The Knight Of The Rose (34 page)

last. A chapter of my life has ended before it even began.

Perhaps that’s why my dad likes Mike so much; he’ll never have to worry about me ending

up with a loser—or alone. But that won’t mean I’m not eternally lonely.

Losing my soul to the calm whisper of the breeze and the warm September sun, I hummed

softly, singing a few of the words to a song—one that made my soul ache to hear, but to play, only

seemed to bring clarity. I didn’t want to sing it, but the words came to my lips, surrounding my ears

before I could stop t hem. “I wish I could see you, but you went aw ay; you left me defenceless, in

the cold and the rain. I found my way home, and the world was all right, ‘til the darkness came, and

took my knight.

“When I look in the mirror, the face that I see, wears the scars of her past well, but she isn’t

me. I lost myself somewhere, when I walked to the light. For t he darkness came and took my

knight.” The melody rang in my ears and forced a tiny, stinging tear to the corner of my eye. I never

cared much for the words before, but now, I think it may have been written just for me.

To distract myself from crying, I looked down at the grey fluff-ball by my feet; “I won’t

miss you, Skitz,” I joked with a weak smile as I placed the guita r on the gr ound and let my heart

sink down with it.

The cat looked up at me, then flopped onto his side. His fur was warm against my ankle;

he’d obviously been sunning himself on the roof ag ain. “Okay.” I chuckled lightly when he curled

into a ball and rolled his spine against my foot—forcing me to pet him firmly. “Maybe I’ll miss you

a little.”

“Going somewhere?”

“Hey, Mike? Did you win?”

“Nah.” He placed his hand down on the grass and let the rest of his body fall into it. Skittles

leaped onto his front paws, ready to run if Mike was a threat, but the lazy cat just closed his eyes,

without re-adjusting his position, and started purring. Mike laughed at him. “Your dad’s too quick.

He beat me twice.”

“He never beat my mum, you know? Not once,” I said.

“Yeah? I didn’t know that.”

I nodded.

“You’re not upstairs putting on your war paint?” Mike said after a second.

His soft tone reminded my eyes of t he tears they were detaining; I forced them back with a

shrug. “It won’t take long once I start.”

“Hm.” He picked a st rand of grass off the lawn and curl ed it aro und his finger. “I know

you’re sad, Ara. I know you still miss him.”

“He’s just a memory now, Mike. I’m not sad.”

“Right.” He nodded with his lips pressed together. “Your dad? He’s worried about you.”

“He always is.”

“Are you sure you want to do thi s?” A watery glaze glimmered under the light of the sun in

his eyes. “It’s not too late to change your mind?”

“Change my mind? About what?”

Mike breathed out a nd pushed up off the ground, shuff ling over to kneel in f ront of me.

“You don’t have to marry me. I’ll be okay if you say no. Since I asked you, you haven’t been

happy. Not really.”

“I’m trying, Mike.”

“I know. But is trying enough? Am
I
enough?” The pain in his words linked to the firm clasp

of his fingers around my hi ps. Mike was scared—I could feel it. He had as much to lose here as I

did. I mean, was love enough for this relationship to work when it wasn’t enough for David and I?

“I just need to get away fro m here, I think, Mike—” My vo ice trembled. “I wa nna go

home.”

“Oh, Ara. Baby.” He pulled the swing into him and held me in his arms. “That’s fi ne. We’ll

go. We’ll leave tomorrow, if you like?”

“I would—but, I think we better plan it properly first.” I flashed him a grin and he returned

it.

“Oh, baby girl. You’re gonna be so happy. I promise. I’l l buy you a hous e and give you

everything you want.” He squeezed me way too tight, forcing me to hold my breath against the base

of his jaw. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, Mike.”

And that was the truth. It felt right. Normal. I
should
be with Mike. I
should
go home to

Perth—and everything would be right again in the world.

The quiet whispers of my family lilted up the stairs, carrying my mind back from the hold of

a terror-locked gaze at the st ranger behind the mask. Her blue eyes stared out at me from a place

and time I no longer belonged. She was the fake em bodiment of my former-self; the lie after the

truth, hiding behind an ornament of beauty in a blue dress.

And I couldn’t stand the sight of her.

Somewhere, at some point, I’d split in two. Th e innocent, dream-believing girl that tragedy

left behind disappeared when David ran away with my heart, forever. I was
his
picture of beauty,

created
by
him,
for
him, but I’d never feel his cool fingers under the ribbon of my corset, holding me

close as we twirled in our graceful, eternal dance.

Dusting shimmer powder over my face and body, I tilted my arm into the light and watched

it sparkle—like a mythological vampire. I could be Bella, but she had a soul. The frame I saw in the

mirror was a hollow, empty void of a girl.

Mike could tell, he knew I wasn’t his Ara inside, anymore. He thought I never noticed, but I

was aware of him staring at me, trying to fi gure me out—though I was pr etty sure his only

conclusions so far were that I was depressed and needed to talk to someone, not that I just wanted to

fall down and die.

When he knocked on my door earlier this evening, I’d ca lled him t o enter—completely

ignorant to the fact that while I was standing by my mirror, trying to re -pierce my ear, I was

wearing only my underwear and bra.

“Hey, kid.” Mike had grinned when his eyes fell over my bare curves.

Scrambling for something to cover myself with, I cursed my carelessness. “Shut the door—”

“Relax, baby.” He looked behind him, then cl osed the door and saunt ered across the room.

“You look gorgeous.”

“I look like a girl in her underwear.” With the door now closed, I dropped the hiding act, and

leaned back in front of the mirr or, trying to force t he silver st ud through unyielding hole in my

earlobe. “I’m just trying to get this damn thing to go in.”

“Need help?”

“Nah. I’m fine.” I glanced away from the mirror long enough to see his smiling eyes trace

my shoulders and ribs, fixing on my hips.

“New?”

“Yeah, I bought them to match my dress.” I slapped his hand off my blue lace undies.

“What about this? Have you always had a strapless bra or is that new too?”

“No. It’s new.”

“Well, you look very sexy—” his voice dragged, “—a little too sexy for an unmarried girl.”

“Stop it.” I slapped his hand away fr om my bottom again. “I can’t concentrate while you

keep doing that.”

“Here—let me try.”

“Okay, but, good luck.” I placed the earring in his waiting hand. “I haven’t been able to get

one in that hole for over a week.”

The warmth of his breath touched my neck as he leaned close, with the stud in his fingertips,

and fumbled against my earlobe until I heard a small ‘pop’. “All done.”

“Thanks.” I rubbed my ear. It burned a little.

“Is the other one okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just this one—it keeps closing. I don’t know why.”

“Start wearing your earrings and it won’t happen.”

“I can’t. I hate sleepi ng in them.” I leaned my butt against the dresser and br eathed out

heavily. “So?” I nodded, rolling my hand in the air, “—did you want something?”

“Oh, um—” He unf olded his arms. “I came to see if you were hungry. I uh, I haven’t seen

you eat anything today.”

“That’s because I haven’t,” I remarked, pushing past him to grab my robe.

“Ara?” he whined. “Why, baby?”

“Because, maybe if I don’t eat—I’ll die.” I flopped backward on my bed with a huff, leaving

my robe on the covers beside me.

“Ara? Grow up—you don’t mean that.” He stood above me with his arms folded.

“No—but I also kinda do.”

“Well,” he grabbed my hand and pulled my arm until I sat up, “then you need to get some

help, baby. That’s not normal.”

I forced a smile, tilting my head. “Mike. You worry too much. I’m fine. Really.”

“Ara? Girls who are fine don’t say they’re trying to starve themselves to death.”

“I didn’t really mean i t—not literally.” I stood up. “Now, go—let me get dressed, or I’ll be

going to the ball in my underwear.” I waved my hands down my body.

“Huh,” he scoffed, “you should—you’d be the belle of the ball, Ara.”

“Suck up.” I opened my door for him.

“Oh, in case I di dn’t mention it,” he said, pecking me on the cheek as he passed, “you look

hot like that.”

“You might have.” I rolled my eyes and shut the door.

The black and white image fused with colour as my mind came back to the present. The

night around me had fallen into complete silence; the crickets hushed, even the voices downstairs.

The stillness made me breathless, listening carefully for any signs of life. When I looked back at the

girl in the mirror, her face displayed my thoughts; how long were we out for that time?

For a flash of a second my eyes strayed from her pale face, onto the wiry shadows behind

her, where I was s ure I saw a pai r of green eyes staring back at me—a reflection from the world
I

lived in. My head whipped up and I spun around to grasp my windowsill, hope filling my heart as I

held back the call of his name on the tip of my lips. I leaned out into the dus k air and sear ched

frantically.

But, below, the quiet street was empty, and the streetlamp, spilling circles of white light onto

the pavement, flickered a few t imes, like a strobe. That same silence I’d come to hate greeted me

and my hope with a wall of emptiness.

I backed away from the window—away from the absence of anything that r esembled life,

then turned to my mirror and waited for the girl in the blue dress to l ook at me again. Hope faded

from her eyes as she and I realised, at the same time, that the face we thought we saw was not

David—merely physically manifested wishful thinking.

I don’t know why I keep excepting to see him. Sometimes I think I can
feel
his presence—

but he’s not outside my window. The only thing out there is the beginning of another night.

The first star of the evening broke through the thick orange and grey clouds as the sun

dropped behind the house. I watched the star through my reflection, wh ile the girl in front of me

looked on from another perspective. Once upon a time, I truly believed that shi mmering entity

would make my dreams come true.

But now, my only wish for t onight—like Cinderella—is that my Prince Charming would

find me for the last dance. After all, David turned this girl into a princess—it’s only right that he be

there to hold her one last time before she marries another man.

Dad’s smile melted into awe as I glided down the stairs.

“Dad?” I grinned at his wet, reddening eyes. “You okay?”

“You look so pretty, honey. Just like your first ballet concert.”

“Uh, yeah, well, just don’t lift me onto your shoulders this time.”

“Why, not? You’re still my little girl.” He look ed up at me where I stopped on the second

last step.

“I’m not a little girl, Dad.”

“Honey, you’ll always be my little girl.”

“I wonder what’s taking Ara so lo—” Mike stopped dead as he walked in; his arms dropped,

his lips split into a pearl y smile, and his eyes , from behind a small bl ack mask, glistened.

“Ara.”

“Hey, Mike.”

He leaped up onto the step. “You are heartbreakingly beautiful.”

Arm in arm, we stepped off the stairs and a flash went off in my face, blinding me, and most

certainly catching my sudden bl ush. “Come on—smile.” Vi cki ushered us around, waving the

camera about.

“Vicki. Really?” I whined.

“Come on, Ara. This might be the last ball you ever go to. I want memories.”

“Oh, fine.” I huffed, and Mike grinned at me with a kind of excitement behind his eyes that

wasn’t there when he was fo rced to escort me to the last ball we went to. But I didn’t share his

excitement.

Vicki posed us in awkwar d and weird places to snap her memories, but the world slowed

down around me, and I stood in the warm embrace of my fian cé, smiling for reasons I could only

pretend I felt—watching everything move as i f it were a movie screen, but wi th no volume. The

voices, the wind, the laughter, all gone—everything in my world was silent, empty—wrong.

This should have been David—it was always supposed to be David, but, once upon a time

I’d have said the same about Mike.

Everything is back where it was before—bef ore the universe flipped the hourglass, before I

lost everything in my wor ld that grounded my so ul, and before I ever knew anything about David

Knight. Now, I’m in the arms of the one I was destined to be with all along. It was an odd learning

curve, and a painful one, but I just have to accept it. When I get home, when I land in Perth and go

home to Mike’s house,
she
won’t be there—around the corner. Mum’s gone. Harry’s gone. And I

have to move on.

This is moving on.

I closed my eye s and let th e world pass by for a moment—spinning like the snow in a