Hunted

Act 12; Choice

For some reason, people didn't seem to mind to use Noah as a pillar. Maybe because he didn't mind being one.

For the past few years, he'd been all kinds of pillars. Taking in steam, anger, even tears. Somehow, he was emotionally capable to take on each one without breaking, and maybe that was why people sometimes flocked to him individually. Sometimes he wondered if he was emotionally stronger than most people, or emotionally impaired.

Like the situation he was in now. A pretty girl was crying her heart out and staining his 10 thousand dollar suit with tears, and he just stood there sincerely concerned and understanding, occasionally patting her head when she started wailing until she calmed down to sobs. To think, he was exhausted from chasing after her and climbing forty floors of stairs just to return her baseball cap.

OK, he was curious why a renowned ballerina was running away too, but she didn't have to know that.

To be honest, he was a nervous wreck all through the journey around the city until she stopped by the apartment building. Noah had been present during the kidnapping case that ensued in the place, though he was a background character at the time, working out the background details with the rest of the extras. He was surprised when she entered, and his curiosity and worry took over his nervousness. Sometimes he was grateful for his Pillar side. It always pushed the nervous wreck side of him that took over when he met with strangers that made him an incoherent fool.

And sometimes, in moments of tears, it was best to stay quiet until the sobs subsided. Which was ten minutes later.

They stood there, quiet, the wind howling pass like wolves celebrating the full moon. His hair must have been unrecognizable.

She was clutching on his shirt like it was a lifeline and she was drowning.

He was standing like a statue with his hands at his sides. In the moment of quiet, he looked up at the dim sky, finding Venus.

"You OK now? At least, OK enough to talk?" He tried sounding as gentle as he could, the tone most of the girls who ran to him to cry said they liked. For a guy who had so many girls running into his room for a good cry, he never had a girlfriend. Ah, the irony of life.

He felt her nod, and she gripped his collar for a few more seconds before stepping back a few steps, her head bowed so he couldn't see her face.

Well, if she didn't want him to see her face...

Amelia blinked when she felt something on her head. She felt around it before she realized it was a baseball cap. Her baseball cap. She looked up, and through her blurry and most probably red eyes, she saw him looking at her. Not in disgust or annoyance or confusion, but just looking at her with a gentle smile on his lips that made her think he was saying it was OK for her to cry on him again.

She looked away. He was a stranger and she was a small girl that was currently defenseless. As amazing as the city was, everything had a dark side, and who knew what the guy's intentions were? He must have ulterior motives. No one would follow her through the city and into a recently abandoned building just to return her cap!

She should be defensive. She should raise her walls and ask for space or tell him to leave her alone.

Annoyingly, she didn't want to do any of that.

"If you're afraid of me, you could tell me to leave and I will." He said casually, and she found herself looking at him.

His head was tilted to the sky, and his eyes were staring at Venus, the only star bright enough to not disappear every few seconds. She studied him for a while, and found herself amazed at how casual he brought himself. He stood with the ends of his jacket flying in the wind, his hands in his pockets and his hair following the breeze. His expression was so relaxed, he might as well have been out to stargaze instead of trying to stop a girl from committing suicide.

She shuddered at the word. Suicide. God, she was so close to death, how did she even think it was a good enough idea to go through? She was scared; that might've been it. Fear was to blame, and she didn't think straight like she usually did. But it wasn't fear for herself but fear for her loved ones that prodded her runaway.

God, sometimes she thought she was so strong, but when her loved ones were concerned, she recoiled into her shell and conceded to everything else. Because she's lost too much to try and risk anything. Because she's gained too much to try and give anything.

"You OK?"

She looked up at him, and she wanted to cry all over again. She couldn't go back home, that'd only put everyone else in danger if the threats were real. They thought she was dead and it was probably for the best. For the time being, she had to hide before she tried to figure anything else out. But where could she hide where no one would find her, or at least tell anyone else where she was? Where eyes could see her but mouths won't speak. Where she could try to calm down and think.

"Hey, you OK?" He looked concerned, and she was about to say she wasn't, but a light caught her eye and she saw the strap décor hanging from his pocket. A glass butterfly that glinted of transparent red.

She blinked up at him-he wasn't tall; she was small-then asked, "Which school do you go to?"

He cocked a brow at her, probably wondering where the question came from, but answered nonetheless. "Dulcet's Dalliance Academia. You know it?"

Dulcet's Dalliance Academia. DDA. The most heavily guarded school in the city that recently blocked all form of information regarded as private from escaping its walls. As loyal as she was to Diamonds High, a day in her school would spam her internet profiles in an hour. She didn't know anyone who attended the other three schools, so those were dead ends. Hotels might leak her, and if she tried withdrawing money from the bank, her father would know about it immediately. She had no other family other than her Father and Jocelyn, and both of their extended family didn't live in the city. If she traveled abroad, back to their country home in Europe where she might be able to lay low, her passport would be found out.

There was no other choice.

No. It was the best choice among several other terrible ones.

She clutched his wrists like they were her lifelines and she was drowning, her eyes pleading, her voice coming out shaky and desperate.

"I beg you. Help me."