p e n u m b r a (discontinued)

Chapter 9: Secrecy Smoke

~Katrina~

Sweet scents still fill my lungs with every happy breath. I smile silently to myself and unconsciously reach out my fingers to the other side of the bed. I imagined my fingers touching warm skin. My fingers trailing up and down her arms, stroking her midnight hair, caressing her soft white skin. But instead, my fingertips kissed the fabric of the sheets. They search for any source of life, but they feel nothing. My eyes flutter open. There is a gentle light splashing through the window, and laying itself down to the empty sheets next to me. Was it all a dream?

I sit up on my bed and look around the room groggily until my eyes land on Jolie. My eyes grow wide, it wasn't a dream. I open my mouth to speak and suddenly she places her finger to her lips, signalling me to be quiet. Then she points to the clock. It's 5:59 right now. It take time for me to piece the whole thing together, but I eventually understand. 6 o' clock is when all the doors unlock, including Jo's. As soon as the clock strikes 6, Jo will make a mad dash for her dorm before Maya and Scarlette wake up. Smart girl. I look back at her and she waves goodbye to me. But before I get a chance to wave back,

RIIIIIING RIIIIIIIIING

It's 6 o'clock. In this very instant, the alarm clock rings, the doors unlock, and as quick as a thief, Jo silently slips out the door. It's as if she was but a fleeting dream, lost with the sacred seconds of time.

"Ugh is it morning already?" Maya groans.

"No, the sun popped up to tell us goodnight." Scarlette says sarcastically while rubbing her eyes.

"Shut up."

I slowly lay back into bed despite my mourning routine. I decide to take at least ten more minutes of sleep. And even if I don't find the comfort of slumber, the ten minutes is ever-so-sweet. After all, the scent of apples and mystery still lingers between the sheets.

***

~Jolie~

My back lays against the hard wooden door, and I breath sad breaths of air. I don't think I'm gonna go to class today. I'll stay here with you, Clarity. My light footsteps make the floor creak, but it doesn't matter. I live alone, so I don't have to worry about waking roommates. I flick the light switch but the light bulb barely illuminates the room. It's dim, and it flickers on and off sometimes. I always wondered if it was really bad circuitry, or maybe Clarity is possessing the room.

My phone beeps and I see a text message from my brother in Mercivian.

Rosah Gurn ki Zoe, Posii laviin ju Merc. Masac fu tenes. Matak.

-Jasper

In other words "You need to talk to Zoe, Meet us by the Merc. It's important. Later." I ignore it, now is not the time for that.

My room is small, and the ceiling is low. But it feels like a mansion compared to my many other homes. I can decorate here too. The walls are painted with posters of bands. Green Day, Nirvana, The Beastie Boys, Arctic Monkeys, Three Days Grace, A Day To Remember... I never liked female bands. I think they all suck... Girls suck, yet I can't stop liking them. Isn't that weird, Clarity? I always like to cut out magazines and tape pictures of bikini and Victoria Secret models. I stare at their thin and intricate bodies, examining their features. You could have been a model Clarity, I know how much you liked being the center of attention. After all, I have a special wall of pictures just for you.

I loved your face, it's so much prettier then mine. But I hate the way you liked to decorate your face with so much junk. You used to pinch your damn face with a bunch of piercings. On you nose, on you eye brow, on your cheek on your lips, on you chin... sometimes you pierced all of those places at once. I loved your smooth white skin, but I hate it when you used make-up. I can paint my entire room with the shit you painted your face with. And there was never any color. You only wore black lipstick and black or grey eye make-up. Not that I'm one to talk though. Color makes me feel uncomfortable. I loved your hair. God it was long, it reached your knees. I remember how you dyed it white so often. People would tell me stories about how they called you Rapunzel since you used to be blond. I wonder what that would look like. I bet you were beautiful.