When I wake up in the morning, the best idea I can come up with is to pretend to be sick to avoid encountering Descamps. I know it's wrong, but at this moment, I don't care. It's worth it to avoid the embarrassment, even though I know I can't keep it up for long.
My father feels my forehead. "Are you sure you can't make it to school?" he asks, concerned."I will make sure natascha makes you tea and soup, my poor girl" It's the first time in a long while that my father has shown interest in me since we moved here. The feeling that he cares about me is comforting
and a sadness about what has happened to us.
I nod weakly, cough, and try to put one a show like i did when i was younger and didnt want to go to lecture of my hometeacher misses swan god i couldnt stand this women in some way she reminds me of jade what says enough about miss sawn i think.
Miss Swan never allowed me to listen to music. That was after my mother died, at my father’s order, which embarrasses me even more now that I’m rediscovering my love for melodies accompanied by dancing notes. I miss my mother, her smile, and the love she gave to everyone. My father ordered Natascha to bring me tea, which she always does; she always takes care of me. I spent the whole day in bed when Natascha poked her head into my room for the tenth time.
“Katharina, there’s a young man here for you, your classmate who was here recently. His name was Joseph, wasn’t it?” she says, excitement glimmering in her eyes. She still seems to believe there’s something between us, which is true but also not true. We have something, but at the same time, we don’t. I close my eyes as I start to think too much again.
What is he doing here? I wonder, but I can't help that my heart starts to race. In my thoughts, I curse myself. Quickly, I make a decision. “Send him away,” I say stubbornly. After what happened yesterday, I don't want to see him. I didn't skip school for nothing; he must just want to make fun of me.
Natascha gives me a disapproving look. “Katharina, that’s not nice. The young man is bringing you flowers and everything, and you just want to send him away.” My eyes widen; that was the last thing I expected—flowers and other things. How? What? Why? My thoughts race.
My curiosity wins. “Okay, you can go get him,” I say, my heart racing up to my throat.
Natascha leaves my room. After a few minutes, the door opens again, and Joseph steps in, carrying flowers and other things in a basket. My gaze is suspicious as he sets everything down. When he sees my look, he flashes a charming smile, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and raises his arms protectively. “Don’t look at me like that; I haven’t done anything yet.” I scrutinize him, and as always, he looks like an angel—a fallen angel.
“Yes, not yet. That’s what the grading depends on. What do you want?” I fold my arms across my chest.
“You weren’t at school,” he says, his tone concerned as if he actually cares about someone other than himself.
“Yeah, and I’m sick!”
“Oh really, or are you just hiding from me?” he grins, and warmth rises in my cheeks because he hits the nail on the head.
“Nooo,” I shake my head defiantly.
I stand up and look into the basket he brought. Inside is soup and sweets, and the flowers are lilies—my favorite flowers. I turn my gaze to him. “How?” I whisper.
“You once talked with Annick about your favorite flowers. It’s said that flowers can heal,” he says gently. Confusion is written all over my face; even though I don’t remember that conversation, he does. He always has surprises ready.
“Thank you, I think" averting my gaze to hide the redness in my cheeks. Why is he doing this? Is he really interested in me, or is this just one of his twisted games?
“To be honest, that wasn’t necessary,” I say stubbornly.
"Also, what do you want here, what do you really want here," I say, still not trusting him.
"I was worried," he says, running his hand through his angelic curls. Automatically, I roll my eyes—he never cared about anyone but himself, and now here he is, acting like this. "Yeah, because you're such a caring person," my sentence drips with sarcasm. His expression hardens, as if my words had somehow upset him. "Why? Is that so far-fetched?" he snaps back, angry, like a snake ready to strike in defense.
My eyes now sparkle like his. "Then tell me, why were you so worried? Why am I suddenly so important that you bring me flowers?" I exclaim, waving the flowers around in frustration. "So, tell me, what kind of twisted, messed-up mind games are you playing?" I say, angry but equally confused. In the meantime, I've stood up, flailing my arms.
His lips form a thin line.
“I... I don’t know. You are so you, and every time we are together, a part wishes it would never end. You challenge me, you don’t accept everything – it gives me the feeling that I can do better.”
My posture relaxes, my face softens, yet the skepticism remains.
“And I’m supposed to believe that? After everything?” Bitterly, eyes follow.
“Yes, but I don’t expect it. It would just be nice if... forget all that from yesterday.”
For a moment, I see vulnerability flicker in his eyes before the walls go up. His hand was already at the door and he outside.
For a moment I consider going after him, but I decide against it. Softly, quietly – maybe hoping he would hear it –:
“I want to believe you, really. But if I do and it was only a game, a part of me will break.”
For minutes I still stand there, my gaze on the bouquet. I notice a card. With trembling fingers, from stress, I open it, my heart flickering like a fire.
It shows me in a long white dress, playing a piano. Below it says:
“I lust after the things that will eventually destroy me.”
YOU ARE READING
Sweet darkness
FanfictionSome say we were sinners. And I would happily burn for just the chance to be with you. I would let the flames engulf me and still come back screaming your name. Every time. I never expected us to end up like this.
