Chapter 6

The aftermath of death.

Chapter Six

Mysterious Meaning

 

            What was I thinking? That I could forget about Vi entirely?

She wiped her tears away from her face. She noticed that the halls were deserted. She didn’t feel like going to class at all. Not today, not ever.

What is it with me? I just can’t seem to figure out that I can never get close to anyone. If I do they’ll get…killed.

Willow swung her backpack over her shoulder. She headed off to her first class, which was Algebra. She knew that class had already started, but she also knew that the teacher didn’t give a damn about her.
Willow opened the door, not even bothering to be quiet. The other kids looked at her, but said nothing.
            “Come on in and sit down, Willow,” said Miss Yates, motioning to an empty seat in the back of the room. She returned to her lesson, writing down equations on the board. Willow landed in her seat, sighing quietly. She took out her Algebra book and a pencil.       Although she did extremely well in school, Willow didn’t feel like paying attention. She already knew what the teacher was babbling on about. Something about pie. She took out a piece of blank loose leaf paper and began to doodle. She was aware of the looks she was getting from a few of the boys around her. Willow doodled, not knowing entirely what she was drawing. The doodle formed into a rose, and a very detailed rose at that. The rose seemed to bloom before her very eyes. She was fascinated by it.

            When the bell rang, she packed up her stuff. Glancing over the rose once more, she kept it in her hand to admire. The rose reminded Willow of Viola. Willow was careful to avoid Al because she knew that any experience with him would be very awkward. She thought of the rose and the way she drew it made it seem so…lifelike. She didn’t know why she drew it. Somehow it seemed to have some sort of special meaning that was hidden from her view. Like a breeze, she couldn’t see this mysterious meaning, but she could somehow feel it, though.

_____

            He pondered over Willow in his mind. She was in love with someone else.

How could I be so stupid? A pretty girl like her would never want me.

He grimaced as he took his books out of his locker. It figured. Willow was one of the prettiest girls in school, yet she didn’t even know it. Why would Willow even want to go out with a guy like Allister? She was already in love with someone else. That's when he caught a glance of her.

She was walking down the hall past him, not even taking notice of him. Willow was a vision. Her long ebony hair, which was down to her waist, flowed freely from the worn headband she wore in her hair. Her head was cast down with a neutral look on her face. The lingering aura of mystery that hung around her all the time made her all the more attractive. Al noticed that quite a few boys stared at her longingly as she passed them in the hallway. Willow took no notice, though. She was probably too absorbed in her own problems, including Vi’s death. Al thought about it with a frown.

She didn’t deserve to die. Vi was a great friend; not only to me, but also to Willow. Willow needed the most support, and Viola gave it. She didn’t cast Willow away like everyone else did. She accepted her for herself.
            He reluctantly shoved some books into his locker, others into his backpack, frustrated at what Willow had done to him.

I understand what Willow did…jeez…I just wanted to kiss her so much, though, to let her know that I was there for her.
            Al glanced at Willow down the hall, who was packing her backpack up, too. A confused countenance spread over his face. He thought back to the kiss when Willow seemed to almost give in.
            I wonder if she actually…wanted to. He shrugged off the thought. I guess I’ll never know.

_____

            Freedom…it felt good to be out of school. Willow practically ran home from excitement just to be alone; secluded in her room to think over all that had happened in the past few weeks of November. As Willow opened the wooden door to her foster home, she thought about Viola once more. She shook off the thought. Almost halfway up the stairs, Willow heard Aggie call out her name.
            “Willow? Are you home? Willow? Will�"? Oh, there you are!” she exclaimed spotting Willow on the stairs. “There’s a phone call for you.”
            “Who?” Willow asked suspiciously, crossing her arms.
            “They wouldn’t give their name. They just demanded to talk to you.”
            Willow followed Aggie into the kitchen.

Nobody ever calls me.
            Willow grabbed the cordless phone from the kitchen table. She glared at Aggie, who was still standing there, watching her. Agatha got the clue and hurried out.
            “Hello?”
            “Is this Willow Halliwell?” asked a female voice. It sounded rough and full of sorrow.
            “Yeah. Why?”
            “Oh good. You were friends with my daughter.”
            “You must be Viola’s mom, right?”
            “Yes. I was devastated when I found out that Viola was…murdered. You were there. Can you…please tell me what happened?”
            “Well…”
            Willow told the whole story of what happened, describing Viola’s murder and what happened. She kept out the part about Viola’s last words because Mrs. Whitmore would never understand. Those words had been meant for her only.
            As Willow finished her tale, she noticed that there was silence.
            “Mrs. Whitmore? You still there?”
            “Yeah,” she replied. It sounded as if she had been weeping. “Just…trying to…soak all of…t-this…up.”
            “I know what you mean,” she sighed sadly. “I can’t believe it myself.”
            “Well…the reason I called you was to ask…if you could attend…Viola’s funeral this weekend. You don’t have to, but it would really mean a lot to me if you did.”
            “I’ll…think about it, okay?”
            “Okay, well…bye.”
            “Bye”
            She hung up feeling so depressed. Tears began to well up in her eyes. Willow ran up the stairs and into her room, quietly closing the door. The black blinds in her room were drawn, but some light still shone through, illuminating the grey walls of Willow’s room. She slowly made her way over to her bed, weeping crazily. She bunched herself up against the wall, her knees pressed up against her chest. Willow hugged them, sobbing into her knees.
            What’s happening to me? she wondered. The same pain she had felt the moment Viola died surged deep and pierced her heart.

_____

            He made his way to his desk, looking at the photos of Willow. Severin couldn’t help it. She was just so breathtakingly beautiful. He caressed the glossy photo of her glancing in one direction, the toughness in her eyes glowing freely. He walked over to his file cabinet where the other subjects’ files were. He filed the photo, looking long and hard at it before he put it away.  

He then thought of his wife Maura.

Not like that b***h Lily that I had to practically kidnap to get her alone. Yet, the results of my project are going well. Very well, indeed.
            He didn’t know what he would do if Maura left him. Severin knew he would somehow survive. After all, he always had a cold heart.

_____

            He was alone when he called her.

Come on, pick up!

The phone seemed to ring for hours before someone finally picked up.
            “Hello?” croaked a voice from the other line.
            “Willow? Is that you?”
            “Yeah. Who’s this?”
            “It’s Pierce. Are you sick or something? Want me to come over?”
            “No…no, I’m fine. I-it’s just…well…I’ve been crying.”
            “Tell me, Willow.”
            “No, I�"”
            “Willow,” he said sternly.
            “Fine. I was just crying over Viola.”
            “That’s normal. Believe me, you’ll get over it.”
            “That’s the problem. I don’t think I will.”
            “Are you sure you don’t want me to come over?”
            “Yes!”
            “Okay…well, reason I called was to ask you something.”
            “Yeah?”
            “Well…I wanted to know…if you wanted to go out sometime. With some friends, of course, over at this new club called the Crescent Moon.”
            “I don't know...”
            “Oh, come on, Willow, please?”
            “I'm not entirely sure...”
            “Please?” he asked, practically begging.
            “Okay. I’ll think about it. But that's not a yes.”
            “See you.”
            “I know. Bye”
            Pierce hung up, feeling quite hopeful for the near future.

Author's Note

Really not much for me to say. A fairly short chapter marking the aftermath of Viola's death. Please enjoy! :)