The Huntress Book 1 Memories (6 page)

Just that I was really hungry. I remembered
Kyrya and Dom. I remembered all that food. And I felt guilty that I
had not brought to my mother some a part of it.

She didn’t even ask me where I got the
clothes from. I gave some to her so that she would wear them. Maybe
I will go for a run at those decent people. So I was thinking while
I went home. Funny how we have gotten to say "home" to any place we
are accustomed, whether it's about a cottage, an apartment, a
mansion, a burrow, or even a shelter made of paperboard.

“Hello!”

Sky appeared next to me as out of the blue.
Or perhaps I have been too steeped in my thoughts as to notice
him.

“Okay…” I respond with caution.

“And? How’s your life going?”

I gather my lips as if I would taper.

“Come on, no offense!”

His tone is self indulging. He seems to have
honey in his voice. Without being able to resist, I smile.

“That's better.”

With him still following me, I prefer to stop
than to literally make him see where I live.

“Well, say what you have to say.”

“I like you.” He said at once. You are very
straight.”

“People are painfully direct.” I bitter
comment.”But rather direct and honest than a false quibbler.”

“Who do you mean?”

His tone is lazy, as if challenging me to say
something. I know exactly what he wants me to say, but I'm
sneaky.

“No one in particular. I generally
speak.”

Be his attitude tells me clearly that he does
not believe a word of what I just said.

“Tell me, did you stop me for something, or
just so... To do my time?”

It's his turn to purse his lips. Actually,
Sky looks more like a petulant little boy; he is very cute when he
does that. So I cannot help myself but laugh. His eyes sparkle in
shades of orange and moves from my face to my neck. It took him
maybe less than a second, but I noticed. And it wasn’t the first
time I saw this gesture, both to him and his brother.

“How do you do this? You moments, you and
Dane, when your eyes shine and you look at me weird in some
way.”

“Really?” he asks me with an easy tone.
“Perhaps we look at you with bright and strange eyes because you're
so cute.”

My smile faded instantly.

“I thought that only brother is a jerk. But
if you have begun to act like him...”

“Of course, cute only when you want, I take
it up. For example, now you're not.”

Sky is very playful. I've noticed it
recently. And the truth is that I don’t fell as bad attacked at his
words as to the words of Dane. I do not even know why. So I quit
getting annoyed and I smile.

“See? What did I say? Now you're cute
again.”

“And so are you.” I keep smiling at him.

We smile at each other. He takes a step
towards me. I instinctively take one back.

“You do that every time someone's approaching
you.”

I do not deny it, but I make a remark.

“And you, as your brother, you're more mature
than your years. You talk how only great and wise men talk. And you
have to know it's extremely frustrating.”

“What do you want? We are brothers.” he says,
tying for the first part of the sentence and ignoring it entirely
the last.

“Yes.” I say.

I can see that he expects me to mention
something. But what does he want me to say?

“So… why did you stop me? People are watching
us.”

“So what? Let them watch!”

“But I do not like that. After all, you do
not want me to beat another girl because she offends me if she sees
me talking to you.”

“Oh, I do not worry.” he continued in the
same playful tone. “I know you can take care of yourself just
fine.”

We both laugh again. Then I feel that we are
being watched. I turn my head. Dane’s yellow-orange eyes seem to
penetrate us. It's almost angrily. While Sky is not even looking
back to Dane, a sixth sense makes to understand that he knows that
his brother looks at us. Then he suddenly raised his hands and
arranges the collar of my jacket. I step back, wide-eyed. I clearly
hear a growl. I look around. But I see no dog.

“Did you hear that”? I ask Sky.

“Perhaps it was a stray dog…” he says
casually, but with a twinkle in his eyes, and amused.

The growl is heard again.

“Weeeell… okay then. If you stopped me just
to stop me, it's about the case I go home. I think it will snow
very soon.”

“And how would you know that?”

“Don’t you feel the smell? It smells like
snow.”

“Really?”

Sky deeply breathed the air.

“No, I'm afraid that the only smell that I
feel is of nice girl.”

“Come on, cut it out of here.” I laugh.”I’m
leaving, bye!”

“Hey!” he shouted behind me. “I haven't asked
you what you are doing on Christmas ball!”

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

Brrr!

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

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

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

“What do you think you're doing?”

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

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

“What a…”

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

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

“Wait! Stop!”

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

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

He spins the clothes before returning to me
to answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

My hand was in his hand.

My other hand was on his cheek.

His yellow-orange eyes looked at my blue
ones.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He suddenly stops when he sees my horrified
eyes.

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

“Pat, do not misunderstand me...”

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

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

“Who's the fool now?”

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

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

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

“Hi, Mom. I’m home!”

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

“Mom?”

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

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

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

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