Decisions Ch. 11

"Fat chance of that happening," Elena said glumly.

"What about you, Jazz? Are you going?" Viktor asked.

"Yeah, with this big guy right here," She answered, coiling the end of her tail around Ricky's leg. His face reddened and he looked away. "We're going as friends. I thought that it'd be the most fun with him. At least, we will be going once he asks me. You'll ask me right, won't you dear?"

"Of course I will," Ricky stammered, running his large hand through his curly hair. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Good!" Jazz said brightly.

While they went off on their own little side conversation, I turned to Lucy. She was watching and listening to Ricky and Jazz talk with a far-away look in all of her eight eyes. "You're going to prom, right Lucy?" I asked, interrupting her reverie.

"Huh?" She looked at Stasi and I. "Oh... no. I probably won't."

"Why not?" Stasi gasped. "It's senior year. You have to go."

"Yeah," I added. "One last party until we all leave!"

"Well, it's just..." She wringed her hands and tapped her four back feet. "Proms so expensive and I can't... I can't afford it." She croaked tremulously. I could already see the tears burning behind Lucy's eyes.

Suddenly, I felt like the world's biggest idiot for even bringing it up.

"Oh, Lucy..." Stasi said apologetically. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's fine. Besides, can you imagine me in a dress?" She laughed pitifully, trying to inject some humor to hide her hurt. "I'd have to get it custom made and I don't even know any tailors. You know how expensive those can get. I can't even dance, anyways."

"You taught me how to dance," I told her.

"I did?"

"You did," I confirmed. "Remember? For the Coven Ball?"

"Oh well, I guess I did." She conceded, shrugging as if nothing was wrong. "But, I don't want to put my mom through that. She works hard enough as it is." She wiped furiously at her eyes before smiling a horribly forced smile at me. "Anyways, did you finish with Anna's birthday present yet? Ricky's been talking about it all week."

"My present?" Stasi asked, looking at me with a small smile growing on her face.

"Yes, your present." I told her, squeezing her hand, turning to her, and looking into her eyes. Right then and there, we had another wordless conversation using just our eyes, body language, and our love for each other. Instead of us sharing a secret or an inside joke, we schemed and plotted.

We were going to find a way to drag Lucy to prom by all eight legs if we had too.

*****

When everyone finally departed and left my house to go home, I was left staring up at the ceiling. My thoughts kept going back to Lucy. No matter how shitty I thought I had it, there was always going to be someone out there that was worse off than me. I should never take things for granted.

I sniffled, looking up at the darkened ceiling, tears beginning to burn behind my eyelids and a lump beginning to form in my throat. All of a sudden, things were rushing to the surface. Repressed emotions, feelings, just everything. I was exhausted from the day. Most importantly, I was tired of life. I was tired of my life.

I was a kid. That was all I was. I was just a kid in high school. I was a kid given a man's job. Me. Us. We were supposed to pick up the pieces, fight for our people, and take on the whole fucking DTOSA. Was I even ready for that kind of responsibility? Were we both even ready for that kind of responsibility?

Stasi.

The door to the bathroom opened as Stasi finished taking out her contacts and wiping off her lightly applied makeup. She inspected herself one last time in the mirror before flicking off the light, navigating to my bed through the darkness. She had changed into her comfy clothes, her comfy sweatpants and comfy sweatshirt and adorable glasses.

The mattress squeaked as she laid down next to me, sighing in contentment. We were silent, but neither of us were sleeping. We were just two best friends basking in the presence of each other. That is, until...

"You're so warm," Stasi whispered, burying her cold face into my shoulder.

"Thanks, you're pretty hot too."

"Kak ty delayesh' eto?" Stasi murmured.

"How do I do what?"

"This," She said, looking at me with those piercing blue eyes of hers. Her heavily accented voice was choked with emotion. "Everything. I almost lost you today and you're still so calm and composed. How? How do you do it, lyubov?"

Because I was conditioned never to crack under pressure, or at least demonstrate that I couldn't. It was a trait that was forged through the rigors of nail-biting games, both football, basketball and hockey. Cooler heads won games and sometimes, I got so non-plussed en route to clinching game winning drives that I didn't think it was possible to be so laid back.

I was cool, I was composed.

Except, I wasn't. I crammed those nerves and emotions away when it was time to get serious and when I was alone or with the woman I loved, they all came rushing back to the surface. I spent the nights after games staring at the ceiling, simply decompressing and debriefing what happened hours ago.

And now, everything was finally registering.

"I'm not," I admitted, my voice hitching. "I'm not. I'm not calm and composed."

"Chris?" She asked, her voice ripe with trepidation as she looked up at me. "Are you... are you alright, lyubov?"

"I'm just... I'm-..." I sniffled, wiping my nose. "I'm just tired."

"I know," She whispered. "It's been a long and emotional day, hasn't it?"

We both faltered into silence before I decided to speak up.

"I'm sorry," I muttered. "We should've left the parade as soon as it ended. We should've just gone home. I'm sorry for making you stay."

"Chris, Chris, oh Chris," She whispered, shifting her body so she was cradling my head in the crook of her neck. "Don't you dare apologize, lyubov. Don't you apologize for someone else's mistake."

Despite the pain in my ribs, I held onto her tightly, simply breaking down and letting everything out. I was lost in a maelstrom of emotion: pain, confusion, sorrow, despair.

"It was my fault," I mumbled. "I wanted us to stay. I wanted everyone to see you, to see us. To see us together. I can't help but think, what if he actually had a gun? What if he actually hurt you? I never would've forgiven myself. I don't know what I'd do without you. I just.. I-.."

"Sh..." Stasi shushed me, holding onto me as if I was a life preserver in the middle of the ocean. The only thing keeping her afloat. Her voice was soft and I just knew. I knew she was crying too. "It wasn't your fault. I'm still here lyubov. I'm never going to leave you. I will never regret doing anything with you as long as I'm with you."

"You're stuck with me, remember?" She continued, her hand absentmindedly caressing the back of my head with her cold, splayed fingers. "You're the only person I trust more than I trust myself. Lyubimyy chelovek. I will never leave your side. Ever."

"Promise?" I whispered.

"Obeshchayu," She confirmed, kissing me softly.

"I love you, Stasi."

"I love you too, Chris." She murmured, kissing me again and holding me tight to her curvy, soft, and cold body. "Now, it's been a long day. It's time to sleep, lyubov."

"I can't," I confessed. "Being here with you is better than being in my dreams."

"There'll be plenty of time tomorrow to spend time," She cooed in her accent. "I just want you to sleep, my little blood bag."

"Blood bag?"

"Shush. Sleep." She softly ordered, smiling at her little joke.

So thus, in her arms, and her soft accented voice humming an old lullaby to me, I fell asleep. But not before whispering my undying love for her. My best friend. The one I couldn't do without. The one who I loved despite her species. I never wanted her to leave me.

Chapter 3:

When Sunday came around, it was early. Extra early, in fact. So early that it looked like it was dark out. Stasi and I had already planned to spend time together throughout the weekend, never leaving each other's side. The night before, Anton texted us that he found the identity and hospital room of the man who threw the picture frame at me, and he agreed to let me visit early in the morning, where there were no cameras or media to hawk us so we could return it.

So thus, with sleep deprivation flooding our bodies, we packed ourselves into my car and Stasi drove us to the hospital, not trusting me to drive in my currently condition. Even though she was a bit sleepy, she was still a better driver than I could ever be wide awake. The clock had barely struck six when we pulled up in the parking lot of Mercy General Hospital.

Stasi parked the car at a free spot... which was pretty much anywhere. The parking lot was deserted. She turned off the ignition, looking at me with an unreadable expression on his face.

"I'll stay here," She said quietly.

"You're coming," I told her. She was about to reply, but I simply tilted my head. She was coming and nothing was going to change my mind.

"Okay," She whispered, before sighing. "When I lay eyes on him, I'm going to beat him back into a coma."

"Technically, he wasn't the one th-.."

"He was," She said sharply, looking at me fiercely, with her elongated fangs and dark eyes. "He was the one that hurt you and made you like this!"

I took a deep breath and placed my hand on her col-... no, not cold. Gloved hands. Not only was it really cold out at this time of the morning, given the city we were in, but I was taking no precautions. Stasi was not going to accidently touch the silver frame on my watch. I was not going to have her itch uncontrollably at school today.

"It was a harmless gesture that got out of hand... but I don't want to fight with you, Stasi. Let's just go," I muttered, not willing to argue with her. In a way, she was right. Despite the harmless gesture, he was at fault. He set the crowd off. It was all his fault that he turned a happy day, a day that can't be repeated, where we were going to be recognized for our outstanding achievements, into a sad and tumultuous affair.

I was always the peacemaker, talking everything out first and resorting to fights last. But, a small ugly part of me wanted to put my hands around his throat and squeeze as hard as I could for his insolence and stupidity.

Stasi's face softened. "I'm sorry, lyubov. I didn't mean to fight."

"It's ok," I leaned forward and gave her a soft kiss on the lips. "Let's just go."

"Okay."

I opened the car door, sliding out of my car, wheezing and gasping. Stasi hurriedly left the driver's side, rushing around so she could help me. She laid her crystal blue eyes on me, whispering encouragement and helping me along to the front doors of the hospital. I patted the pocket of my gray waterproof jacket, feeling the familiar heavy weight of the picture frame.

A nurse looked up when we walked in. Her look of worry at seeing my painful gait was quickly replaced by fear, then disgust when she recognized us.

"This hospital is for humans only," She said, her voice having a nasal pitch. "Go to San Francisco General if you want treatment."

"We're not patients," Stasi replied. "We're visitors."

"You need a special waiver for monst-.."

"Here," Stasi replied, pulling the crumpled waiver form from her purse and handing it to the receptionist. I knew, just knew, from the way her hand tightened on me that she wanted nothing more than to yell at this woman, to scream at her, but she couldn't. Not here, not now. I squeezed her hand soothingly.

The receptionist scanned the document with her beady eyes.

"Can we go?" I yawned.

She glared at me, before stamping the waiver and putting it on a rack. "Room 308." She muttered. "Traitor."

"Much obliged," I said cheerfully, steering Stasi away before she could say anything else.

"Suka," Stasi spat as we walked away out of earshot.

"Watch your mouth," I teased.

"Why does she think it's ok to say that?" Stasi asked in her accent, throwing up her arms.

"I don't know, but don't worry. We'll be out of here soon. We'll just drop off the photo frame and leave."

We navigated through the endless corridors, all the while consulting the multiple directories. We weren't bothered by anybody, considering that the hospital was empty save for a few workers, who barely gave us any notice. Finally, we found Room 308. The curtains were drawn, but the light was on inside the room. I tested the door, finding it unlocked.

"Do you want to stay outside?" I asked, looking at Stasi.

Her lip quivered and her face hardened. "Nyet," She decided. "I want to see him."

I raised my hand to her cheek and pulled her in for a quick, passionate kiss that made the both of our toes curl. I pulled away, kissing her again on the nose. "In and out. I promise. Then, we can actually go get In-N-Out for breakfast."

She smiled. Her face was tinged pink from the kiss and her sour mood was gone in the face of my presence. "Hamburgers and french fries for breakfast. We are truly American. I want a milkshake after this."

"Of course you do," I laughed. "Your sweet tooth is out of control."

She stuck out her tongue "You love it."

"I do," I admitted, turning towards the wooden door, knocking on it softly before opening it. My eyes widened at what I saw. The young man was on the bed, wrapped head to toe in bandages, and his left arm and right leg in a sling. It looked like every bone had been broken or bruised. He was truly beaten to a complete pulp by the crowd of nonhumans. There were no charges or arrests made yet, as the majority had scattered once police came.

It didn't hurt that no one was talking eith-... oh, sorry. That no one saw anything.

He was connected to a variety of machines. An EKG monitor and IV line. I recognized both of them from my own stay at the hospital.The room, however, was chockful with the aroma of flowers and filled with gifts from what looked like DTOSA supporters.

He looked up at me when we walked in, his eyes turning cold. Then, he turned back to the TV.

"Hello," I said awkwardly, waving.

He didn't reply.

"I.. uh.." I continued, digging in my pocket. "I have your photo frame."

He still remained silent. He was giving Stasi a run for her money when it came to awkwardness and stilted silences. Except, when Stasi did it, it was absolutely adorable and lovely. When this guy did it, he just made everything cold.

I walked to his bedside. He still refused to look at me, watching the cartoons on the TV. I recognized it from the sounds. It was a rerun of a cartoon that I used to watch when I was a kid. Well, Stasi and I. Memories of us waking up extra early on Saturday mornings to go watch cartoons flooded through me. Time really has flown.

Time is really flying this year.

"Here it is," I said, placing the photo frame on his bedside table. His eyes flitted to it, then back to the TV.

"Um..." I continued. "Was that, was that your family? Oh, I'm sorry, where are my manners. I'm Chris. Chris Williams. That's Anna Sokolov, but you can call her-..."

"Anastasia," She said stiffly.

"Anastasia," I muttered. "Right, well... I mean, if that's all, I gue-.."

"Put that down," He snapped, turning his eyes to Stasi. The EKG monitor immediately sped up, becoming rapid. Stasi dropped the card she was reading, startled. She had started to look through the many gifts that had accumulated.

"You don't get to tell me what to do, suka!" She hissed angrily, before picking the card up and holding it up so everyone could see. The words were in children's handwriting, a blue sharpie.

I HOP YOU KILL THE TRAITOR NEXT TIME!! - Johnny from Stockton

He raised his hand towards the call nurse button on the side of his bed and I immediately held out my hands.

"Woah, woah, woah. No need for that. Let's all calm down," I said quickly, before turning to look at Stasi. We had those many wordless conversations, a skill cultivated and learned through the bonds of our close friendship and love. It went something like this:

Me: Please, I love you so, so, much. So much it hurts, but please, please, relax.

Stasi: (Indecipherable Russian)

Me: Please?

Stasi: Fine!

She huffed, putting her long wavy raven hair into a ponytail and folding her arms, turning away from the gifts to go look at the TV. Breathing a sigh of relief that he hadn't pressed the call nurse button yet, I set my hands on the bed frame. "What's your name?"

He stared at me for a moment before speaking. "Dylan."

"Dylan," I nodded. "I'm sorry this happened to you."

He made a noise, turning away from me.

"Is that your family in the picture?" I asked.

"Was," Dylan said.

Was?

Oh.

"I'm sorry," Stasi said briskly.

"No," Dylan muttered. "No, you're not."

"We are," I replied sympathetically as Stasi sniffed and turned back to the TV. "If there's anything that we can do, all you need to do is ask it."

"You two can leave is what you can do," He snarled.

Irritation and anger bubbled in the pit of my stomach... but, if that's he wanted."Alright then, we'll go." I said. "I hope you recover."

"I hope you don't," He spat.

I ignored the barb, turning on my heel and heading towards the door. "Let's go, Stasi." I said. "We'll grab something to eat before we go home."

"Coming lyubov," Stasi replied. She crossed the room and grabbed hold of my hand, interlocking her fingers with mine and walking out with me. However, before she crossed the threshold, she stopped and turned around to face Dylan.

"I have a question for you," She said angrily, her emotionally charged accent taking over. "I wonder what will happen to people like us when all this hate goes away. Will we be remembered in the eyes of our proud family or will we become irrelevant?"

Dylan didn't answer.

"Figures," She scoffed. "Where I'm from, when we're about to leave, we say 'do svidanya'. I would say it here, but since what it actually means is 'until we meet again' and because I never wish to meet you again, I simply say goodbye. Come on, Chris."

Together, we walked out. Then, I held her in the car in the parking lot as she cried into my shoulder, distraught over what she read and saw. But you know, I think I saw Dylan crying too as we were leaving because Stasi's words rang true. When the chains of the DTOSA finally break away, who was going to be relevant and who was going to be irrelevant?

I didn't know where we'd end up but I had a feeling that Dylan realized where he'd end up when the dust settled.

Chapter 4:

I loved Belcourt almost as much as I loved Stasi. I'd do anything for the school. There was nothing quite like it. The flames and cruelty of racism that have broken each and every one of the faculty and staff in their own way put something in common with everybody. Everyone was affected and it brought the students and staff together in a close bond, almost like family. Everyone knew each other and everyone watched out for each other. It was what oppressed people do.

Yet, I had a love-hate relationship with the Belcourt rumor mill. On one half, there was some funny and interesting stuff, like who got with who and who broke up with who. Then, there was rumors that concerned me.

That, I didn't like.

Kind of funny how these double standards worked, huh?

Elena gave me the rundown on Sunday. Half the rumors had me getting blasted to kingdom come with a twelve-gauge shotgun and the other half had me valiantly saving an entire preschool of nonhuman kids attending the parade from a would be assassin.

I didn't have the heart to explain to anyone that I just got stepped on a few times.

Ok, maybe not a few times. Maybe a lot of times.

But still.

"Hey, Chris. Hey, Annie. How are you both doing?" Ms. Casarano asked as I half staggered and half walked up to the front desk, helped by Stasi. Ms. Casarano's cat ears were raised in concern. She only seemed focused on me, not the abnormally large amount of students milling about trying to eavesdrop on us.