The Clairvoyant

Twelve | 69 days, 1st hour

Short blonde hair just barely passing my shoulders. Depressing turquoise colored eyes staring off into the distance of her reflection. Dots of freckles here and there like the stars. This is what I looked like over half a year ago.

A year ago when I was an unruly and untamed girl.

“Stella, you still in there?”

I can hear Cain's voice just outside the doorway, and instinctively, I lean over it and breath in. Slowly and out. Slowly and in. Slowly and out. Repetitively just like that. “I'm fine,” I reply, my voice shaky despite how I didn't want him to worry.

“I'm fine,” I repeat louder.

I open the door and find Cain standing there, his hazel eyes showing an expression I was quite well aware of. Since the time we left Blake's hideout and went to Tristan's place, he's been keeping a foot's distance away from me.

And it was just so obvious I wanted to laugh.

But I didn't.

He takes a step backward – see? - and gives me a nod. “Tristan says he'll fix your hair for you. He works as a beautician part time, you see. And well... I would have taken you somewhere but it's past midnight already.” He mutters slowly.

I give Cain a nod, a faint smile appearing on my face.

“I understand,” I answer seconds later, brushing past him but again he takes a step away. I want to frown at him, to ask him “what's up?” but I understand his actions very well. After all, this is the same actions those guys at school do when I pass.

Cain's scared of me.

I've locked him out. He did the same. It seems to be a mutual understanding that we can't talk about it right now so I let it be. I head down the stairs just before Cain enters the room where Colton and Chace are. At the living room, Tristan's there with a pair of scissors in his hand.

“Tristan, Cain said-”

Loud steps fall down the stairs, and I look up to see Chace coming down. “Sorry,” He apologizes just before he 'slightly' pushes me aside. He walks into the kitchen where I don't see him anymore, then head to where Tristan's pointing at.

“He's always like that – don't mind him.” Tristan begins to comb my hair. “You had pretty long hair, and I can't believe Blake just went and cut it. But I guess that's better that scarring that pretty face of yours, one way or another.”

I can hear the “snip snip” of the scissors.

Blake cut half the side short, the other he left it alone. I looked like an i***t with one side long and the other just barely past the shoulder. But of course, it wasn't even straight. It looked zigzagged and distorted, like someone pulled it off my roots.

“Wait, can you style it for me?” I ask cautiously, making Tristan pause midway.

“Style it?”

I remember Blake's words. My family, my mother, my father, my brothers and sister – they'd be shocked to see me looking the same way as I was last year. “Style it different that leave it short. I don't care what type of style you want to do, just not short.”

“Mohawk?” He asks, but I know he's joking. “Alright then. Hold tight.”

I stare at my hands, the falling locks compiling seconds after seconds. I remember Blake's words: how if I hadn't saved Audrey back then, none of this would have happened. I wouldn't have met Blake again, I wouldn't have to cut my hair. And I most especially didn't have to fight Blake. Again.

Blake was a person I looked up to. It's true that he was the person I believed in most of the time before. I trusted everything he said. I loved him, but only as a brother. But I left – and I can just imagine just how much that hurt him.

And then I saved Audrey, doubling the pain he must have felt a year ago.

Like me, Blake has a family of his own, but they never paid attention to him, not until he graduated high school when I became a first year. His family never stopped him, they never tried to help – in a sense, Blake might have been the “me” in the future, had Jaime not stopped me.

Had I not told my parents about my plans.

Blake and I, we were partners back then. He never did have that little group he has now. We fought for ourselves and trained against each other. We smiled, laughed, talked about many stupid and wonderful things all the time.

And when I left, when I told him I wanted to stop him, I can understand why he loathes me now.

And again, saving Audrey is like adding more fuel to the fire.

“It's not 'try',” He had a said, that serious expression on his face. His green eyes never wavering away from mine. The howl of the wind blowing against his long blonde hair – back then it was short but not enough that he couldn't tie it.

“It's 'do or die'.”

I know for a fact that he doesn't mean “die” as in literally “be killed”. It means that I'll never get to have the freedom I have now. He'd chain me, lock me up – figuratively speaking again – but I would never be able to escape him ever again.

Now there was “do”, that meant I have to fight for my freedom.

As well as the guy's freedom too.

Possibly this also means protecting Cain from his hands as well.

I squeeze my hands tightly together, the fingers overlapping the other. I knew Blake would be angry at the sight of me, but I didn't imagine him to be that angry. Or scary. My memories of Blake were of him always smiling.

Getting angry – yes, he did.

But not that angry.

Did leaving him really hurt him more than I can imagine?

“Done!”

Tristan's loud voice beams over my ideas. I turn to face him, but the beautician's already grabbing for a mirror, saying something about his “best work” or something. He hands it to me, and the girl I see in the mirror is outstanding, and pretty.

“T-this is me?” I stutter, touching my face and touching the ends of my hair.

“Yes, you. Very pretty. Hot. I love what I did!” He squeals happily, pulling it away from me and spinning the chair so I can face him. He checks my hair again with squinting eyes. “I can't believe for a first timer, I did pretty well – don't you think?”

“I-I thought you were a beautician.”

“Yeah, I am,” He chuckles, fluffing my hair with his hands. He then uses a towel and dabs it on my neck with powder and the itchiness begins to disappear. “I beautify women by having a night with them. If you know what I mean.”

I might have blushed because Tristan is chuckling.

Taking the mirror in my hand, I ask him, “What's the hair cut called?”

“I was supposed to do a bob cut,” He mutters, frowning. “But the left side was a bit too short so it ended up not straightening – but it still looks wonderful with all your curls like that. Then I layered it at the back, and it's a bit longer on the left side – the one where Blake didn't cut.”

I did a “hmm” sound and stare at myself.

I felt like praising Tristan at the moment.

“You can call it...”

“Medium Choppy!” Tristan beams at me, pulling the scissors away. He places it back on his drawers of countless scissors. “Also, I would have placed bangs on you, but the side bangs look hot – especially since they curl on their own.”

He touches the tips of my side bangs, a faint smile now forming.

“I know what you're thinking,” He softly whispers to me, still holding onto the lock. “But don't worry, Stella – we knew the consequences of leaving the gang. We were prepared for that so don't think that it's entirely your fault Blake's after us.”

And then realization smacks me in the face. Blake's words are repeating in my head:

You're not a lone fighter anymore.

My actions, my sole actions of just saving Audrey – just put these guys I barely know in harm.

“Stella?” Tristan's voice becomes that of a worried man. He touches my cheeks, and I can feel warm tears cutting across my cheeks quickly. “Hush, don't cry. I'm sorry – should I not have reminded you? I'm sorry... Please don't cry. Audrey's going to kill me.”

“Tris?” I can hear Chace's voice and I huddle my face against my hands.

I suddenly feel a pair of hands on my shoulders, and I'm pulled away and now I'm facing Chace. “What's wrong?” He asks, suddenly worried about me. He brings a hand over his messy dark blue hair, and sighs heavily.

“Don't cry.”

“I'm not crying,” I stubbornly weep, wiping away the harsh tears falling down.

“Yeah, I know,” Chace chuckles, handing me his handkerchief. “You're just peeing from my eyes.”

A sob escapes my lips again, and both guys bite their lips uncomfortably. “Dude, make her stop crying,” Chace punches Tristan's shoulder, a frown appearing on his face. “I don't do well with crying girls – and I have no idea how to make them stop either.”

“I'm used to touching them, asshole, not consoling them.” Tristan complains.

“I give up,” Chace sighs again, then pulls me into a bear hug. “Don't cry, i***t. This isn't your fault.”

“It's my fault,” I wheeze through his shoulders, not caring for once that he's going to get soaked. “You guys might get hurt because of me. If I hadn't saved Audrey... If I hadn't then none of this would have happened right? I mean I don't-”

Chace pulls me away from his shoulder, an angry expression on his face. “Are you saying you regret saving Audrey, Stella? Are you say you wished you never saved her in the first place? Because hell, if you are, then you're saying you wished you hadn't punched me in the first place.”

Another sob escapes my lips, and I breath in – that same whimper kids do when crying too much. “I'm not saying I regret it, you i***t! I'm saying I wished I could have thought of a better idea – I wasn't thinking, and look what happened. I got us into this-”

He abruptly hauls me into another embrace, cutting my words off.

“We said it isn't your fault.” He tells me. “We would have left Blake one way or another. We were just waiting for a chance, and you gave us that chance. Now stop crying or I'm waking Audrey up and telling her you regret saving her.”

“I said I didn't regret saving her, jackass.” I sniff, pulling away from him and giving him a grin. “Okay, fine, you got me to understand. Let go already.” Chace pulls away, then shuffles my hair like an i***t he is with that broad smile of his.

“Good, then go to sleep.”

I wake up sometime later before dawn to the sniveling of a girl.

Turning my head over, I catch Audrey crying there on the seat, her head leaning against the window sill, her shoulders shaking from the countless sobs she's trying to stop. I get up slowly, she doesn't notice me, and then she jumps when I touch her shoulder.

“I'm sorry, did I wake you up?” She sniffed, letting a small chuckle escape. “Sorry.”

“What's wrong?” I ask, sitting down beside her. “You're crying.”

“No, I'm peeing from my eyes.” She repeats Chace's words, and this makes me laugh.

She looks at me like I'm crazy. “Dude, you just said the same thing Chace said.”

Audrey shook her head. She's not crying anymore, but for a second there I can't even imagine her to be Bri's friend – that snuck-up red-head who just laughs in front of my face when something happens, but also secretly helps me behind Bri's back.

“I overheard you guys a while ago.” She says, a wan smile appearing on her pretty yet tear tracked face. “I'm sorry. If you hadn't saved me, Stella... None of this would have happened, and you wouldn't have met Blake again.”

“So you knew about Blake and I?” I chuckle, sitting on the empty seat beside her.

“He has pictures of you,” Audrey's tone is unbelievable, but I can imagine Blake having pictures of me. I gave him some anyways. To remember me. “I saw them one time, since, you know, I was the 'girl he kept close all the time'.”

Her tone's in a matter-of-fact tone, and I want to laugh, but I don't.

“Just remember I never regretted saving you,” I give her a kind smile, but she turns away from me. “Audrey, look at me.” When she doesn't, I just continue my wonderful speech. “Audrey, you may be a b***h, but I never regretted saving you. I consider you a friend already.”

“A friend?” She repeats, dubious. “Are you sure Blake didn't hit you?”

We laugh together, then it ends in this silence I know we can easily break. “You just have to remind Colton and the others that they need to be on guard. Knowing Blake, he attacks whenever he wants – always a surprising person.”

“I'm surprised you know a lot about him.”

“I'm the apprentice,” I chided. “It was like that for three years.”

She touches my hair, a faint smile now appearing on her face. “What are you going to tell your siblings? That hot brother of yours that loves watching glee?” I know she's talking about Ian. She saw him one time after all. “They'll be surprised.”

“I asked Tristan to cut it-”

“You asked him? Why?” Her eyes are wide. She's surprised.

“Cain and I thought he was a beautician.”

She shook her red hair violently. “He's a beautician for girls only at night. He's a-”

“I know,” I cut in, biting my lips. “He told me.”

“He's terrible! It's a good thing your hair turned out to be pretty!” She exclaims, her hand movements a bit exaggerating. “There was this one time I let him cut my hair, and dude, you should have seen it. I was glad it was sem break at the time!”

I couldn't imagine it, but I laughed anyways.

“It's not the same cut as back then, right? I wouldn't want your family knowing you're going back to being a delinquent again.” She says softly, touching my locks. What's up with everyone nowadays? Touching my locks like that?

I pull away from her, then face the window. “Yeah, it's different. Totally different.”

“But they're going to be surprised, right?”

“Yeah, I never got a haircut after last year.”

We got quiet again, then she leaned her head against the cool window. “Cain just found out I'm a delinquent, and he's like, not speaking to me the way he used to back then. I think he's ignoring me, you know.”

“I think he's ignoring me too.”

“That's impossible. He likes you!”

“Like,” I repeat the word, that same fake smile coming up my face. “Yeah right. After how I threatened to actually wound Blake hours ago? I think he's going to think differently from now on. He kept this distance in between us even though days ago I used to sit on his lap.”

Audrey looked at me again, her eyes as wide as saucers. She shook her head then said, “I'm not going to ask for details, but whatever. He's such a d**k. But it'll take some time I guess, for him to get used to us. I think it's fairly better this way too. So he won't be in harm’s way.”

“What if they decide to attack you at home?”

“They wouldn't be that stupid,” She replies right away. “They'd go for Colton, Chace or Tristan first. You may be a fighter, but Stella, they're still guys. They have leverages that we don't have. They're stronger in a sense of strength.”

I nod absent-mindedly.

What she says is true after all.

“We should call it a day,” I rise from the chair and grab the blanket, cover my shoulders with it and return to bed. “You should too. Unless you like the idea of waking up at three in the afternoon. Not that I really mind actually.”

“No, I'll be sleeping in a while.”

I put my head on the pillow and begin staring at the ceiling. “Thanks,” I hear her say.

“What for?”

“For everything.” She bluntly puts it that way, but I look back at the ceiling.

I let out a sigh as my eyes begin getting used to the dark. “Thanks too, for being there.”

“And being a friend?” She teases, returning to her side of the bed.

Then we're quiet once more, her breathing regular once more. No more sniffing. No more sobbing. “Stella?” she calls my name all of a sudden, but this time I don't turn to face her and shut my eyes closed. I ask her what's wrong.

“From now on, you have to be careful.”

“I know. You too, okay?”

She's quiet for a second. “I know, and I have Colton to protect me.”

“He's cunning, and smart.” I recall Blake when I used to hang out with him. When I followed him like a meager puppy back in the days. It seemed so long ago, yet it also seemed just recently with what happened at their hideout.

Cunning and smart, I repeat, thinking it over and over in my head.

And then the next thing I know, there's no more words to spill out.