MEOW
I let the knife fall. But my situation is too vexing for me to let go of my only foundation for redemption. I seized the knife with my other hand. I opened my fingers to loosen his grip and wriggled my hand free. I grabbed his neck and slammed him against the steel wall of the helicopter.
His other hand went to my wrist, and I winced when he started crushing it. His grip is stronger than Yolly's!
I pointed the knife at his right eye and said, "Let go, or I'll take this one. Bones mend, but eyes don't."
Silence.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TWO DOING?!" the sergeant's voice must've destroyed our eardrums. I flinched.
"Aaaah!!!" We screamed and let go, blocking our ears from the ear-splitting sound. He maximized the volume around the passenger seat.
The knife clattered on the floor. The boy curled the same way I did. I opened my eyes and felt dizzy. The ringing in my ear was too loud. Then slowly, my hearing came back. I thought I was going to be deaf permanently.
"A deadly weapon, for goodness sake!" the sergeant turned at us and opened the little window between the pilot and the passenger seats.
"Why were you killing each other? Tell me, else I'm gonna drop you both!"
"It was her!"
"It was him!"
"You pulled my hair!" I said, pointing at him. He stuck his tongue out.
"I was just asking for your name, and you pulled out a knife!" he said, pointing back at me.
"I refused to tell you because you don't know your manners! And then you grabbed my hair!" I told him and dug my finger onto his cheek. Damn you.
We were snarling at each other and were about to have a go at it again when suddenly the helicopter started shaking violently.
"STOP! Stop!" I yelled on top of my lungs as my stomach started getting ticklish.
"We're dying! We're going to die!" I heard the boy announcing our inevitable death.
When the helicopter halted mid-air and was now gaining altitude again, the sergeant spoke.
"One more fight and I'll murder you both myself," he said, and the boy snorted.
"And how the hell will you do that?" he asked, boisterously.
"Well, there's only one parachute here, and this copter is ancient," he lifted the parachute up so we could see it over the small window. "I will definitely report the engine failure to the captain and how both of you died from the crash."
"You wouldn't!" I said, but he didn't reply.
Silence.
I gave the boy a glare, gritting my teeth. He stuck his tongue out at me and shook his head mockingly.
Grrr.
We stayed quiet until he broke the silence.
"Clive."
Huh?
I turned to look at him; he was looking down the window. But he continued.
"My name's Clive."
"Oh."
Silence.
"I told you my name!" he said and harshly turned to me. "What's yours. witch?"
"Still rude," I said. "Not going to tell."
"That's unfair, you rotten little turd---"
"Selena," I told him, and he shut up. "Hmph!" How dare he call me turd?!
He grinned at me, and I raised a brow. Then staring at each other for a while, we burst out laughing.
"You're so stupid," he said, laughing at my face. "Look at your hair! Hahahaha!" he laughed. That's when I remembered that I did cut my hair.
"Now I'm stupid?" I said. "You were the one who got pale when I threatened to take your eye out!"
"What kind of kid will be able to stomach that?" he said and stopped laughing. "And you! How can you stomach taking an eye out of another's socket?"
"Well," I told him. "I've done it before." I grinned, raising and dropping my eyebrows suggestively. I don't lie. That's my life's principle.
"No, you haven't!" he said. "I know you're just bluffing."
I wish I was.
"But I really did plan on taking your right eye."
"No way," he said. "How old are you anyway? You're a girl, and you can fight. I've never seen one."
"What do you mean? Don't you watch movies?" I asked.
"Naaah, my mother's too strict," he said and grabbed the knife on the floor. I almost forgot about it until he picked it up. "And my father's death so when my mom died, I was put in an orphanage. Wait! I have a picture of mom, look,"
He trotted out a crumpled photo paper and showed it to me. I mentally winced at the picture of a woman who resembled a witch. The huge wart in her face was hideous.
"Was… was she kind?" I asked, trying my best to conceal my displeasure. I looked at Ace, and I could only imagine how good-looking his father might've been to nullify such a mother's genes.
Ace didn't answer, but the look in his eyes was forgiving. I cleared my throat and decided to change the topic.
"I don't fight. Just trying my best to defend me."
He shrugged. "You did alright, though."
"I pity the orphanage and the kids there," I said. Sadness can be traced to my voice, changing the subject.
He frowned at me. "I was good!" he said and tsked.
"Yeah, right," I answered, and he chuckled. "Hey, what's that?" I asked him when I saw a snake-like scar on his shoulder blade.
"I dunno. My mom never mentioned it until the orphanage kids pointed it out."
A flash of remorse filled his eyes, and then he sighed, defeated.
"I bet you ended up killing someone," I told him and shook my head, acting dismayed.
"Oh yeah?" he looked stunned for a while and took a deep breath. "What if I did?" He asked.
"Then why?" I asked. "The reason is all that matters."
He looked away.
"I stabbed the gardener who was raping Sister Ana," he said, and his face suddenly turned anxious.
"You protected her then," I told him. "That's good."
"The gardener died," he told me. "I thought I was protecting her."
"You did!" I told him.
"Well, after enduring the gazes of the other kids thinking that I just became a murderer, I later found out that the Nun-in-training and the gardener were together. You know? Adult stuff."
I nodded, taking him every word. I listened, but when he finished, I blushed.
"Yuck," I said, disgusted. I cringed.
He laughed and pointed at my face. "What the hell? You're ugly!"
"Whatever."
I growled. How dare he call me ugly? Even my bullies never called me that!
"Still, I killed without knowing that he didn't really intend to harm. He was…" he cleared his throat and exhaled. "How about you?" What's your story?"
"We have three things in common," I told him after contemplating what he said.
"Three?" he asked, confused.
"We protected someone. We killed. And we suffered the aftermath," I told him, raising the last finger.
He stared at me like I became his salvation or something. He looked like he was about to cry. And I kind of know what he's feeling. The same way I did when I found myself a co-monster.
Sigh.
I wonder if all the kids at the Boot Camp were the same.
Looking at Clive staring out of the window, I knew he still felt guilty.
And I don't.