I Fell In Love With A Convict

V. Down and Out

“Ow.”

 

A loud thud sounded in my ear as my body hit the floor; that was quite a fall. I swayed to my feet and grabbed on the headboard of the bed where I fell from and tried to refurbish myself as I skimmed through my surroundings. Where am I? This is definitely not my room. I groggily shook my head and took a step to regain my posture, but my head only ached all the more. Now that I think about it, my head aches almost everyday, and I am awfully confused at times for no evident reason. But since it wasn’t serious, I never paid much attention to it... I don’t even remember when it all started happening. 

 

I took my time to examine the wide quadrangular space and noticed several framed certificates, photographs of various weapons, vintage equipment, and a number of awards hanging by the ultramarine opposite wall. A bearskin carpet lay beneath my feet, and an armoire stood at the far corner of the room. These made me conclude one thing: this isn’t any female’s room. I inquisitively approached the spacious wall and studied the framed documents. Most of them were military awards for honor, exceptional skill, and excellence, and some for superior academic results. Whoever owned these must be very good at many things. I later shifted my focus to the nearest escritoire, and there I found something else that further captured my interest.

 

“This is?” 

 

I bent myself forward and stared at a single frame at the center of the writing desk. I was right; it was Lyndon Vice. There was something very capturing in this one, because as my gaze lingered over the photograph, I noticed that Lyndon seemed to be an entirely different guy in it. His smile was different… like he was greatly satisfied yet hesitant at the same time… and above all, his eyes showed pure compassion to whoever he was looking at by the time the photo was taken. And I noticed something more: his hair was a deep lustrous black, a shade of raven, instead of the silver steel pigment that I was familiar with. And that white jacket --- he was wearing that when I met him, too. Wait. This fact slapped me to reality. I pondered for a while and realized that Lyndon was the tall guy I saw blocking Octavius while Phillippe was running away with me and Garnet. Yes. He was wearing that white jacket that time, too…

 

“Can I help you with anything? Amazona?”

 

Astonishingly, Lyndon’s face peeked from behind my shoulders just as I was reaching out to examine the photograph more closely. I straightened up in an instant and blushed in discomfiture when I reeled around to face him. He was wearing a roguish smile, and so I stiffly shook my head.

 

 

“Uh, no. Not really.” I swallowed. “Just q-quit calling me amazona. I prefer my normal name.”

 

Lyndon eyed his own image enclosed in the frame behind me, then grinned. I just couldn’t imagine what he might be thinking.

 

“Nosy amazona.” he uttered with a chuckle, which made me blush more. When I opened my mouth to protest, he placed one finger upon my lips and shook his head complacently. “I had breakfast prepared for you. You can admire me later.”

 

I sneered and tried to pull back as he grabbed my hand and began dragging me out of his bedroom, but he only pulled harder in amusement. “You’re a rebellious one, aren’t you? We’ll see how far you’ll get with that.” After a short radiant laugh, he lifted me from the floor and thrust himself down the stairs while I hung on his back. I clutched his hair in terror and screamed.