A Girl and a Boy
By: ineXpressible

Deafening thuds danced among the four sterile walls around her as she fixed her glower upon the cause of the noise, or rather, the boy. He stood poised, his blond eyebrows furrowed furiously over youthful hazel eyes that flickered with frustration as he pounded relentlessly upon the large heavy door before him. His breathing was growing shallow, all heaving pants being drawn in erratic gasps. The observing girl sighed with a shake of her head and tolerantly waited for his inconceivable stamina to relent. The boy was positive that with enough effort they would be able to breach the door that was situated between them and their freedom. She always wondered when she had given him the impression that they were a we.

The pounding wavered and came to a standstill as the boy stumbled insecurely on unsteady feet. Upon hearing the abrupt cessation in pounding and commencement in irregular footsteps, the girl's gaze sharpened with concern. The soft patters, magnified by the hollow whitewashed room, echoed ominously in her mind. She observed mutely as he awkwardly fought to regain his balance, grabbing his head with tense fingers and clenching his eyes closed, hiding his passionate hazel orbs from her sight. Short tufts of blond hair poked out from the cracks between his swollen appendages as his fingers flexed painfully around his scalp.

She figured he had overexerted his body and was suffering from vertigo.

While the boy was endeavoring recklessly to rupture the solid iron door with sheer force, the girl was sitting languidly with her back pressed against the wall furthest from the entrance. Her hands weakly massaged her brittle joints as she stared, unwavering. From her vantage point, the girl's keen jade gaze observed every movement within the nearly empty room, not that there was any real activity to watch.

The room was dead, its only objects being a bed and a doorway that led to a barren washroom. The only motions visible to the eye were limited to the rise and fall of her chest and the boy's exhausted stumbling. Her jade eyes followed attentively as he tiredly trudged over to her side, his head twisted in a way that allowed him to keep constant vigilance upon the door.

For a quick second, the boy's hazel gaze flicked to her solid form tersely before he swiftly spun around and plopped to the sparkling white floor brashly, causing the girl to jolt with a tiny squeak at the unexpected motion. Her hip cracked painfully as she adjusted back into a comfortable position. She did not fail to notice through her aggrieved wince that the boy had not so much as spared her a glance of concern. His body was tense and she knew very well that he was cross with her for refusing to aid him in such a futile cause.

Her jade gaze flickered to her only chance at freedom and she realized, with a twinge of surprise, that she was disappointed in his failure. He had been trying so hard to smash through the door that she had found herself entertaining the concept that perhaps this time he would make it through. The girl cast the boy a quick apologetic glance and returned her remorseful gaze to the weighted iron door, awaiting his response to her meager attempt at absolving their differences.

The light touch of calloused fingers wrapping around her diminutive hand and gently pressing assured her that she was forgiven and not alone in her displeasure. She turned and stared at his round face with a soft grin, returning the squeeze. The nearly imperceptible smile that fluttered upon the corners his of moist lips like a butterfly nearly escaped her as she watched him adamantly stare at the door.

Neither spoke a word while they remained settled upon the bitingly cold pristine tiles. They were both awaiting the appearance of the next meal, a meal for one. Leisurely, she inclined towards him, tenderly settling her head upon his sturdy shoulder. Her long brown hair cascaded over his shoulder in the illusion of a waterfall as she finally eased the last of her weight onto his body, allowing her heavy eyes to drift shut. She had faith in him to alert her when the food arrived.

OoOoO

Hot sunny days were foreign to her. Shadowed winter days were not.

She sat on the steps of her house, squinting at the ball of fire that glared down upon her, heating her skin to an unaccustomed temperature. The light wool jacket that she donned was not assisting in keeping her cool, on the contrary it was merely absorbing the sweat that was draining profusely from her pores.

A light sigh passed her lips, which were chapped and swollen from dehydration, as she contemplated the sensation of sodden wool upon equally soaked skin. Unfortunately, her pleasant musings were disrupted when a boy younger than her appeared at the steps, a self-important smirk gracing his youthful features when he realized she was locked out.

With a dry expression, she gazed up at his round face, which was brimming with amusement and scowled. A mocking hand tediously reached into the depths of his pocket and the pattern of knuckles bulged through the wool as he clasped at the desired item contained within the fleecy prison. A moment later, the irritating boy was waving his house keys around his pointer finger, indulging in the clinking sound they made as they clashed. The girl growled under her breath at the impish smirk on his face and her eyes narrowed in on the keys. She needed to find a way in the house without severely bruising his masculine pride.

Her stern glare lightened to a haughty smirk as she noticed his weakness: the sweat gathering upon his brow. Still grinning arrogantly and leaned back dully, waiting for him to give in and open the door. She was well aware that his tolerance for heat was pathetic in comparison to hers; it was only a matter of time.

"You're underestimating me." He stated sluggishly, noting her relaxed posture, unthreatened. A thinly sculpted eyebrow rose at this comment. She figured he was disappointed in her lack of reaction to his dull taunting and allowed her shoulders to rise and fall in a shrug. It was too hot to speak.

Waiting for the boy to concede, she lethargically shifted her focus to their bare lawn, successfully diverting her attention from the sweltering heat. Rays from the blistering sun glittered upon the frozen horizon that stretched on for miles, only obscured by the odd house or two. Trees, or any substantial plant life for that matter, were scarce in their small rural town of Fort Good Hope, they were too far North in Canada for anything worth growing to grow. The only evident vegetation was failing grasses and colourless shrubs. In fact, the only trees and flowers the girl had ever seen in her sixteen years were in postcards that were sold in the general stores. General stores that also retailed ice cold lemonades...

The sensation of a bead of sweat rolling down her face drew her attention now that her mind was no longer diverted. It felt like an hour since the boy had arrived at the steps to taunt her when, in reality, it couldn't have been longer than a mere five minutes.

She sighed in boredom, releasing all the air from her body in exasperation and glanced at the boy impatiently. It brought her little satisfaction to see that he too was soaking in filth.

"I told you that you were underestimating me." The boy gloated upon glancing down at the girl's irritated form. Her edgy sigh had drawn his attention, leading him to believe that he had won. She shrugged; it was still too warm for her to expend any energy replying, let alone arguing with him. He would give in soon enough anyways.

The minutes ticked by, every one feeling like an hour until eventually (and unexpectedly) a black horse-drawn buggy pulled in front of the house. The cart was lead by two chestnut mares of great stature; the distinguished falls of their hooves had failed to draw the children's attention.

Both the boy and the girl craned their necks to catch a glimpse of the man that possessed the cart and were surprised to see him smiling cheerfully at them. He was clad in a smart brown suit with a matching hat of the latest style and white loafers trimmed in brown. With a tilt of his hat, he hopped to the ground from his seat on the buggy. He was not sweating.

"Good day." He greeted and sauntered confidently up the gravel path that led to the step on which they lazed. "And why would you two be outdoors on such a gruesomely scorching day?" He asked in a tone generally exercised when discussing the weather. The man surveyed the youths, pausing to grace the girl with a smile that he very well knew was handsome. The girl watched with disinterest as he waited expectantly for her to begin cooing over him. His sparkling eyes, however, darkened when she shrugged, not caring whether she came off as petulant or not; she was hot and the boy was being a pig. Said boy was flashing an energetic smile, popping his jangling keys in his coat pocket with one hand and wiping the sweat from his brow with his other hand, excited that a man with an obvious abundance of money was stopping to converse with them.

"We're just enjoying the sun while it's here sir." The boy chirped, pulling his coat open and hooking his thumbs beneath his coal coloured suspenders, still displaying his flawless set of pearly whites. His dusty blonde hair stuck stubbornly to his forehead with sweat the girl noted with a smirk. Perhaps the boy would use the stranger's sudden presence as an excuse to enter the house without hurting his pride.

"Ah. I figured there wasn't much sun this far north." The man admitted with a well-placed blush and an expectant side-glance at the girl before continuing his conversation with the boy. "The good weather must be following me." He joked lightly, his eyes trailing over to the girl again and settling on her for longer than was proper this time. She shifted uncomfortably and clenched her legs shut beneath her grey skirt, waiting for the man to avert his gaze.

"Where are you from then, Texas?" The boy questioned. Texas was the only southern state he knew of and he assumed that someone as classy as this man must be from Texas.

The man tore his predatory leer from the girl and erupted into a rich laugh, "With my accent I never figured I'd pass for a southerner." The hilarity began to wane until finally the joke lost its humour, leaving the man with a straight, formal expression.

"Actually I live not too far south of Canada, only North Dakota." He replied noncommittally, continuing to watch the girl from the corner of his eye, a not so friendly smirk on his face.

Fighting down the blush that was spreading upward from her neck, the girl crossed her arms over her chest awkwardly, hoping the boy would give up and give her the keys to the house. If not, she decided as her uneasiness grew, she would fake illness and hide in her room until the man with the wandering eye left. A few more moments of silence and staring passed before the girl became too ill at ease to remain among the males any longer. Raising a dainty hand to her forehead, she cast drowsy eyes upon the boy, using the mentality that females were weak to her advantage.

"I hate to be a nuisance but I'm feeling rather faint. Perhaps you could open the door for me and allow me to go rest in my room? I won't bother you gentlemen further." Her weak inquiry drew a second set of eyes to her, a set of eyes that cared rather than ogled. The boy's hazel eyes squinted with worry as he surveyed her flushed cheeks and sweaty brow. It was difficult for her to remain oblivious to the guilt on his face as she realized that he was blaming his inattentiveness to her sensitivity to heat for her illness.

Immediately the keys were plucked from his wool pocket and inserted in the locked doorknob as the boy dutifully escorted the girl indoors and to her room, rudely forgetting the stranger's presence. They slowly traveled the short distance to her bedroom and with a soft sigh; the boy gently took hold of the girl's elbow while she daintily removed her shoes.

"I didn't realize you were so warm." The boy commented in a roundabout apology as he pulled back the quilt that lay slipped around her mattress.

"I should have spoken up sooner." She replied sweetly, allowing him to ease her gently to the bed, "Thank you." She added appreciatively as he began pulling the blanket over her delicate form.

He paused thoughtfully once she was safely tucked beneath the covers and hurried from the room. Watching him leaved, she sighed into the down quilt buried under her chin and awaited his return, glad to be away from that fervent gaze of longing; a gaze she was not accustomed to receiving so blatantly.

Being a pretty girl with brunette hair, jade eyes and soft milky skin with a natural blush to her cheeks she had been frequently courted, but never did her suitors stare so keenly. The man had no sense of propriety she decided with a shudder just as the boy returned, a damp cloth to cool her down and relieve her fever held loosely in his hand. His eyes washed over her form with concern as he gently lowered himself onto her bed beside her resting form. A hushed lullaby appeased her ears as he began stroking damp strands of hair from her flushed face.

Neither of them heard the approaching footsteps.

Her eyes eased closed under the soothing caress upon her forehead.

Neither of them noticed the distinct shink of a knife being drawn.

He yawned tiredly behind his unused hand and stared at her rosy face with adoration.

They both however, heard the shocked cry of the boy as the knife smoothly ran across the fragile skin of his milky neck. There was a moment of stillness as he stared down at the girl in dismay. The only thought crossing his mind was his inability to protect her further before death wrapped its blackened wings around him, leaving the girl defenseless.

She watched with a tear-blurred perception as the scene played before her in slow motion. His head slowly dropped until his chin rested upon his chest, wide hazel eyes staring at her, frozen in an expression of fear…fear for her for all eternity. The pounding of her heartbeat echoed ominously in her ears, waves upon waves of drumming accosting her traumatized senses, reminding her that she now possessed the one thing he had lost: life.

His eyes began to cloud over seconds after his exit from the world and, limply, he collapsed atop her body like a doll. His blood poured freely from the fatal wound on his neck, soaking through her quilt and clothing.

Horrified, she tried to push his corpse off her body but only succeeded in turning his head, allowing his blank gaze of fear to lock on her. Her voice suddenly found her and the only thing she could do was scream. Scream for him to wake up, scream for someone to save him, scream for his eyes to live again. She shrieked on, paying no mind to her own safety, forgetting the threat that loomed over her, eyes glimmering with desire.

She'd never forget the man again. He'd made sure of that…

OoOoO

Her eyes shot open as she drew a deep breath of air, her fingers suddenly grasping the arm of the figure beside her. His gaze flickered to her, slightly concerned before returning to the door. She squeezed his arm tighter with stiff fingers, ridding herself of the terrible images from the dream. A soft shudder ran down her spine at the memory of foreign calloused hands running over her body as a rough tongue left searing trails along her neck.

The boy's arm wound its way around her shoulder and she found her body being dragged closer to his, or perhaps it was of her own accord that she was drawing nearer, desperate for condolence of any kind. She glanced up at him noting that he was still watching the door with unblinking eyes. Her meal had yet to be delivered she observed as she rubbed her hands over her neck nervously, rashly attempting to rid herself of the sensation of a foreign mouth upon her collar.

Unable to stand the feeling any longer, she apologetically pushed herself away from the boy's comforting grip and raised herself onto shaky legs, wincing at the brittleness of her bones. A girl her age was not supposed to have poor joints that hurt with a pain comparable to arthritis… Shrugging desolately, she shuffled towards the open doorway to her left, which led to the small washroom with running water and electricity. With her slow, dragging footsteps, the short distance took three minutes to cross.

She stopped at the doorframe and leaned wearily against it, catching her breath from the tiresome trip. Glancing back at the boy, a low curse was muttered under her breath, a very unbecoming habit for a woman waiting to be courted. Regardless, the short distance, six meters at the most, had drained her of any energy. She gazed helplessly at the boy, clutching the frame tighter against the will of her sore fingers and endeavored to rid her legs of their sudden trembling.

Said boy tore his gaze from the exit and stared at her as she pitifully sought support in the doorframe and nodded his head, urging her to hurry whatever it was she was attempting to do and return to his side to assist him in his post watching the door.

Heaving a motivational breath, she continued shuffling her slipper-clad feet into the washroom, taking her somnolent body along for the ride. Upon reaching the sink, she raised shaky hands to the cold-water tap and gently turned it on, running her hands under the cold water; cold like home, cold to neutralize the burning sensation searing her collar. She splashed the icy water upon her throat and furiously scrubbed all around her neck, avoiding her robin-egg blue gown and glanced into the mirror.

She was perplexed a moment as a foreign woman stared back; a woman with frizzed salt and pepper hair not anything like her silky brunette-coloured locks. A woman with swollen red-rimmed eyes with tired green irises that hardly resembled her vivid jade orbs that had twinkled with concealed mischief. The woman's greenish skin was stretched tight across her face, thin and nearly transparent, fresh cuts, cuts that had barely began to scab, marred the already blemished complexion. Her own skin had been milky and naturally flushed, without a mark of any kind.

Then she remembered.

A harsh cry broke through her aged lips as her veined, contorted hands began clawing at her face, deepening the already existent scratches. She shrieked as new gashes began marring her scarred skin, weakened with age. She screamed as loud as her decaying lungs would allow as the iron door burst open and women in sweats and shirts similar in colour to her gown came bolting to her side. When they grabbed her arms, calmly reciting her name and pulling her from the washroom, she began screeching a name foreign to her, a name she couldn't recall ever knowing.

She stopped when she realized the boy was gone. Her eyes swiftly moved to the iron door where she expected to see him waiting. She stared, tears filling her eyes upon seeing only wall and floor around the door.

"Did he leave?" She managed to sob out in a hoarse voice as the women that gently lead her to her bed delicately sat her down. There was silence and she barely noticed as one of them pulled a needle from somewhere; she was too preoccupied with the door to know from where it was pulled.

"He's not real, honey." One woman cooed sadly, holding out the girl's arm for another woman. The girl fought to stay awake as the prick of the needle pierced her skin, the pain not reaching her brain through her haze of emotional sorrow.

She remembered.

He was dead. She was no longer in Fort Good Hope, the only home she'd ever known. She was in a hospital.

"So he is gone?"

She fought to stay awake, to recognize reality before their drugs put her to sleep and took her back to her insanity. She fought to stay awake but she wasn't strong enough. Her heavy eyelids slipped shut and the gentle reassurances of the nurses faded away as sleep overtook her aging body.

OoOoO

Deafening thuds danced among the four sterile walls around her, waking her from her slumber as she fixed her glower upon the cause of the noise, or rather, the boy. He stood poised, his blond eyebrows furrowed furiously over youthful hazel eyes that flickered with frustration as he pounded relentlessly upon the large heavy door before him. His breathing was growing shallow, all heaving pants being drawn in erratic heavy gasps. The observing girl sighed with a shake of her head and tolerantly waited for his inconceivable stamina to relent. The boy was always positive that with enough effort they would be able to breach the door that was situated between them and their freedom.

She smiled slightly; she always had wondered when she had given him the impression that they were a we.