Mike approached Christina, who was curled up on the edge of the jetty, her chin nestled between her knees and her arms wrapped tightly around her legs. He sat down a few inches away, leaving a respectful distance between them, and cleared his throat to announce his presence.
"Are you okay?" He asked, his voice tinged with genuine concern.
Christina glanced up, her eyes flashing with warning. "I want to be alone," she hissed, her voice low and even. "You already know I'm in my DND mode. Don't you remember the consequences of approaching me when I'm like this?"
Mike nodded, unfazed. "Yeah, I'm well aware of your DND mode, but that's just a school thing. Whatever consequences you're threatening me with don't apply here. Right now, you're just a normal girl sitting alone on the jetty, struggling with something."
Christina stood up, her movements fluid and graceful. "Talking to you is pointless," she spat, her eyes rolling in exasperation. "You live in a cloud-cuckoo-land, completely detached from reality."
Mike sighed, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Oh God! What does cloud cuckoo even have to do with me?"
Christina's expression turned venomous. "Fucking stay away from me!" she yelled, turning to leave. But Mike reached out, gently grasping her arm to pull her back.
"Whatever you're feeling right now won't last forever," Mike said, his eyes locking onto Christina's, filled with empathy. "You don't have to bear all of it alone."
Christina's face twisted in anger. "What do you know about how I'm feeling?" she shouted, snatching her hand free from Mike's grasp. "Stay away from me, now that I'm asking nicely." She turned to leave, but Mike's next words halted her.
"I know it has something to do with your mom," Mike said, his voice soft and gentle.
Christina's body froze, her back still turned to Mike. The air seemed to thicken with tension as she struggled to contain her emotions.
After a while she swiveled around, her eyes blazing with intensity. "How do you know that?" she demanded, her expression grim and guarded. "Who told you about my mom?" Her voice was laced with a mix of anger and vulnerability.
Mike held out the gold chain, its locket glinting in the fading light. "This fell off you when we bumped into each other in school earlier," he explained. "When I ran downstairs to return it to you, you were already gone." He paused, his eyes locking onto Christina's. "I didn't mean to dig into your personal life, but I had to be sure it belonged to you, so I checked the photo in the locket."
Christina's gaze dropped to the chain, her expression softening slightly.
***
Meanwhile, Stefan and Rachael observed from a distance, their curiosity piqued.
"I knew it, he wouldn't last one minute with the school queen!" Stefan said, his eyes locked on Mike and Christina on the jetty. "She's going to devour him whole."
Rachael narrowed her eyes. "Wait a minute, she stopped and went back to him. Maybe Mike said something to diffuse the tension."
"Perhaps he said something deserving of a slap. That's more likely," Stefan replied, raising an eyebrow.
Rachael shook her head. "I don't think so. I believe he said something earlier that made her stop. Remember? He told us not to wait for him."
Stefan's expression turned thoughtful. "You're right. I believe we should leave now, or else we'll be wasting our time here."
"Dammit, did he use his bat's power to sedate her? How else could he tame the school queen?" Stefan wondered aloud as they turned to leave, his voice laced with amusement and curiosity.
Rachael shot him a knowing glance. "Let's just go, Stefan," she urged.
***
"I thought I'd lost it!" Christina exclaimed, her voice conveying her relief as she hastily walked towards Mike. She snatched the chain from him, her fingers wrapping around it like a lifeline.
"Cupping up everything inside will only bring you more pain!" Mike called out as Christina continued towards her car, his voice filled with empathy. "Blurt it out, and I promise it will bring you relief. You don't have to carry this burden alone, Christina."
Christina slowed her pace, her feet seeming to root to the spot. She turned around, her eyes welling up with tears, and her voice barely above a whisper. "Leave me alone!" The words trembled on her lips, her vulnerability exposed.
But Mike didn't back down. He took a step closer, his eyes locked onto hers, filled with compassion. "I know you're in pain, and that's not a crime. It's not something to be ashamed of. Cry when you're sad, don't suppress it. Everyone has their own flaws, a deep scar hidden underneath their visible skin."
Mike's words struck a chord within Christina. Her facade crumbled, and she broke down, tears streaming down her face. "I can't bear it anymore, I really can't," she sobbed, her body shaking with the weight of her emotions.
Mike moved closer, his movements gentle. He laid a consoling hand on her shoulder, patting her slowly. "You're going to be alright, everything is going to be fine. Hang in there," he whispered softly, his voice a soothing balm to her fractured soul.
As Christina wept, Mike's hand remained on her shoulder, a steady presence anchoring her to the present. His touch was warm, reassuring, and non-judgmental. For the first time in a long time, Christina felt seen, heard, and understood.
Her sobs intensified, releasing the pent-up emotions she'd kept hidden for so long. Mike stood beside her, a silent guardian, bearing witness to her pain. The world around them melted away, leaving only the two of them, bound together by shared vulnerability.
In that moment, Christina felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, she wasn't alone in her darkness. Maybe someone cared enough to listen, to understand, and to help her heal.
As Christina stood up few minutes later, her embarrassment was palpable. She avoided eye contact with Mike, her cheeks flushed with shame. But as she turned away, her foot slipped on the jetty's edge, and she almost tumbled into the river.
Mike's reflexes kicked in, and he grasped her arm, pulling her back to safety.
The sudden physical contact triggered a flood of memories in Mike's mind, transporting him back 13 years to their elementary school days.
He remembered Anita, his six-year-old friend, with whom he shared laughter and adventures. Christina, on the other hand, was a mysterious figure, always keeping to herself. Her eyes seemed to hold a deep sadness, but her expression remained cold and unreadable.
Then, one fateful day, Anita went missing. The school erupted into chaos as teachers and staff scoured the premises, searching for the little girl.
But that day, Christina's behavior changed dramatically; she became aggressive and hostile, isolating herself further.
Mike recalled the sense of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach as he joined the search party. They finally found Anita on the rooftop, but what happened next was etched in Mike's memory forever.
Anita's screams echoed through the corridors as she tumbled down the stairs leading from the rooftop. Mike watched in horror as she rolled from step to step, her small body bouncing and twisting in ways that seemed impossible. Her arms and legs flailed wildly, but she couldn't stop her fall.
Time seemed to slow as Anita's cries grew fainter, her body crumpling on each step. Mike's heart raced, his feet frozen in place. Tears gushed down his eyes as guilt and helplessness overwhelmed him, powerless to stop the tragedy unfolding before him.
Christina was standing on the rooftop, watching as Anita continued to fall, her eyes portraying no emotion.
Finally, Anita came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, her body limp and still. Mike's vision blurred as tears streamed down his face.
The school's medical staff rushed Anita away, and Mike never saw or heard from her again.
Christina never denied her interaction with Anita, nor accepted it. The incident was swept under the rug, and Mike assumed Christina's influential father was behind it.
That traumatic event forged a deep-seated hatred within Mike toward Christina. He couldn't understand why she had harmed his friend, or why she showed no remorse. The pain and anger simmered beneath the surface, shaping his perception of Christina as a cruel and heartless person.
As Mike held Christina's arm, long-forgotten memories resurfaced, rekindling his hatred for her. He saw a glimmer of vulnerability in her eyes; the same eyes that once seemed cold and expressionless now held a deep sadness.
His grip on Christina's arm tightened, his gaze intensified, and his mind racing with questions. The past and present collided, sparking a determination to uncover the truth.
"Why are you staring at me like that?" Christina's voice broke the spell, returning Mike to reality.
"You think a few tears will erase the past?" he snarled, releasing her arm. He couldn't bring himself to ask what happened 13 years ago, so he turned around and began to leave.
"Do you still believe I pushed Anita down the stairs?" Christina asked, her eyes welling up with tears.
Mike spun around, his jaw clenched. "Are you going to deny it now, after 13 years?"
Christina's voice trembled. "I didn't push her, Mike. I know you won't believe me, but it's the truth. Anita wasn't just any ordinary 6-year-old. She was hurting, trying to escape her pain."
Mike's expression twisted in incredulity. "You expect me to believe a 6-year-old was attempting suicide?" He scoffed in disbelief.
Christina's eyes pleaded for understanding. "Why do you think she was on the rooftop, knowing it's off-limits? She was desperate to be alone, to escape the agony. Her father was sentenced to life for killing her mother, and she knew the suffering ahead of her if her uncle took her in. She was lost, Mike."
Mike's skepticism deepened. "That's nonsense, she was too young to understand suicide."
Christina's voice gained urgency. "You don't know what Anita was going through. Her smile hid the truth. She was broken, Mike. And I... I didn't push her."
Mike's eyes narrowed, uncertainty creeping in. Could Christina be telling the truth? Was Anita's fall more complex than he thought?
"That's absurd, Christina. I can't even bring myself to understand what you're saying. You expect me to believe Anita went to the rooftop to kill herself?" He said in disbelief.
"I was there to kill myself too!" Christina confessed, her voice cracking. "Wasn't I young as well? You never knew what pain was, Mike. People mature faster when they face life's cruelty at a tender age. Don't compare yourself to Anita and me, who faced family horrors as children."
Mike stood speechless, tears streaming down his face.
"Anita saved my life," Christina continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "Her words, though spoken by a child, held wisdom beyond her years. She told me to live for both of us, to keep going, and that she would die for both of us too. I was young, naive, and couldn't understand. I watched as she gave up on life, rolling down those stairs."
Mike's tears flowed freely. "She died?" he asked, his voice shaking.
Christina nodded, her own tears falling. "Yes, internal injuries and a skull fracture. She passed away before they could take her to the hospital."
Mike's expression turned incredulous. "Why didn't you speak up? Why didn't you explain what happened?"
Christina's voice broke. "Who would believe me? How could I explain that she died for us both? That she chose to end her life?"
Mike saw the depth of Christina's pain and regret.
"I should've told her not to give up," Christina sobbed. "I should've persuaded her to keep living. She died because of me."
Mike opened his arms, embracing Christina as they both sobbed.
"I'm so sorry," Mike whispered. "I resented you for 13 years for the wrong reason. I was blind to your pain."
At that moment, Mike understood the weight of Christina's secret and the burden she carried. Their shared tears washed away years of misunderstanding, forging a new bond between them.