The Clairvoyant

Ten | 70 days, 16th hour

My clothes are dripping wet, my hair matted against my scalp, the eye lashes sticking against the other as droplets of water form and fall down seconds later. I breath in my sight at the mirror, then turn the faucet on and rinse my face with cleaner water.

“It's a good thing you weren't holding any exams then,” Red-haired Audrey begins from the entrance of the girl's bathroom. She throws a handkerchief towards me, and I catch it effortlessly. “Wipe yourself up with this. It won't help with the clothes, but at least it'll do.”

I don't say anything else and there's this eerie quietness engulfing us. Finally, she sighs and leaves with a shake of her head. The door swings shut with an echo, and I'm left alone in this opaque designed public restroom.

I wipe my face with Audrey's handkerchief, then my arms and legs and by the time I'm finished, it's as soaked as my clothes. Sighing, I sit down on the counter and take my bag off – luckily it isn't as wet as my white blouse.

Looking at my reflection once more, I can see that the blouse has made my clothes look transparent but not even a blush appears on my face as I stare at myself for God knows how long. I squeeze my curly blond hair, and droplets of water comes out.

While in the middle of taking off my blouse however, the door suddenly opens and in comes two girls with this awestruck look on their face. They stare at me, maybe shocked to see I'm partially wet – and the other half maybe because I'm the well-known delinquent.

They quickly leave the room with hush gossips and slam the door once more. I sigh heavily again, the weight of all this coming down my chest, when the doors open again and in comes Cain with the same expression those girls put up.

“Wha – what in the world happened to you?” He stutters, locking the door behind him and coming up to me. He pulls off his navy blue hoodie and throws it to my lap even though I'm practically just wearing my underwear.

He notices this seconds later, and blushes a deep shade of red. “I-I'm sorry, I didn't notice,” He mutters, looking down on the white linen tiles. “It's a good thing you're wearing tights today – I think a hoodie and tights ain't that bad.”

While he looks away, I put it on but unfortunately it's a little too big, making it obvious that it isn't mine in the first place. I'm wearing my navy blue converse so at least it fits the hoodie, then Cain hands me the body bag I left on the counter.

“I can tell them to stop,” He says, frowning.

“Then I'd be a tattle tale.” I chide. And no one is ever a tattle tale.

“That's not true,” Cain interrupts me, taking out a towel from his duffel bag. “I used it during PE class after I took a bath but... well it's not hygienic at all, I know, but it's just to dry up your hair at least.” He throws his towel to me and I catch it.

Dabbing it on the edge of my hair cautiously, Cain looks at my things inside the bag. He says it isn't as wet as my shirt, so it should be fine. “Do you have any other exams today?” He asks me, tilting his head to the side as he watches me dry my hair.

“I'm already done with today's exams,” I reply back, jumping off the counter. “Why?”

Sliding my hands inside the pocket, I look at the mirror and notice that the waterproof eyeliners were effective. It's as if I took a bath at school, with my hair a bit wet – but I've already brushed it along the way – and my wet blouse is tucked neatly inside my bag.

“Nothing, you want to eat out?”

“You do know you're the reason why they're bullying me, right?”

He bites his lip. “Yeah, I know. So that's a 'no'?”

“No, I'll go,” I reply, giving him a keen smile. “Let's go before Bri and the others catch up to us and invite themselves to our little date.” I unlock the door to the bathroom and look around cautiously, then together we get out. “Did Audrey tell you I was here?”

Cain nodded at the mention of his cousin's name. “She told me Bri went a little overboard. And that I should give you my jacket.” He explains, now walking side by side with me as we head down the almost-empty corridor.

“I'm sorry. Your scarf is wet too, and I was planning on returning it today,” I explain, frowning as I remember I'd taken it off the moment I fell into Brianna's trap over half an hour ago. They'd placed a bucket of water over the library doors.

And of course, being the person who practically visits the library every day, they knew what time I'd be arriving. Well, maybe they also told the other students not to pass through before I did hence why I was the only one at the time.

“How was your exams?” Cain asks as if what just happened didn't happen.

“I guess they're fine.”

“Mine were easy,” He grins at me, obviously showing off.

“They must be, since you always seem to be at the top of our batch.”

“What about you? Are you... um... below average?” He asks me warily, his eyes darting to somewhere else. “I mean, I can totally understand if they are – and if you need help, you can just ask me. You just always seem to be at the library every day.”

I give him a shrug, and sigh. “It's not like I go there to study all the time. I'm doing research too, sometimes. History or whatever – you know, home works? And I wouldn't really call myself below average or whatever. Mom would kill me if that happened.”

“So you're above average?” He asks again slowly, but never got the answer to that since we were already in his car. I got in the passenger seat, and then he got in the driver's seat and started the car after buckling up. After that, we head off to wherever he was taking me.

Another reason why he couldn't ask me again was because someone called him when he started the car. Another was because I was busy sending someone a message and so forth. By the time we were at a bakery, he'd just gotten off pho – err, mic.

“Sorry that was such a long talk,” Cain mutters, opening the door for me and following me seconds later. “I hope you're fine with desserts even though it's almost dinner already.” Apparently though, dinner doesn't exist not until eight in the evening in my family.

But I don't see the need to tell Cain that.

Inside the bakery, or small cafe or whatever – there's only a few amount of people. Maybe other than the guys at the corner, and the cashier person, and the two people making the drinks behind the counter, there's only us to add.

Cain lets go of the door, his hands in his pocket again. I turn around, give him a wan smile, then ask him, “I’ll go get something, you get a table?”

He nods without answering me, and then clicks his tongue when his phone rings again. Without bothering to wait for him, I get to the counter and this boy eyes me. I suddenly get the feeling like I know this dude or something.

“Can I have a chocolate Frappuccino and a mocha latte? And then that banoffee sliced cake, and a vanilla muffin please.” I instruct the guy as he slowly picks out the food after I point them out. He hands me a tray of my order, I hand him a twenty-dollar bill.

“Thank you,” I say again when I catch him eyeing me. Staring at me. Glaring at me.

What's his problem? I think, frowning as I take the change and tray back to the table Cain got for us. He's still on the phone, and lately I've noticed that he's been on the phone whenever we're around or something. Either he's talking to the chairman, or he's talking to Audrey.

Like before, it seems he's talking to his cousin again.

“I told you, I finished them before the twenty-eighth. I don't know where they went, or even how they could have left the office. Audrey, please, you're the secret – you should. Wait, don't – Michael? Yeah, what's up? No. I left he account book on the – no, I never take it home with me. No it wasn’t...”

And so went the conversation.

I took a bite of my vanilla muffin and stir the chocolate drink. Looking out the window, I notice how there's only a small amount of people walking the streets. And then all of a sudden there's this group of guys all huddled in black.

And they look eerily familiar to me.

I suddenly get the urge to head to the bathroom so I excuse myself, Cain only giving me a slight nod with his forehead as he keeps going on and on about papers being lost or whatever. I can feel my phone buzzing in my pocket as I walk in the bathroom, so I take it out.

There's a message from Audrey, asking me where I am.

“With Cain,” I reply, a smug look appearing on my face as I head to the cubicle. I do my business in there, and come out minutes later, then wash my hands and notice that Audrey hasn't sent me a reply anymore. Wiping my hands dry with a tissue paper, I pull open the swinging door, and walk out.

I'm thinking of where I've seen those guys, and where I've seen them before. And I'm wondering why that cashier guy looked at me like I was some sort of crazy person doing a staring contest at one another as he gives me my change.

Then it hits me.

I mean, literally.

Staggering forward, my legs giving in, I force my arms forward and touch my head only to feel something icky coming out. My head begins spinning as I see the red liquid dropping down my hand, my sight becoming double the normal vision it is.

“Dude, I didn't say hit her on the head – I said make her unconscious!” I hear low grumbling voices behind me, and I look up to see those same guys looking down on me. They've got pretty faces on, but with the bat on one of their hands, it destroys the image.

“She's still awake, gag her,” I hear someone mutter, and I can suddenly feel a pair of strong arms on mine. They're pulling me forward, and I meekly follow their rhythm. My head's in a blur, spinning round and round that I can actually see starts up above like those cartoons.

Cain... I think aloud, surprising myself as I realize I just sent that to him.

Stella?

I purse my lip as they push me out of the backdoor. I can feel my phone buzzing in Cain's hoodie pockets, but I don't have the freedom to pull it out and answer it. They push me past the dumpers, then past the few cars in the back.

Stella? Are you in there, alone?

I don't say anything but keep my lips, and mind, shut.

Stella?

Pushing me into a truck, I lurch onto the back seats and feel my head throb from the pain. “So you sure you guys are good? I'll call the boss later so don't beat Aud and her up until we're there, 'kay?” I hear that same cashier boy-voice ask.

“Yeah, text you later.”

“Cool.”

Then they start the car, the guy moves away from the window, and then it's lurching forward. I can see things more clearly now though, and I can most definitely tell these guys were the ones I ran away from with Audrey last Sunday.

I can even see that guy I punched before.

“She's staring at me,” The guy muttered under his breath, then covered me with a pillow.

I try to shake it off me, scared for once that they're actually stupid enough to cover me with a pillow, on my face! I could suffocate, I really could, but I move it off me and it falls to the floor. I stare at the guy again, and the car reels forward until I'm pushed against the backseats.

Fuck. f**k this. They're kidnapping me! Is all I can think of as the car moves in the alley, then into an opening, then into a crowd of forests. I can't even tell where we're going since I don't know where Cain took me in the first place.

“Remember us, b***h?” The guy I punched asks me, his hand going up my thighs.

I f*****g remember you, I want to answer, but instead kick him in the shin. He groans in his seat, his eyes crossing over then they immediately turn into a pair of angry looking dagger eyes. At that moment, all I actually wanted to do was just laugh.

My phone buzzes again, and this time punched-dude gets it from my pockets. He answers it on the second ring, “'lo? Is that you Aud's sweetheart? Unfortunately, you came a bit too late, hun. We've got that savior of yours already.”

“Who is that?” A guy from the front asks.

“Aud.” Audrey. Audrey Lowell.

“Tell her 'hi' for me, Chace.” He cackles.

Chace grins into the phone, then tells her 'hi'. “Hey, hey, if you cuss that much you'll ruin that pretty look of yours, babe. Yeah, we won't do anything... yet. What? Take you? b***h, we're already far away from where you are. What do you mean a trade? No, we're taking this girl and you can't save her. Yeah, well, whatever.”

He turns my phone off, and for a moment I plead to myself that he doesn't break it. I mean, either way you look at it, it's still an iPhone, and those things are hell a lot expensive than what I can usually afford with my puny savings.

Turning it off, he puts it back on my pocket and looks away from me. He's grumbling something, or maybe eating something, but then there's this hump these maniacs drive over so I'm practically jumping off the seat and almost dive into the small space below me.

This guy stops me from falling however, his hand firmly on my waist. “Dude, Colton, can't you drive a little safer? We're going to get a ticket if you guys keep driving like this.” He angrily complains, pushing me roughly back onto the seat.

“Hang tight,” I hear someone mutter, and then we're suddenly taking a sharp turn to the right. They scream into the air, as if it were their first time doing this, then someone exclaims, “I love taking that right turn all the time. Never gotten over it.”

“I said, drive safer Colton!” Chace yells from the other side of the seat, his face slightly paling a bit. “I told you you should have drove instead, Tristan – Colton never became a normal driver after entering those car races.”

“Dude, we're not even in the town anymore,” However Tristan says it though, his hand is firmly glued to that holder up above, and his legs are stiff from Colton's reckless race car driving. “We're almost there, so shut up and stop whining.”

Minutes later, like what Tristan said, Colton parked his car abnormally in the grass. Of course, it wasn't a normal stop. I practically smacked my head on his seat when he unexpectedly hit the brakes, and then jammed the gear stick to “reverse”.

When the car stopped, I actually felt my heart beat in relief. It was my first time experiencing it, no matter how reckless my brother, Vincent, is sometimes. And even Chey can drive safer than that mad man Colton. Maybe even I can do better as well.

Lurching forward, Chace's hand glued to my arms, they throw me into a rundown building, climb some stairs, then toss me onto a sofa. Tristan takes out a cigarette, then sucks it in like he's greedy for it. He throws the pack to Colton, then from him to Chace.

“You smoke?” Chace asks me, handing me one but I shake my head 'no'. “More for me then,” He says, taking a lighter out of his pockets then lighting it. Then I close my eyes and stare at the ceiling, feeling them slightly heavy at the moment.

“No no no no no no,” He suddenly slaps my cheeks, then pinches it. “Don't fall asleep. You've got that injury on your head. It's not that big, but still, an injury is an injury, right? You shouldn't fall asleep with that thing there until you get medic attention.”

He puts the cigarette stick on the side of his mouth, then checks my wound. “It's small, but you'll live. It's like this little thumbtack – you won't need a lot of stitches for it.” So he says.

“It's your fault she's injured,” I hear both of the other guy’s mutter across the room.

“I didn't mean to hit her head,” He angrily responds. “I was only aiming for her shoulder.”

“With that force you did?” Colton begins his own drag. “You could have dislocated it.”

“Like I said, I could have stopped myself.”

“But you didn't,”

Chace ruffles his dark colored hair, his face scrunching up in annoyance. “Shut up. Shut up. You guys are a total pain in the ass.” He looks at me again, his face apologetic all of a sudden. “So yeah, it's my fault you're hurt – and we seriously didn't mean to do that. Sorry.”

I stare at them as they smoke, but Chace stops midway and throws it to the ground, stomps it, then jumps out of the sofa. He heads to the windows, saying that she's late or something, then Tristan takes Chace's seat and looks at me.

He pulls off the handkerchief on my mouth, then throws it to the ground. “So this is the chick who punched you, Chace?” Tristan hollers to Chace who’s across the old room. I can see him opening a window for air as he takes another cigarette and lights it.

“She punched me hard,” Chace mutters, then he touches his cheeks. “Really hard.”

Tristan then takes his hand and puts it on my thigh, but I don't flinch and he doesn't move. He raises an eyebrow, his blonde hair half covering his eyes. Then he draws a hand to move it away.

“Aren't you a fierce one?” He chuckles.

“She's not talking,” Colton says as he blows out smoke from his lips. “Is she that scared?”

“Nah, dude, she kicked me a while ago.”

“What's that got to do with her speaking?” Tristan teases, his lips turning into a smirk. “What's your name, little kitten? Since the rest of the gang isn't here yet, why don't we get to know each other before we punish you?”

“Stella,” I answer, sitting up, sighing.

“Stella?” He asks me, raising an eyebrow. “Weird.”

Now its my turn to raise an eyebrow. “Why is that weird?”

“I'm pretty sure there's this girl I know named Stella too,” He says, frowning. “Well whatever, there's no way that miss pretty here can be that delinquent. I hear that girl's a total b***h, and a rough fighter who picks fights with others.”

“She always won though,” I hear Colton comment from wherever he is. He's leaning on the wall not far away from me. “Until last year. I don't know what happened, but after last year, she started losing some fights here and there.”

“I recently heard she got beat up,” Chace begins from his window. “Fell down a flight of stairs. Hit her head. The end.”

“The end?” I repeat, arching an eyebrow. “She's dead?”

The thought of me being dead makes me laugh deep inside my stomach. Maybe even deeper than that – but I don't laugh. I can't even begin to imagine how shocked these guys would be when they realize I'm that b***h they're talking about.

“Don’t know, but whatever's up with her nowadays, I won't care. Ah, look, a car's coming up front,” Chace throws his cigarette to the ground, stomps on it, then leans forward and pretends that his hands are a gun. “Ka-pow. That car would totally be done for if I had a gun.”

“Is it Aud?”

“I think so,” Chace answers, squinting his eyes. “And she's come with someone else.”

Then like that, I feel it. It's faint, but I feel it. Or more like, I can hear it even from across the room of the abandoned building. It's like that signal: it's faint but it doesn't change the fact that it's there. Hidden. Hidden by a bunch of other things.

“Who's she with?” Tristan asks, rising off the sofa.

“A dude,” Chace whistles, grinning.

“Let me see,”

“There,” Chace points at it, then I catch sight of Colton giving me a kind smile. I look at him warily, wondering why he's doing that – I mean, what delinquent gives their prisoner a kind smile? Unless they're up to something mischievous...

He throws himself off the wall, grinning and putting his jacket back on in that suave manner. “Let's go boys – looks like we're in for a bunch of company tonight.” He chuckles, taking a pole as Chace takes his baseball bat off the floor.

They wait for Audrey and the guy at the door. Their arms ready to attack.

A surprise attack.

Then as I see Audrey's foot stepping into the room, and that signal's back on. I can hear it, clearly and loudly that it makes me groan in pain since I've got that slight concussion up there – and it might still be bleeding right now.

Stella!

And then everything becomes chaotic as soon as they step into the room.