Etched

Chapter 10

I clasp my hand tightly on my mouth, my eyes tearing up, unable to hold in anymore of the felicity. My gaze frantically darts across the corridor, haphazardly taking everything in, observing every minimalistic abnormality latching, altering the previously clear place. My eyes catch contact with the masterpiece I've unconsciously and consciously made.

The nauseating crimson color paints the floor, clotting in a few places, making it even more intolerable and gag invoking. Shattered glasses, broken wooden pieces are battered and littered in the corners near the skirting, almost resembling a charring chaos. The scenario in the presence giving the impression of a bonfire, a bonfire of blood. Splinters of devastated objects lie the entire length of the passage, dripping down the stair cases.

A surprise shriek escapes my mouth at the sight of a vase crashing, its pieces flying around, far away from each other, far away from where they'd been, close to each other. Like they never wished to be together. Like they had wanted to go even farther from themselves, as far as they could reach. The fragments scattering in all dimensions, turning the scenery even more gruesome.

Red soaked cloth laying in numerous heaps as distributed as it could be. A few drops of crimson dribble down the door knob, staining the handle in the process and leaving its trace as it slides down the door.

I clutch my stomach to ease the swirls of blitheness, all the while keeping in mind the importance to be utterly attentive and discreet. My hands freeze halfway from where they were trying to alter the work in hand when a sound reaches my ears.

I dash and hide when I sense figures approaching, hissing as to signal the other to go out of the intruder's side. A blood curdling yell escapes past his mouth, followed by a gasp.

"Ahhhhhhh.... What on-! No, shit! I don't know... I did not do thi- Ahh! What the actual... What? I- I..." yells Ken's voice while I clench my eyes shut, gulping in the bubbling laughter that is promising to break through.

My eyes make contact with Cassie's shining ones, her face ecstatic as she is finds it hard to not laugh out loud either. Her hands cup her mouth while she hunches over her stomach and tears slip out of her eyes.

"Calm down. Would you?" yells a familiar deep husky voice that sends shiver down my spine and wipes away all traces of the previous humor. The environment that was overjoying me now crashed over my mood.

Why is he here? Why is angry bird here? My questioning eyes shoot over at Cassie's, who's face in turn becomes pale, almost ashen. Brown eyes wide as she shakes her head in a gesture that she knows nothing about his presence. I mouth the word 'angry bird' but she remains confused, before realization dawns on me that Cassie hasn't seen AB in person. Sure, she had heard the tales about my collisions and battles with AB by myself but she doesn't exactly know who he is, or what his real name must be. I don't know his real name either but that's the talk of some other time.  I think it's impossible to work in White GOI New York headquarter and not see him because that man is usually -by usually I mean always- around when I decide to leave my department, or maybe coincidence has some really bad timing and strange taste in entertainment, making me crossways with him almost always.

Truth be told, even if Cassie had run in him or seen him anywhere, she would never recognize him by my descriptions. Well, partly because they aren't really explanatory because I'd always kept mentioning his ego, his eyes and attitude. So, I wouldn't blame her if she dodges him unknowingly.

But those things -especially his eyes- say a lot, don't they? Unless you haven't seen him up close.

I haven't seen him in around two weeks. Safe to say, I've been on medical leave since the past two weeks due to the slow recovery of my poor foot injury, which was worsened by my torment on it multiple times. May I add.