The Indigo Children

Get yourself together.

I drove and drove, passing the unfamiliar road into colourful rows of cafes and shops. Going to the outskirts of town was never a bad thing, in fact, it can make you feel calmer.

Calmer my ass.

After the incident four hours ago, I directly zoomed out of the small city of Old Holland and out to the countryside road with conifer trees sprouting out everywhere at the side of the road. I knew that if I had stayed inside of town, Felora and Sarah would easily find me.

Because what's bad this moment was for them to be pathetic and ask for my forgiveness. Forgiveness-- the last thing I wanted to give right now. Call me crazy but hey-- you don't get scars on your face just like that, right? Well, I did. Bummer. The edge of my dress shirt sleeve was already stained with big, fat blotches of effect out of a stupid misunderstanding.

I had thrown my uniform blazer out the window of my car out of anger and menace. Practically disposing my own tool for keeping my torso warm if I ever decide to sleep at the side of the road-- in case I choose to hide away and be a nomad. In my car, of course.

Great. Now I needed new clothes. I kept tons of spare clothes back at my locker, but surely at times like this I can't bring myself to face a mass battalion of students searching for an ombre haired girl with a scar of war on the side of her face at the command of two very demanding seniors.

I kind of feel like betrayed. Scratch that, I really do feel betrayed. Stupid, reckless, groundless, idiotic weren't even the closest to suitable words to sum up my friends'-- I'm kind of doubting that status right now-- actions towards me. Even when it was unintentional. What happened four hours ago did not help a bit with my oversized ego.

It made it worse, in fact. When I realized I was very hungry after a sign from God that my stomach made an inhuman growl and shake the insides as if dancing the macarena, my car halted to a stop in front of a quarter empty Italian restaurant. I was a good car parker, to point out-- Pro is my middle name.

Anyways, I got out of the car and locked it, aiming for the dimly lit restaurant since it was nearing sunset. I felt disgusting and soggy once I stepped inside, the smell of cooked bread and spices wafted around me, contrasting with the sweaty and bloodied scent of my own.

But I didn't really smell that bad to others unless they sit right next to me with his or her side pressed against mine. In simpler words, squish. That just made everything complicated. I took the empty seat at the corner of the restaurant, beside the window so that I could keep an eye at my car, bottles of minimum spices in the middle of the round table.

Now my stomach was dancing a wild K-Pop choreography having to imagine a big pan of freshly baked pizza. How awesome! An old lady came up to me, her wrinkles starting to crease her paling face as she smiled at me with a small memo pad in her hands. I smiled back.

But her smile soon dissipated after seeing me wince with the streaking pain on my cheek. "Hello, beautiful child," She greeted, standing directly in front of my table. Okay, so beautiful child sounds a thousand times more creepy if being said by an old lady who is probably a vampire behind her humanly facade. This restaurant is kind of dimly lit, too.

Oh my God, there's a possibility! A nervous and shaky chuckle left my lips as I saw her eyes widen at the sight of the cut on my cheek up close, and suddenly, she leaned forwards, taking my face in her grasp. She clicked her tongue and shook her head as if it was the worst thing in the whole world.

Her glossy, pale green eyes flickered to where I sat rigidly and awkwardly, finding the position with the lady quite weird.

"Whose ring did this?" She asked after releasing me, but never leaving the worried frown on her face.