Misunderstandings (2)

There was a creeping coldness at the back of my neck that sent the hairs of my body tingling throughout. I knew they were both little girls—they sounded alike—but one of their voices seemed so mystical, and so sweet to listen to. This was it! It resonated with me. There was tinglings in my inner soul.

I twisted my head backwards at the direction of the voices... when the clacking of heels echoed loudly in the hall. And the figure that approached from the door slammed open threw themselves at me with zero hesitation—it was Rose. I figured as much. She stumbled as I gently moved out of the way. I knew this misunderstanding had to be no more, however, Rose didn't seem to understand. Panting, she gave herself a brief moment's rest, before she clung and latched onto me as tight as she could, all while refusing my prying and pushing.

I felt her breath at my ears, then two drops of tears fall on my shoulders.

"You were so short, so haggard. Your eyes were so lifeless, Vincent. Not the eyes of a seven-year-old. You were rummaging through the trash when they bore deep into me—but the only thing you focused on was picking the maggots out of the rotten bread."

The sinking wetness on my shoulder glued me into the ground, and it seeped right through me. I couldn't move an centimetre nor think straight. Rose continued on, in deep breaths and curt sobs about her guilt and how the organization was everything at that time and how she never realized my suffering and whatnot.

I tuned her out. In one ear, out the other. It wasn't as if I doubted her words or was hurt by her explanation, but that... yeah, none of it bothered me no more. I just wanted to end things on a clean slate. Free of distractions, and free of any further talk, nothing. It was time to move on.

There was a light pounding that sounded out of the hall, that grew louder and louder. I assumed it was Sicily, and that shook me out of my trance. With some reluctance, I lifted Rose's arms off of me and gently pushed her away. I could feel her wince of pain as she leaned against the bars, her head hung low. She muttered words of apology in a string of mumbles.

It wasn't hard to tell her mental state wasn't right. I mean, this had happened earlier—she'd collapsed, and will most likely do so, again. My legs churned out two steady steps in front of her, but against all expectations, she didn't stumble into my arms.

We stood a few inches away from each other with our eyes locked.

Then, almost as if popped out of the blue, little bubbles of light emerged between us. First, I noticed only a few floating upwards from my leg, that turned into the dozens by the times I was face to face with it. While blue orb emitted a bright and warm aura, I felt it supercharged with energy.

A cold shadow crept up my back as my body screamed danger and warning signs. My assassin instincts were never wrong. The orb and faint glow of light slowly transitioned through the air, gently enveloping me up my left arm... and thank the lords, they seemed to do no danger. I still swivelled my head to the left side.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Rose's forlorn smile. Our eyes interlocked for another mere second until she unlocked the door. The iron bars swung and slammed a loud CLANG against each other. All my attention wasn't drawn to the noise but the little girl that walked out and stood in front of me.

She donned the cleanest, frilled white dress I've ever seen. I didn't believe that the dress didn't sparkle. My eyes drew to her small button nose. Long, pristine light brunette hair that hung to her shoulders. A pair of bright, listening sky-blue eyes that bored her pudgy, baby face like jewels on a cave.

She was short—so very short, not even reaching my hips. However, her strides towards were poised with utmost confidence and elegance—a cat's strut. With a pressuring eye-contact, arms crossed and hands placed together on her lower abdomen, she was far more bolder and noble-r than any of the young misses of high society that I've ever met.

A princess that walked out of the fairy-tales. A true regal.

It was scary.

The energy charging around me stopped building up. It made my teeth grit. I had to force myself to move—when she took another step forwards, I stumbled half a step backwards. Then repeat. Again, and again.

In no time, my back was pressed against the bars on the other side of the hall. I held my breath—eyes darting around the room when the little girl took her one final step. Seconds past. Nothing happened.

I could hear another set of footsteps out the hall as the moments passed. That was when I noticed that the little girl stared down at herself. The glowing lights around me slowly rescinded a little by little into her. My eyes, wide with bewilderment at the mystical sight, flicked to Rose. She bode no response.

The tibetan mastiffs bellowed again, making everyone but the little girl jump. I heard Rose shush the two dogs as I watched, with intense scrutiny, the little girl's eyes twinkling with curiosity at me. She eventually curled into smiles of excitement in the hushing silence. At that time, I didn't know what she was doing with her hands behind her back, but looking back, it must've been something that of a gesture of thanks to Rose.

Her poised gracefulness drew more and more unrestrained. My senses, especially my hearing, grew more and more out of order. I focused on any other sound that could serve as an outlet of distraction.

The footsteps outside grew from a light tapping to a loud rapping, which assured me that it was definitely Sicily. When in a hurry, only he walked like that. As soon as my gaze shifted slightly left towards the doors, wondering what was it about his hurry, only a brief stint—milliseconds of my guard dropped—what I never expected was the little girl to jump in my arms.

The iron door swept open. A dashing shadow flickered on the walls, followed with rushed, pounding steps. From afar, Sicily cried out with distinct fear and warning in his voice, "Brother Vincent, stay away from her!"

At the time, I couldn't hear anything. Or feel anything. As much cliche and unbelievable as it might sound, I couldn't move. Time seem to have froze for me. All I could do was watch, and wait, as the little girl hurled herself into me. My arms either always had or grew a consciousness of their own. They moved swiftly and decisively to catch her.

And then—when I did catch her and arm-controlled to pull her into an embrace—the warmth and softness of her body was the only sensation that filled me from my fingertips to the nerves of my brain. And only her sweet voice, I found out—the tantalizing, mesmerizing mystical voice earlier travelled in closer and closer before her breathy whisper entered my ears. Nothing else mattered in those seconds but her word of "Daddy."