Gold Fever (m×m) ✔

XXII: It will all make sense one day

《 ASPEN GRISWOLD 》

A sharp pain shot through my chest with every intake of breath, and in any other situation I would have checked myself into a hospital. Mother would have insisted the doctors give me the most comprehensive treatment money could buy, like I had a perilous heart condition instead of a fractured rib. But she wasn't here, nor were there hospitals or doctors to pay off.

"Aspen, was it?" The sweetness of Najwa's voice, soft like a pur, tricked me to think I had won her over. So I didn't understand what she meant when went on: "This is for hurting him."

I was still trying to decipher the innocent expression in contrast with the veiled threat, and my brain didn't register the swift movement of her combat boot-covered foot. The pain was instant, the kick harsh enough to make me lose my footing and I crashed to the ground with a pathetic cry. Had she hit me with a brick? Because a girl so small couldn't possibly kick so hard.

I groaned and shifted on ground, cautious as to not rotate my torso. It still hurt, sending throbbing pain to my chest, and my eyes prickled with tears. I wanted to sob, that is how miserable I was, or to curse their names. Not just Elian Phoenix's, but Najwa's as well. 

"What is it with you people always thinking that murder is the answer to everything?" For the first time, I could see how she really felt; hatred made her nostrils flare and twisted her mouth into a vicious snarl. "What makes you think it would even work? You've killed my best friend, everyone's still sick and you've got your hands stained with blood, and then what?"

"But my father.." I stammered as I crawled backwards with my arm cradling my screaming side. She laughed at my words, a cold and short chortle without a hint of amusement. 

"And what exactly is your father, a prophet?" She went on before I could say anything. She crossed her arms around her waist, staring down at me like she was contemplating whether I deserved another kick from her boot.

My chest flared with anger. Maybe father was obstinate and controlling, but only I got to tell him that. Najwa didn't know father or understand the first thing about him. I wanted to make her take back her words, and destroy Elian Phoenix just to show her I wasn't just making things up. That I knew what I was doing. 

Najwa's breath smelled sour, citrusy, when she leaned down to say to me: "If you so much as look at Phoenix's way again, I won't settle for a kick."

"But.. Why?" I asked, trying and failing to get up from the ground. She had already turned on her heels to rush towards the voice, which was still calling for her and growing louder the closer its owner came to us.

"Because", Najwa halted and fixed a glare at me over her shoulder. Then she just shook her head, dark eyes filled with resignation. "He's my friend."

My idea of a friend was a bunch of sweaty teammates slapping each other's shoulders and shouting praises from one side of the changing room to the other. The intellectual level of their conversations was so low it was a miracle any of them had gotten into college. Outside the testosterone filled changing room, however, some of the guys weren't so bad.

Rubian, our center back, was the only one I could have conversations with which weren't all about boobs or booze. Since the beginning of sophomore year, there had been this rumor about him staring at the guys in the shower. Why people still cared to gossip about someone's sexuality in college was another big mystery to me.

Then there were Aki and Joan, both midfielders, who made school days less boring for me. Unfortunately, they acted like they were still the popular jocks of Marvin Ridge High instead of college seniors, so I could only take their company in small doses.