Chapter 12: Chapter 12

Carl is already waiting for me at the door when I meet up with him. He helps me in carrying my bag and I flush for the umpteenth time. He opens the passenger seat abreast to the driver seat.

"In you go."

"Thanks."

"You don't have to mention."

His Lexus, whose model is a mystery to me has an air conditioner, refreshing me from the warm weather. I slide my back to rest more comfortably, while he gaits to the other side after closing the door for me and hop in too, then drive out of the parking lot with lots of carefulness.

After a few minutes, my nerves spikes up anxiously due to the silence, but when he turns on the radio, I calm. An Opera song whose band, I don't know soar up, filling the cramp space. It's melodious, soft, high-pitched, and welcoming to my ears. I close my eyes and listen deeper.

"You seem to like Opera," he says matter-of-factly, "mind if you share me the name of the band you love most?"

"Oh, that I'm bad at. I don't have a favourite band, just listen to whatever sweet Opera comes my way. Cliché, uh?"

"Sometimes not doing favoritism is okay." I look down at my fingers when he sharply glances at me. Control button Rayne! You should learn how to stop flushing around time to time. It's exhausting!

I decide against asking him what band he loves since it won't in any way be useful to me. There's tendency I might have even forgotten its name before we reach my street.

"Why did you move here, Carl? You travelled to Morocco, right? Isn't the place good enough?"

"No, Morocco was actually great. The beaches are nice, the sports are delightful, the lights are amazing. Basically everything about the country is pleasing, but it's like, my family doesn't stay in one place for a long time. It's personal. We move, traveling across the world, not in a family resort, reunion stuff but to check out the packs, see if things are okay and well-conducted."

Uh?

"I absolutely did not understand you by packs?"

Strange typical Carl Wildlings.

"You can't really understand. That's why I mentioned it earlier to be a personal thing. I can't make you comprehend." His eyes squint as he says, facing ahead, and focusing on driving. I feel a bit disappointed but then, it's not his secret to tell. It's a big-bang family secret stuff.

"I get."

He gives me a curt nod.

The green light shows and we continue on driving. I'm just a street away from getting home.

"I still remember you, having a crush on me in fifth grade," he starts and I feel the air suck out of me, knocking me in the stomach only to erupt a shard of embarrassment as the blood drains off of my face. He knew?!

"You couldn't hide it then just like you couldn't hide your embarrassment now." He caught me on this too and on the second note, he just answer my unasked question.

"I had a crush on you too in junior high school but I was a stupid, dull guy then, I couldn't come up and talk to you. I guess going to Morocco changed that." He adds.

"Turns you into a bad, sexy guy?"

"Something like that."

I look ahead of me and have a glimpse of my house.

"Um, sorry but if I may ask, do you have a current boyfriend?" Carl question.

Hmm!

"No, why?" Where is this leading to?

"Nothing too much," he pulls over to my place and I take off the seatbelt. He turns all his attention to me, "I just wanted us to, if possible, become friends all over again, get to chat and have nice time together, that could spike up our old, childish feelings. If that's okay with you?"

He's quick.

"Okay, um, let's... er, do it in the old ways." I stutter.

"Hmm?"

"I'll be thinking about it."

"Well, that's a great start, at least it wasn't a direct denial." He laughs, nervously

I mock, copying a masculine tone, "hey Mister Carl, I don't wanna date you, leave me alone."

He laughs pretty hard at my jocularity and I watch him from the close proximity.

His cheeks are firm — not in anyway chubby, helping to straighten his jaw, filing it to be bit chiseled but Nicklaus'--- I revert back to him--- is more chiseled and sharpened, like it could cut a material into halves.

I reel over the thoughts of Nicklaus-- the way his skin pales sometimes as if it lacks warmth--- cold instead like the warm weather has no effect to his skin's tone, the way he isn't tanned in any ounce, the way his eyes colours changes time to time--- blue radiant eyes to another, the way he looks at me and manages to sweep me off my feet and spike up something in me, the way he gives me the reactions-- butterflies-in-stomach, heart-in-hand-thumping affectionate sessions, the way his existence steers me.

Comparing all this to the school party night, those fangs, I think I saw, the impossibility I had seen as a possibility, blue ravishing eyes, changing to scarlet red, and after he “feeds” from Lydia, they turn into lighter, creamier golden shade. It was terrifying and thrilling at the same time, but mostly of the first word. I shudder at the thoughts, inwardly. Maybe he is a... Vampire after all. I mean, his way of irritability. It's alarming. Wait... red eyes, golden shades, pale skin, cold tone, it seems to add up to my calculations. But again, logically, how can it be possible? One way to find out...

Carl's hand on my shoulders calls me back to life. "You didn't hear me at all, did you?"

"I'm sorry, I need to go." I'm startled.

Before anything else, I open the door impatiently, and run to my doorstep.

"Are you okay, Rayne?" He opens his door.

"Get back into the car, Carl. Please don't follow me," he freezes on his track. I brush the glint of pain in his eyes away. "Stay back, please."

"Are you okay, Rayne? You can't just tell me to stay back with the way you're acting." He manages to scoff comically, possibly to soften the situation.

"I want you to. Go back home. I'll see you tomorrow at school. I promise, I'm fine," getting to the front door, I glance back and tell him, "pinky promise, I'm okay."

When I close the door behind me, I hear the screech of his tires retreat, going away. I sigh and sight mom, sleeping in the living area's couch. She has her hair, scattered all over her face — somewhat eerie and the blankets covers half her body.

Where I'm rushing upstairs, rather than being silent, I nudge my knees against the center glassy table and wince as lowly as I can.

"You're home." I disregard her, hoping she'll go back to sleep, and start to sneak upstairs when she jolts up from the couch as if she's been pinched-- two pillows fall down from her action. "You're home! How? When?" She searches for her phone, "it was not silenced, so if you called I'd have heard it."

"I didn't call mom," I rush, "I could have had Shade drive me home and I can take care of myself too, you don't have to do everything. And starting from tomorrow, I'm taking my own car to school. Love you. Got to get to my room. I have an urgent homework."

While hurriedly climbing up the stairs, mom calls, "there is a trunk load of ice cream in the fridge in case you want one. I'm going back to sleep. A day off is so relieving." She whispers the last part mostly to herself but I hear her yet.

I drop my bag onto the made bed-- mom must have made it for me and plop down onto the leather chair, and turn on my laptop.

I always have it in switch user, so it doesn't take long before it come alive. I scroll to the browser and start to search; strange red eyes, then, vampire's description, followed by, colour change in Vampire's eyes related to mythology. Afterwards, I find myself in a website, enlightening me on vampires, also called The Cold Ones.

The Cold Ones? Sparks a ring.

Nicklaus... cold...

Pictures of crosses, horrifying words in red stamps, caskets, dark places and caves, scarlet-red eyes, changes in their colour of eyes, pertaining to feeds.

“Vampires are meant to drink human blood..." I shrink at the thought of someone digging their teeth inside my flesh, because of some damn blood they needed to survive. I reserve my comment for now. “...Vampires who normally drink human blood have red eyes, and they dull when they become thirsty. Some eyes don't get dull, but grow a dark brown when they need more,” blood. Arrgh! I should delete this search page “and turn into a lighter, creamier, or golden sets of eyes once hunger is expunged.”

Key word — lighter, creamier, or golden shade of eyes... red shade of eyes, it relate.

I wheel the office chair backwards in shock, away from my desk and whisper to only myself, since I find it absolutely unbelievable.

"Nicklaus is a—"

The shutters clicks open and breezes fans inside, blowing my hair. I yelp and jump out of the chair.

My breath caught up in my throat. I swear, something hazy just ran past. There's definitely something or someone out there. I need to unravel every thoughts of mine today. I'm not insane. I'm not losing my mind. I'm just a seventeen old girl who wants to clear off her mind on things that are very uncommon to lot of other humans.

With a new determination, I run off to the living room and make my way to the door, mom doesn't wake up till I get outside.

"Rayne! Is that you?"

Stupid creaking door!

"Yes mom. I'll be back soon." I say, hurrying away, not waiting for her reply.

At the backyard, I wander my eyes into the woods and check the scenery. Nothing seems out of place, or eerie except the wavering leaves atop the big trees. With a deep breath, I take my first step towards the woods.

Inside, with only the tall trees and chirping of birds surrounding me, a voice suddenly, out of nowhere booms behind me. I almost jump out of my skin. If possible.

"Lost again?"

I turn to my back, coming face-to-face with the bad boy, damn handsome, speeds-up-my-nerves, Nicklaus. He looks so grateful in his fitting cloths, the ashy colour of his jeans merging with the black hood of his. With it covering his face, helps shape his black hair to stream down, and pack at one side, shading his forehead. His un-tanned skin brightens in the rays that luminate past the resisting trees, transparentizing his skin very pale.

"Yeah." My throat dries up.

I root my hands into the pockets of my jeans, his voice are familiar and the black hoods he's wearing relate to the person that helped me out in the woods the other day. I remove my hands from my pockets with wide eyes. Realization dawning on me.

"You're the guy in the hoods at the other night?"

Memories of the hazy figure with red eyes passes by my vision. Could it be him too? What is he even doing here? Is he a stalker? Does he live inside this... forest?

"Yes." He answers. Did he answer my question, or my thoughts, or both?

Nicklaus walks ahead of me, and I stumble over a log of wood when starting to follow him. He's there, holding me up and fix me back to a standing position. He couldn't have caught me if he was normal.

I clear my throat and start. "Why are you not at school today?"

"You wouldn't understand. Is there a problem?"

"Yeah. A big one. You're the one with the problems," he scoffs, "I remember the things you did."

"And what are they?" He taunts. He doesn't spare me a glance, but continues to enter the woods, as if he knows the way like the back of his palm.

"I remember you stopping the van just in time before it will hit me," my voice is barely a whisper, and my eyes squint in remembrance, "your hands; they were hurt, they bleed when the door yanks off and cut your flesh, but instead of you getting hurt, or wounded, it's not. The flesh covers, and heals up."

He listens attentively to me, paying an undivided attention. His blue eyes focuses their intense stare at me, intently and narrowing, "I woke up in my bed the next day without knowing how. It was strange. Everything was strange. It's got my head aching for explanation. I tried to remember things, but what I felt was only pain, like I was been resisted." I opt for carefulness in what I say. I don't want to get him angry.

"Again, I remember that night — the party night. I saw what you did." He says nothing to defend himself. Well, if need be. He just narrows his eyes pinpoint at me. "Lydia... did you hurt her?"

"A bit." Is all he says in a curt tone.

I don't pressurize, instead I continue on my story. "I find myself in the hospital. Mom told me a different story that I hit my head at the party but I know that is not the case. And I had to lie to her."

"You know all this base on your thoughts, imaginations, and... memories?" The way his hair brushes to the back and jump forward again just to lie on his forehead when he takes off the hood makes my breath hitch, and I had to hope he doesn't notice.

"But they are true." I look straight into his eyes, "I notice your eyes as well. They were blue before, but have changed."

"What are they?" He ask, calmly. He's unaffected by all my accusations — if can be called so — making me question perhaps I'm truly insane.

My heart speeds up. What if he hurts me by knowing his secrets — he's most likely a Vampire, or an actual one.

I summon up courage. "They are now, I think yellow and amber. They sparkle, and this different eyes are like, staring straight into my soul-- as if they are reading me. It's unnerving and very mysterious. You're, I don't know—abnormal, Nicklaus?"

For a reason that's unclear, I start to panic. There will be no one to save me in case anything happens. Incase he does anything.

Nicklaus takes two steps back, shocked. Shocked Nicklaus? Rare.

"You know my name?" He's questioning himself more, than he is at me.

"Yeah. I fucking woke up this morning and next, I suddenly know your name without asking it from nobody." I yell. "This is maddening, Nicklaus." The frustration is plain in my tongue.

"Not as it is to me." He looks down as if trying to take it all in but I know it's the other way round. He's accessing something. A thought?. "You need to stay far away from me."

"Don't you get it? I can't. I don't know why, but I just can't. I'm... I'm obsessed with you."

"You've got to not."

I'm so frustrated. "Why?"

He goes all silent.

"Give me a goddamn, straight, clear, evident answer for God's sake. Please, Nicklaus." I demand.

"Don't you get it!" He snaps, causing me to revert back, and almost squirm at the intensity of his authorization. "From all what you've said down now, which of them have I done anything to deserve your attention. I only cause you pain, you should fear me. I'm a villain, Rayne. I don't deserve you. I'm not good for you. You can't be obsessed with me. I'm not a kind of person you want to deal with. I came here to clear that." He's pretty much annoyed. I don't think it's at me. Well, I hope not.

"I don't believe it. Just tell me things about you." My voice is low.

"I'm..." he squeezes his face, his nose becoming more pointed. We both share the frustration, "...so cruel. Stay away," he snaps his finger to call my attention and I look him straight in his eyes, "you shall stay faraway."

"I can not do that. I don't think so. See? Your eyes have changed again. Tell me what's wrong, maybe I can help. You never knew. I don't want to entertain any nonsense, or... or... any fantasy thoughts, so please tell me. I promise, I'll try to help."

I feel desperate to a guy I'm just talking to for the first time and making myself cheap before him, but it doesn't concern me. I want to know him. The urge is irresistible. I never realize it until presently.

He takes a towering steps towards me that my head reach his cleavage. My breath hitches and speeds up, accelerating the organ beneath my sternum, and my nerves, pumping more blood frantically, and adrenaline, disturbing my blood circulation. My face burns up with colours. He's different — so, so different from the other guys I've met. Maybe it's because he's different from the races of human guys.

We're just inches away from impact. If I could only lean closer, I'd feel his warmness. I made a small move towards him but, felt coldness instead. Still, a fragment of heat beams from beneath, tingling my skin and waves of emotions, erupting inside my head. I should stop those thoughts. His coldness isn't uncomfortable, instead it is like a cold, refreshing soda to be taken after a bicycle marathon ride in a summer season.

"What I can tell you," he gulps, I hear it. Is he restraining something? His eyes closes and when he opens them, a dark shade of blackness has covered his now dark brown lens. They are changing once again with each emotions, "is to leave, forget, and stay faraway from me or else, you'd get hurt or better still—killed." Better still? You must be kidding me. "You don't want that, do you? Go home, Rayne. Your mother will get worried if you get home late. This guy's nothing, but deadly. A killer."

My voice catch up inside my throat.

I resume when organized myself. "What do you mean by that?"

"What it sounds like."

"You just want to frighten me. You are not. You are not a killer. You... you have a good side."

Before I could face palm to stop the tears, it has fallen. I sob into my palms. Why do I feel very emotional being with him? Why does his words make me cry? I can't suppress my feelings, and crying in front of him — whose like a stranger to me — makes me feel so angry at myself. You're like those brittle characters in movies that cry over their male crush, kissing another girl.

"You know what I am. I would stay far away if I were you." Are his fading words.

I raise my gaze and look around me. I'm all alone. He's gone.

"Nicklaus!" I call into the air, a little breathlessly. He's really gone. How is he able to.

Why does he not want me to help him? Does he detest me that much? Why does he not look like the nineteen he claims his age to be? Why is he so ancient? And most especially, why does he have to leave?

With an unenthusiastic and exasperated slouched shoulders, I open the front door into the house.

Mom's figure comes right into my view— in a very much awake state. She has a bowl of ice cream on her hands as she's sitting on a cushion, opposite the 42 inches TV— even as a professional medical practitioner, mom doesn't care eating many ice creams. And luckily for her, she doesn't add any weight. She's not obese in any way.

Her eyes dart up and her posture changes when she sees me — a tender, and worry look paints her wrinkled forehead, trying to decipher what is wrong with me.

"Rayne?" The uncertainty clarifies itself in her tone. "Are you okay?"

She drops her spoon and shift fully to me.

"No, mom." I stare ahead of me and after a while I continue, "he will not win. I won't let him. I don't care about any embarrassment that may come from it, but I won't stop. I'll do every research to know what he's hiding."

I breath out and grasp myself from crying in front of mom.

"Okay?" Mom's dubious voice says and she nods, continuously, "mind if I know who you're talking about?"

"Don't worry, mom. It is unnecessary."

"I will manage to forget it, but if anything comes up again, you must let me know things." I start to stride to the stairs when she adds, holding out her bowl of half-melted ice cream towards me, "do you want some ice creams?"

I shake my head without giving her a glance and walk to my room — my shoes, tapping angrily on contact with the wooden steps.

Till the end of that day, I don't get out of the room, nor off of my bed as all I did was brooding over what Nicklaus meant. All what he's said and the meaning, hindering behind them. He doesn't look like a bad boy to me... well, through characters, he might be, but with the way he meant it; sounded horrific — also that he's a killer? Who says that to his personality?

The way he had said it sends chills all over me and I draw the pillows, clutching it close to me every now and then... his words haunt me till I fall asleep at night.

And that night, I had dreams about — red, crimson eyes... changing lens of Nicklaus' ravishing eyes as if he's using contact every minutes... sometimes, I'd find myself in a dark room, a spot light shining over my frame and everywhere else will be dark... terrifying glows of eyes will surround me, as if in the movies. I shudder all while I dream and around six in the morning, I sit up and watch some comedies on the Internet to pass time and change my mood — it actually helped.

I spend my days this way and luckily, I start to get over Nicklaus. But my deal of finding who he is, is still in my mind.