Dark One: One for Sorrow... (The Khiara Banning Series Book 1) (4 page)

He sniffs my hand to see if I’ve got a treat for him, which I usually do. When he sees that I don’t, he whimpers, stands up on his hind legs and begins to lick my face until I get up to get him one.

“Okay, okay! I’ll get you a treat, Fatty.”

Pug barks appreciatively as I get up to get him a biscuit.

~*~
 

My head hurts so much. The pain is almost unbearable. I reach out my arms into the darkness that surrounds me and I know that though I can’t see anything or anybody, I am not alone. Not by a long shot. I hear a male scream and I begin to run as fast as I can towards him.

The closer I get, the more it sounds like he’s screaming my name. Who is this person? What do they want?

“Help me Khiara!” He yells.

“Who are you? How do you know my name?” I scream, fear taking over every emotion that I possess. The voice that I just heard, I know it…

“Please! Hurry, before it’s too late! They want you but I won’t let them have you. Please, find me! Hurry!” His voice is hoarse from yelling so loud.

“Okay! Keep yelling so I can find you.” I say.

I do not get an answer. Instead, I find myself falling down, deep into the darkness. And there is no way out.

“Khiara get your ass up now!”

Somebody is shaking me. But it doesn’t matter. I am encased in the darkness.

“We’re gonna be late! Can you wake up already? God, I knew you’d do this to me.”

“Ugh, my head. I had the most messed up dream in the history of life.” I groan as I finally wake up.

“Good. You’re up. You’ve been screaming for like, fifteen minutes, it was disturbing. Anyway, you got the stuff for the party?”

I nod my head yes. “I got it all beforehand yesterday.”

Slowly, I get up and walk to my closet to get a party appropriate dress. I open up the doors of my large closet and stare into it, not sure what to choose. Cara walks over and pulls out a red dress. It’s made out of a satiny red fabric with black mesh over it, ripped in just the right places. I didn’t even know I had this dress! It’s beautiful.

“Wow, when did you get this?” Cara asks me, her eyebrows drawn together in thought.

“I honestly have no idea,” I reply. “Maybe my parents bought it for me for, I don’t know, being a good daughter or something.”

Wherever I got this dress, it’s perfect and goes with the black nail polish I’ve already got on. I’ll have to ask my parents later so that I can thank them. Sure enough, as I move towards the bed, a note from my parents falls out, telling me they love me.

I strip out of my clothes and pull the dress over my head. I struggle to pull my arms through, so Cara, giggling all the while, helps me get it on. When I turn around to face my mirror I can hardly believe that the person in the reflection is me. I gasp and just stare.

The dress fits me like a glove. It accentuates the small curves of my body, making them look rather sexy; a word I’ve never associated with myself before. Usually that title goes to Cara. It falls just above my knees, which surprises me because I thought it was much longer. The rips in the mesh form a pattern all the way down the dress and it’s just
so
beautiful. My hair doesn’t even need to be brushed from the mess of tangles it’s in; it looks like I put it that way on purpose.

I grab some hairspray and spray it onto my hair.

“Wow…” Is all Cara manages to say.

“I know. It’s eerie right? I am
so
glad my parents bought this for me.” I say.

All of a sudden there’s a huge crack of thunder and it begins to pour outside. My window bursts open and everything in that vicinity gets soaked.

“Aww crap!” I yell, “This so can’t be happening! I’ll take care of it when I get back home, you know change the sheets and stuff.”

As always, Cara remains calm, giggles and says, “Yeah. Let’s get going.” She sticks a nametag on me that says,
Hello, my name is: Khiara
.

“Are you really doing the nametag thing?” I say. Cara nods, “It helps people get to know each other better.

When we get to Cara’s huge house, the party is in full bloom. I can’t believe she left her own party just to come get me. That’s what friends are for I suppose. Cara lives in a house similar to my own, a rather large, white, colonial style dwelling complete with a wraparound porch. We bonded over this when we first met in daycare at the tender ages of four and five; Cara is a couple of months older than me and likes to hold it over my head sometimes.

There are people dancing in the large living room and so many making out on the five luxurious couches that occupy the middle of the room. There are guys in the kitchen drinking bottles of beer while the girls drink little pre-mixed fruity drinks. I’m the one with the chips and drinks, though drinks seem to have been taken care of. A giant bowl full of red liquid sits on a coffee table, Cara’s famous punch, I presume.

“Chips and soda!” Calls out Cara. At hearing this, many people flock towards us and grab for the bags I’ve brought.

Having decided that I may as well have fun, I walk away from Cara, pass through the throngs of people milling about and out into the backyard where more people are dancing to the throbbing beat of a heavy techno song under a canvass that covers the large patio. I look over to my left and there in a crowd of people, is Damien talking to Victoria. Not my favourite people, but they’re about the only people I know besides Cara at this party.

I begin to walk toward them when somebody catches my eye and smiles at me. He’s got curly black hair and
beautiful
blue eyes. He’s got on a pair of ripped jeans and a Beatles t-shirt. Nobody is talking to him at all and I get the feeling that it’s not because he’s not dressed appropriately (it’s kind of a come dressed like a fancy-pants party, as Cara would say.)

He’s emanating this strange vibe that I can’t quite put my finger on, but I feel the sudden urge to speak to him.

I walk over to him – he’s standing by the stairs that lead to the yard and where the patio ends – a little awkwardly and say, “Hey, do you go to school with us?” I don’t really think that he does; he looks a little older, college or even university age but you can never be so sure these days. His nametag tells me his name is Cael. I assume it’s pronounced like the vegetable, kale.

He shakes his head. “No, I don’t go to school. I’ve never gone to school in my life, to be honest.” He’s got a slight Irish accent that makes the sides of my lips turn up, ever so slightly into a smile.
They’re after my lucky charms,
and all that. But still, never gone to school? What a strange thing. Maybe he was home schooled. He looks to be about nineteen years old, give or take.

“Were you home schooled?” I ask.

“Kind of.  History and current affairs were always my least favourite subjects to learn about. Until recently that is. Now both are
very
important to me.” He replies quite fervently.

“Okay…” I say, dragging out the a, unsure of how to reply.

He blushes and ducks his head, “Yeah, sorry I sounded strange there, I realize. It’s just, I really enjoy those subjects.” His voice goes up at the end like a question, and I get the distinct impression that he’s trying to cover something up. 

I mentally smack myself for sounding like such an ass, though; he’s probably really shy. “Hey, I mean, I kind of get it. I love English, a lot. I’m Khiara Banning by the way, Cara’s my best friend.” I extend my hand towards him.

He shakes my hand, his grip strong and his hand warm. “Cael.” I was right about the pronunciation.
Point to team Khiara!

“So, how do you know Cara?” I ask, smiling at him.

“I don’t,” he says, “I came here with a friend, but she seems to have left me to my own devices.”

I frown, “Ugh, I know the feeling of being ditched at a party you totally don’t want to be at. I actually didn’t really want to come tonight, but hey, if I didn’t come we wouldn’t be talking to each other right?”

He nods his head, “Aye.”

Strange as he may be, I feel a pull towards him that I’ve never felt with anybody else. I feel safe with him and I’ve only known the guy for like, ten minutes. I admit that this feels almost sparkly vampire-esque, but I’m ignoring that in favour of the real world. I decide that after looking him over, he
could
be dangerous; I very much get that vibe from him.

Though he’s wearing a baggy shirt, judging by the toned muscles of his arms I’d say he’s probably rather strong- but I don’t at all feel threatened by him.

He’s different, and I like different.

All of a sudden, the lights go out, interrupting the moment. We’re still holding hands, and I’m not letting go. It’s way too dark and I’m not comfortable with that
at all.
And okay, I kind of admit, I like the feel of his hand in mine and I don’t want to have to think about what that means.

In second grade, I was just getting over my fear of the dark when it was reinforced all the more by the fact that I was kidnapped. I can’t remember the details of how it happened or what led up to it, but I remember waking up, being engulfed by darkness and being tied to a chair, crying and crying until finally the police came for me. They said it was just some kids from out of town looking to cause trouble, but for a while my parents were hyper vigilant about keeping me safe. 

“I’ve got a problem with the dark…” I say very quietly.

“So do I,” he squeezes my hand, but I have a feeling he doesn’t mean it the same as I do. “I think you should go inside now.”

“Can you come?” I ask, not wanting to go by myself.

“No. I think it’s better if I stay here.” He says. And then, almost to himself he says, “It’s safer that way.”

This confuses me. “What do you mean it would be safer?” I ask letting go of his hand.

He smiles a sad smile that makes my heart break for him without knowing why. “I’m not even supposed to be talking to you.”

“What do you mean?”

He just shakes his head. I guess it’s because he’s not from our school or something.

“I wasn’t even invited by the main hostess. I really shouldn’t be here. I just wanted to see…” He pauses, as if he’s putting himself in check, “I just don’t really go to many parties, and haven’t really ever been to a High School party before.” It sounds like a weak excuse, but the way he says it makes me feel…something.

I smile at him and reach out my hand and unexpectedly cup his cheek. I don’t know why I’m doing this to a guy I just met, but whatever it is that he’s making me feel, I like it.

Call it insta-like, or whatever, but there’s a pull I’m having a hard time ignoring.

“Well,” I say, “you’re at one now, and you might as well enjoy it, I think.”

He smiles in appreciation, nods his head once, and I’m surprised when he takes my hand and just holds it there, on his cheek.

“Thank you.” He says softly, before letting it go.

Four

He came with me inside after all.

We’re sitting on Cara’s guestroom bed, which surprisingly nobody is…
using,
and just talking about everyday life as we sip on some punch that tastes suspiciously like sangria that we got from the kitchen. We ripped off the stupid name tags as soon as we sat down, happy to stay antisocial.

Cael works at a bookstore somewhere in one of the bigger cities an hour away and I feel bad that I don’t remember the name of the place. He lives alone, and likes video games, especially if they have anything to do with zombies, and he – and I have to promise not to laugh before he says this – sometimes likes to knit.

Most of the night passes that way, us talking and getting to know each other. Suddenly I’m curious as to why he never mentioned his last name, since he kind of made it seem like he has none.

“Cael, you never told me your last name and kind of made it seem like…well…like you don’t actually have one.” I say, wanting to have my mouth stapled shut for all of eternity as I realise that he probably just goes by his first name for a reason.

He smirks, a little twitch of his mouth. “It’s not like that. It’s-” he pauses.

“Complicated?” I supply.

Cael nods his head. “It’s kind of like I’ve been disowned in a way and I’ve distanced myself from that life. Maybe I’ll tell you my last name sometime. But not yet.”

“I didn’t mean to pry…”

He looks up at me, surprised. “No, you don’t have to be sorry. Honestly, I don’t mind telling these things to you, you’re a good listener. I trust you.”

My heart skips a beat. He trusts me? We’ve really only just met, but I feel like I can trust him too. I’ve never felt this way before and it’s intriguing. There’s one thing though, that I can’t put my finger on. Maybe it’s because he’s new, or because he’s cute and Irish, or it could even be because there’s this strange pull I feel towards him, but whatever it is, it doesn’t feel
wrong
.

“Cael, do you wanna maybe, get outta here and catch a bite?” I ask suddenly having grown a pair of extra-large male parts.

“Yeah, I do, really. But would be better if we just…” He looks around, then strangely up at the ceiling like it’ll give him some kind of strength and then says, “I do. Cool, thanks.”

“You’re sure?” I ask, not wanting to pressure him. He nods his head and smiles at me, making me blush. He has dimples on both cheeks.

I grab him by the wrist playfully, lead him out the room and go downstairs to find Cara though as usual she finds us first.

“Hey! Are you having fun, my main man?” She asks me. God she’s so drunk, tomorrow’s not going to be a good day. She’ll be calling me puking her guts out for sure, asking me to help wash her hair.

“Yeah Cara, I am. Listen, my friend Cael and I are going to go get something to eat, and then I’m going to go home, okay?” Speaking to Cara when she’s drunk is like speaking to a five year old.

“Okay. Who’s this guy anyway? Do I even know him?” She asks.

“Nope. He just showed up with someone here. You should really pay attention who comes into your house, you know.” I reply, rolling my eyes.

“How old’re you?” she slurs, pointing at him. Cael smiles, “Nineteen.”

Cara seems to accept this and puts her arms around me saying, “I loveyou babe. You’re the only friend I’ve got to rrreally rely on, you know? You jus don’t care about everything
everybody else
does. That’s why I like you, you’re so coooool, babe. So…cool…so…” She pauses. “I’m thirsty!” and she walks away to the kitchen to get another beer, probably having forgotten that she was even talking to me.

Once we reach the front door, I do a double take as Damien shoots Cael the dirtiest of looks from across the room.
Who peed in his cornflakes?
I wonder. Obviously they have a past together, and I want to know what exactly transpired between them.

When we get outside I remember that I didn’t drive myself here.
Damn! I should’ve known there was a hitch in my plan.
I’m not good with plans I guess.

Cael studies my face. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

I blush, “I forgot that Cara drove me here. I hardly ever use my car anymore; I just always catch a ride with her. My car is kind of a piece of junk.”

He reaches into his pocket and produces a set of keys, “Lucky that I’ve got a car then, eh?”

I smile and hug him impulsively. God, I’m usually not like this. I should get myself under control before I do something stupid.

As we pull apart something strange happens. Not
“Ohmigod this guy is so cute! My heart, it fails me!”
strange, because I am not the gushing type. It’s more of a feeling that all of a sudden, I’m alone, more alone that I’ve
ever
felt. It’s like something’s been torn right out of me and it
hurts.
  Cael doubles over in pain as if he feels it too, and panic fills me.

“Cael, what’s happening?” I ask completely confused.

His face is pale his eyes are glassy, and his black hair is matted to his head from a sudden burst of sweat. He’s trembling fiercely, and I fleetingly wonder if I look the same, because I feel like utter crap.

“Khiara, I- I need to sit down. I just feel dizzy is all; I’ll be okay in a bit.” He says, trying to assure me that he’s fine by brushing it off. But I won’t let him brush this –whatever it is– off.

“Cael, you should go home. I’ll drive you if you can’t drive.” I say, eager to get him home, because obviously we’ve both got the flu or somebody’s spiked our drinks, or something
normal
. The way he’s looking at me is making me nervous, though.
This is normal, this is normal.
I chant it like a mantra in my head.

“I’ll be fine. I don’t get sick easily,” I lie to make him feel a little better. In fact, my immune system isn’t the best out there. “My immune system is great, it’s like there are these little people inside of me fighting to keep me healthy all year round yelling, ‘
Don’t let her get sick
,’ and I
never
do.”

This is why I don’t often lie. I suck at it.

He smiles like he knows I’m lying but appreciates it all the same. “Thanks, yeah. I should get home. It’s probably the flu. You said you’d drive me, but you’re sure you’ll be okay? You seem to be feeling sick yourself.”

I nod my head but think better as a wave of nausea washes over me. “I’ll call a cab.”