Gone Rogue original not to be finished

Chapter Eleven

I heard the car start up loudly as I closed the front door. My lips tingled, and I realized unless there was something Dimitri hadn't told me, that was both of our first kisses. And second.

When I reached the window, he was barely a speck in the vastness that was Armegeddon. The sun was just coming up, a lighter circle on the horizon. I sighed, and went to make a cup of coffee, before sitting down at the table facing the window.

"So he's gone?" an elderly voice said from behind me. I started, and turned to see my father, so tall his head almost reached the ceiling. His blue-gray eyes sparkled in the little light, but I could see they were conflicted. In the beginning, he had liked Dimitri, saying the beat-up six-year-old was a fighter, and lucky to be alive after everything he had been through. He knew that Dimitri's eye had been operated on, and when Dimitri refused to open that eye he knew there was something off about this kid.

But all that had changed ten years later, after we had left my father with his mother, to take on the world. You know, I was surprised that Dimitri had messed up that detail. That was the detail that opened a new chapter in our lives. But anyway, after Dimitri killed that man, he went into shock. For a week, he would hardly get of bed after we had retreated to my grandmother's house. Our explanation was that he had watched a man kill the man that Dimitri had killed. That was when the name Rogue had been coined, because Dimitri was about to start in the military.

"Yeah," I replied, tiredly, putting a hand on my forehead. "I swear, he'll be the death of me."

My father pulled out a chair and sat beside me. "If I may ask, why does the house smell like lighter fluid?" I froze, and instantly tears began to pour from my eyes. I put my head down on the cool table, and felt my dad's hand on my back, and heard him saying comforting things.

"Why does he have to be like this? Why can't he just be normal?" I sobbed, sitting back up and wiping my eyes. "Dad, I've had a crush on him for as long as I've known him! And now he's just completely insane, a murderer, and he was planning on burning down the house! He's insane! I don't want to be anywhere near him, but I can't stand to be without him. Dad, this is just so confusing."

My dad put an arm around my shoulders, and I realized that he knew everything. He knew about Dimitri and I, he knew what Dimitri was, he knew what I was, and he knew about the kiss-kisses--last night.

"Dad, I need to tell you something," I admitted, standing up and wiping my eyes. "I have a tattoo."

He looked taken aback, probably expecting something bigger. "What is it?"

I took a deep breath. "Remember when Dimitri and I were kids? He was thirteen, and I was twelve? And he stole those four guns?"

"I thought he bought them."

"No, he stole them from a store. The black one, the silver one, and the two white ones. And he gave me the white ones. So all three of us had two guns. Because before, I didn't have a gun. And he worried about that."

"So what's the point of you telling me this?"

I pulled up my shirt a few inches, turning around. On the left side of my back, a few inches above my pants, was a large tattoo of two hands holding two revolvers. One black, one white. The white revolver was held by a smaller, paler hand, while the black one was held by a dark, calloused hand. Obviously Dimitri and I's hands, and our guns. Dimitri had a matching tattoo, but on the right side of his back. We had gotten them the day I turned eighteen, May 16th.

His eyes grew wide. "Does he have the same tattoo?" he asked, as I let go of my shirt and sat back down.

"Yes. Just on the other side of his back," I said, nodding sadly. "That's the one physical feature not on the wanted posters, so that's what we use to prove we're not outlaws. That and Dimitri's eye."

My father put his hand on his forehead. "Are you just telling me this because you never told me about it?" he asked, looking up. He was frowning, and his eyes still looked like the blue and the gray were fighting.

"Yeah. I just... had to tell you," I answered, looking down again.

There was a shuffling sound at the door. "Where's Dimi? He's not in his room," Amelia said sleepily. She stood in the doorway, her hair in a crazy ponytail.

My father looked at me. I sighed, and got up, going over to the girl. "Dimi's not going to be with us for a while," I explained. "He left this morning. Really early."

Amelia's face turned to anger. "Dammit! That asshole!" she yelled, and my cheeks went red.

"Amelia!" I yelled, straightening my back so I towered over her by a few inches. Thank you, Dad, for giving me my height. "Dimitri is not an asshole, and he never will be!" I was fuming, my fists clenched, my neck hair standing on end.

Amelia took a step, so we were almost nose to nose. "Yes he is! He left us here! Nicholas idolizes him; Why didn't he stay for Nicholas? Huh? Why!" she cried, and I saw tears. We were both about to spill.

"Because he's doing what's best! Nicholas shouldn't be idolizing him, he should be fearing him!"

"Why?"

"Because he's a monster!" I screamed, and sunk to my knees. Amelia was crying too, and she fell beside me, her hands on her face. I put my arms around her, pulled her to me, and felt my dad do the same. Then Nicholas ran down the steps, saw us crying, and began to cry himself. We huddled on the floor, my dad the only one not crying, until Amelia wiped her eyes and stood up. The rest of us soon followed, but Nicholas took a bit of coaxing.

Amelia sniffled, and wiped her eyes again. "We need to find him. What is he goes insane again? He could take out an entire town," she urged, looking at me. I looked away, then back, then at Nicholas, who was sniffling and trying to stop the tears.

"We do. He's probably a hundred miles away by now, but we have to try. He's probably going to Look Out, that's the direction he started in, and he loves that town," I explained, racking my brain. "We could take your old bike, dad. That thing can go like one-fifty, right?"

He nodded, and put a hand on Nicholas' shoulder. "Nicholas, I want you to stay with me. Amelia, go with Lily. She knows what she's doing. I taught her how to drive that bike when she was ten, and Dimitri too. Don't show off. Just get Dimitri."

I took a deep breath, and smiled. "I missed driving the bike. Cars are fun, but not as fun. C'mon, Amelia, the keys are in my room." I began up the stairs, walking as light as I could up to my room, where I took the key ring from my nightstand. Amelia had followed me, and looked around. My room was turquoise blue, and the wall across from my door was a window, thick glass with white drapes on either side. The bed was white, with a single black pillow, and the other two pillows were lighter than the walls. I pulled my coat on, remembering how Dimitri had worn it, and took a deep breath, hoping that maybe it still smelled like him, dirty and dusty but not gross. Kind of like the way mud smells, but better. But it wasn't lingering.

Walking out of the room, I heard Amelia follow me, and I took the garage door to find the black motorcycle that was my dad's, before he got his license taken away. It was funny, how both Dimitri and I had our licenses. And they hadn't been voided or anything.

"Here, put this on," I instructed, handing Amelia a helmet and putting my own on. Both were black, the same black as the motorcycle. Dimitri's favorite color.

The door opened again, and the boys stepped into the garage. "Be careful, okay?" my dad begged, his eyes worried.

I smiled, straddling the bike. Amelia followed, awkwardly putting her hands on my waist. "I'll be fine! I drove this crazy old thing six years before it was legal. And I was good at it too. Don't worry." I felt like I was reassuring myself too, but before I could worry too much I punched the garage door opener and shot straight to one-fifty, almost hitting my head on the door.