Poisoned Rose

Chapter 6: Fate's law and will

Chapter 6:

The next few days flew by into weeks. But there seemed to be something wrong with all of it.  

I hadn't met Derek since the incident in the cemetery or the day he yelled at me for still being at RBVU.

I was expecting to at least run into him since he knew who I was now, but he was nowhere to be found or seen. He faded away like a ghost and at the end of it all; I knew what his motive was behind his absence around me since I had been the one to draw the line between us. But, I seemed to be waiting for him every day, feeling my own anger grow from the frustration of not seeing him.

And the worst part was? Nothing is random, nor will anything ever be, whether a long string of perfectly blue days that began and ended in golden dimness, the most seemingly chaotic political acts that hungered secretly, the rise of a great town, the crystalline structure of a gem that has never been seen other than being a small town along the coast, the distributions of fortune, what time the milkman gets up, the position of the electron, or the occurrence of one astonishing summer after the other. Even electrons, supposedly the paragons of unpredictability, are tame and obsequious little creatures that rush around at the speed of light, going precisely where they are supposed to go. They make faint whistling sounds that when apprehended in varying combinations are as pleasant as the warm wind flying through a forest, and they do exactly as they are told. Of this, one is certain.

And yet, there is a wonderful anarchy, in that the milkman chooses when to arise, the rat picks the tunnel into which he will dive when the red vintage train comes rushing down the track from Borough Hall, and the sun will continue to shine. How can this be? If nothing is random, and everything is predetermined, how can there be free will? The answer to that is simple. Nothing is predetermined, it is determined, or was determined, or will be determined by fate's clock.  

No matter, it all happened at once, in less than an instant, and time was invented because we cannot comprehend in one glance the enormous and detailed canvas that we have been given - so we track it, in linear fashion piece by piece.

Time however can be easily overcome; not by chasing the light, but by standing back far enough to see it all at once. The universe is still and complete. Everything that ever was is; everything that ever will be is - and so on, in all possible combinations. Though in perceiving it we image that it is in motion, and unfinished, it is quite finished and quite astonishingly beautiful.

In the end, or rather, as things really are, any event, no matter how small, is intimately and sensibly tied to all others. All rivers run full to the sea; those who are apart are brought together; the lost ones are redeemed; the dead come back to life; the perfectly blue days that have begun and ended in golden dimness continue, immobile and accessible; and, when all is perceived in such a way as to obviate time, justice becomes apparent not as something that will be, but something that is.

The mere fact remained that me and Derek both belonged.

So even if we choose to ignore one another, fate would always find a way...

It wasn't until one night; my eyes flew open at a sudden crashing sound in my house. I hoped it wasn't the plasma TV I had mount to the wall the other day. But, before I could get up a shadowed figure stalked through the sliding door that overlooked the calming sea and that adjoined my bedroom to the balcony. I let out a scream and in one swift moment a large warm hand covered my mouth. A wicked laugh echoed in the room and I grew panicked as I reached for the side table to switch the bedside lamp on. My flimsy hand searching to shed light on the stranger in my room. I had no clue to his intentions, but they didn't seem kind.

Yet, once again, I was cut off when a hand wrapped around my wrist tightly, squeezing it. I wrestled against the grip but it was too strong. My legs kicked under the Egyptian cotton sheets and my nails sharply dug into the thick skin restraining me. I let out a gasp. The flutters rose in my stomach, the pull stirring for its other half. The sounds of shoes got kicked off and the bed dipped as a heavy weight flopped down next to me. That wicked laugher continued to erupt from the heavy chest beside me and I knew at once who it was. Derek Mace was in my room and I think he was drunk too as a whoosh of whiskey stale breath hit my nose.