Chapter 8

Aper walked down on the lonely street. The sun fired his back, making him boil. One question kept buzzing his mind, over and over again: why did he follow her in the first place? Deep down, he also knew that she maybe had the answers he had been looking for all this time.

His legs stopped moving. He looked at the crowd. Everyone was in a hurry to get to work, pick their kids from school or attend random dates. He was not in a hurry; as a matter of fact, he was not fit for that scenario, so he headed back to his house.

In front of the door, he hesitated. Was Skyleene still in there? Did she leave after he made his grand exit? There was only one way to find out. He opened the door, took a glimpse at his couch - she was not there. His sigh filled the silent room for a moment until the silence got crushed by a boom. He headed to the kitchen, his eyes widening when he saw the one who he thought left a long time ago, on top of a chair, trying to reach for the kitchen cabinet. Her hair covered her back, and her legs were shaking at the view of the broken mug; she only wanted some water. She remembered when she broke her mother's glass, and the shards entered her hand when she tried to clean it up. Her mother was mad at her and decided to deprive her of food until she brought home a new glass.

The man took a step forward, the floor squeaking under his weight. The woman turned to him so fast that she lost her balance and fell on the broken pieces. Her hands got bruised, and the blood fell, for the second time, from her body.

His eyes grew big as his hands acted as if they had their mind and took her bridal style and placed her carefully on the couch. With a sigh, Aper brought the first aid kit for the second time that day.

Her eyes kept studying him, stamping all the sweat drops and frowned forehead in her mind.

"Stop it!"

She got startled at the sudden words, and her eyes went down, her hands hiding at her back.

"Don't tell me you are now scared! Where is the girl who wanted to go to the morgue and see the body for herself? The girl who insisted on helping me with the murder case? What happened to her?" he smirked. Her eyes showed no fear, but he knew that she felt it. "What happened to the witch who knows every spell? Do you think I do not know what kind of occupation you have? Hah! Think again!"

"For your knowledge, the girl you are referring to is right in front of you. I have to ask, where is the boy who did not give a damn about me? Why is he so caring now? Save me from a rabid and take care of my wounds when I fall off a chair? How can you answer that? You think you know it all, but you are wrong! I start to wonder what happened to you so often now. I have no idea what you even are! I know so little about you! All I know is that you are a passionate detective, and how to crack your case with that killed boy only if you would let me help you!"

"Why would I do that? I do not know why you came into my life, and every time I try to get rid of you, you find a way to escape! You are a sinner who deserves to be locked in Condemned City forever! I don't even know why the judge always finds you innocent, because you are not!"

"What makes you say that?"

"You killed that guy! Just say it out loud, and we can finally be at peace!"

"I did not kill him! Why do you think I did it? You have no proof, just like the other times, when you came to my doorstep and accused me of things that I never even thought of doing! And now, you accuse me of crime, which is not fair!"

"I do not need evidence to show that you are the killer. That dust shows clearly that only a witch can do such a thing."

"For your information: that dust is not in my house. The flower it is made of is unique and not in my possession. I thought you would at least check my house, but you did not. You also came there and just took a nap!"

At that statement, his mouth closed. He accused Skyleene but did not even check if he was right. "Maybe she is lying about the flower, and she does have it in her house," he thought.

His eyebrows furrowed, and his expression became furious. Skyleene backed up and tried to get away from him, but he took her arm and dragged her until they reached her house. He kicked the front door and pushed her into the corridor. One furious glimpse at her, and she lowered her head, letting him check her home. He entered the living room, messing up the books from the shelves. After the living room got filled with books and papers, he left for her bedroom, doing the same thing. The kitchen and bathroom were the only ones untouched. Her room had many plants - indeed - but not even one of them was the one that could create the purple dust.

At the sight of the messy rooms, his hands pulled his hair locks, his eyes squinted together, and his knees let him down. He fell in the middle of the living room, silence filling the room.

"It's - It's clean. There is no flower. I was wrong" Aper whispered.

Skyleene got closer to him and touched his shoulder. She was not mad at him for destroying her house - she was, in fact, glad that he knew then she was innocent. A small smile showed on her face, followed by a sudden hug from the man she thought hated her just a minute ago.

His arms held her close like he would lose her, while his eyes shed two rivers on her shirt. He did not know what was happening to him, but they did not part. They stood like that for a good portion of time until the moonlight made her presence.

He was long asleep with the head on her shoulders, with her hands caressing his hair, humming a soft tune.

That day was viewed again in her mind, recalculating all the differences that were to happen. It was a thing she did - that all introverts did.

As she laid there, with a sleeping Aper in her arms, she analyzed his behavior. She had many patients with loose pneumas, and Aper had the exact symptoms. He was lost, so sure of something that did not exist, wished to be alone, and at the same time, begging for help. His gaze was always cold, unbothered and numb. That man had a dislocated pneuma, stage three, and he needed treatment, but it would not work if he did not ask for it himself.