In My Hands, Know Suffering

29: Run Away and Never Return

Dumbfounded. It was a word close to describing another way of being in a state of surprise. Being dumbfounded, in a sense, made a person rather...'dumb,' or so they say. It made someone unable to think straight, at least temporarily, while the person thought of a way out of the mental block. When coffee haven't yet ignited the nervous system, an employee would feel dumbfounded while staring at the papers piled on the desk, unable to comprehend where to start from what to do.

Castellone was dumbfounded. He didn't know where, in the situation he was in, was he supposed to even start. He stared at the opened door of his room where Abrielle just exited. Should he go after her? How would she react once he sees him? Would everything be alright if he tried to explain? He doubted, again, the answer was a great big 'No.' To hell with it.

He quickly put on a shirt and grabbed a jacket before chasing after Abrielle. Frantic, he looked in every direction of the dormitory's front lobby but only saw some fellow students. He wasted no time and dashed towards the yard, it was lit with the outdoor lamps. His eyes quickly scanning the area. He was already panting knowing he had to find Abrielle somehow.

His gaze dropped to the one small figure who was trying to make her way back to their own dormitory without being noticed by the others who were retiring after the night classes. She was walking along the darkened area of the arcade. A hand was clutching her torn shirt closer to her chest and another hand was against the wall to support herself while walking feebly. He noticed the way her legs were about to buckle anytime. She was having a hard and slow time walking.

He immediately went to her, but the minute he got close, her legs gave in, betraying her. Making her fall forward disgracefully. He caught her by the shoulder and assisted her. Unfortunately, it would appear like Abrielle saw something horrific when their gazes met. The minute she saw him, she pushed his hands away while looking bitterly at him. Her tears hadn't stopped flowing, they still streamed down. Her eyes were searching, trying to avoid him. He can clearly see the hurt in her golden eyes. It was hard to ignore her white shirt, stained with the blood that flowed off her injuries.

"Abrielle..." Sure, he didn't know how to talk himself out of what he just did. Of what Specter did. But he had to try, he had to. "Abrielle, let me explain."

Abrielle stepped away and eyed him with abhorrence. "Go away." She said softly and took another step backward in such a terrified measure. She didn't want to be anywhere near him.

For every step she took away, Castellone stepped towards her. "Abrielle, listen to me, that wasn't me-"

"I don't care, just get away from me, and don't you dare come any closer." Her voice cracked and her lips shivered while clutching her shirt even closer, gripping it against her chest like he was about to pounce at her anytime. She took another step away. She portrayed fright in every movement. She really hated how she appeared weak. No one had ever done that to her. She was repulsed.

Castellone zipped his lips and closed their distance before immediately placing his jacket around her, sealing the first button so it won't slip off her. He had to at least cover her even though she tried to push him away and trembled when she felt his fingers touch her skin. She couldn't believe what just happened, and so did he.

He raised his hands in surrender telling her he meant no harm while he took a step away from her safe zone. "That wasn't me, Abrielle, believe me."

"Stay away from me." She whispered, a sob betraying her voice and quivering lips. She turned away to leave in such a weakened state.

Castellone stood still as she slowly headed away from him. He just watched, unblinking, until she was no longer in sight. He swallowed at the guilt of what his companion had done. He knew Specter didn't have a conscience like what humans had. He was selfish and took the pleasure of inflicting pain to the living. He was nuisance. To him, and to the lives of others. He put him in a state of a living hell. He clenched his fists as frustration was slowly building up, swallowing him, and overriding all other state of virtues.