Regretful Love

Chapter One

"You will be my stars, and I will be your moon."

The handsome young boy pointed to the sky full of stars and the bright, full moon.

The girl beside him smiled and stretched out her pinkie finger.

"Okay," she said, her blue eyes reflecting the light.

The boy linked his pinkie with hers, sealing the agreement.

Splash!

The man awoke from his reverie, prodded into movement by the sound he had just heard. Sitting upright, he scanned the riverside, eventually seeing a dark figure struggling in the water. Every muscle hurt, and his breathing caught as he felt a sharp pain in his side, but he managed to haul himself upright.

"I'm coming," he shouted, hoping that whoever was in the river could hear him well enough to keep struggling not to let go.

The water was cold, heart-stopping cold, though it was already late in the springtime. Runoff from snow melting in the far mountains, he assumed. His feet dead and calf muscles cramping, he reached the figure, grabbing a handful of sodden fabric and yanking it towards him. Surprisingly, the body moved easily, and, as he tugged it towards him, he found it was a young girl. Jesus. Intertwining his fingers with her long, dark hair, he managed to pull her face out of the water as he lifted her upper body up and dragged her from the river.

She began sputtering almost immediately, spitting out mouthfuls of river water until she started dry heaving. He waited, silent, until she had recovered herself.

"Why did you try to kill yourself?" he asked her curiously. However, as soon as he'd asked the question, he knew that she wouldn't answer it and that it had probably been the wrong thing to say. He'd been away from people for too long, he realised, had lost the filter that stopped him from saying foolish things.

There was no answer, but he saw the tears form in her eyes and could guess what had happened.

"It's stupid to die for a guy," he said. "It's just not worth it."

The girl glared at him, her eyes full of hatred.

He sighed and scratched his head. The morphine was starting to work now, and he felt the pain fade away, his body returning to its normal state of internal floating. Better able to deal with the situation, he gave a nod.

"Come on, then," he said.

He pulled her up by the hand, noted that she could walk—if a little unsteadily—and then went back to where he'd left his gear, leaving her to follow behind.

He hadn't planned on camping just yet. The sun hadn't set, and the deep orange light of the late afternoon was his favourite time for walking. The heat of the day had burnt itself out, and the light was kind to his eyes. But the girl was soaking. She'd get hypothermia if he wasn't careful. Rummaging along the riverbank, he found wood dry enough to burn and picked up the pieces of litter that were strewn across the ground. It stunned him that, even this far from civilisation, one could still find the packaging of potato chips and long-ago-eaten fast food. Still, they made for a good fire, so he wasn't going to complain.

When he returned to his pack, the girl was huddled on the ground, her arms wrapped around herself, shivering. Working quickly, he built up a fire and pulled his trusty Zippo lighter from his pocket. Within a few minutes, the flames were burning merrily, and he'd found a blanket and given it to her. Only when she was sitting up and her lips had changed from dusky blue to light pink again did he sit.

"So, what's your name, then?" he asked, poking a stick in the fire.

She looked at him but didn't speak.

"Cat got your tongue?" he said, but not unkindly.

She blinked, still saying nothing.

"I'm Kell," he said, hoping to push her into introducing herself out of habit. "Kellion S. Mocking. The S stands for, um, well, I'm not sure. No one's sure." He thought about telling her how hard it was to know your real name when you grew up in an orphanage far away from the people who'd given you the label, but decided she probably had enough to deal with at the moment. "I like to change it every now and again," he said instead. "Sometimes it stands for Superman, sometimes Steven, sometimes Sandalwood. I like sandalwood, like the way it smells."

There was still no reaction from the girl, though she watched him with big blue eyes.

"Say, you hungry?"

She nodded.

Now I'm getting somewhere, he thought, satisfied. Appeal to the basic instincts first, and the rest would follow. Like with the stray dogs he sometimes befriended. She was a stray—he should have figured that out sooner. Fumbling in his pack, he found a package of jerky, and, pulling out a stick, handed it to her. She might have been hungry, but she ate slowly and carefully, chewing on the dried meat as if afraid she might break a tooth. Kellion settled down again by the fire, content to watch her eat.

The sun sank down below the horizon. They were far enough away from the small country road that he'd been travelling along that they didn't hear the odd car. Instead, they heard the crickets, the humming of insects, and occasionally the flapping of bats. The fire smelled smoky, and Kellion plunged his fingers into the ground next to him, feeling the damp, loamy soil of the riverbank.

"I'm taking a walk," he said after a long time.

The girl looked up, startled, before beginning to chew again.

"Been on the road for a couple of weeks now," Kell continued. "Walking, just walking." Feeling that he should add more, he said, "Going to visit a friend downstate. Long way."

She nodded again.

It was a long way. Miles and miles and miles, but he didn't let that get to him. Walking was good for his soul, though it was rough on his body. In truth, he was enjoying it: the steady routine of getting up in the morning with the goal of getting an inch further on the map. The girl swallowed her last mouthful of jerky and yawned.

"You can sleep right there next to the fire," he said, noticing her eyes beginning to close. Nearly dying was exhausting.

Her eyes narrowed a little.

"You'll be safe," he said. "You have my word. No funny business. Just get some rest—you look like you need it."

Her eyes darted to the fire.

"Huh," he laughed, sounding like a short bark. "You won't burn up, either; don't worry. I'll keep an eye on the fire."

Obediently, she curled up on her side, facing the fire, still wrapped in her blanket. Her skin was luminous white, the fire painting orange patches on her cheeks. He watched until her breathing deepened. Poor kid. He wondered what had happened to her to drive her to this, but he knew from long experience that life had a tendency to add more and more weight until it felt unbearable. Until you felt that there was no other choice than the glaringly obvious, but often lethal, option shining in front of you. The girl shifted slightly in her sleep, and Kellion came to a decision. He would take her with him, if she'd follow. She seemed like little trouble, and the company could be nice, even if she didn't speak. Besides, he'd be able to keep her safe, at least for a while. Maybe until she came to her senses a bit more. He'd saved her life, after all, and that gave him some responsibility for her, didn't it?

It took a long time before Kellion felt his eyes grow heavy. He watched the girl, the gentle movement of her breathing, the way her eyelashes fluttered on her cheeks. She needed help and he would help her. It was decided. Finally, a long time after midnight, when the moon was high and full and bright, he lay down beside the fire. It was cold, but the girl had his blanket. Besides, he'd slept in worse conditions. He pulled his knees up to his chest, put his arms inside his coat, and then let sleep take him away.