Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Perfectly Unscathed

 

            “You don’t know…the whispers and lies in my head.”

            She was running away from something. Her body was ready to give out from the lack of rest. She glanced behind her. A person was following her; a man by the looks of it. He was muscular and handsome but the prominent feature of his face were blood-red eyes that glowed menacingly in the darkness of the city.

            She willed herself to run even faster. She knew she couldn’t take the stress.

            “You don’t know…give up to me…you don’t know what true darkness is like…”

            True darkness is the pain of the heart…pain of the spirit…of the mind, body, and soul…true darkness is by loss of loved ones…ones you’ve cared so much about…

            The ground seemed to heat up, fire licking at her face and ankles. She glanced behind her again. The man was gone. Thinking she was safe, she slowed her run to a walk and looked back in front of her. A black figure consumed in orange and red flames was heading towards her. She knew that she should run but…she stayed glued in place, transfixed by the eyes.

            She had never noticed it before, but…his blood-red eyes had, instead of round pupils, thin slits like a snake’s. His gaze mesmerized her, drawing her nearer and nearer to him…to danger.

            “Let me taste your sweet, sweet blood on my tongue…relax and be mine…sleep…”

            Whispers caressed her gently; she soon forgot her worries, forgot everything. An embrace of warmth and frigidness blanketed her, closing her eyes and relaxing, accepting death when it came.

            But it didn’t. He whispered something softly into her ear instead.

            “You think you’re alone? Look again…I know true darkness like you…you’re not alone…no matter what they told you, you’re not alone…”

            Before she knew it, the red snake-slitted eyes gazed into hers. She knew it was the truth despite her beliefs. She wasn’t alone.

            She closed her eyes and felt comforting warmth engulf her whole being. She sighed and her heart ached, filled with the bittersweet, melancholy memories of everything that had ever happened to her.

            The words he had whispered to her echoed in her mind.

             …you’re not alone…no matter what they told you, you’re not alone…

 

            All through the night Willow had a peaceful, deep sleep, though it was filled with really strange dreams. Dreams of a snake-eyed youth that kept telling her she wasn’t alone.

            Sleep weighed heavily on her eyes as she slowly opened her eyelids. Rays of strong sunlight flooded her bedroom, illuminating the gloomy den; she squinted her eyes at the sun. She yawned and pulled the covers aside; stepping out of bed, she was clumsy and almost tripped over her own feet. It took her just a few minutes to wake up. It was Thanksgiving, which meant she had the day off from school.

            Thank God. After what I’ve been through I need a break to just relax and chill.

            Making her bed, she detected an acrid odor that smelled of  burning. She followed the smell to the back of her closet where she found the pile, which was her Black Widow costume. The odor aroused blurry memories of the night before of the strange looking pale boy who had rescued her from the fire and seemed perfectly unscathed. She had fallen into a deep sleep, awaken only by her own will as her rescuer prepared to depart. She had grabbed his ankle just in time, eager to get some decent answers.

            But, unfortunately, his answers just raised more questions. The fact that he had neglected to tell her who he was made her suspicious and she had snapped at him with a threat, but he quipped calmly back with a threat as equally worse as her own. She had personally never met anyone so…so stubborn and annoying in her entire life. She had resisted the overwhelming temptation to beat the crap out of him. She could hardly believe she had let her temper get the best of her. Maybe she wasn’t mature just yet. She just had a decent head on her shoulders with half-matured wisdom.

            She had overcome her anger at him, and, making sure he was real and not just some crazy delusion caused by the fumes of the gasoline, she kissed him tenderly on the cheek in gratitude for saving her life. He had nodded once and departed even more mysteriously than she ever could.

            Now that she was really awake, she remembered, from her dreams and reality, that he had blood red snake eyes. The sleekness of his shiny long black hair and even his movements seemed almost…snake-like. He had the grace of a predator and the stinging gaze of one, too. Was he…like her?

            She shook her head.

            More people like me?

            Her thoughts strayed to one of the strange dreams she had had that involved the youth in flames. He had almost bitten her, but whispered in her ear that she wasn’t alone, no matter what she did.

            Maybe he meant that, like him, there were more created.    

Dazedly, she picked up the clothes and chucked them into the laundry basket in her room. She changed into a fresh pair of underwear and a clean bra. She threw on a pair of baggy black jeans with a silver metal chain belt that hung loosely around her waist and a somewhat tight T-shirt with a goth fairy on the front that brought out the curves in her masculine and curvy figure. To accent the look, she gently brushed the tangles from her straight hair and gathered it up into two high ponytails on either side of her head. She slipped on spidery fishnet gloves that extended to her elbows. A few pieces of loose hair curved nicely around her pallid face; she drew a thin line of eyeliner on her top lid to bring out her eyes, though also thick enough to at least be seen; she applied black lip gloss to her full lips.

            She trudged over to her closet mirror, opening the door hopefully. She liked what she saw for once. She looked excellent, and felt excellent; her curves curved in all the right places; her eyes were distinguishable and sorrowful; her lips gracefully ended and began where she wanted.

            “I like it,” she said with satisfaction, smirking at her reflection happily. Pride and dignity inflated inside her. She felt good about herself and had some hope about how the day might go.

            Trying her best to try to hide the giddy grin that was plastered on her face, she skipped down the hall and practically jumped from the stairs. She reached the kitchen; she stopped dead in her tracks. Mike and Aggie were there, waiting serenely for something; she suddenly remembered her crime. Her smile faded as quickly as it had come. Her spark of hope was extinguished by instant gloom.

            Aggie was in front of the table, standing with her arms crossed but looking wistfully at her with disapproval in her eyes. Mike, looking neat and clean in a fresh pair of jeans and a plain red sweater, glared at her.

            She already knew what her crime was before they had even opened their mouths.

            “I suppose you know what you did,” was all Mike said, shoving his food into his mouth.

            “Yes,” Willow said loudly and emotionless.

            “What do you have to say for yourself?”

            “Sorry?”

            Mike dropped his fork and slowly got out of his seat, glancing at Willow with the utmost distaste. Compared in height, Michael won. Despite his pudginess, he was somewhat strong and muscular for he used to workout regularly before he had lost his previous job.

            “What you did, Willow…sorry won’t cover it, I’m afraid.”

            He towered over Willow as he approached her.

            “What you did was horrible,” he said, his voice rising with each syllable. “We have cared for you ever since the age of thirteen when Social Services allowed you to live here. All you have ever done is cause trouble and worry for us…”

            He took in a deep shuddering breath, attempting to control himself. Truthfully, it was a bit scary to see him trying to be so calm; it made her afraid.

            He continued to speak.

            “I am not going to punish you, despite you deserving it for leaving the house without telling anyone and staying past the agreed curfew. I am…I’m going to give you a second chance.”

            At this, Willow glanced at Aggie from the corner of her eye. Her mouth was set in a thin line. She nodded her head. Aggie had talked to Mike about controlling his temper and about giving Willow a second chance to redeem herself to right the wrongs she did in the past.

            “What do I have to do?” Willow asked.

            “Simply this: because it’s Thanksgiving, we’ll be having guests over for dinner tonight; close family of ours. Aggie,” Michael said, waving a hand towards Aggie, “has graciously volunteered for you to help serve the food and set and clean the tables before and after dinner. Sound good?”

            Uncertain, Willow looked at Agatha; she raised an eyebrow and bobbed her head up and down, urging her to accept it. Hesitant, she raised her shoulders up to her ears and let them drop, shrugging. If Aggie did this for her sake, she better take it. Leaning back, she crossed her arms in front of her.

            “What’s in it for me?” she asked seriously.

            “Knowing you’ve done something to make us happy…for once.”

            She raised an eyebrow at him, but didn’t talk back.

            “Done,” she said.

            Mike forced a pleased smile onto his face and sat back down to continue his breakfast. Agatha motioned for Willow to follow her out into the living room.

            “Where were you the other night?”

            This was where she hit a brick wall. Willow rubbed her right arm with her left hand, nervously biting her lower lip. She didn’t know what excuse to use this time. Besides, she couldn’t possibly say that she was out hanging with Allister, now could she? They weren’t speaking ever since Willow blew him off yesterday.

            “Willow…” She sighed, placing a hand to her forehead. “Let’s sit down.”

            They both seated themselves on the loveseat that resided in front of the windows. Agatha turned to Willow so that they were both face to face. She looked with a stern, but soft, glare into her eyes.

            “Willow…ever since we took you in when you were just thirteen, all you’ve ever been to us was…well�"”

            “Trouble,” Willow interrupted. She stared straight ahead with malice in her eyes and leaned back into cushions. “That’s all I ever am.”

            “You’re twisting my words. I wasn’t even going to say that. Reckless is what you are. And I say this without any regrets. You’ve always been so distant. Social Services said something happened to you when you were younger. We tried to get them to tell us about it, but they said it was confidential information.”

            Willow looked away. Aggie sighed again, but this time the sigh was filled with frustration.

            “Please can you tell me why you’re doing this to us?”

            “You wouldn’t understand,” Willow said coolly. She laced her words with bittersweet venom, warning Agatha not to get into it.

            “I would understand if you just told me. I know you lost your mom, and I know that hurts a lot. It’s normal. To feel the pain, I mean.”

            You don’t even know what pain is. You don’t know what it feels like to have your heart ripped out multiple times. You don’t know what it feels like to want to kill. You don’t know what it’s like to want to taste blood. You don’t know anything.

            Willow sighed, her chest choked with emotion. She wanted so much to cry, to rage the eternal frustration she bore for so many years now. Instead, she simply bit her lip and tucked it all away, which was very difficult because the feelings were overflowing to the brim now. She thought she was going to lose it.

            She sniffed back tears.

            “Why?” Willow asked. “Why do you care so much for me? Why do you even care what happens to me? I’ve been so horrible to you, yet…” She sniffed back tears. “…you’ve fed and clothed me. Why? Why?”

            “Why do we do it? Because…because we care for you. Whether or not you know it Willow, you’re not alone. No matter what you believe, you’re not alone.”

            At this, Agatha got up and left Willow to puzzle over this. She slammed her eyelids shut and when she opened them, she felt that she was able to see the world a little more clearly now. She observed the tiny flecks of dust float around in the sunlight, bobbing around, up and down as if they didn’t have a care in the world. She understood that she wasn’t alone.

            “Seems like everyone’s saying that lately,” she chuckled to herself. She wiped away a tear that had accidentally slid down her cheek from the front of her eye. She sniffed and grabbed a tissue from the nearest tissue box and blew into it. She almost forgot that people cared about her. A thought suddenly came to her. Maybe she was being to hard on Allister, even though she slapped him the day before, she felt almost ready to forgive him. Almost ready, but not just yet. Not just yet.

 

_____

           

“What�"do�"you�"mean?”

“Sir, I vas only doing my job and�"”

“I don’t except excuses,” growled Severin. “You were supposed to kill her, roast her. Not let her escape.”

“Sir, I�"”

“SHUT UP!”

Cain, his jaw shaking, stopped talking. Severin slowly got up from his chair and stood face to face with him on the other side of his desk.

“I trusted you with this job, Cain. You were supposed to be the best.” Severin paced around Cain, staring at him cold and hard. “I relied on you to carry out my plans. You know very well I can’t do this all on my own. The police are on the lookout for me. The last thing I need is for you TO SCREW IT ALL UP!”

As much as he was afraid of Struthers, Cain retained the cool and calm surface he was infamous for.

“And, sir, I can try again. Give me another chance and I vill kill the girl. And make sure she vill never again see the light of day.”

Severin narrowed his amaranthine eyes that were so much like Willow’s; just as hard and menacing.

“You want a second chance? How much are you willing to charge?”

“For free. I vant for you to have the ultimate satisfaction. I vill do it for free. All for free.”

“And will you make sure to take care of Willow? Make sure she’s dead this time?”

“I vill.”

“Good.”

 

_____

 

Light flooded in through small cracks in the wood. His head throbbed as he opened his eyes slowly. He could barely move his legs.

“Ugh…what the hell…happened?”

Pierce lifted a semi-weak hand to his head. He felt slightly dizzy; what had they given him?

“You know why you’re here,” said a soft, whispering voice from the darkness.

A woman with bright red, curly hair appeared in the wooden room. Her full lips were pursed evenly as if she were anticipating that something horrible was about to happen and she were ready for it. As if she was ready for the final blow.

“W-who are you?”

She narrowed her eyes. She neared him and sat down by his legs. Cold sweat gathered on his forehead. His face and entire body burned. She moved closer and gently mopped his forehead.

“What did…you…do t-to me?” he managed to utter through parched lips. Now he noticed that his throat was burning with thirst.

Out of nowhere, the woman revealed a glass of water. Unable to grab it himself, she lifted it to his lips and tilted the glass forward. To Pierce, it was the most wonderful thing he had ever tasted in his entire life. Some of the water caught in his windpipe from drinking too much all at once and he coughed to get it out. When he was finished, his lips were wet; the woman was looking at him without any emotion showing through her body language.

“You know why you’re here,” she repeated.

“I don’t.”

“You know something. Something that you shouldn’t. That’s why you’re here. Because you know.”

“Wha-what’s…your name?”

She hesitated but told him.

“My name is Maura.”

“I don’t know what kind of thing you’re talking about, Maura. What is it that I know that’s so dangerous?” he asked, speaking more strongly now that his throat was wet. “So hazardous?”

“I shouldn’t…say…”

Before Pierce could stop her, she stood and quickly tottered out of the room and away from him.

Pierce felt the numbness subside in his legs and arms. He could move more freely now that he was more awake. He blinked away the last remnants of sleep from his eyes and saw that he was in some sort of wooden shack. Dim light peaked in through the places that weren’t covered He wondered in which part of Crescent City he was in. He was probably somewhere hidden.

“Why did they take me? They said I knew something…” A gong exploded in his head. How could he have not known before? “Willow’s secret. I was right. Willow is what I thought she was all this time. She is the Black Widow. But…if others know…and if my life’s being threatened…she and I might be in some real trouble here…big trouble…”

What trouble, he didn’t know yet. Everything was still an enigma to him.

 

_____

 

“Okay…what the heck do I do?”

Agatha glared at Willow, who was in front of a counter with ingredients stacked before her. She grimaced nervously; sure, she could kick bad guy butt…but cooking was an entirely different story,

“I thought the deal was that I just had to clean and set the tables, not cook!”

Aggie came over to her side, wearing a dirty apron dusted with flour and rubbing a bowl dry with a white towel.

“That was my doing.”

Willow raised her upper lip in disgust and arched her eyebrows in disbelief.

“Are you serious? I can’t cook! I burn everything, even water!”

Aggie chuckled to herself; Willow shot stinging looks at her.

“Oh come now, stop being so dramatic. I bet you’re really good if you actually tried.”

Willow crossed her arms in front of her black T and turned her head up.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Maybe you would if I actually showed you. Stop being so difficult and pay attention to what I’m about to say.”

Reluctantly, Willow uncrossed her arms and stubbornly stared at Agatha hard. With her kind face, though, she found it hard to stay difficult, and she found herself paying full attention. Aggie smiled in satisfaction, pleased at Willow’s watchfulness.

“Now these ingredients are for making my famous homemade brownies, which taste so much better than the mix kind. Wanna know why? I always say it’s because they’re filled with love.”

She looked at Willow expectantly. She bobbed her head up and down in agreement with Aggie’s opinion.

“Yeah…filled with love…”

“Here’s how you make them. It’s very simple, as I said. After this, all you’ll have to do is set the tables before dinner and clean them after. Sound good?”

“I guess,” she mumbled. She picked at the chipped black nail polish on her fingernails, still very vigilant about the cooking lesson.

Agatha gave her a look, but Willow pretended she didn’t at all notice it.

“Okay, let me show you.” Aggie opened up a book that had been hidden among the ingredients and flipped the pages until she found the page she was looking for. “This is the recipe for my brownies. The ingredients are…1 ½ cup flour, 2 cups sugar, 1 teaspoon salt, 1 cup oil, 4 eggs, 2 teaspoons vanilla, and 8 ounces semi-sweet chocolate chips.”

Willow opened her eyes wide.

“Chocolate?”

“You like chocolate?”

She nodded enthusiastically and licked her lips; Willow absolutely adored chocolate. She was addicted to sweet things, though she had been cutting them off from her daily diet during the past summer.

“Mmm-hmm.”

Agatha smiled widely at her, proud that she finally found out about something that her foster daughter was into.

“Then you’ll love this. It’s so gooey and luscious. The warmth of it will roll right over your tongue and down your throat. And it’s really sweet, too, because of all the sugar in it. Think you could handle it?”

Willow’s mouth was practically watering.

“Yeah.”

“All you have to do is make sure you follow the directions as close as possible. I’ve made sure that everything you need is right here at your disposal. I have to wash the dishes, so I’ll be by the sink if you need me.”

“Okay.”

Willow bit her lower lip hesitantly for a moment. Grabbing the spoon and the glass bowl, she fiddled around with them. She looked down at the directions and pursed her lips together.

“Right…this is gonna be simple…”

She measured out the flour as carefully as she could with a 1 cup measuring cup and another separate ½ cup. She was more confident as she spooned the cocoa out of its tin, which followed the two cups of sugar. Bravely, with a powdered face and her tongue stuck out in concentration, she measured out the salt and poured it into the bowl. She cautiously tipped the 1-cup full of olive oil into the bowl along with four yolks cracked from eggs and 2 teaspoons of vanilla. She panicked when she saw the 8 ounces need for the chocolate chips.

“Um…Aggie?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t have an eight-ounce cup…”

“It’s okay. Just pour a cup of chocolate chips into the bowl. It’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

She smiled childishly at Aggie from where she was standing, dusting some flour off her black clothes. She returned the smile.

“Are you enjoying this?”

“Yeah. I never actually thought cooking could be…fun.”

Aggie smirked at her.

“You’d be surprised, Willow.”

They both were silent.

“Willow,” said Aggie, “you’re pretty when you smile. You know that?”

“Oh…thanks…”

“You’re welcome.”

With one hand Willow held the bowl and the other hand stirred the mixture with strong muscles toned perfectly from so much exercise. She made sure she got every single dry bit of flour and cocoa and the others into the wet mix. When she was completed the stirring procedure, she darted her eyes around and stuck her finger into the bowl. She pulled it out, a fat-sized glob of wet brownie mix sliding down it. She hastily stuck her finger into her mouth. She almost reeled over; it was luscious! The taste reminded her of something…that was right…her mother, Lily, used to make these kinds of brownies all the time just to spoil the only child she had.

She closed her eyes. Willow smelled something acrid and remembered the thick smoke from the fire before. The fire that would have killed her if it wasn’t for that mysterious guy in the suit with shiny, long black hair, skin as pale as her own, and eerie blood red eyes. She found herself grateful for him being there. Questions popped up in her mind. Had he been watching her? Or had it been simply a mere coincidence? Whatever it was, she knew he was something more…someone more than he had told her. The confidential information he had whispered to her that he couldn’t tell had to mean something big. That dream, too, she had during the night relayed the big message that she “wasn’t alone.”

What the hell does that mean? I know I’ve thought about this at least once this morning. Does that mean that there are more out there like me? There has to be. I couldn’t be the only test subject. In order to experiment a new project, I know that scientist need to have at least more than one guinea pig to tamper with. This has to be something more. I have to search for Severin. He deserves what’s coming for him, especially after he attempted to kill me. That just made me even angrier.

She inhaled sharply, opening her eyes. She looked down at the bowl in the crook of her arm.

“Willow, is anything wrong?”

“No…nothing. Just daydreaming is all.”

“Oh, alright.”

Willow heard Agatha snicker softly at her. Exasperation scratched at her neck. Memories of everything that had ever happened flooded to her. She remembered. She remembered all the pain, all the sorrow, and all the rage Severin had ever caused her. She wanted to make him pay. Somehow. That was what she had to figure out. Where and when to find him and kill him. And then that would be the end of all this suffering.

Gathering herself and her vengeful thoughts, Willow urged herself to return to present time and focus on the task currently at hand.

I’ve got to focus, thought Willow.

Placing the mixing bowl on the counter, Willow scanned over the directions on how to make the brownies. It was so hard to concentrate right then, but Willow managed to ignore the strong curiosity of the mysterious guy and the annoying nagging voice of revenge in her head. She calmed herself, willing herself to chill and stop thinking so seriously for once.

The sweet taste of the chocolate brownie mix still lingered faintly on her tongue. Willow proceeded to take the pan laid out over to the top of the stove. She carefully poured the batter into the glass dish, which had been lightly greased with a little bit of olive oil by Aggie. Willow guessed that this was so the brownie couldn’t stick to the pan. She spooned the batter out, pushing the liquidy from the bowl. It toppled slowly down and plopped heartily.

Willow turned on the oven to warm it up, surely confident about her actions in cooking this time after being reassured by Aggie just a few minutes ago. She swirled the knob to a temperature of 350^oF. The oven hummed to life as Willow waited a few minutes for it to be hot enough to cook the now liquid brownies. She waited patiently for ten minutes and touched the stove door lightly with her index finger. She pulled it away for it was burning hot to the touch. She then knew it was time to cook these babies.

Pursing her lips tightly, Willow opened the door all the way. All at once warm filled the kitchen, washing over the front of her torso. Though the house was already warm from the heater, the heat from the oven still felt relaxing on her skin. Her flesh prickled with heat now, the room quickly becoming more uncomfortable by the second. She grabbed the handles of the pan with both hands and cautiously, as to avoid the burning hot metal, placed the brownies onto the silver metallic rack. She hurriedly closed the door, waving her hands in front of her face. Her face was flushed and her skin still prickled from the last remnants of the fierce heat. It was a lot like being in a desert, though Willow would have absolutely no idea what a desert was like considering she lived way up in the north away from hot places and had never traveled beyond the outer limits of the city and its adjoined towns.

“Willow, don’t forget to set the timer on the stove to thirty minutes, okay?” asked Aggie from where she was in the big kitchen, serenely washing the dishing with reddened hands.

“Yeah…yeah, sure. I won’t forget. I was just…you know, putting the brownies into the oven,” she replied, blown away by the heat. She wiped a thin layer of sweat from her brow.

Before she forgot, she pressed the upper arrow on the stove clock until it read exactly thirty minutes.

“I guarantee you that you won’t regret making this. Was it good?” Agatha said.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh come on, I saw you stick your finger into the bowl when you thought I wasn’t looking. Did you like it?”

“Yeah. I am a definite chocolate-lover. It was great.”

“Good, I’m glad you like it. But wait until you taste it when it’s cooked. The chocolate chips in there add to the moistness.”

“Well…um…may I go now?”

“For now, yes. Later I’m gonna need you to set the tables this evening. The guests arrive at 5:30. Dinner’s at 6:00. You’re gonna need to clean up at around 7:00. Got it?”

“Yep.”

“Good,” she said. Aggie turned and grinned at Willow. “Now go have some fun before you have to work again.”

Willow gave her a lopsided grin in return and loped outside to enjoy the beautiful, but cold, weather.