How About Seven? ✔

21. Hurt

Kaylan isn't Storeroom Stalker.

It didn't clicked in well after I had left the party. Storeroom Stalker now had a gash on his right shoulder that needed at least one week to heal, and Kaylan hadn't had that. His white shirt had been soaked to the skin after he jumped into the pool, and there hadn't been any sign of an injury. 

However, there had been Thomas. . .

He has every reason to be Storeroom Stalker. No matter what you may feel for him, no matter what the both of you might have had, the undeniable fact remains - 

He betrayed you.

And I knew that. I knew what the voice in my head was saying was true. But that was the thing about emotions. When you feel too much. . . all rationale can leap out the window dressed in a pink chicken suit for all you care. 

It was amazing, and more than a little scary, what effect he had on me. How he can affect me. Four years came and went, but the feelings never left. And that, more than his appearance, was what shocked me the most.

Because what he did to Blackcroft, what he did to me, had been and still was - unforgivable.

I knew Thomas since we were five. He was one of those rare boys who actually acted their age. More than that, he never once treated me differently just because I happened not to have a certain part of human anatomy. I can't recall when it started, but he liked bringing me little gifts from the outside world. He knew about my frustration and desire to go beyond the confines of the manor, so he tried all he could to help me fulfill my wishes. The Tigress keychain had been one of the early presents. 

Most of the time however, he brought me food. And what amazing delights those were! It was from him that I experienced the cold drip of ice-cream down my tongue, and the velvet feel of milk chocolate. Through him I came to know that there was more to food than just noodles and vegetables. That there were actually things, delectable things, such as a banana milkshake, a soda drink, and those plump short cylinders called sushi.

He was gentle, he was kind, and he was downright persistent. Little kiddie me believed that all boys should be treated like dirt, and Thomas was that one small stone that stuck in the sole of my shoe, refusing to dislodge itself. Slowly he managed to wriggle past my defences, breaking down my walls.

And at the cusp of teenhood - entered my heart.

Heart to heart. He used to call that the-not-really-confessing-confession. When he reached thirteen, he decided to do it properly. I remember that day so clearly -  I was in my room, when suddenly the door opened. And there was Thomas, looking so panicky. He said nothing but grabbed my arm, pulling me out after him. When I pressed him on what was wrong, his sentences were incoherent, jumbled up, making me think that something awful had happened.

 It was only when I came to the little garden that I realized I'd been tricked.

I wasn't prepared for the little semi-circle of lit candles, or the strings of ribbons strung all over the place. I wasn't prepared for the row of edibles stretched out before me - from chocolate to pizza to churros to that tall glass of milkshake. . . They were all food from the outside world, food he had brought back to me, so I could have a taste of what he had. And what touched me the most was that he remembered, because all the food were arranged in chronological order, with a little note beside each to tell me when was the first time I had eaten it. And right at the end of that impressive line-up was a Kung Fu Panda cake - ice-cream, mind you - sitting proudly on a silver plate. 

And most of all, I wasn't prepared for the way he looked me in the eye, lifted up his necklace, and asked - 

Will you be mine?