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Jul 3, 2015

The Soul’s Game

Chapter 11

Word Count: 7,666

July 6, 2007

Masahiko ran his fingers languidly through Izzy’s silky smooth locks for what was possibly the thousandth time that day. He had lost count by then (but it wasn’t like he had been keeping count in the first place.) Izzy didn’t seem to mind him either, and if she did then she hadn’t mentioned anything.

“It’s so pretty,” Masahiko said as his fingertips grazed the nape of her neck. She shuddered under his touch and a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She led his hand away from her hair and laced her fingers between his.

“You have said that many times today,” she said, combing through her hair with her free hand. She didn’t need to do that, Masahiko knew for a fact there wasn’t a single tangle in her hair. She pulled it all over her shoulder, where it hung a few inches down her chest. Maybe she had been bothered by it, Masahiko thought idly.

“We are not going to finish this if we do not focus, Masahiko,” she said. His name rolled off her lips with delicate precision. It sounded almost like music, just as everything she said did. He wanted to hear her say it over and over again, for as long as she could. When he didn’t respond to her she looked at him from the corner of her eye and smiled. She looked more amused than bothered, and Masahiko figured that she didn’t want to work on the assignments either.

They were seated on the floor or Masahiko’s living room, only a few inches of space between them. A stack of untouched worksheets sat in a neat pile atop the coffee table in front of them, just like it had been for the last week. Masahiko leaned his back onto the couch behind them and let his head loll back.

“But it’s poetry. I hate poetry,” he said with a huff. Izzy squeezed his hand and he could hear a whisper of a laugh from her direction.

“We could work on something else,” she said. Masahiko caught her pushing her bangs off to the side of her face, where they remained for only a brief second before she pulled them over her face again.

“Your hair looks nicer than usual when it’s out of your face like that,” he said, pushing himself upright. Izzy shook her head, but she couldn’t hide the smile on her face quick enough for Masahiko to miss it.

His grin spread from ear to ear and he reached over to tuck her bangs behind her ear.

“It’s nice. And i get to see your cute little eyebrows now,” he said. Izzy turned her nose up and blew a raspberry at him in retaliation.

“Anyway, I don’t like working on things out of order so we have to do this first,” he said reaching for the topmost sheet. “It’s a simple enough exercise; you just have to construct a few sentences that use similes and metaphors. That shouldn’t be too hard, right?”

“Then you can show me how to do them, Masa?” she asked. He took only a quick glance at the paper before falling onto his side.

“But I hate poetry,” he repeated. Izzy released his hand and lightly smacked his thigh.

“You said this would be easy. Were you lying to me?” she asked. Her hand rested on his thigh and when her fingers twitched against his skin he squirmed into a sitting position again. It was too hot in the room, he was sweltering. Had it always been this hot? His cheeks puffed out and he glowered at her when she giggled at his flushed face.

“It’s easy for most people, but I can’t understand any of it. Poetry’s all made up of symbolism and junk like that, and I don’t get any of it,” he said, glaring at the innocuous sheet of paper.

“So I guess you’ll just have to fail the poetry section of the class like I do every year,” he said with a grin and a shrug. Izzy snorted and shook her head.

“Are you not even going to try to help me?” she asked, playfully shoving his arm. Masahiko shoved her in return and looked down at the half-crumpled paper in his hands again.

“I suppose it wouldn't kill me to give it a try.. Let’s start with similes. You’re supposed to compare things using the words ‘like’ and ‘as.’ It’s simple,” Masahiko said, mostly to himself. Izzy leaned closer to him, practically leaning on his arm. Heat radiated from her as though she was a small sun, and could feel her hot breath roll down his arm. Her proximity was making it hard for Masahiko to focus on the assignments, so he brought the half crumpled page close to his face. He pretended not to hear her whine about being unable to see the paper, but he had to laugh at how ridiculous she sounded. She grumbled and whined, and edged closer to him to get a glimpse at the paper.

“If you are not going to let me see the paper, then will you try to show me how to make one when you are done?” she asked, placing a hand on his arm. Masahiko drew the paper away from his face.

“You go first,” he said.

Izzy’s nose scrunched and she let go of his arm.

“I do not know how, you did not even let me read the paper! You do it first,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. Masahiko’s lips curled into a pout.

“But I don’t know how to do these either,” he said.

“Try it anyway,” she said.

“You try it.”

Masahiko huffed and crossed his arms over his chest as well. Izzy stuck out her chest and Masahiko mimicked her. She tilted her chin upwards and Masahiko did the same. They both gradually sat more upright than the other, before Masahiko tipped onto his back and the two succumbed to a fit of giggles.

“I guess I have no choice but to go first,” Masahiko said, feigning annoyance. “Alright. So if I were to describe you with similes I might say something like… I don’t know. Your hair is red. Like. Like a cherry, maybe? Like a dark red cherry,” he added. Izzy looked at him with furrowed brows and an amused smile. Was this what a simile was supposed to sound like?

“And your skin is like milk choco— ow.” Masahiko winced and rubbed his thigh where Izzy had bestowed him a harsh pinch. “What the hell was that for?” he asked, scooching a few inches away from her.

“Why would you compare me to chocolate? That was so weird,” she said, her face was twisted in mild disgust.

“But that’s the way all girls with brown skin are described in the cheesy Young Adult novels I read,” Masahiko said, assessing the angry red mark left behind on his leg. Izzy exhaled sharply through her nose and her lips pressed into a thin line.

“I do not care what they do in your books. We are not in a cheesy Young Adult novel, so you should not say that. It is— oh, what is that word?”

Her eyes were scanning the room, and her brow creased further. The word was right at the tip of her tongue, she almost had it she just needed a little nudge—

“Awkward?” Masahiko offered.

“Creepy,” Izzy said, her hands clenching into fists.

“It makes me feel like I am a food, I do not like it,” she added with a shudder. Masa moved back to his original seat and gingerly placed a hand on top of hers.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I won’t use any foody descriptions anymore. I promise,” he said, intertwining their pinky fingers. He gently squeezed her little finger with his own and smiled when her tight lipped scowl lifted at one of the corners.

“If anything, your skin is kinda like the color of dirt,” Masahiko said absentmindedly. Izzy’s head snapped towards him with an ice cold glare and Masahiko jumped and dropped her hand.

“That was the wrong word! That was— ugh, it was the wrong word, I didn’t mean to say that, I swear!” Masahiko said, his hands in the air in front of his face like a shield.

“But you did say it,” she said, jabbing a finger into his chest. Masahiko ignored the sharp pain where her finger stabbed him, and cupped her hand in both of his.

“I did, I did. And it was wrong of me,” he said, drawing her hand away from his chest. He was sure there’d be a bruise where she jabbed him appearing soon. “I’m really really sorry about that, I wasn’t thinking when I spoke!”

Izzy scoffed and rolled her eyes so harshly that Masahiko almost through they would roll back into her skull.

“Your skin is a very lovely shade of brown, I swear.”

Unimpressed by his apology, Izzy pulled her hand out of his grip and continued to glare at him.

“Damn right it is lovely, you milky-assed motherfucker,” she said.

Masahiko leaned back, his mouth slightly agape in astonishment.

“‘Milky-assed’? I’m almost as tan as you are!” he said, placing his arm next to hers. He really was significantly darker than he had been only a few months ago, but he was still no match for Izzy’s rich copper brown tone. Izzy turned up her nose at him.

“Your skin is lighter than I have ever been,” she sneered. “And when summer is over you will be whiter than paper again.”

“I’m not that white,” Masahiko said, drawing his arm back.

“You are.”

“No I’m not—“

“Whiter than snow.”

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?”

“Whiter than any person in the whole world.” “That’s just mean, Izzy—“

She stabbed her finger into his chest again, in the exact same spot she had done it before. The sharp ache made Masahiko wince, but he didn’t move away.

“You said that my skin is the color of dirt, I can call you any ‘mean’ thing I want to,” she hissed. Masahiko shut his mouth and nodded rapidly enough to make himself a bit dizzy.

“Right, sorry about that,” he said with a strained smile and a forced laugh. Izzy exhaled again and took the sheet of paper away from his hands. She held her stern gaze even towards the paper, and Masahiko was left to fidget with his fingers.

It was forever before Masahiko gathered the courage to speak to her.

“Is there anything I can do to show you how sorry I am?” he asked, lowering his head to make eye contact with her. She did not spare him even the smallest glimpse.

“It is fine, forget it,” she said briskly. Masahiko tentatively reached out to take hold of her hand again, but kept to himself. She might snap at him again if he tried that. He nervously swallowed the lump forming in his throat and waited for her to talk again.

Waiting was unbearable. It felt like eons before she even blinked again, but it was probably only minutes. Probably not even a single minute. Maybe it was only seconds. He bounced around in his seat for a while longer before opening his mouth again.

“Where did you learn how to curse like that?” he asked softly. Izzy put down the paper in her hands and looked over at the stack of papers on the table. The paper she had been reading hadn’t made much sense, surely there was another paper she was supposed to have read along with it.

“Curse words are the easiest to remember when you are learning a new language,” she said, shuffling through the papers on top. There was nothing helpful there, those were for the next unit. Maybe they had lost it? Was there actually another part of the assignment?

“I guess that’s true,” Masahiko said, now fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. He needed to stop that, he was going to wear the delicate lace edges out and Yasu would scold him for it.

“Was it hard to learn English?” he asked again, unable to look at her for more than a second now. He kept his eyes on his hands, and could only hear the sounds of paper sliding around.

“It is hard. English is very... ugly. My mouth has to move in strange ways to make these words. And the way sentences are made are strange. I do not like it,” she said. Ah, the missing sheet had been all the way at the bottom of the pile, no wonder they hadn’t seen it. Masa let the cloth of his shirt fall through his fingers and instead picked at his chipping nail polish

“When did you start learning it?” he asked. Izzy almost didn't hear his question, she was focusing on trying to make sense of the other sheet. She could barely read it, all the letters seemed to be mixed up or wrong. She hated this, every single thing she read looked the exact same way.

“When I was six,” she said. Masahiko looked at her long enough to see the tip of her tongue sticking out from between her lips as she strained to read the sheet. “Wait, it was when I five.”

Masahiko nodded for a few seconds before realizing that she wouldn’t be able to see him.

“That’s cool. Did you learn it at school?” he asked as she leaned back against the sofa once more.

She hummed affirmatively.

His fingers itched to reach out to her again. He wanted to apologize again, but she might not react well to it. She might snap at him and call him annoying like Hiroki did when he apologized too many times. Or worse, she might give him that dreaded icy glare again.

There was no good in irritating her any further, he decided as he placed his hand down on the floor between them.

To his delight, Izzy placed her free hand atop of his. She slid the worksheet across the table in front of him.

Masahiko scanned the paper. He thought he had already gone over that sheet, but he appeared to be mistaken. “Can I ask what your first language was? Or would that be weird?”

Her fingers loosely curled around his own fingers.

“You would not know it,” she said. Her tone was still icy, but at least she wasn’t glaring at him anymore. It was a small victory and Masahiko wasn’t about to squander it.

“How do you know that? I’m a pretty well read guy, I’ve probably heard of it at least once,” Masahiko said, leaning over to nudge her with his shoulder. Izzy couldn’t fully suppress her smile, and shouldered him back to his spot.

"Punjabi" she said, her lips still only slightly upturned.

Masahiko stared blankly at her for a while before nodding his head slowly.

"You have never heard of it before, have you?" she asked, biting back a laugh.

He smiled sheepishly "Never, not even once," he said.

She shook her head. "I told you so," Masahiko thought he heard her say under her breath.

He scooted closer to her once more, and could once again feel immense heat radiating from her small frame. She must have been baking inside of that jacket, but she never showed any sign of discomfort in it.

"Where do they even speak that?" he asked, taking a better hold of her dainty hand.

"In India, where I was born. But I can not speak it very good now, so do not ask me to say anything in it," she said, pulling a throw pillow off the couch to tuck behind her back.

Masahiko turned around to be able to talk to her better and ran his thumb over her knuckles lightly.

"I wasn’t gonna ask you to do that," he said. Judging by Izzy’s snort, his lie hadn’t fooled her one bit. "Even if you can’t speak it well, it's pretty amazing that you can speak any other language at all. Not many people around here can say that they can do that."

Izzy snickered once she caught sight of this beaming face, and lightly punched his arm.

"Why are you smiling like that? Did you not tell me before that you speak five languages?" she asked, holding up five fingers for emphasis.

Masahiko scoffed and rolled his eyes in such an exaggerated manner that Izzy couldn't help but laugh.

"It’s four. And for your information, I can only speak two of them fluently, so it’s not even that impressive," he said.

Izzy shook her head in disbelief. Her smile had faded and a flicker of worry sparked in Masahiko’s chest once more. Had he said something insensitive without noticing again? He really needed to get better at that, he was almost as bad as Hiroki.

"You are lucky. I can not speak any language perfect," she said. Her left hand clenched into a loose fist atop her thigh. “I can not even speak my first well, and it is the one I use most.”

"There's no shame in that," Masahiko said, perhaps a bit too brightly.

"Could you tell me what it's like in India?" he asked. “From what I’ve seen it looks amazing. Did you like it over there?”

Izzy bit her lip and sighed.

"I do not know a lot about it. My family left when I was small. I think I was four when we moved to Europe. Maybe I was five, I cannot remember. My parents only took us out during special occasions, like when my father had an important event for work, but I cannot remember what we did or where we went," she said. Her gaze was focused out the window, as though she were trying to catch a glimpse at faint memories. Masahiko found his eyes wandering towards the window as well, trying to see what even she could see.

But that was impossible, he realized. He would never be able to look in on her memories, no matter how desperately he wanted to. The realization made his stomach sink like a stone.

"I remember England. It was always cold, and very gray. I did not like it there," she said, her voice just above a whisper.

"Did you live there for very long?"

Izzy shook her head

"Where else did you live?"

Izzy smiled.

"Everywhere," she said, flicking the tip of his nose. “And nowhere.”

Before he could question her bizarre answer, she reached over to the paper she had left in front of him and waved it in front of his face.

"We have to focus on this, I have to leave early today," she said. Masa scowled at the poetry vocabulary in front of him and batted the paper away.

"It's too hot to focus on anything right now, let's leave it for tomorrow," he said, leaned over to rest his head on Izzy's shoulder. Her shoulders bounced from her laughter.

“Would it not be hotter being so close to me?” she asked. He just shrugged as a reply and let his head be jostled by her peals of laughter once more.

He could stay there forever, he decided. There where her impossibly soft hair pressed against his face, and the sweet smell of oranges wrapped around him, where she was so hot to the touch he almost worried about being burned.

"You do not do very much for a tutor," Izzy said taking her hand out of his grasp to reach up to run her fingers through his hair. Masahiko grumbled and almost argued her claim, but kept his mouth shut. He had wormed his way back into her good graces and he wasn't about or ruin it.

He felt Izzy's shoulder jerk from under him and before he could question her about it, his head was struck by an unidentified flying object. He tensed up and rubbed at the site of injury before turning towards the offending source.

Yasu stood at the front door, one hand delicately pressed against her lips to keep herself from laughing.

"I almost feel bad for separating you lovebirds, but the priceless look on your face made it all worth while," Yasu said, walking over to them. She held out her hand and threw Masahiko an expectant look. He Scanned the floor to see what exactly it was she had thrown at him.

Near Izzy's foot, Yasu’s bejeweled handbag lay open with half of its contents spilling out. Masahiko tsked and scooped up the baubles to hand to her, unaware of how Izzy fidgeted under Yasu’s gaze.

"You've been here for quite a while now, have you two gotten any work done today?" Yasu asked. Her eyes flited over to the barely touched stack of papers and she laughed. "I guess not. Maybe tomorrow then," she added, patting the top of Masahiko's head. He scowled and shook off her hand.

"Don’t talk as though you had any quicker progress when I was your tutor," he said. Yasu perched herself at the kitchen bar and giggled. She sounded like a chirping bird.

"I’m not trying to be sarcastic, I'm being... oh what's that word?" she said, snapping her fingers. "Honest? I feel like there's a better word for it, but it'll do," she said, crossing her ankles.

She looked over at Izzy "I wouldn't put too much faith in him, he gets really lazy when he's familiar with his pupil," she said with a devilish smile. Masahiko crossed his arms in a huff, muttering something under his breath. Izzy let out a breathy laugh (could it even be called a laugh?) and placed a hand on Masahiko's arm.

"I think I should go home now," she said softly. Masahiko’s face fell and he intertwined their fingers.

"Already? I thought you said you didn't have to leave until three, and it’s barely noon," he said, his shoulders slumping. Izzy offered an apologetic smile and a shrug.

"Yes, but I have to get the house ready before my father arrives tonight, you know that" she said, raising herself from the floor. “If I leave now then i will not be hurried later.”

Masahiko sighed in defeat.

"Alright, I’ll walk you home then," he said, starting to pull himself up. Izzy placed a hand on his shoulder and shook her head, sending her hair rolling over her shoulders.

"It is fine, I can go by myself," she said reaching for her bag. Masahiko pursed his lips and plopped himself back down on the floor.

"Are you sure? It's not a bother or anything," he said.

"Just let her walk by herself. She's a big girl, I’m sure she can take care of herself," Yasu said. Masahiko threw her a concerned look, and looked back up to Izzy. Their eyes met for a brief second, and once again he felt a jolt run over his skin. It was thrilling.

"I will be fine," Izzy said, with a smile. The corners of her eyes crinkled and added an extra sparkle to her eyes. Masahiko felt a smile spread over his own face. He hopped off the floor and linked their arms together, eliciting a laugh from Izzy.

"What are you doing, Masa?" she asked at the end of a breathless laugh.

Unable to wipe the grin off his face, he said "You have to at least let me walk you past the gate."

She shook her head at him but her smile never left. As they walked out the door Masahiko could feel Yasu's eyes burning into the back of his head, but he pretended not to notice her.

His hold lingered on her hand as they bid their farewells, and he continued to wave goodbye until he couldn't see her down the street any longer.

He was filled with a bubbly warm sensation from his scalp all the way down to his toes. When he entered his home and met Yasu's stare the warm bubbles turned into icy needles in his stomach.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Masahiko asked, entering the kitchen. Yasu pulled her hair away from her face and uncrossed her ankles. She kept her eyes locked on him and kept her lips pressed tight until he turned to look at her.

"Do you know that you look at her the same way Hiroki looks at you?" she asked.

Masahiko froze in his spot, his hand hovering over a bowl of watermelon slices.

"I don’t know what youre talking about," he said, withdrawing his hand from the fridge.

"You do. You like her don't you?" She asked, leaning on the bar. Masahiko drummed his fingers along the kitchen countertop and shook his head.

Like Izzy? No, that couldn't be right. This isn't what liking someone felt like. He’d never felt this way when he was with Hiroki, and he loved Hiroki. And he was absolutely sure that he loved Hiroki, he thought as his fingers gripped the edge of the countertop.

“I don't like her like that,” he said.

He couldn’t like her like that. He’d never liked a girl before, and even if he had it wouldn't have been someone like her.

She was too…

He could see her smile in his mind’s eye, could hear her laugh, could almost feel the heat of her hand in his. His heart was fluttering in his ribcage, desperate to burst out. Meanwhile his stomach was twisting itself into a tight knot.

He didn't want to think about this anymore, he felt like shit.

“That’s not what it looked like to me,” Yasu started, “Every time I see you two together you’re all over her. I can practically see the hearts in your eyes.”

Masahiko shook his head. This wasn't right. This isn’t what it was supposed to feel like. Was he even allowed to like her? No, he couldn't like her, she was far too…

Nice.

He could remember the day they had spoken in the park with the utmost clarity, could remember how brightly her eyes had burned, how earnest she had sounded—

And for what? He had done nothing good for her, all he did was bring her into his mess. It wasn't fair to her.

"Dont be ridiculous. There's no way I could like someone like her in that way. You said it yourself, I'm much too shallow to like someone who looks like her," he said. How could he say something like that about her?

She was breathtaking.

“But you’re not. Listen, I don't care about the reasons you like her, all I care about is the fact that she’s not one of us,” Yasu said, placing a hand over her heart. “She’s Unbound, an outsider. What would she do if she found out about you?”

Masahiko bit the tip of his tongue. It stung enough to make him want to wince. Maybe he could bite himself hard enough to draw blood, surely that would be a good enough excuse to get out of this conversation.

“Masa, are you listening to me?”

Of course he was, how could he not be?

He already knew exactly what Izzy would upon discovering his Bind, he’d already seen it first hand. He’d never be able to forget the look of terror on her face when she first saw him, or how anxious she looked when he had brought it up again.

She deserved better than this, better than him.

Liking her would be cruel.

How could he ever allow such affection to develop?

“I could never like her,” he repeated, sterner than before.

It wouldn't be fair to her.

Yasu hummed and pulled off her glasses to check them for smudges.

“You don't believe what you’re saying—” Masahiko slammed a fist on the countertop. “For the last time, I don't like her. I never have, and I never will, okay?” he said. Yasu folded her arms over her bust.

"Are you sure about that?" she asked. Mashiko nodded. He unclenched his fist and tried his best to ignore the ache in his fingers.

No, he wasn't sure at all.

"Yeah, She's just a friend. Trust me a bit, won't you?"

With the edge of her sleeve Yasu wiped at a spec on the lens.

"I suppose I’ll have to, for now."

Masahiko ran his hands under the sink and then through his hair to reverse the damage Yasu's bag had done to his hair earlier. His scalp still tingled where Izzy had brushed her fingers through.

“But you need to keep what I said in mind,” she said. Masahiko bit his tongue again.

"Why are you bringing this all up?" he asked. gripping the edge of the sink. Yasu leaned over the kitchen bar.

"Because you're my baby brother and I love you. Besides, matters like this aren't exactly safe for people like us, Masa," she started, “You have to take these things seriously. It’s a matter of life and death, not just for yourself, but for all of our family.”

Masahiko's hold on the sink tightened. His fingers were begging him to let go, but he couldn’t.

"Stop worrying about it. Nothing's gonna happen, we'll be fine." he said.

He could hear the faint echo of Izzy’s laughter in his ears once more and he grimaced.

This was miserable.

If this was what affection was like, the he wished he had never known her.

And yet, he couldn't wait to see her again.

-//-

Izzy was drenched in sweat by the time she reached her street. The heavy grocery bags she carried in both hands did not allow her to wipe the sweat off her face even once, and she was in too much of a hurry to stop for even a second. The air was hot and dry, and she felt her lungs burn with every breath. She could not say that she minded. The heat felt divine compared to the icy tundra her house had become. Catríona grew nauseous in warm environments so she always kept their house at an unreasonably cold temperature.

Though Izzy loved the intense heat the outdoors provided, she hated the copious amounts of sweat that always followed it. She would have to run a cold shower before she started cleaning the house up. Or perhaps she could indulge herself with a bath. It had been ages since she had permitted herself one, and today felt like a good day to take one.

Cleaning could wait.

She had left entirely too early from Masahiko's home, she could have gotten the house ready for her father’s arrival in less than a couple of hours. And he would be arriving late, sometime around eight or nine, and he would only be there long enough to eat dinner with them. He would not have enough time to look around the rest of the house, as small as it was, so she had no reason to be too thorough in cleaning.

She managed to slip into the house without dropping a single bag, and inside was greeted by the tantalizing scent of fresh coffee.

Wait, that wasn't right.

She had not made any since the previous night, and Catriona had never made a pot of coffee in her life.

Besides, Catríona should still have been at work. She was not going to be home until past five, and if she had left early she would have called by then.

Maybe their father had asked her to come home early and she was busy. Izzy sneered at the thought. No, that was far too generous of him, what a ridiculous thought.

She set the bags down in the dining room and turned towards the kitchen, thinking that perhaps she had made coffee this morning and simply forgotten about it. That was a worrying thought, if she could forget something like that then what else could she be forgetting?

The sun’s touch felt like a distant memory after she caught sight of her father in the kitchen. Her blood ran cold in her veins and she stumbled back a few steps. She reached to pull her hair back but realized in horror that she had nothing to hold it back with.

He was leaning against the sink with his eyes closed. There was not a single sign of strain on his wrinkled face. If she did not know him as well as she did, she would have assumed he was asleep.

"Welcome home, Isibéal," he said without looking at her.

Izzy attempted to swallow, but her mouth had gone as drier than the air outside. She nodded and quickly tucked her hair into her sweater as best she could, hoping that he had not gotten a glimpse of her yet.

"Ah, thank you," she managed to spit out as she pulled her bangs away from her face. "You are here early, you said that you wouldn't be here until late."

Could he notice how her voice trembled? Of course he did, he noticed everything,

Her father nodded.

"Something came up, I won’t be able to be here tonight. I had just enough time in my schedule to make this visit, but it will be shorter than I’d like," he said. He reached up to press his fingers to his temple but his eyes remained shut, thank god. Izzy shuffled from one foot to another.

"The house is a mess and I have not started dinner yet, please forgive me—"

"It's fine, I don't care. Though I expected you to be home sooner," he said. Izzy nodded.

"I am so sorry, I thought I had enough time to go to the market—"

Her father waved her thought away with the flick of a hand and her jaw shut with an audible snap.

"You should have gone sooner than this. What kept you from going any earlier?" her father asked, drawing his hand away from his temples.

Izzy wiped away a rivlet of sweat that ran down the side of her face.

“I was with my tutor this morning,” she said. her bangs fell from behind her ears and she hurried to tuck them back into place.

"Is that so?" her father asked, taking a slow sip from his mug. "And I'm sure you two have made significant progress. I should be expecting something better than the dismal grades you turned out in your last semester, correct?"

Izzy nodded.

"Yes! I have been working very hard," she said. Her words rang false even to her own ears, but he didn't call her out on it. Instead he gave her a cold look.

She felt like she could have turned to stone right then. His eyes narrowed, causing the creases around his eyes to deepen, and his jaw tensed.

She swallowed thickly and averted her eyes from him.

"Isibéal, look at me," he said, his voice hard as stone. Izzy clenched her fists and raised her head slightly. She could not meet his eyes.

"Isibéal, I thought we agreed that you would be keeping your hair short," he said tersely. Izzy nodded, Exasperated, he sighed and set his mug down on the counter. The hard knock of the mug against the counter made Izzy flinch, and she dropped her ducked her head again.

"Yes, but I thought that… Ah," she could not find her words, they were all failing her now. What had she been thinking? What made her think that growing her hair out was a good idea?

"You thought? What exactly were you thinking, hmm?"

Izzy's hands were trembling, and she shrugged.

Her father snapped his fingers in rapid succession and pointed towards his eyes.

"I told you to look at me when I speak to you, Isibéal. Tell me: What were you thinking?"

Not even her nails were digging into her as uncomfortably as his words were.

"Answer me."

She swallowed the lump in her throat, "Nothing. I did not think. I have been busy… I did not have any time to get it cut," she said, her voice almost unintelligible. None of her words fit right in her mouth, they came out sounding like a jumbled mess. Had she made any sense at all? Her father was not making a noise, had she even spoken out loud like she thought she had?

He slammed a hand down on the counter, and every muscle in Izzy’s body tensed enough to hurt..

"You’ve had no time?" he asked with a scornful bark of a laugh. "What do you even do here all day? You don't cook, you don't clean, you obviously don't do anything with that tutor of yours!"

Izzy could barely hear the sound of his footsteps over the sound of her thrashing heartbeat. He took a lock of her hair from her temple between his thick and calloused fingers.

“Let me take a wild guess. You thought it would be… nice,” he said. He yanked at her sharply to bring her head down to his level. “Nice to have it just like your sister’s. Is that right?” Her fingers were screaming at her to reach up and pull his hand away from her, and her jaw felt like it was about to shatter from the pressure she clamped it with. She could not hear him right, she could not remember anything that he had said. She nodded and hoped it would appease him, but he only pulled harder at her hair.

"The only reason your sister has her hair this length is because she has explicitly disobeyed my wishes," he hissed into her ear. "Surely you don't want to be doing the same right?"

Izzy shook her head, tried to get a pitiful apology out of her mouth but she could not even create the smallest noise.

"Do you two want to draw more unnecessary attention to yourselves?” he hissed into her ear. Her eyes were burning. She wished Catríona would come home soon. “Do you want to undo all the hard work I’ve done to make sure you two are safe? I didn't bring you to this place so that you could parade around like a pair of clowns!” She could not swallow the lump in her throat, she could barely breathe at all, she wished he shut up, leave—

“Or is it that you just want to look like your mother?" he asked. Izzy ripped herself out of her father's grip and shook her head.

She pressed her hands to her tender scalp.

"No, I would never want that," she said through gritted teeth.

"Then why are you doing this?" he asked, his arms extending outwards.

"Honestly, you already behave so much like her—"

"I do not!" Izzy said, crossing her arms over herself. Tears threatened to spill over her eyes, but she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

"You’re exactly like her. It's disgusting," he seethed. Izzy shook her head vehemently.

How could he say such an awful thing?

How could he even think of comparing her to her mother?

It was beyond cruel.

“You don't want to be like your mother, do you Isibéal?” he asked, his tone soft once more. Izzy took in a shaky breath and shook her head.

“Then you’ll do as I say,” her father said, walking back towards the kitchen.

“Take a seat.” Izzy forced her fists to loosen, fought to unclench her jaw, and sat at the dining table. The spindles of the chair dug into her shoulder blades, distracting her just a bit from the aches of her jaw and fists. Goosebumps covered her arms from the icy temperature of the house, but her skin felt aflame. The once comforting scent of coffee had turned acrid, and it left a foul taste on her tongue.

In the darkening room, she wished she could disappear into the shadows, to evade her father’s line of sight for the rest of her days. Deep in her heart she knew it would be so easy to disappear like that. He was never around, he probably would not even notice she was gone for months, unless Catríona told him. He would be furious, absolutely livid, but he would not be able to touch her.

But where would she go? She did not want to stay here, nowhere even close to here. She did not want to live with a relative, she did not want to live anywhere. Her heart yearned for some far off place, a place that she could neither name nor imagine, as hard as she might. She had seen this place before, breathed in it’s sweet crisp air, looked up at it’s impossibly blue and endless sky, she was sure of it. Even if it was just in a dream, she knew it was there somewhere.

Her father stood behind her, put a large hand on her shoulder. He was talking again, but Izzy could not understand him. He pulled a large clump of her hair into a tight ponytail atop her head and Izzy felt something cold press close to her scalp. The loud snip that followed made a chill run down her spine, but she did not flinch. Short locks of hair fell around her face, but soon even those were cut away.

It was too cold, always far too cold. She wished she was never cold.

She knew that in that far off place, she would never feel cold again.

Long locks of her dark red hair had fallen onto her lap. They hung limply over her arms like frayed ribbons. The ends itched her arms, but she could not move. She could not even think of moving,

She could barely think at all.

“What a gaudy color,” she heard her father say under his breath.

She heard the sound of the scissors being put away, and she heard a car pulling up to the house.

She heard her father say something before shutting the front door behind him, and she heard the car pull away. She could hear the kitchen clock ticking rhythmically, and the hum of the fridge. If she tried really hard she could almost hear the television from her neighbor's home.

Most prominently, she could hear the sound of her heartbeat, slow and steady. She could feel it everywhere in her body, down in her toes, and in her stomach, and in her temples. Soon it was all she could feel, all she could hear.

The sun set without her notice and she was left in the near pitch black dining room. The kitchen light had been left on and it filtered into the room but it did not reach her. It was dark and, for what she was sure was the first time in her life, she did not feel scared. In the inky black shadows she could see something moving out of the corner of her eye, but it brought her no concern. She could almost feel something brush by her back, something large and impossibly dark. Something warm. She could almost hear the sound of its heart beating along with hers, almost in perfect succession. She could almost hear it move around the dining room, could almost feels its breath on her neck.

It’s large hands were on her shoulders, as inky black as the shadows that surrounded them, so she could not see it. But she could feel it.

It was such a familiar feeling. A warm, comforting, feeling.

Just like the far off place.

“Izzy!” Catríona called out from the front door. Whatever creature had been with Izzy, whatever feeling had accompanied it, dissipated before she could even blink.

The dining room light flickered on and Catríona stood in the doorway, a large briefcase in one hand, and Izzy’s forgotten grocery bags in the other.

“I’m so sorry I’m so late, I got held up at the office and the traffic in the city was god awful.”

She looked at Izzy and her shoulders fell. Her brow furrowed and her lips pressed into a tight line before she dropped the bags onto the floor.

“Welcome home,” Izzy said. Her voice came out gravely, and she could feel her lips split in two different places. She could only now feel how parched she was.

“What happened to you?” Catríona asked, taking a hesitant step towards Izzy.

Izzy shook her head, sending a flurry of smaller hairs falling off her scalp and onto her shoulders. Catríona’s feet appeared in Izzy’s line of sight, and she ducked her head down lower to further obscure it from her sister.

Catríona brushed her sister’s cheek lightly with her knuckles.

“Where’s our father?” she asked, her tone as sharp and cold as her hands. Izzy shrugged. She could hear her sister exhale sharply through her nose.

“Did he do this?” she asked, running her fingers through the short strands of hair left on her sister’s scalp. It was a sloppy job, if she didn't know any better she would have assumed a toddler had done it. In some places the cut was nearly at her scalp, while in others several loose strands still fell. When Izzy shrugged again, she caused another cascade of hair to fall off of her shoulders and flutter down to the floor.

Catríona pressed Izzy’s head to her bosom, stroking at her cheek with a shaky hand. Her blood was boiling. There was no doubt in her mind that this was her father’s doing, and the worst part was that neither of them could do anything about it. Izzy wouldn't place a drop of blame on him, and Catríona couldn't tell him anything without putting Izzy at further risk of their father’s childish anger.

“Are you alright?” Catríona asked.

Izzy sighed and rose from her seat, pulling herself from her sister’s warm hold.

“I am always alright.”

#vicky wrote a thing #elfentruthed #imnotarainbowracist #pygmynoodles #i made this chapter extra long bc i dont love myself or anyone on mobile

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