Part three: Stayin' alive When I awake, two things are prominent. One is that I'm in a jail cell, and the other is that I'm half naked. I only have pants on. Ugh. I need to lay off the Doritos. I sit up. It's dank and the phosphorescent lights are terrible on my pale skin, covered in freckles. What's even stranger is Vivian outside my cell with my shirt on her head. The sleeves covering her eyes. She pushes them away and smiles at me. "Hi!" she yaps nervously. "Um...hello. What am I doing in here?" "This is our holding cell. No telekinetic powers work in here, so don't bother trying. Base One is assessing your case and deciding if a trial is needed, or if your fate is sealed. Your death might be postponed a couple years, depending if they decide you worthy. Neil tells me That you're the first one they've had in over fifty years. Neil is a good friend. My best friend!" she plays with my sleeve. "Why do you have my shirt on your head?" "...Because it smelled pretty...and they had to search you for anything on you. Neil let me keep your shirt. He's so nice." she murmurs as she plays with my sleeves. She's so young sounding, so sweet, that the pervert in me rises. The breezy way she shows off far too much cleavage without knowing it, the way she had her long, sexy legs out in front of her like that... What's wrong with me? That isn't what it looks like. I just...I don't want to die only having kissed one girl, and never having gotten farther than that. Not that this wasn't the worst time in history to be hot for a girl. It wasn't even that I liked her, it was just that the thought of dying a virgin tortured me. She smiles at me sunnily, and the corner of my mouth twitches. "Can I please have my shirt back?" "No! It's mine now!" "But I need a shirt!" "Nooo...I want it. It smells pretty." "It smells like me!" "You smell pretty then!" I grimace. "Pretty please?" "No! It's mine!" "But it's cold in here!" "Fine. Come over here." I stand and stretch, my then pad over to the doors. I pluck my shirt from off her head to see static abound. I chuckle as I pull it on. It does smell good. It smells like female perfume. What? Just, what? I pinch myself to see if I'm dreaming. I'm a weak pincher, damn. I wander around the cage, on edge. Vivian keeps up a nervous string of talking as I lie in the bed. "I wonder what it'd be like to kiss someone, Neil has asked but he's my best friend and I wouldn't want that because I don't like him like that but if some other boy like, say, you, I'd probably say yes..." she blabbers on and on as she enters my cell and stands in the corner. I raise my eyebrow at her. She blushes and smiles at me. I grin and she looks away. What's going on? This has never happened to me before. Making someone nervous by just looking at them. I think she might have a crush on me. I think I might've found a way out.
I smile at her, tentatively, not positive on how exactly to go about this. She smiles, nervous. I realize this might go terribly, oh so terribly, but to be totally honest, I don't really want to die. I stand and stretch as she watches me closely. This will almost certainly be a game of cat and mouse. I walk over to her, trying not to look conspicuous, while looking at her expectantly. She doesn't move, until I get within touching distance then she backs up, I continue to advance, until, of course, her back is up against the wall. Such a cliché moment. I resist the urge to back up, because she looks a bit unsure. Am I... My thought train stops completely as I crane my neck down, my face level with hers. I can smell her clean,flowery neck and taste her anxiety and the more impulsive side of me comes out. Dahlia's face rises in my mind and Vivian's sweet image turns to Dahlia's more mature, more sexual one. What a terrible time to flashback. My mind is a perfect blank. All I can feel is her hand in my hair, the thin cloth covering her skin, the smell of my own testosterone mingling with that of her own perfume, her mouth tasting of cherries, her lips oh so soft. Then the hands playing with my hair move to my chest, as she pushes me away. "No Ethan, not yet." she tells me, her eyes a bit sorry. I bite my lip. I hadn't done much, I'd just touch the exposed skin of her hips, just barely brushed it with my longest finger. "I didn't mean it, Dallie, I promise it won't happen again..." I yelp, my voice finally stabilizing into a baritone. She looks at me earnestly and kisses me on the mouth. "I've got to go anyways." she mutters as she fixes her hair and her clothes. We were making out like crazy, that summer. Always in my treehouse. We're fourteen, this being one of the last days before our breakup. I'm mad now, and I remember screaming at my father to get rid of the treehouse the next morning. It was gone the day we broke up. I realize that my body had taken over for my mind, because Vivian was kissing me softly. A warm sensation, rather alien in nature, trickles into my system, and it boils as she becomes more intense. I'm pining her against the wall, and her hands are pressed against my chest, ready to push or let me closer at their own will. As I've gotten older, I realize, that lust is an uncomplicated drive. It simply wants the body, it wants to fulfill its primary goal, reproduction, kiddies. I felt bad for manipulating her innocence, her naïve nature, but it was made quite obvious this is what she wanted. I feel she would've let me further, had I wanted to, but that would be too far, I would not be able to cope with that sort of guilt. I was a terrible person as it was, because, deep down inside of me, I knew that was what I wanted. I parted from her ever willing lips, my mind filled with guilt, and hope. I didn't want to die...I might not, if I can convince her to break me out, which she might actually do. Plus, I got to second base. --------------------------------------------------- Things got steamy Oh Lord, I'm terrible.
She stares at me, her eyes big and wild. "I've always wanted to be kissed..." I smile unsteadily, "For your first time, that was good." She smiles at me again, then frowns. "But...if you're going to die...I won't kiss you again. I'd end up kissing Neil, wouldn't I? I don't want to kiss Neil." her face scrunches up in an almost adorable without trying fashion. "I'm sorry..." I really do sound sorrowful. It's not as if I totally dismiss her feelings. I honestly felt bad for her. And for me. Mostly for me, because I'm the one doing the dying. "Well...Neil tells me you might not die!" she says slowly, "He says the high court doesn't think it's an open-shut case. They think they could use you." Use me? "Use me?" "Neil tells me it's something about Base Ten...something more than anything we've previously known of...something that might just change the whole base of knowledge associated with Origins...isn't it exciting?" she tells me as her eyes become progressively larger. Zimbabwe...wasn't it? It was in Zimbabwe...what would Zimbabwe have to do with anything? More pressingly, how did Niel know all of this? "How did Niel get to know all of this?" "Someone in Base One delivers informations to a messenger by words so mostly no one can hear, and the messenger, Niel, can usually like, wipe memories and have inpenetrable minds, and they take it to the elected leader. Only they know unless a telepathic message is spread." "And who's this leader?" "Our English teacher, Ms. Waterson." "God dang, is everyone at our school a telepath?" "There's lots of them...especially here. Don't know why, but there's more telepaths here than anywhere else in the world. Problem is, if no one finds you, there's no way of you ever discovering you're different. Telepaths could go crazy, they're so unstable, being with others makes it much easier, not only because we'll be shunned by society, but we can use our powers in an unharmful manner. People who don't find more Origins go crazy,or die really early." It's a chilling prospect. As I'm think about this, a voice sounds, and my blood runs cold. "Thanks for knocking me out." his voice isn't mad, but irritated. "Viv! Get out of there! That's against the rules!" "I don't see anyone around. Besides, are you going to tell on your little sister?" her voice changes from innocent to devilish. "Are you going to hang out with a dude that almost killed me, and is a convict?" "He didn't almost kill you. And he was defending himself. It was an accident." "Whatever. I still don't like him." I look at them, bewildered. "Why are you here, anyways?" "Waterson wants to see you." Great. Now my English teacher is getting involved. ------------------------------------------------------ I might discontinue. No one cares about supernatural.