shoving her against the ground again, not thinking about anything or anyone, not the stares from the fellow students who are stunned. He just attacked an injured girl. Not just a female, but someone who is wounded. That is morally incorrect.
I guess they don’t see the bitch within.
The girl is paralysed. I get up slowly, dusting off my pants and straightening my tie. Turning away, I begin to walk. And then a pair of hands clasps around my neck. I flip back around and catch her sly grin, her strawberry blonde hair draped to one side. She kicks off the bandage surrounding her left leg and it skids across the floor.
“Bet you didn’t see this coming, Natvig?”
I shake my head. “You fucking liar. You’re not even injured, you lied to the entire school population.”
“And you think I care.” She squeezes tighter. “You are a sexist pig. You not only attacked a woman, but an injured one. You disgusting toad.”
The voices of the students grow louder, wilder, summoning teachers and screaming names. But I can’t breathe. I’m slipping from consciousness. She squeezes tighter and tighter, while repeatedly kicking my stomach and my crotch with her, so called, injured leg.
I can’t stay awake.
And then her arms go limp and she drops me, my head hitting the pavement with a thud. The shadowy figure of a man rushes towards us, his aura radiating concern and worry. He turns towards the girl and shakes his head, his eyes red with fury and cold with disappointment. I groan on the flooring, gasping for breath, cupping my crotch with my fingers.
The janitor shouts to another adult present in the hallway. “Archibald, Aster and Florin are at it again!”
-
The school councillor, Archibald, is actually quite likeable. Despite his apparent authority he dresses more casually and is generally quite easy to communicate with. I won’t deny, I have seen him many times over the last few years, mainly about my antagonism and retaliation associated with others. But today it is somewhat difficult to talk to him.
For she is here with me.
Archibald’s eyes are a steel grey like the walls. “Aster, Florin, I’m assuming you know why you’re here?” He asks simply.
“Of course,” Aster explains, her eyes hollow, her false sense of comfort obvious. “We are here to discuss what punishment would be must suitable for Florin’s actions towards an injured female.”
There is a sour taste in my mouth. “For starters you weren’t even injured – you were faking. And you retaliated inappropriately. I could have died. Therefore we both deserve to be punished.”
“But you attacked a female!” She storms.
I fling up from my seat, hands outstretched. “One more word Aster and so help me I will rip out your uterus and tie it around your neck. See how you like being choked to near death?”
Her gaze falters and she bolts upwards, hands pressed against my shoulders. “I’m guessing it’s time for round two?”
I am about to swing the first punch when Archibald shouts, shattering my confidence and sending my body spiralling back into the chair, embarrassed and demoralized.
“That is enough!”
“Sorry,” Aster groans deeply.
He sighs. “It’s actually quite ironic – the two of you are incredibly similar. You are both fiery and passionate, creative and intelligent, and yet instead of working towards being friends, you force rivalry. You shadow the fact that you could be the best of friends with hostility and violence. It is quite uncommon for opposing genders to get into such physical violence.” He shakes his head. “What am I going to do with the two of you?”
I laugh nervously. Aster, I? Friends?
“I’m going to ask you both a question, and I want you to reply honestly. Florin, why did you attack Aster?”
I go pastel.
“That’s easy. I attacked Aster because she is an evil witch and a bully who needs to be brought to justice and strangled with her own uterus.” My body taps with worry.
But he does not look satisfied. “On the contrary you seem to be the only student who has a problem with Aster. I will ask you again. Why did you attack her?”
I go quiet. “Well obviously there is rivalry, we have always been somewhat similar, but I dislike Aster in particular because…” I fiddle with my hands, palms sweating, and body flooding with an array of emotions.
“Go on.”
“She ruined my chance at asking out a girl!” I blurt. “One of her friends. She screwed me over and I had to get vengeance. But that’s not just it. She just pisses me off all the time, and I don’t know why.” The words become simpler. “Sure she ruined my chances with Anna but I can get over that. What really annoys me is that she is so goddamn good-looking and all the guys like her but she hates me for some reason and it’s so freaking frustrating.”
Aster goes red.
My diaphragm fills with oxygen.
Archibald, however, remains as expressionless as a computer screen. “And Aster, why exactly where you faking an injury?”
She goes from a look of embarrassment to fear. “That is not important.”
He shakes his head. “I believe it is. I’ve been seeing Florin for years and I understand why he has such violent outbursts. But you. I’m blind. What relevance does your injury have to your obvious unhappiness and antagonism associated with Florin?”
She goes quiet. For a split second the two of us exchange glances, without hostility.
“My parents run an Equestrian Centre, and they have high expectations for me – in association to my riding capabilities. They enter me in contests and races and I always lose. They get angry.” She cackles. “I hate horses. Don’t get me wrong they are beautiful, but they intimidate me. They make me feel small and insecure. I’ve tried to explain to my parents but they refuse to understand. Their life revolves around horses. Having a daughter who cannot fulfil their equine expectations will send them to an early grave. Florin frustrates me because his parents are so casual and understanding – they let him follow the pathways he wishes to take, without question.”
I stumble for words.
“I’m jealous.” She continues. “I faked an injury so I could get away from the hours of extensive training and interaction. I can’t stand it, I just don’t like large animals.” There are tears in her eyes and they behave like waterfalls, trickling down she cheeks as she shakes her head. “They don’t get it.”
I want to cry.
I want to dig a hole amongst the metal bars of a fence and drown myself in the soil.
I feel.
So.
Guilty.
Archibald gleams and gives us a strange look. “I’m very proud of you for revealing such a sadness. Hopefully the two of you will be able to understand each other on a more respectable depth. You are quite similar.” He raises an eyebrow at me and I blush. “Now I want to invite you to a recreational camp next week.”
I shake my head. “My parents can’t afford such things.”
“They needn’t worry, I shall pay for both of you.” He scribbles something across his notepad. “The camp is for highly creative, but struggling individuals. It allows campers to demonstrate their talents, while also being guided by older individuals and taught how to control emotions such as anger and sadness.” He stares at us both. “I will consult with your families and you at a later date. For now you are dismissed.”
I begin to rise from my chair, but Aster stops me.
“Wait a sec. Florin explained why he dislikes me and all, I get that, but he is always angry anyway. How come?” She questions
Archibald chuckles and I wave my hands, signalling him to stop. “There isn’t really a particular reason, asides from financial struggles. Florin is just naturally antagonistic and impolite. Oh, and he’s quite sexually frustrated.”
Aster looks dumbfounded.
I give her an awkward grin and rudely, leave the room.
As I am about to leave the corridor and enter the gloomy outside I hear a familiar voice, ech
oing from behind. I turn to see Archibald, his smile low, running towards me.
He skids to a halt and catches his breath. “Florin.”
I nod. “What now?”
“Aster revealed to me that like you, she is interested in music and composition. She plays multiple instruments and even sings. If you guys get over your differences, maybe you should consider performing together.”
I shake my head. “I’m not sure.”
“Just give it a try.”
He places his hand on my shoulder and his eyes begin to grow wide.
I’m somewhat concerned and close my eyes, thinking my mind is playing tricks on me. But then his smile widens until his face splits in two and pure white feathers unravel from the flesh and the bone and the blood.
I’m horrified, leaning backwards until I fall, crawling and grovelling towards the doorway, wailing as I swim in his plasma. But Archibald remains calm, his wide avian eyes, cold and calculative, watching me, and waiting.
His neck twists and the bones splinter like wood.
“Parasite,” he says.
I howl.
DAY TWO
I awake to the howling sound, the breathless gasp and the long, falsetto notes, escaping my lips like birds in a wire cage. I sit upright, listening for the sound of rain, only to hear the gentle hooting of the snow owl against my right ear. I turn to it, watching its cold and calculative eyes invade my soul.
“Parasite,” it had said, in the dream, the memory.
“Parasite,” Archibald had said.
Groggily, I place my feet onto the ground and stand upwards, tossing a dead rat into the owl’s mouth, which he swallows with one large gulp. Aster
In Isolation We Are All Parasites Page 2
