Darker Days Downward

CHAPTER THREE - First Blood

“She saw how magnificent the shadows played across his face – everything seemed so perfect that she was not quite convinced he was really right beside her.”

The following day turned out to be faster than expected. The sky was crystal clear with the enormous sun employing majesty over the whole school grounds. There was a slight breeze blowing some olives across the compound, with noise from chattering students who were obviously anticipating the Freshmen Kick-off party later that evening. The whole campus was in unison – everyone just pleasing their professors to discourage them from giving off extra projects in lieu of the party.

Belle got three classes for that day. French class in the morning and a back-to-back session with Physics and Analytical Geometry for the rest of the afternoon. Though she found it hard to pay full attention to the lessons, owing to the fact that her mind was completely occupied with other matters that would round up to a single word – Cythare.

She was more drowned in anticipation of Cythare’s whereabouts rather than the kick-off party which she could hear from Flannery all of the time. Her hopes were high about seeing Cythare that day; she even left off early to the academics building just so she could spot him and have a chance to talk to him before the classes would start. But she unfortunately had nothing pleasant coming on her, not even a shadow of his that day.

After the encounter with Cythare yesterday, she went off to Ponzo’s Grill to have dinner with Flannery. She was initially debating whether she should tell her of what she had experienced that day at the graveyard – finding an abandoned training facility, having a near death encounter with a still unidentified animal, seeing Cythare all of a sudden and disappearing afterwards leaving her alone in the woods. But she later on dismissed the idea after seeing her brother getting into a fit with the grill owner. She quickly rushed to Bret’s aid and apologized to the grill’s owner before dragging him out of the place.

They went home at around 9 PM. Their Aunt Natalie was already phoned about the incident and they had to endure 2 hours of guardian talk; trying just enough to pierce through Bret’s hard-headedness. It was around midnight that she finally had time to go off to her bedroom but she swore she could hear Aunt Natalie silently sobbing by the living room.

She was starving – craving more of Cythare. She spent almost hours seating by the window and staring at the neighboring houses at their block – as lights turned off from time to time. She could still see the beautiful piercing eyes of his in her mind. It was as if communicating to her – a sense of danger from those wicked stare. She looked at her arm which was now clean; her fingers playing across the scratch she got from her fall in the woods and wondered whether Cythare was really uneasy at the sight of blood. She remembered she was too, when she was still a child – she was even scared of seeing the doctor for check ups.

She was awakened the next day by her need to see Cythare again. Though she had warned herself of the tendency of turning very much obsessed with a complete stranger – but who could resist him. She had remembered even how the other girls from school would stare at him and thought that she was even lucky to have a private moment with Cythare yesterday in the woods – although the timing and place was not at all pleasant.

She had spent the whole of that day on a lookout for Cythare with her eyes scanning the school grounds every now and then, relying on Cythare’s exuberant aura to draw her eyes from the massive crowd of students but to no avail. Her yearning had turned into frustration and disappointment as the day finally drew to a close, now relying to the sole hope of spotting him at the kick-off party later.

Belle once again found herself staring at a pair of hazel eyes. She combed her hair gently while trying to peek at the wall clock’s reflection from her bedroom mirror. Fifteen minutes to Ten . . . the party starts at ten p.m. – we’re running late. She quickly placed her hairbrush on the desk and stepped backward from the mirror, having one last glance over her look. She was wearing a white tank top and fitted jeans. Perfect.