searching for a fallen star

Chapter 10: Fallen stars tonight

I know that I should feel shock at the revelation that Oliver was somehow involved in a fire that almost killed me and my father. I should feel disgust at the fact that he assisted my mother in initiating an incident so dreadful that my mind locked me away from any recollections of it until now.

Yet I don't. I just feel numb, numb with sadness. Because, for a moment, I actually thought him to be a fairly decent guy, my second chance, my second shot at a better life... but it turns out that he's just as fucked-up as the rest of us. 

My wicked mother is watching me expectantly, wearing this triumphant look in her eyes, like she's waiting for me to break down, but I don't give her that satisfaction. And I think that maybe if I don't look broken on the outside, I won't feel so broken on the inside. 

The previously cryptic message is suddenly clear: 'Strike one, buddy - we burn, you burn with us.'

If Oliver is the 'fire-lover' my mother claims him to be, then he must have other arsonist buddies, and perhaps, he has recently angered those so-called 'buddies'. I cross my arms. Serves him right to be mixing with the wrong crowd in the first place. And a sadist part of me thinks that maybe he deserves to get a taste of own medicine. Maybe, he deserves to be burned.

I have always detested fire, but right now, I do not try to smother the fire that's burning within me. I stare defiantly at my mother, my stance firm and strong, and I've never felt more alive. My mother scowls back, the triumphant gleam in her eyes slowly dwindling to a cold, hollow black. 

The door suddenly opens, and Elizabeth pops her head in. Elizabeth's appearance has an immediate effect on my mother, and it's almost astounding to watch just how quickly her scrowl transforms into the polite smile, and just how rapidly the coldness in her eyes is replaced by warmth. 

Nonetheless, Elizabeth seems to feel the tension in the air as she glances uneasily at me and my mother. My suspicions are proven correct when she asks, "Is everything alright in here?"

"Why, of course." My mother gives Elizabeth a sickly smile. "Everything's just fine."

Elizabeth looks to me for confirmation. Of course nothing's alright, I want to shout. Nothing's been alright for a very, very long time. But I don't want to worry Elizabeth or involve her in my fucked-up past, so I end up giving her a stiff nod.

Elizabeth casts me an unconvinced look, but she doesn't press the matter. Instead, she says, "I just came in to tell you guys that visiting hours are almost over."

Is it night already? I didn't even realise. I thank Elizabeth and my mother just smiles sweetly at her. Elizabeth exits the room again, closing the door softly behind her. 

There's no point talking to my mother anymore. Any hope that she will try being a proper mother this time has vanished, and I know it is pitiful of me to even hold onto a single thread of hope in the first place.

I pull at my jacket, sheltering my hands in the pockets, and turn to leave. I don't think I will be visiting Oliver anymore. 

I am just about to open the door when my mother says, "You know, it's a real pity that you're the one who survived."

I spin around to face her, hot anger stampeding through me. "Are you fucking serious?" My fingers are shaking in vehemence, and I want to strangle her. "Like I give a damn! Why would I even care about what you think?" I spit out. "You are no mother of mine."

She does not appear even slightly affected by my words. "I always preferred your father more," she says. 

At those words, I grow slightly confused. My father is not dead, yet her words seem to imply otherwise. I don't correct her error.

I pull open the door, and stalk out, but even as I leave my mother, I cannot leave her words behind.

When I was younger, still an innocent child not yet exposed to the cruelty of the world and not yet able to comprehend the cruelty of my mother, all I ever wanted was to find was a fallen star, my fallen star, so that I could mend it back to health. But now that I'm surrounded by fallen stars, I realise that fallen stars are really just fallen bodies - corpses that cannot be brought back to life - and that I myself am a fallen star too.

How can I heal, I ask my imaginary younger self, when I am broken myself?

The entrance doors slide open as I approach it, and when I step out, a sudden cold breeze bites into my cheeks, and my eyes water a little. I welcome the sting. It diverts my attention from the sting in my heart.

I'm walking to my old, battered car, spinning my car keys around my finger, when a sense of foreboding overcomes my senses. I stop and glance around. The parking lot is empty, save a few cars and a couple of abandoned trolleys. My spine continues to tingle in apprehension. I glance around again, but still, no one.

Then why do I feel like someone is following me?

I reach my car and hurriedly unlock it, my fingers trembling as I grasp the door handle and pull it open. I fall into the driver's seat, and let out a breath I do not even realise I was holding. 

Sliding the key into the ignition -

"Don't scream." 

What - ?

I open my mouth to scream, but a gloved hand covers my lips and silences me. 

"Please." came the young, gruff voice.

I have a sudden urge to laugh. My kidnapper has manners.

"If I take my hand off, are you going to start screaming again?"

If I didn't know any better, I would think that I detected a tone of polite nervousness in his voice. I shake my head vigorously, planning this whole time that when he takes his hand off, I will start screaming. The car park seemed deserted before I entered the car, but if I'm lucky, a passerby may hear me. 

I hear the intruder sigh in exasperation. "You're gonna start screaming, aren't you?"

Plan thwarted.

I feel his other hand reach over my head and tilt the rear mirror. Then, he turns on the car light. My eyes widen. What is he doing? I struggle against his hold, to no avail.

"Look." he says into my ear, and he gestures to the rear mirror.

For a moment,  I consider not looking, just for the sake of defying his demands. Then I realise that this may not be the wisest of decisions. But since I'm just not one for obedience, I purposely turn my head down so that my eyes are as far away from the rear mirror as possible.

"Stubborn as always," the kidnapper tuts and laughs a deep, resonant laugh. 

My breath catches. Wait a second...

I know that laugh.

Could... could it be?

This time, I willingly turn to look.

The light is dull and flickering, so it's difficult to make out his face. A pair of blue, stormy eyes stare back at me, and they are the type of eyes you do not forget easily.

I have not forgotten.

He removes his hand from my mouth, and I finally let out the gasp of surprise I've been forced to hold onto.

"Nathaniel?"

He grumbles. "Only my grandmother calls me that. It's Nash." He spells it out for me. "Seriously Anna, how many times do I have to tell you that I don't like being called 'Nathaniel'?"

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Nash is back!!

If you don't remember who he is, re-read the flashbacks in Chapter 5: To run or to stay and Chapter 7: Falling - he is Anna's childhood friend whom she met at the bridge by the lake.

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