Martin & Marcella

Nine

There came a time when weariness consumed them. Their starved, exhausted bodies could step no farther without bringing the very death they were trying to escape closer to them than ever. They had come through many hardships and journeyed far into the North of the country. They must continue to run, they knew, but they must go about the task differently. They must hide themselves well, so that She would be misled. This would buy them time and rest.

No mortal could cover themselves with natural elements; that would not fool Her. Cowering in hollows or caves or in thick forest would only make a mockery of Her power. They knew this. They were fully aware that in order to properly hide, they must disguise their physical appearance. This, they were both willing to do. The only question was how exactly they should do it, for in order to fool, they had to be masters of deceit.

Above, above, far above sang choirs of angels, like at Christmas time, only theirs were mournful melodies. The time was so familiar that it stung, rang like manic bells, fluttered with wings of trembling needles. Massive pillars of bizarre proportions vanished into deep obsidian skies; the eyes of one who'd for so long, fallen deeper into his own Hell penetrated to the very core of the boy Joel couldn't quite see . . . couldn't quite guess the name of. If only he'd turn around . . .

Not a tear from those around, standing like the ghosts of ghosts in silent observance. Faces shadowed by obscurity--features blended into gray. Who were they? They held no place here.

Joel didn't know if he held a place. The boy did, whoever he was, and Joel sensed he knew him somehow--was envious as he watched the boy fall to pieces at the sight of the dead woman lying in a black box in front of him. How that boy loved her, though he barely knew her. So much hovered in the gulf that was slowly opening between Joel and that boy. Such primal fear shuddered darkly in these fast-splitting grounds. The entire picture moved farther, until Joel could recognize only a dim haze of color on the far horizon, and he wanted to scream out to the one he could no longer see, the one he was being torn from, the very image of himself as he no longer was.

He knew.

Both of them knew.

They'd been torn from her, from all, from everything. Years of another's bitterness had brought Joel's dreams to mirror reality.

It was a bitter cold but sunlit day when Joel awoke from a chilling nightmare to the realization that, in order to convince himself of his sanity, he'd have to convince others of it as well. Somewhere in the back of his cluttered brain he knew that others looked at him strangely--"others" meaning the teachers and few students he'd known since the start of the school year. Most of the boys in Joel's classes paid very little attention to him. Somewhere he realized what a change had taken place, whether his father believed it or not.

When he made the decision to put a slight bit more effort into his daily life, Joel tried not to think much about why he was choosing to do so. A panic had risen in him like flames when he'd finished reading Etienne Barcleaux's journal--a panic that was rooted somewhere deep inside him and brought unwanted memories calling at the doors of his brain. The absolute last thing the boy wanted to do was bring those thoughts to life. He wanted them to remain dead forever, hidden away in the part of his heart that had turned black. He was more willing to throw himself from the church tower than force himself to face the truth of his rising panic, and that was what he tried not to think about as he made his drastic decision.

Maybe Lysander was right. Maybe Joel should give a bit more of himself back to the real world. It was worth a try, anyway.

There was a biology quiz that morning, the morning of Joel's decision, and he hadn't studied for it the night before (he had been sleeping terribly due to the fears of the black bird that had been plaguing him with its appearances, which also factored into his choice to change his ways). So the boy was rather tired and somewhat uneasy when he reached his class. Lysander had already entered the brown-walled room and taken a seat by the sun-streaming windows. Even though Joel was trying to avoid windows, he sucked up his courage and placed himself directly behind Lysander.