13 4.2

"I warned you about the fire—"

"I promise, I didn't play with it."

"Then how do you explain his paw?"

From the open green oak kitchen, Lisa watched Baylor scold his sister, a scornful look of anger clouded his facial expression. The girl stood by the edge of the table, and subtly watched Lisa across the room, eyes gleaming in interest. The cat was barely even hurt at all, Baylor explained to Lisa minutes earlier, the paw had no burn mark but the kitten leaped and gave pained meows which was why Baylor decided the need to tend to the invisible wound.

Lisa uncomfortably sat in the living room and took quick glances around. The fire from the fireplace crackled and burned fiercely. The pound in her head doubled and her vision clouded, breathing shakily. She cupped her head couple of times, but made sure Baylor didn't notice her grimacing. She knew the fever was blazing. She could sense the warmth behind her eyes and was really starting to have a hard time swallowing, because each time she did, her throat stung and ached. Her throat ached, her temples blazed with pain and her sinuses were throbbing beneath her eyes yet she wasn't willing to leave till she got something positive out of Baylor.

The voices of he and his sister behind her began to slowly fade away as her gaze traveled about the house with piqued interest. She could still hear them talking, speaking words but just didn't pay attention to them. The house still oddly looked, on the inside, how it did when she was a kid. It had an open kitchen with green oak cabinets and a very wide window over the aluminum sink that overlooked the yard. Compared to the large hallways, the living room was almost compact, small and tidy, very homely with the welcome essence of a presumely friendly family. Family portraits hung on the wall, but Lisa thought and vision was too unstable and blur for her to make out the figured posing in the portraits.

When she looked down, she spotted one of the calico kitten sitting inches from her. Its gold eyes blinked and Lisa leaned closer, to look at a closer range. The cat harsh and black fur haunted her and images began to spill in, threatening to offer her head completely numb. Her eyes widened in terror. A shrieking cat was banging against the window in agony, red, bleeding eyes glowering at her. Shelly was panicking. She was also panicking, leaning against Shelly to prevent the cat from leaping against her face in case it broke through the window. The cat continued to claw at the window, letting out loud shrieks in pain. The flashes in her head were enough to mentally derange her, they were drowning, consuming. Lisa felt helpless, like she was swimming, trying to get away from the pain, frantically throwing her arms in effort but no one to pull on the other end.

Bang!

Other images tumbled and flooded in. She saw her reflection inaudibly screaming at her in agony. Blood spluttered against the window. Its eyes popped. It was trying to get to her, banging against the window and that was when she saw the flash, enough to near blind her and her body reacted like there was a gun to her head. She leaned away from the kitten and let out a sharp gasp. Everything looked as it did before even it felt to her like forever had passed. Her fingers trembled and she felt like she might just begin to cry. The innocent calico kitten wandered off and left Lisa to her predicament. Her eyes trailed after it. Perhaps by coincidence was she imagining the kitten looked an exact replica of the same cat she and Shelly had run over few days passed.

She looked over her shoulder and saw Baylor approaching, pulling up the zipper of his jacket, cigarette long gone. Behind him — the girl — Lisa wasn't sure what her name was, padded softly on the carpet, clutching the cat to her chest and placing swift kisses on its furry head, holding on to a sober look while mumbling incoherent words in a tiny, ungraspable voice.

"The cat's just find," Baylor started. His voice sounded almost conversational and the background sound of the TV audio going off became muffled to her ears.

"That's cool," Lisa mumbled, her voice sounded hoarse.

Baylor sat on the couch arm rest and studied her, frowning deeply. "Are you cold? Your voice sounds like you're cold." Her face did too, he took note of that. She looked pale and it seems like she was trying her hardest not to cry when she exhaled.

"No. I'm not cold."

"You sound sick," Baylor persisted, "and look like you're coming up with a cold."

Lisa panicked in embarrassment. Oh God, she thought, no escape. She shoved her quivering fingers in her pocket and tried to force a smile that came out awkward. Baylor continued to study her, squinting his eyes for closer observation. After a while, he shook his head in disagreement.

"No. You don't look right," he said, running his hand through his tousled hair. "I suggest you go home to get some rest. We can do this next time."

Do what, Lisa mused, we barely even know each other. Her gut wrenched painfully and her eyes painfully stung with tears, her throat closed up and she almost coughed. I know nothing yet. I have no idea what to do. Elle peeked at Lisa over the head of the kitten she cuddled on the couch she sat, brown eager eyes filled with with wonderment. Baylor leaned forward and made a move as if to pick her up bodily, then hesitated, obviously recalling her earlier reaction and thinking better of it. Instead, he held out both his hands to her and when Lisa hesitantly placed her own into them eased her gently to her feet, and tightened his grip to steady her when she swayed gently.

"Baylor, we need to talk," she rasped, impatiently, eyes pleading. "It's very important I speak to you about this."

Lisa wasn't thinking when she said the words. She was desperate to be on the path leading onto something that was right so she didn't have the feeling thinking was going to be effective. She couldn't even think straight. She wasn't even sure what impression she was passing to the confused teenage boy standing in front of her. Baylor stared impassively at her, with distinct solidity. Once he was sure she was stable on her legs, he let go of her moist, cold hands and stepped back, skeptically watching and taking note of her countenance and minding the fact that she looked sick enough to sway on her legs and fall again. He was alert to jump in and help if it ever came to that.

"What is it about?—" his voice was low and soft, infinitely soothing. "Lisa—"

"It's not what you're thinking. I promise."

She had an idea what was in his head. Perhaps he had mistaken her gestures for something else, but that wasn't it. He was a boy. All boys, like Dane always mistook every single nice gesture of the female gender towards them. It glinted in his eyes and Lisa saw it. She had no idea why but it stung hard on the inside the thought that Baylor might have thought she was trying to start something with him on the short note of their interactions with each other. They weren't even friends yet. They didn't even know themselves too well. She knew totally nothing about him than the fact that he looked like a Matthew Douglas that she died a couple of years ago. Lisa took in a deep breath that rattled through her chest, and aching throat. Bitter tears pricked and stung her eyes at her helplessness and she cursed the moment of foolish weakness when she knew something was going to happen. She needed help fishing out what it was but no way to grasp the hint.

Lisa stylishly looked past Baylor's left arm and at the figure of the curious girl with warm brown eyes. "I think we should talk outside."

Baylor didn't object. A few moments later, standing on the front porch, she watched Baylor coerce his little sister  to stay indoor with the kittens with such caution and care. Due to her throbbing head, Lisa was bent over, hands clutching hard her kneecaps and breath shaky. Her legs threatened to wobble on the simple victorian porch but she fought against it, making sure to inhale and exhale once in a while when she felt she was going to pass out. As Baylor approached, she watched and studied his expression and if her eyes weren't decieving her — he might have been looking too attractive to her than he'd ever done. Perhaps it's the fever setting in, she tried to reason but she knew it was no fever. Baylor Allantoi was too good looking. And considering the fact that he had exact same feature of the scientist that had died many years ago, including eye color, Lisa concluded that they had to be somewhat related. When Baylor was standing few feet away from her with confused expression and furrowed brows, she stood on her wobbly legs and shoved her hands into her hoodie pocket, fighting the urge to shudder when a cold breeze whizzed past her face and swatted strands of her hair in the air.

"What is this about?" Baylor's voice was husky, holding on to it a sudden hint of hostility. "I have no idea, but whatever it is better be worth something."

Lisa grimaced, heart thumping. The really tall boy towered over her. His appearance alone was seductive. The boy's rugged features were alluring. His brown hair were tousled and strands dangled very close to his smoldering eyes.  His face was carefully structured. As if God had molded him just to spoil the eyes. The cold glimmering green eyes of the boy were full of intensity. He had a Roman nose and a thin pair of lips that was in a form of an intimidating scowl. His tight jaw was an angular shape that was shaved clean and smooth. His pale skin looked so . . . ridiculously right. Lisa's core tingled and her heart continued to bang against her ribcage. She had a feeling if Baylor was just a little more closer she might do something very embarrassing and daring that she would probably regret forever.

She breathed slowly and deeply, and pressed her eyes shut, trying to stable the raging storm and uncontrollable hormonal emotions battling within her. Shelly, I know I promised, but I gotta let someone know. She had learned about breathing recently during the summer holiday, how to inflate your lungs calmly and open your chest to fill them. Then when you exhale, you push the air out through a little gap between your lips very quietly and slowly, and you just keep pushing until your muscles below your lungs have emptied them. Behind her closed lids, serene images took turns playing. When she'd learned this, she was taught to think of a wave in a beach when it's broken and to think of her exhaling breath as though it were the seawater flooding up the beach, still pushing and pushing further unto the beach unto the wave's last energy is used up.  Then the slightest of pauses, when the water on the beach looks completely still, and then the sea draws back once more and you begin to breath again.

Lisa remained like this for a minute or two before she lifted her head and opened her eyes.

"Two weeks ago," she started, slowly, "It was a Friday before the week school resumed this semester. I and Shelly hit a cat. It was a big, fat mother Calico cat. With just the same stripes as your kittens—"

Her hands trembled and her fingers quivered when she lifted them out of her pocket and dug her right hand into her jean pocket. Baylor confusedly followed her movement and his eyes caught something glistening when she lifted the hand back out of her pocket and held it up, along with a very familiar looking choker.

"—I found this around the road we hit her. I promise, it was dark and even though the headlight was on, we weren't too prepared for a fat cat crossing. We didn't mean to hit her. Do you recognize this? I've been carrying it on myself ever since that night."

The choker dangled between her whitened, slighly trembling fingers. For a moment, she almost felt like she was taking a very huge risk without thinking about it thoroughly. Her brows twitched as she searched Baylor's face intently for any form of expression. Baylor took the choker from Lisa just when her arm began to ache, and brought it closer for inspection, his fingers tracing about the words: Belle. He cautiously looked over his shoulder at the closed door, to be sure the figure of his sister wasn't lingering around.

Baylor handed the choker back to Lisa and then shoved his hands into his navy jacket. "This was our cat's. It's been missing for days—weeks now. It went missing days after she had the kittens. Along where did you?—"

"Truth is," Lisa interrupted, voice quivering. "The cat died. A man was trailing after it, I don't know, but he said it was his and he had to just gun it down."

Lisa stopped, and searched Baylor's face for any expression. His green eyes seemed to sparkle with anger even though his expression was stoical and blank. Seconds later, his lips curled up in a look of disgust and repulsion and Lisa could swear she saw his jaw ticking like a time bomb about to explode. She shuddered underneath the thick cotton of her hoodie and wished he would just say something. Anything. The dim evening light shone over his face and Lisa couldn't bare to watch what the outcome would be. She lowered her eyes slowly.

"My dad went out to look for it," Baylor started, "when I got back from my shift at work that evening, I noticed it was acting weird and all wild. Retreating into the dark and snarling at her kittens, and then when I went out to eat with Elle, she was gone. Dad promised to look for it, but came back with the excuse of not seeing it around. Elle used to love her. . .I had no idea he killed it."

"Do you have any idea why he killed the cat?"

Baylor grunted and cursed beneath his breath, seeming already agitated. He ran his hand through his tousled hair that seemed to stumble right back into place. "What's all these questions for?" He demanded, "It's our cat. Thanks for informing me about it's death. I think I should be able to find out what's going on myself—"

"Something's about to happen, Baylor!"

Their voice collided with an uneven cadence. The desperate shriek of her tiny voice and the thick, silkiness and tremor of his deep voice. Lisa trembled with panic and rage on the inside when she thought at that moment that she was losing Baylor's attention. She shuffled about, knowing at any moment that she might be needing to grab his hands in a tight squeeze if he decided to turn away and leave her standing, hanging on a tiny rope of hopelessness.

"Something's going to happen," she repeated, desperate and stubbornly. "I know it and I have proofs. There might not be enough, but it's something. We should talk this out, Baylor, I think your dad's upto something—"

A red pick up truck honking loudly interrupted her and grabbed both their attention as it drove off the road and into the driveway. Baylor and Lisa watched from the front porch as the occupier got out from the truck and slammed the door close. The door behind them opened with a loud creak and the warm air of the house fanned against them. Elle emerged with a broad smile, rosy cheeks reddening with every moment. Without hesitation, she glided smoothly between Baylor and Lisa and raced down the Victoria porch and toward the drive way, arms flailing in the air.

Baylor shuffled about and shifted very close to Lisa, seeming suddenly in discomfort. "That's my dad," he announced, not for once looking down at her small figure. "We should talk about this some other times."

Lisa absentmindedly nodded, her head bobbing subconsciously. Her eyes lingered on the familiar figure of the approaching man that had small Elle's frame in his arms as he placed kisses all over her face and neared the stairs leading up to the porch where they stood. His hair toppled unto his temples and forehead and added to him this rugged hint of aggressiveness. Premature white tinted the beginining of his hair. He had on a pressed blue white striped plaid shirt over black pants and on scuffed cow boots. His hooded eyes were looking straight back at Lisa and that just seemed to prick her skin like blade. His forehead creased and folded upon each other in a frown.

As he neared the front porch, Elle still in his arms—squirming and giggling, Lisa flushed with panic and she subconsciously chewed on her cheeks from the inside.

"Hello?" He greeted with a husky voice that sounded just as intimidating as Baylor's, maybe just a little older and thicker. He looked from Lisa to Baylor, and mildly commented. "Never knew you were going to be having a visitor today?"

The question was somewhat rhetorical but yet actual. The European english accent that filtered out of his words haunted her like a terrible nightmare. Lisa could tell that he was hostile to her presence. The thick tension in the air threatened to choke and smolder her till death. She was standing, short, small and fragile betwixt the two tall, giant figures of the Allantois. Baylor made no move to introduce her and Lisa didn't want to be too forward. She wasn't exactly a visitor nor was she exactly invited. The man dropped Elle from his arms with a playful growl and stood straight to take Lisa's cold, moist hand in a steady handshake, his eyes focused on her and a derisive smile curving up his lips.

He calmly stated, "I'm Gabriel, Baylor's father—"

"—And this is Lisa," Baylor jumped in and interrupted his father, anxiously. "She lives in the street and was just about leaving."

Before the man could give a response, Baylor tugged at Lisa's left arm and led her off the front porch, hastily. Gabriel, with a small simper, turned and trailed after them with his eyes, lips slowly curling into a grin. Lisa tried her best not to look back. Not to stagger on her wobbly legs. Not to pass out due to her pounding head as Baylor continued leading her out. 

When they reached the fence and the wooden gate creaked open as Baylor cautiously walked Lisa out, he hastily clasped his hand into her moist one and demanded pleadingly:

"Go to homecoming with me. We can talk about it later," his eyes glinted with panic as he moisturized his lips and squeezed her hand in his. "Please."