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 21st 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.
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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!
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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.
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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 21st 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.
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“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.”
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.