth no matter how much she really, really didn''t like them.

    But truth be told, she didn''t have any other option.

    "Then you''ll have to talk to her." She mumbled out with a heavy sigh, shoulders trembling under his hand. "She won''t even let me into the room." Her voice hiccuped as she spoke, her eyes clenched as she desperately tried to keep herself from crying.

    "That was my intention." The teacher stated before he rounded the woman and made his way towards the stairs behind her, only to stop before he took the first step up.

    "Don''t worry." He said, not turning around towards her. "I''m her teacher now, I can take care of her when in school."

    Jennifer''s thumb-nail once again found its way it between her teeth.

    "Please do." She whispered, watching as the teacher started walking once again, disappearing up the stairs.

    Once again, Jennifer felt absolutely useless where her own daughter was concerned.

    <hr>

    Salafay stood in front of Cecilia''s bedroom door, looking at the artistic name-plate as he tried the door-knob. Of course, he found that the door was bolted from inside, no doubt to keep her mother out. He wouldn''t be surprised if any and all automatic emergency unlock systems were disabled as well.

    Well, the teacher was not her mother.

    Speaking of said mother, he could feel her eyes digging into his back from where she was watching him from the dop of the stairs behind him.

    Releasing an annoyed sigh, he raised his hand to firmly rap on the door.

    "Cecilia." He called out into the silence of the other room, his voice deffinately coming in muted on the other side. He could only hope that she actually heard him. "Open the door."

    Sure enough, it barely took more than a few seconds before the sound of the door softly unlocking rang through the air, allowing the teacher to open the door and step inside, only for it to immediately lock up again once he closed it behind him.

    A good move, he thought, as there was no telling weather or not Jennifer would try to enter after Salafay had entered.

    For a moment, the teacher just stood there, allowing himself to listen before he moved, and what he heard caused his eyes to momentarily widen.

    That melody¡­ it couldn''t be, could it?

    Walking up the stairs, the first thing the teacher noticed was the messy head of golden-brown hair burried among the multiple soft pillows lying at the top of her bed, her arms tightly wrapped around the white plush rabbit as her legs pulled up so that her tiny body had the form of an N.

    He could feel that the room was a lot hotter than it usually were, a clear indicator that the girl''s nerves weren''t entierly within her control.

    He threw a glance towards the bedside table where the music-box was located, the porcelain ballerina figurine slowly spinning as the device released that gentle tune into the room.

    Her father must have gifted her with that¡­

    "Your mother''s really worried about you, you know." The teacher stated as he stepped up to the bed, watching as her slender shoulders drew in even further around the plush rabbit. He could practically feel the heat radiating off of her, just waiting for the moment where she would loose controll of her emotions and burst free.

    "I think she would be even more worried if I were to burst into flames right in front of her." The girl shot right back at him, her voice coming out muffled through the plushies head.

    The teacher watched as the girl allowed one eye to be visible, an eye holding a surprisingly steady look.

    "Talk."

    Her voice held the undertone of an order.

    A voice that put the teacher in a situation in which he had to fight in order to keep his smirk at bay.

    With a little work, she would be more than capable of surviving.

    Crouching down in front of Cecilia, ignoring the questioning look on her face as he reached out his hand, gently grabbing hold of her chin to get a proper look at the dried up cut on her jaw. Letting his eyes wander over the visible bruises.

    ¡°Is your bullet wound bothering you?¡± he asked, glancing down to her stomach.

    ¡°No.¡± she answered stiffly. ¡°I do have SOME luck.¡±

    She shocked him by hitting his hand away from her face, eyes narrowing.

    ¡°Do not try and change the subject.¡±

    He had to fight his smirk once again.

    "What do you want to know?" he asked, keeping the amusement away from his voice.

    The teacher watched as her fingers clenched around the plushie, once again burrying her face into it''s head as she took one deep breath after the other, her legs drawing in even closer to her torso. The heat surrounding her body began to once again build at a frightening pace.

    "What happened back there?" she asked, voice shaking.

    "Nothing to worry about." The teacher answered calmly.

    Apparently, that wasn''t the right thing to say as the temperature spiked within seconds. As black eyes moved over the girl, delicate-looking hands started to glow a bright orange color.

    Quickly, the teacher settled himself down on the bed, the matress dipping down violently enough to make Cecilia''s tiny body shake from the movement. The man grabbed hold of her shaking wrists, violently yanking them from where they had been wrapped around the plushie that was just moments away from meeting it''s end.

    "Cecilia, look at me." The man ordered, turning the girl around as he yanked her into a sitting position, forcing her to do what he asked of her. "What you''re going through is completely natural."

    Cecilia''s eyes widened in what could have been confused for shock, but otherwise, her face seemed to be conforted in a strange kind of glare as she stared at the man in front of her.

    "Natural?" she repeared, voice laced with a silent kind of disbelief. "What part of spontaniously combusting and coming out without a blemish could possibly be considdered natural!?" her voice grew and grew in volume with each words that passed through her lips, and then¡­

    Her fingertips sparked.

    It was a visible enough spark that both of their attentions immediately snapped to her hands, and the sight really didn''t help with Cecilia''s already frazzled nerves.

    Immediately, The teacher moved his hands to her upper arms, giving her a shake.

    "Breathe." He ordered, looking her firmly in the eyes. "You''re right." He added, now sounding a lot more calming than he did before. "It''s not natural." He agreed, but the tone he was using told Cecilia that there was more to it than that, and she was right. "For anyone outside of your bloodline."

    This caught Cecilia off guard.

    Momentarily forgetting her fear, she blinked at the man.

    "Wha-?" he didn''t allow her to finish.

    "Tell me Cecilia." The teacher said, hands moving away from her upper arms, though he kept his eyes firmly locked with hers. "Have you ever been burned?"

    Again, all Cecilia found herself capable of doing, was blink.

    "What?"

    The teacher wasted no time in enlightening her.

    "Have you ever reached out to touch a flame when you were younger, or put your hand on a stove when it was on, or even picked up a cookie that had just come out of the over?" he looked her deep in the eyes, looking almost desperate for her answer. "Have you ever experienced the feel of extreme heat?"

    Cecilia opened her mouth on reflex, almost rolling her eyes as she prepared herself to tell him that, of course she had, but to her surprise, the words caught in her throat. She couldn''t get them out, and the more she thought about what he had asked her, the more difficult finding the words became.

    She didn''t remember much from when she was younger, but she did know for a fact that, even though she knew that she shouldn''t touch fire or anything really hot as to not develop the serious injuries that could sometimes open the skin it was bad enough like she had seen on Viola a multidute of times or any other employee at the Crescent Bakery through the years, she couldn''t recall one time when she herself had that type of injury.

    And yet¡­ one time, when she was nine, she had accidentally moved to take out a pan from the oven, forgetting to put on oven-mits in her rush to get to decorate the cake. Her mother had absolutely panicked when she''d seen her and rushed her over to the sink where she ran cold water over her hands for what felt like half an hour, spending the entire time comforting her, calling her brave and strong for not crying out in pain when she''d touched the pan like anyone else would have done.

    Except¡­

    She hadn''t been in pain.

    She had stood there feeling her hands almost go numb under the ice-cold water feeling absolutely confused as to why her mother had reacted the way she''d done.

    It wasn''t until days later when Viola did the same thing that she''d realized how she should have reacted and she refrained from trying to take anything out of the oven ever since.

    Now that she knew this¡­ she felt as though she had missed out on an important childhood experience.

    Slowly, other memories returned to her.

    Playing directly with candle flames and wax for hours only for her mother to chew her out because she could, "hurt herself", and she had been confused them too because, at most, it had felt like moving her fingertips through something lighter than water but thicker than steam.

    The first time she''d really felt any form of heat was when her arms were burning, and even then, now that she thought back on it, even that experience hadn''t been painful.

    Finally, she looked back up at the man.

    "No¡­" she answered, voice low, eyes wide in disbelief.

    The teacher nodded at her response.

    "I thought so." He stated, lip twitching a little. "Everyone on your father''s side of the family has a greater towards heat and fire than what normal people would considder natural." He watched with satisfactory as Cecilia''s brown eyes widened. "Of course, just how resistant they are depends on how direct the ancestry, but it is still there." He leaned closer to Cecilia, a strange glimmer in those onyx orbs that made Cecilia feel a bit uncomfrotable. "I suspect that you have a lot more energy than anyone in your class right?"

    That was an understatement, and something that she''d figured out herself a long time ago.

    Several days when going to school, no matter how little sleep she''d gotten the night before, she always managed to keep up her usual behavior whilst blinking at the students who had gotten a lot more sleep than her almost falling out of their chairs after their desks automatically forced them awake when they leaned over them.

    She''d never been dead-tired unless she''d been awake for days on end, but she''d never been really bothered by it, in fact, it was welcomed.

    "Yes¡­" she slowly answered the man.

    Now, he openly smirked.

    "Another perk of your bloodline." He stated. "It is suspected that is it to make sure your family''s energy sourses doesn''t burn out as quickly as some one elses would have." He gave a brief gesture with his hand in the air. "See." He said, sounding less serious than before. "To you, it is completely natural."

    Despite herself, Cecilia found herself nodding to his words.

    "The only real down-side to this trait with be the increased sensitivity to foreign materials and rouch touches." His hand shot out to gently grab her by the forearm, holding it up as the sleeve of the blazer slid down to reveal her skin littered with horrible-looking colorful spots. "Bruises are easily formed." He stated as he pulled the sleeve back up, covering up the bruising again before he smirked up at her. "You''re basically all spawning from that pea-princess in that short fairy-tale."

    The princess and the pea. He''s making jokes now?

    "Th-that doesn''t explain the fires." Cecilia forced the words out of her, stuttering slightly from the force and shaking violently at the last word even though she had been the one to say it.

    That wiped the smirk from his face.

    "Right, the fires." He repeated, despite clearly noticing the tremmor that shot through the girl sitting in front of him at the word. "It is actually the last stage of a three-level power sourse." He explained, holding up three fingers in the air. "A more generalized term for the flames on their own is actually," his eyes narrowed as he paused for effect. He must be doubling as a drama-queen somewhere. "Raw Anima."

    A mix of Italian and American, a language that Cecilia was more than aquainted with, not to mention fluent, so it took no time at all for her to translate the word in her head.

    "Raw Soul?"

    "Yes." The man answered immediately, sounding quite pleased that she knew the word. "We call it that because that''s what it is." He explained. "Anima, in principle, is the manipulation and utilization of your soul''s energy, and Raw Anima, is the materialization of said soul." He put a hand in front of his chest, almost as if he was trying to point on exactly where the soul was located. "Everyone in your fathers bloodline are naturally connected to this power." He let his hand fall back down. "Of course, not everyone is capable of actually producing it, but everyone is born with the potential of it." His eyes narrowed as he stared off into the air, his demeanor turning annoyed. "Some of them simply don''t want to activate it."

    Cecilia found herself frowning.

    It sounded as though the man was personally offended that someone would not want to activate a power such as the one running through her bloodline.

    But, for the moment, Cecilia couldn''t bring herself to care.

    "Then how come I didn''t get this choice?" she found herself asking before she could stop herself.

    Leaning back, the man let out a sigh.

    "Sometimes, one isn''t given." He looked at her with an expression that spoke more than she could gather in such a short period of time. "During times of great emotional stress, a Cuor DiLeone can be forced to awaken instinctively in order to protect themselves." He gaced at her almost pointedly as he said this, and this time, Cecilia understood the meaning behind the look perfectly.

    Also¡­

    Cuor DiLeone.

    The sudden pure Italian words rushed over Cecilia, filling her with the strangest sense of almost foreboding familliarity.

    "Lionheart?" she repeated, eyebrows furrowing. "What''s with all the Italian?"

    The man only smirked again at her knowledge.

    "Cuor DiLeone is the term of which the people of your bloodline is refered to as a whole." He explained, leaning forwards again, resting his arms onto his knees. "DiLeone, being the last name the majority of your family and ancestry go by to more or less declare their lineage." He shook his head, giving Cecilia the impression of annoyance once again. "It''s quite difficult to tell the main branched from the side ones anymore because of this." He glanced at her from the corner of his eye once the explenation was done. "You didn''t know you were Italian?"

    "Of course I knew I was Italian." Cecilia quickly deffended herself. "But a different name?" the man nodded. "I still have relatives there?"

    The man raised an eyebrow.

    "Why yes." He answered. "Quite a few of them in fact, you''re so spread out it''s impossible to keep track of you all should one find the need for it."

    For a long moment, Cecilia just sat there, staring.

    She had been begging both of her parents to tell her about their extended family for years but the both of them had never wanted to tell her a word, and now she suddenly discovers that she''s got a small army of relatives on her father''s side in a different cuntry?

    How does this happen?

    Shaking her head, she gathered up as much composure as she could.

    "You keep repeating the word ''ancestry''." She pointed out, giving the man a look as though daring him to brush it off.

    Thankfully, he did no such thing.

    "I am." He answered as though it were as easy as breathing.

    "Why?"

    The teacher took a deep breath, silently telling Cecilia that this was going to take a while.

    "Anima was first introduced to the world 400 years ago by the founder of your bloodline, Matteo DiLeone." He began. "He was well respected in his time even without the power he possessed and he mostly used it whenever it was deemed absolutely necessary. According to records, when he did use it, he was a force to be reaconed with." He stared off into space again. "It is described that the silent fury of the founder was the most frightening sight anyone had ever seen in their lives."

    Cecilia took a moment to absorb this information.

    She had an ancestor like that? Just how did someone like that look like?

    Her hand moved up, brushing her hair behind her ear without her really noticing she was doing it, it was surprisingly steady despite the fact that her shoulders still hadn''t gotten rid of that persistent tremmor.

    She had to swallow before she managed to find her voice.

    "Why can we do this?" she asked timidly.

    "That is an excellent question." The man immediately responded. "Matteo never left any records on how he came to have the power, and many has tried to recreate it in other bloodlines with little success over the years." He actually let out a chuckle at this. "Most of the time, the subject burns up before the power can actually settle." Seeing the almost horrified look on Cecilia''s face, he quickly changed the subject. "All that is known is that he passed on this unique talent to his descendants." He gave her a pointed look. "To you."

    She blinked at the sudden statement.

    "Why me specifically?"

    The amusement almost radiated off of the man.

    "Beacause, Cecilia." He spoke with a silent chuckle. "You''re the latest to be born of the main branch."

    Cecilia''s eyes went wide, the words caught in her throat as the meaning behind the sentence fully registered.

    "I''m¡­ in direct relation to¡­" it was too much. The thought of her, the girl with the brain that had refused to fully develop at a young age, be related to a man whose anger had frightened what sounded to be hundreds of men. It just couldn''t be true.

    She shook her head free of the comment, sorting it away for later when she could probably handle the information better.

    In stead, she focused on another thought.

    "You mean to tell me, that there is a multitude of people running around Italy lighting themselves on fire?" she asked slowly, not looking at the man. "Papa included?"

    "No."

    The answer had come so quickly that Cecilia flinched at the sharpness of it.

    "But¡­ you said-" once again, she didn''t get to finish her sentence.

    "I said that those of your bloodline are born with the potential of using Anima." He elabourated. "However, the norm when using Raw Anima is for the person to use a specially developed object or weapon that they would use as their "match" of sorts in order to materialize their flames as they are holding it." He glanced down at the girl''s hands as she once again began to fiddle with her fingers. "Flames such as these are painful to the touch no matter how resistant you are."

    Dread washed over Cecilia the more the man spoke.

    "So¡­ what I am really is unnatural." She mumbled.

    To her surprise, the man rolled his eyes.

    "Not at all." He said, making her look up at him in confusion. "Matteo, your ancestor, first activated his flames directly through his skin as well." Cecilia''s eyes widened once more. "Only none of his decendants were capable of doing so without ending up with permanent scarring for as long as he lived." He took a deep breath before he kept speaking, the reaction to his own words caused a question to form in Cecilia''s head. A question that she had to file away for later considdering the man looked as though he was only going to keep talking. "Not long after he died however, the second case of skin-released flames were documented." He pierced her with a meaningful look. "The gift you have is perfectly natural, it is just very rare. Only one of your kind can exist at the same time, you have to die before another can be born." Cecilia could feel a sense of foreboding creep up on her. "We call this person." The man paused for effect, Cecilia was seriously tempted to frown. "The Phoenix."

    The Phoenix?

    Seriously?

    "This¡­" Cecilia mocked the man with her pause despite the tremmor in her shoulders. "All sounds like the premise to a fantasy novel."

    "I suppose it does." The man replied with a smirk. "But you know very well that it is real." Cecilia glanced down at her hands, her skin beginning to tingle. The sensation made her furiously rub them as her skin began to glow. Seeing this, the man grabbed her by the upper arms. That was starting to become something of a regular occurrence. "The fires are natural Cecilia, they cannot hurt you if you do not loose control over them." He looked her right in the eyes. "They are yours."

    Well, that was all well and good when you said it.

    "I''m scared of them." Cecilia admitted in a breathy whisper.

    "Don''t be," the main ordered. Now it was Cecilia''s time to roll her eyes, that was easy for him to say. "No really." The man spoke up, capturing her attention. "If you don''t fear them, they can''t controll you."

    Cecilia found herself frowning.

    This was too detailed, to informative.

    "How do you know all of this?" she found herself asking before she could stop herself.

    The man smirked that stupid, almost victorious smirk.

    "I make it my job to know things." His job? "Also." He fiddled with the cuffs of his shirt, looking very pleased with himself. "I was sent here to train you, to held you during this particular moment in your life."

    Cecilia blinked.

    "Train me?"

    "Yes." The man nodded. "I took up a class in your school so that I would be able to overview your progress outside of the house without having to appear like a stalker."

    He had becoma a teacher because of her?

    Even though he said it did it to not look like a stalker, right now, he felt like one.

    "That''s why you were so adamant about me joining your class." Cecilia mumbled, fingers fiddling as she spoke. "It''s a class specifically for learning Anima."

    The teacher smriked a little as he nodded, confirming her words.

    "I named it, Anima Apprenticeship, but as I couldn''t let any outsiders know what it was really about, it shortened it to A.A." he explained. "The principal was surprisingly accepting of every condition I put forward."

    He wasn''t entierly truthful.

    He didn''t believe the principal was surprisingly accepting, he had probably counted on that fact and had planned every step of the way in order to cement a place on the school faculty. It was just the feeling she got when he talked.

    Of course, this feeling also brought forth a question Cecilia had temporarily put on the shelf as the time hadn''t been right for it.

    Now however¡­

    "Who are you, really?" she asked slowly, leaning way from the man sitting in front of her, her eyes narrowed. Of course, the man didn''t react the way one would imagine.

    It just made her curiosity grow.

    "The name I have chosen for myself, is Lucian." The man answered, a smug expression spreading over his features.