Chapter Nine

          "Your room is over there," Apollo said as he gestured at a room down the hallway, "and mine is ... oh, never mind that. The bathroom is near the pantry, which is over there ..."
          Ellie pretended to listen, disinterested in the little details of Apollo's tiny apartment. There was hardly anything interesting here; it all looked so mundane. And Apollo was anything but mundane and ordinary. This place hardly showed what he was like. Of course, Ellie didn't know much about the monarchy that ruled all of Outer Arc before the Great Revolution occurred (and even the things she knew about the Great Revolution was because Apollo had told her; after all, the events that took place during the Great Revolution happened around the time she was born). But she did know that before the Great Revolution, Apollo was the heir to the throne.
          "Please," he implored, "make yourself at home."
          "Why?" Ellie asked. "I thought we're going to the Outer Arc."
          "Not just yet, milady," Apollo replied. "I have a few phone calls to make, and you ought to get out of those filthy clothes."
          Ellie stared at Apollo incredulously. "Just what do you think I am?"
          "There are fresh clothes in your room," Apollo muttered flatly. "Take a shower, if you'd like. I'll even wash those disgusting clothes for you." Apollo finished his sentence with another of his creepy I-can-see-right-through-you stares. Ellie couldn't help but shiver at the stare; why was it that the stare always made her feel naked?
          "What's wrong," Ellie fumed, frustrated, "with my clothes?" She gestured down at her pea green turtleneck and jeans, although she was almost certain that Apollo could see right through them. She might as well have been naked.
          "Nothing, milady," he replied with a smile, "except that there's nothing interesting about them."
          "Stop calling me that!" Ellie snapped, groaning in frustration.
          "Would you rather have me call you Bianca, then?"
          At this point, Ellie had no comeback for that. She simply stormed off, exhaling through her nose. She slipped into her room - at least, the room that she thought Apollo said was hers - and slammed the door shut. She heaved a sigh as she looked around. More boring apartment furniture. Standard single bed, wardrobe and desk. Nothing much, except there happened to be clothes and a towel on the bed.
          Ellie settled on the bed and examined the clothes Apollo must have left for her. There was a dress, along with - gasp - underwear.  The first thing she picked up was a beaded dress. It was a bluish purple color - or was it purplish blue? - and it looked expensive. But more importantly, it looked as though it wouldn't cover much.
          Great god! she thought. Just what does he think I am? His personal slut?
          Or maybe he just didn't know her size.


          Eduard broke into a run all of a sudden. He had no idea why, but he suddenly felt the need to run, to get away from everything, to just escape ... God, what the hell was wrong with him? He'd become a merciless, cold blooded murderer! Not that he had actually stabbed his mother and Taran to death with a knife or anything, but he might as well have! After all, he had been wishing for their demise, right after leaving them to die in their burning house. Didn't that count as murder already? He might as well have been Jack the Ripper!
          You little ass, you murderer, murderer!
          Those thoughts kept running in his head over and over again in a never ending tape loop, driving him to the point of raw insanity. He felt like screaming, like jumping off a cliff and breaking all of his bones into pieces. What the heck had he done? What exactly went on back there? He was a killer, a murderer!
          Stop it, stop it! You're overreacting! Stop it, you're just in shock! the rational part of his brain snapped, but the rest of him wasn't listening. Well, how could he? He simply kept driving himself forward, pushing his already aching legs to their limit. Maybe soon he would be starved of oxygen and it'll be over. Maybe, just maybe ... Fuck wishful thinking.
           Finally, his legs gave out from beneath him and he fell flat on his face on the pavement. Pain exploded in his head, and for a split second, he blacked out. And when he came to his senses, he realized that he had been forgetting something important. Something very important. What was it? What exactly had he forgotten?
          He pulled himself up off the ground and dusted himself, wondering and pondering what he had forgotten. It had something to do with school and -
          Wait.
          "Ellie."


          Ellie wrapped the towel around her body and stepped out of the bathroom. She took a quick glance around before running to her room. That was the problem when the bathroom was so far away. And she had no intention of giving Apollo any free peep shows. And she definitely wasn't going to put on that dress.
          But to her horror, she realized that her clothes were gone! That was weird - she was certain she'd left them on the bed. Unless that sneak Apollo had taken them. Which, after much consideration, was very likely. After all, Apollo - where was he, anyway? - was the only person in the apartment, other than herself, of course.
          "There has to be something else to wear!" Ellie cried as she tried to open the wardrobe. No luck there - it was locked, save for the bottom drawer, which held a shoebox. Ellie had opened it and much to her dismay, there was a pair of what looked like four inch pumps. It would kill her to walk in those. Oh, she really wanted to kill Apollo now!
          "That asshole!" she fumed as she threw her hands up in frustration. And since there was nothing else to wear, she had no choice but to put on the dress. It was, surprisingly, a perfect fit. And apparently the dress was cut to show off her figure. Not that Ellie had much to show off, anyway. She had always been a little too skinny and a little too short, despite the fact that she ate like a shark.
          "Beautiful," someone spoke, making Ellie jump. She knew the voice, of course; it was Apollo. How the heck did he get in? Or did she forget to lock the door?
          "Haven't you heard of knocking?" she snapped, refusing to turn around and look at him.
          "It wouldn't have made a difference," Apollo replied flatly.
          "Oh, yes, it would," Ellie replied. "I wouldn't have let you in."
          "You didn't lock the door."
          "Oh."
          "Come on, Bianca," Apollo said. "You should be happy I went through all the trouble to get you all this stuff."
          "I'm not your personal whore."
          At this, Apollo laughed. And it wasn't a cold, humorless chuckle either. This was genuine, sunny peals of laughter. It didn't last long, however, and soon enough Apollo had regained his composure.
          "If you were that, Bianca," he said slowly, "you wouldn't be wearing anything right now."
           "I thought it's strictly business only," Ellie muttered, trying to keep her voice from quivering.
          "It is. And we'll be leaving for the Outer Arc soon."

Chapter Eight

          Taran gritted his teeth as he tried to find a way out of the burning room. One hand was curled around his mother's wrist, holding it tightly as if she might disappear at any second. Obviously he was afraid for his mother's life. He waved his other hand in front of him frantically, batting at the smoke. Coughing and sputtering as he dove for the door before the flames could reach it. For something that started out as a tiny flame on the bed, it had quickly raged into a blazing inferno.

          Shit, he swore inwardly as he broke into a run. He was racing down the hallway now, with Adele in tow. He wanted to risk a glance back, to see if the flames were catching up, but he was afraid of what he might see. Fighting the urge to stop and look back, Taran forced himself to run faster, bolting down the stairs as fast as he could manage. The smoke was still inflaming his lungs, the smell of it choking him. He could still feel the heat from the flames, as if he was all but five inches away from it.

          Suddenly, he heard his mother scream. He felt her stiffen in his grip and knowing that something bad must have happened, he slowly turned around. Spiders' legs of fright crawled down his back, sending chills along his spine as he realized that yes, the flames were dangerously close behind. In fact, the fire had singed part of Adele's shoulder.

          "How'd they get here so fast?" he croaked.

          He willed himself to run faster, leaping down the staircase two steps at a time, but then he stopped short when he realized that there were flames blocking the path in front of him.

          "What the-"

          Just what the hell were you thinking? Eduard chided himself, finally coming to senses about what he'd just done ... and what evil thoughts had been in his head at the time. You idiot!

          For a while, he'd buried his face in his hands and wept. But then he realized that it didn't help much, he went for a long walk in the neighborhood. After all, he had never really had a chance to go out much and that pretty much made him a stranger there, despite the fact that he had been living there for all his life. But then again, what had his entire life been all this while? His family wasn't really his family, and it was all a great fat lie.

           Liar, liar, pants on fire. The pills go down and gets you fucking higher, Eduard mused inwardly.

          He stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked down the street miserably, wondering what exactly was he to do next, now that his so-called mother and brother were dead. Or at least, he supposed that they were dead, considering how quickly the fire had spread.

          His mother and Taran. Dead.

          He mulled this over, turning the thought round and round like a carousel in his mind, testing the idea. They were dead. Dead, dead, dead. Dead-dead-dead-dead ... Dead ... He wondered why that somehow, he didn't seem so bothered by the thought. And it bothered him so, how he wasn't the least bit shaken by the idea of his mother (she may not necessarily be his biological mother, but she was his mother after all, right?) and his brother being killed in a fire. Just what the heck was wrong with him? What was he, a monster? No human in his or her right mind would think such a thing!

          "Doesn't matter," he murmured quietly, "doesn't matter."