CHAPTER: 7 (PRT 1)Mature

    Innocent George was unknowingly causing an irritating nag in the part of my mind. One of several raw, untampered places that I mostly ignore. It whispered a subtle winter’s touch, delicate as a pair of lips only just brushing my neck. I wouldn’t go so far as say I fought the urge, as much as entertained the thought of sticking my dagger into the side of George’s small neck. Call me paranoid, the guy was leading me to a practically isolated place when clearly, Jerry would be in the ballroom with everyone else.

    All the while making one way attempts to keep the silence at arm’s length, “…ust that we don’t usually call Karissa unless there’s an emergency or something. We usually…”

    I let myself be led down one of four main hallways that connected into a square that bordered the ceiling of the ballroom. The outer wall of the hallways were picketed by hardwood doors every three to four feet, dressed in respective organization colors. The wall facing the ballroom was made of a richly tinted glass, all together making half the level doubling as an observatory.

    I immediately located Alex from my vantage point. He sat among a table of five, gorging himself on grilled sirloin. I felt a pang of longing. Alex had a certain aura of simplicity. He was a boy playing in a river. His company is refreshing for someone who knows too well, the empty solitary ocean that seems to drown those who are weighed to the bottom by their secrets.

    I fought off a grin as I saw him tear into his steak, unguardedly.

    I also almost knocked George into the ground, not aware he had stopped.

    “S-sorry!” I muttered, taking advantage of his own surprise to slip the punch dagger into its sheath, chillingly unaware as to how it appeared in my hand.

    With deliberate exaggeration, I turned toward the door George had stopped at, attempting to dissipate any spare time he may have wished to direct at picking up any odd behavior on my part.

    Sadly, George didn’t seem to pick up on my cue. His eyes were fitted with an array of questioning looks, about to throw me under a microscope when the door cracked opened.

The End

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