Blood Type-O

Chapter 10: Another P word is Past

I glared at father and I made sure to bore holes well into his back. To say that I was angry was like saying a thunderstorm only brings a little chaos. Both were understatements. Father paced back in forth in the tiny medical room they had ushered me and the boy off to. He had refused to let go of my hand and even in unconsciousness his grip was a lot stronger than a vise. So he laid on a large metal table while a kind nurse clad in lab coat gave  me a small chair. All the nurses and soldiers that had originally stormed the area where I had fallen were standing outside or reporting back to their superiors. They had their glossy black helmets on so I couldn't see their expressions.

"You better tell me what the hell is going on," I said making my voice dangerously low. I had lost whatever little bit of decorum  I had left. it was all gone and replaced by this angry energy that I needed to be expelled. Yelling at my father was the only outlet I had and he deserved everything. After all he threw down a hole to some freaky underground room. Into the vicious hands of a possibly feral Rabid. But obviously this boy that lay on the table wasn't feral. In fact he seemed sick.

"Many many many wonderful things but, do keep your voice down dear," Father said mid-pace. He seemed to be deep in thought about something and couldn't be bothered by his nearly traumatized daughter. Well this time I wasn't going to be some fly he could easily swat away.

"Well you better start talking. It seems like we have a rather long wait anyways," I said. The guards still stationed outside the door looked like stone statues. They weren't moving anytime soon.

"Mmmmh, I can't do that- been sworn to secrecy on most points but I can tell you that I was correct in my little hypothesis," father said chuckling like I had just told him a joke.

"Seriously. You pushed me down a hole and had me in a room with a Rabid and this is what you have to say? That's not good enough!"

"Violet," Father said using his most stern voice, "now is not the time to question me."

"Really than when will be the right time? Obviously the answer is never." I let out a huffed breath. I was tired, confused and enraged. It seemed like my anger couldn't be quenched. No matter how much I argued with my father he just brushed me off.  I felt a slight squeeze of my hand. The boy on the table was still unconscious but his grip was even tighter. Somehow it felt right. I shoved that thought to the very back of my mind. He's a Rabid and dangerous.

"Stanley Blackwell your needed in the Screen room... Now," called a soldier from the door. Father a gave slight nod but when the guard turned his back he was smiling like rooster that all the hens adored.

"I've got to go. Great things will be coming our way dear Violet." With that he walked out of the room still grinning like an idiot.

Father was something else all together. Asshole seemed to be an appropriate word. After all he tossed his daughter in with a rabid that could have been Feral. Only scum would do that and Father fit the description. I wondered if he ever really cared about me to begin with. If I weren't so angry and fuming I could think logically about this.

"Well I guess that leaves you and me," I said talking to the sleeping boy. I looked at the steady rising and falling of his muscled chest. He wasn't a man yet but wasn't a boy. I brushed a strand of inky hair away from his forehead. If he weren't a rabid I'm sure girls would have swooned over him. Heck I probably would have. Did I? That day when I got into the accident with a rabid I played hopscotch with this boy. Maybe he knows something about that day. Maybe he could tell me.

I stared at the white walls that seemed to be closing in   with each passing minute. Just when i'm sure the walls had moved a good three feet a hand crushed mine. The boy had woken up. He hadn't moved an inch but stared straight up at the ceiling. He was so still I thought that maybe he had died and rigor mortis set in. Only when his eyes snapped to my staring did I realize he was alive. A slight smirk crossed his features like he was enjoying this. If it weren't such a bizarre situation an eye roll would be appropriate.

"It's been awhile," he said still staring off at the ceiling his grip still tight.

"Who are you?" I asked my eyes narrowing at him. He was a awake and I was alone with him accept for the guards but they wouldn't be fast enough if he tried anything.

"You don't remember me do you?"

I shook my head. I didn't know him. I had played hopscotch with him when I was younger on the day of my accident. But I didn't know his name or just who he was.

"I played hopscotch with you," I quipped. That earned me a laugh and a pitying look from his deep sea weed colored eyes. Something deeper and angry crossed his feature but it darted away before I could read it.

"Yeah. Anything else," he asked as if expecting me to say something more. Something that would give me a life altering realization. I tried really hard to think back to that day. It earned me an earthquake of a headache. A cool hand brushed against my forehead. My head still ached but it was receding quicker. "It's okay. Your okay." He released my hand and pulled me so my head was flush against his chest. one of his hands gently stroked my hair. I blushed at the close proximity. Never had I been this close to a guy, let alone a rabid.

"I'm sorry I can't remember you. But if you know something about me. About that accident I was in please, please tell me." I felt a hot tear trail down my cheek and onto his chest. one after another until I was letting a river run down my cheeks in front of a guy I couldn't remember and barely knew.

" I had been taken when I was born. I grew up in a lab in the inner ring. But somehow I managed to escape. They sounded the alarm and I ran. Into you," he said a sad smile in his voice. It was nice to listen to, almost calming. The headaches had almost disappeared.

"So. After that?" I wanted to know what happened that day. Now I was sure he could tell me what happened why I lost my memories why I can't remember anything more than hopscotch or him.

"You approached me in an empty school yard and smiled. You asked me to play hopscotch and so we did. By the third round I was laughing so much. I think up until that point I hadn't laughed at all. It was so nice... just to have that one nice memory..." I looked up at him. He was staring at me with such a far away look in his eyes. Like he was enjoying that nice memory and with such tenderness in his voice like the memory would shatter if he spoke louder. I sighed and inhaledd his scent. It smelled of chemicals and detergent soap.

"Violet BlackWell?"

The soldiers voice startled me. I tried to pull away but the boy still held my head against his chest. A guttural growl eminated deep in his chest. I moved my hand to his wrist. He had stopped growling but conflicting emotions crossed his face.

"There it is men. What did I tell you. My dear Violet has a gift. One I intend to use for the betterment of our fellow man," pipped in father. He stuck his head out from the heavily armed soldier.  "Now violet you and I have things to talk about. Come come."

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I Have some fantastic news. Type-O or Blood Type- O has been ranked 450 in the mute genre category. I'd like to thank everyone who's been reading this story so far. I apologize for how slow it began but things should be picking up soon. After all she met someone from her past. Sparks are bound  to fly. Keep reading to find out.

Love,

Rosie xoxoxox :)

P.S. If you like this book please share and vote or comment and let me know how I'm doing.