Chapter Twelve
Catherine
Though it was thoroughly deliberated over our drive, announcing it on the table, both Peter and I sounded like fools- and we knew it. The plan needed was practically useless and we just had two days to come up with something new.
11:23pm
My eyelids feel surprisingly heavy, and I can't sit up straight, my entire body now leaning helplessly on Peter's chest, delaying any practical work unless one counted his warm fingers running through my hair and my parents' intensive glare doing nothing to stop it.
We have been working our mental health to the edge, our physical side having abandoned us a while back. There was no concrete idea still made up yet, just chits of paper thrown into a cap.
My mother gets up abruptly and walks over to the floor where we are settled, "you should get to bed now, Catherine. Don't think we're letting you off school tomorrow." What!!? Didn't they understand the kind of risk I was in- already a much stalked 'human' by the Oi Alloi?
I sulk, opening my mouth to 'bicker', but Peter spoke up first, his hand resting on the floor, "she's right Cathy. You can't miss school. It would only make the Oi Alloi increasingly curious." He pauses and murmurs something indistinctively to himself, then said out loud, "not like they're already reporting the fact that I let you into my house, and that you stayed and that now you know your parents are here."
I yank up when he says that, my senses suddenly alert. I look him straight in the eye, "they'll find you, you know." He looks away, unresponsive. I press on, "and then what will they do?" He doesn't reply. But he knows what they would do. I get up, unexpectedly furious. "They're going to kill him, right?" I say to my parents.
Mom comes towards me in a gentle manner, her hand held out to me. I slap it down, "He's going to die isn't he? They'll torture him!! Won't they?" I look around, aghast.
Peter slumps deeper into the wall. Dad sinks his head further into his palms. Mom reaches out once more. "And then you think it's safe to send me to school?" I ask the walls, blame fully.
No sound. I pull out a chair and drown in my sorrows. Then Dad perks up.
"Honestly, Regina, I can't believe I'm saying this, but what Cat's saying makes sense. They'll start Peter's period of torture by first hitting him where it hurts the most. And since Peter doesn't have any family- " Peter snarls from his corner. I positively glower at him from across the table. What was wrong with them? My desperate father continues with a sorrowful face, "they'll capture the next best thing- Catherine."
I want to disagree with him, but what he is saying is genuine. They'll kidnap me. From school. I force that thought away, but it keeps returning addictively.
I let go, then, giving in to my furious will to sleep. I roughly remember Peter lifting me up, hoisting me over his shoulder, placing me on the bed. It brings back an aching memory, which is just a few weeks old now, only making my father's words even more visible in my mind. I remember, blindly, my parents then joining me.
I let it all go. And the next thing I know, it is morning.
-
I pour some milk into my bowl of cornflakes, watching it slush around and mix with the milk. After I had fallen into my slumber, the three of them had decided that none of us must step out of the house until we have formed an effective, fruitful plan to get to the bottom of this confusing dilemma and then, hopefully solve it. I chuckle to myself. It all sounded so simple.
Peter is still sprawled over his couch, Mom makes sure not to let any of us disturb him, knowing that he has had a rough night. Poor guy.
The three of us who had already awoken for the day carry our breakfast into the room so as to not cause any disturbance to the sleeping lion. We start considering and debating on ideas all over again.
Time passes by hurriedly. My stomach grumbles aggressively. I groan inwardly, frowning. We have still not been able to form any legitimate plan yet. My mind wanders over to Peter. Why wasn't he awake yet? I'd better go and check on him. I excuse myself and walk out.
My feet come to stop at what I see in the hall. Or rather what I don't see. Oh my god.
The hall is empty, the couch on which Peter originally slept now exhibits a neatly folded blanket. I run into the kitchen, worry clouding my mind. What was he thinking?
A lone page is stuck on one of the cabinets with a single piece of tape. I hurry towards it, removing it from its position. It is in Peter's distinct handwriting, scrawled, as if in a hurry. I direct my eyes from the distressing scenes they play in my mind and start reading the note out loud. It says:
Sorry I had To leave in such a Hurry. IgEtis had contacted me some time back. He sPecifically wAnted to meet me alone. Please undeRstand that I Kan't allow your family to fall into any more danger than you guys are in already. I cannot disclose the location of the meeting. Send help fast!
"Momm!" a frightened call escapes my paralyzed body, "Moomm!" She comes running to where I stand her alarming posture and desperate movements showing that she too has understood what is going on.
I thrust the sheet to her, my mind thinking ahead. Why were some letters darker than the others? Why did he write can't with a 'K', why did he write some words in capital? My hands reach out to my hair, fingers sliding in aggressively, why did he have to leave!?
My mom puts her hands on her hips, thinking, passing the note on to my father.
He glances up almost immediately, his face eager, "Cat," he says looking at me fervently, "Cat, he left a clue for you in this note. Look..." he says, coming forward and showing me the torn paper again. I peer at it carefully. He continues, "Some letters are darker, in caps,"
"Yeah, I saw that," squinting, trying to understand what he was making out.
"Okay, okay, now join the words together- T," his finger hovered over the letter, going ahead as he progressed, "H....E..."
"The..." I slap myself for my ignorance, "Dad, dad, stop, we have to go to the park, NOW. He's meeting Igetis there!!" His victory for having decoded the message would have to wait.
My father then looks at me gravely and shakes his head, "No, Cat, there's no way any of us are leaving the security of this house." WHAT?!
"He just walked out knowing they might kill him because- and only because- he is giving us this security in his house. Do you'll not realize what he could be going through right now, and every second we waste arguing?!" I growl at my startled parents- I have never spoken to them like that before.
"Now, Catherine, I understand-"
"You don't understand ANYTHING!" I turn around and start running to the door. I grab a car key from the hook and twist to look at them again, my voice barely a whisper now, "you'll never do- you'll never did."
I swing open the door and for the second time in the last fifteen minutes, I halt in my way. In front of me, stands a single, bloody figure. Thick red liquid covers his body, his eyes a silent black- like the dark of the night, his face stares back at me. Huge cuts cover up his forehead, his cheek, his jaw- no sign of his fair, bright skin is seen. The hair on his head is stuck together on to his forehead and a trail of the same maroon substance leaks through his eyes. His hands are by his side, trembling, drops of blood falling off his fingertips carelessly. In one hand, he holds his shirt, that is now, just like the rest of him, drenched. His chest is bare, but one might think his clothes are sporting the colour red. Lines of torture are marked throughout his stomach, his abs.
"Hello Catherine." Peter says to me sharply, his voice, weak, stranded. He trudges past me, his naked shoulder leaving some of his blaring liquid on me. I squeak.
He doesn't say anything at all for some time, just stands there in front of us, blood seeping onto the floor, forming a small puddle around him. Then he speaks up. "I fought them. Killed most," his tone was not one of triumph or pleasure, "they were my brothers." A tear forms its way in my eyes. "And then, he came."
He looks at my parents, his glare saying what words cannot. My mind tries reaching out to his own. He thinks it's their fault. "Igetis came, and with him, by his side: Your Countess Margarita." It is their fault.
I step ahead to stand beside him. "And then, my powers were practically useless. Imagine: one hundred trained assassins- both Oi Alloi and To Sotos, against one solitary boy." He flashes his teeth, uncaring. I gasp. They didn't leave any of him.
His teeth, though still fixed in their position, were coated in red too. My parents slowly back away, thinking he would get them. But he doesn't. He hangs his head and then turns to look at me, "at least she didn't get hurt." and then, Peter O'Connor, the Tetrakinita, the four powered, the savoir, the sole leader, walks away, defeated.
I sit down and crie. For what more was there that could I do?
-
3:05pm
He has washed himself, though his cuts are still clearly visible on his skin. He is in a loose blue shirt and plain black jeans. I haven't changed since we reached here and the clothes he hands over to me seemed like they have been sent straight from heaven.
It has been 2 hours since he returned, all the hunger I felt first, now drained out. He doesn't utter a word, not to anyone- not even me. But I understand his pain- or try to- and let him cope, silently struggling on my own by his side. I will get revenge. I will avenge him. If it's the last thing I do.