17 The Brown Bag of Salvation

"If at first you don't succeed at the first attempt, then skydiving is definitely not for you."

-Steven Wright

(A little piece of advice for my ambitious friends who think of jumping off a plane.... Caution it holds incredible health risks.)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Gauhar's POV

There was still a part of me that wanted his words to be true, and that was the irritating, irrational part of me that refused to hear to any sense. The worst part about this part of me was that listening to it made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, which made it even harder to ignore it.

But ignore it, I did. Because I knew what was right for me. And if the foolish creature within me refused to submit, I'd have to resort to force. But was it really that easy to control how we felt? I hoped that it was.

Was killing yourself a good way of killing any chance of you doing something foolish? Definitely yes, but it was also a surefire way of ensuring that you don't do anything else in your life either.

"Wh-what's the matter Gauhar? Are you angry about something?" an ancient almost gravelly yet soothing voice asked me, shaking me out of my thoughts. I turned towards the owner of the voice, and was shocked to see how pale she looked.

Had she seen a ghost?

"What?" I frowned at her, my voice coming out sharper than I intended as I tried to understand what induced the expression of fear on her face.

My reaction seemed to have startled her, because she jumped slightly, before moving a few steps back "Um, are you sure is everything alright dear?" she flashed a smile at me that looked oddly forced.

I wracked my brain to try to understand what had made her so scared, I scanned the cosy little office that was furnished with a pair of old fashioned wooden chairs facing a mahogany desk that held a mountain of papers. The white walls were adorned with the colourful little drawings of the children, each little artwork telling its own story.

A pair of stray crayons could be found on Mrs. Singh's desk, but other than that I couldn't find anything amiss, especially nothing that could have made her look as if she had seen a ghost.

"What's the matter Mrs. Singh? You don't look too well, do you want me to set a kettle of tea?" I turned towards the kitchenette, my eyes immediately searching for the box of teabags.

"Oh no darling, everything's alright. It's just that, well….you looked um, a little bit angry." She was still smiling uneasily at me, and that was when I realized. She was afraid of me!

I pinched the bridge of my nose, internally cursing at how my face always gave away any murderous intent that I might chance to harbor. Even if it was for myself. Perhaps that was why brother always managed to intercept my attacks, dammit.

I'll have to start wearing a mask to hide my thoughts from now on. Having an expressive face was beginning to be much more of an occupational hazard than I thought it would be. The occupation being, my ambition to become a ninja of course.

Putting on the brightest, most reassuring smile on my face I walked towards the large desk "Why would I be angry Mrs. Singh? On the contrary, coming here always manages to alleviate any anger that I might have." I hopped onto the desk, dropping the bag of food in my arms on top of the numerous papers scattered there.

"Now now young lady, be careful there-" Mrs. Singh began, when as if in slow motion her eyes widened, and almost like a Jackie Chan movie she jumped in to catch the mountain of papers that threatened to fall down.

I sucked in a sharp breath as she caught those papers in her arms. And only when she stood up straight and glared at me, did I realise that I had my mouth wide open. I quickly closed it, feeling scared as her grey eyes bore into me.

Now it was her that looked angry….damn it I was sure she'd explode if I didn't do something to soothe her anger.

"Wow Mrs. Singh, I didn't know your old bones had it in them. That actually looked like you were in an action movie." I looked at her in awe, but far from placating her my words seemed to have increased the fire in her eyes.

Did I say something wrong?

"What were you thinking Gauhar" She began, her voice taking on the tone that my mother's voice did when she was about to give me a thorough dressing down for my bad behavior.

I noticed that she had also taken the warrior stance, which constituted of placing her hands on her hips and trying to appear larger than her fragile little body would allow her to.

Knowing that I had to act quickly I took in a deep breath "Mrs. Singh" I called out confidently, successfully managing to get her attention, I internally patted myself. At least the major crisis was averted, I had managed to stop her before the never-ending stream of words began.

"Um, well…" now that I had done what I had intended, my brain stopped working. Rendering me clueless as to what to say next. My face nearly split in half, due to the smile that popped on my face as my eyes fell on the seemingly useless brown bag on the table.

I always knew it, saving that bag from any harm was going to benefit me. Though I never knew it would be like this, the universe seemed to work in mysterious ways "Do you see that bag Mrs. Singh?" I asked in my most cheery voice, pointing towards the bag had become my savior.

She looked puzzled, her grey eyebrows scrunching together as she tried to understand where I was going with this "Yes dear, I see it."

"Ah well, that bag holds the finest assortment of baked merchandise, fresh from the oven of Mrs. Abercrombie's glorious kitchens." I flourished towards the bag with my arm, waiting for her to jump and clap in happiness at any moment.

My heart fell as I noticed that she was unaffected, in fact her grey eyes had again taken the fire of cold determination.

I realised that my announcer skills were very bad….. the occupation of a hostess was never going to suit me. Good thing that I had never contemplated on taking it up as a profession.

I closed my eyes as I waited for the onslaught of angry words to start.