Wayward Minds Project: Khione

[06] Soul - Chase

Irony was something that Soul had been acquainted with her entire life, an old friend of the past that resurfaced frequently, a reminder of her iniquitous nature, and yet, if she were to be veracious ─ which she normally isn't ─Soul didn't mind its company.

It started back during the years of her childhood when she had still been in an eligible age to remain in the city's only orphanage, surrounded by a handful of nuns and a flock of kids with distinctive qualities and not-so-likeable mind-sets. Estella, everyone had called her, since Soul's true name was something that had never been known, even to the sisters. Although Soul had been residing in the orphanage far longer than any of the kids she used to play with, the values taught there by the nuns, the importance of faith in God, the constant preaching of being kind to one another, of being loving despite stirring abhorrence, never seemed to attach itself to Soul, nor did she exert the effort into letting it.

Soul had viewed these lessons as nothing more but hourly obstacles she had to get through to be able to play.

Yes, she was environed by righteous women, as well as instructions of good conduct that coaxed a man to be honorable, but that doesn't seem to desist Soul from developing into a nefarious, indifferent, and despicable human being. The moppets she frolicked with were silently frightened of her, which one of the sisters became cognizant of, and their fear for Soul's atrocity was surprisingly larger than their dread for being caught and getting in trouble. Soul coerced them to do numerous acts of thievery, such as swiping food from the kitchen and taking belongings that was never rightfully theirs, and she had taught them how to curse ─ well, not intentionally, Soul deemed, since it had never been one of her goals for the other kids to acquire an unbreakable habit of cursing.

The nuns in the orphanage chastised Soul to an immeasurable degree that they eventually turned apathetic towards her, deciding to steer their solicitude to other children and have the kids avoid Soul rather than placing their time and effort into rectifying Soul's sordid behaviour. They had conceived Soul as a hopeless case, someone who can never truly be more than who she is, and they had taken a liking to praying for her, to dropping her in the hands of God, though Soul reckoned that none of them really paid that much heed to her to actually pray for her impervious nature.

Except for one nun.

Her name was Sister Fernanda Chauvel, a woman who had been fond of Soul, with olive skin, long legs, and was the tallest amongst those who lived beneath the roof of the orphanage. Unlike most of the nuns that accompanied her in the months of her staying in the orphanage, Sister Fernanda's hope for Soul to emerge as a kindhearted individual seemed indisputable, never dissuaded by the statements of her sisters, and no matter how many times they recounted the moments of Soul's appalling deeds into the conversation, Sister Fernanda's thin lips would stretch itself into a heartening beam. Soul had wished all the nuns were as benevolent as Sister Fernanda, and maybe they were, when Soul's acts were tolerable and had been waved off as a simple mistake, but it had turned sour over the months of failed attempts in converting her.

At first, Soul didn't quite trust Sister Fernanda, figuring that she would be another individual soon to be added to Soul's list of people who were fed up with her, who surreptitiously loathed her, but Soul's own idea of Sister Fernanda was later on altered when the nun's effort of befriending and understanding Soul came into plain view. Sister Fernanda didn't gaze at Soul as if she were born of spite, as if she didn't have a beating, black heart, as if the smiles she stuck on her mouth were genuine and did not mask an ongoing, deceptive plan to, once again, harass a poor child chosen as her next victim. As time passed, Soul's age increased, so was the relationship between her and Sister Fernanda, akin to a daughter and mother's, but it was not the only thing that had raised, too. Soul became worse than she had been as a child and she was constantly spotted gripping a leash wrapped around trouble.

Mischief morphed itself into Soul's best friend and not even Sister Fernanda could keep them apart.

"I deeply thank you for stopping by, Estella. We missed you." Sister Fernanda's gentle smile appeared, her hand upon Soul's shoulder, her beam reaching her kind, brown eyes, and Soul caught herself before she could roll her eyes, the name that the nun had selected resulting to her inwardly scowling. If Soul were to be frank, she didn't even know the kids in the orphanage anymore, most of the children that she had grew up with now a part of a decent family they had been dreaming of since they arrived at the institution, but Sister Fernanda and the nuns acted as if they didn't know this fact, as if, somehow, through this, they are still able to make Soul feel welcomed and a member of the orphanage, even after her leave to be independent.

Soul could say she appreciated it, but that would be a downright lie.

"Afraid I can't say the same, Sister Fernanda," Soul blatantly remarked, choosing to not lock gazes with the nun beside her as she watched the children run around the neat lawn found behind the orphanage's considerable building. A girl with blonde waves, crooked teeth, and a twitching nose ran around chasing her playmates, hoping to transfer the responsibility of being it to another individual foolish enough to have her touch them. "I used to bury knickknacks here. I wonder if any of them had discovered it beneath the soil."

"One did," Sister Fernanda confirmed. "Three days ago, Estella. It was a tiny snow globe with your handwriting scrawled across the glass. Perhaps you did a poor job in burying it."

"They were stolen items, you know," Soul admitted. She wasn't a thief, had never thought of being one in the near future, not because she didn't possess the equal slick of a purloiner or the impressive skill of being able to get away without others falling into a state of cognizance anent her actions, but because Soul simply regarded stealing as an act built for thrill, something to do if she were bored or was genuinely curious of an individual's reaction if an item with high importance to them was unexpectedly missing from their grasps. Witnessing the terror settle into their faces, their eyes going wide due to worry, whenever they realized that something belonging to them was lost brought a sly, wicked smirk on Soul's lips.

"You do enjoy a bit of swiping here and there."

"The most delightful activities are often the ones found to be forbidden and the most iniquitous," Soul stated.

A solemn expression flickered upon Sister Fernanda's face. "Since when did you get so old, Estella?"

"When you and the rest of the nuns weren't looking."

"When we weren't looking, my child, you were stealing," Sister Fernanda remarked, her lips stretching into a gentle smile, as if she had just said an anodyne joke that wasn't based on the truth in the past when, in fact, it had truly took place.

Stealing was not a tolerable action, as most of the nuns had stated towards Sister Fernanda when she, once again, forgave Soul for her unethical deeds, and Soul often wondered if the woman was truly a nun. She had caught Soul in the midst of performing one of her sinful exploits countless of times, more than her sisters, and yet Sister Fernanda valued Soul, as if she were a child who has yet to view her actions as wrong and when that moment finally arrives, Soul would convert into a person with high morals, who loved and reciprocated kind gestures, who beamed to passing strangers, offered assistance to elders, and was never short on patience and gratitude. Truthfully, Soul had attempted to be nice for one day, but found herself wilting on the inside with every good deed she executed, and in the end, Soul's kindness couldn't last for 24 hours, the limit being only an hour.

She assayed to cease cursing, take a break from all the 'f**k', 's**t', and 'what the actual f**k', but forbidding these from escaping her mouth was akin to battling herself, and Soul had never disagreed with her own mind.

"I'm a multitasker, Sister," explained Soul. "If I am able to rob a person from their belongings, then I can assure you that I am doing it whilst maturing."

"I admire your honesty," Sister Fernanda chuckled, shaking her head, the black veil concealing her hair fluttering for a short period, but Soul's attention was scarcely focused on the nun seated right next to her on the wooden bench of the orphanage's lawn, she was too engrossed on the individual emerging from the open doors of the edifice, storming towards them, each step expressing the fury she contained in portions. Soul and her locked hard gazes, and it further galled the woman approaching them at speed.

"Someone's mad," Soul whispered mockingly, which Sister Fernanda had heard and she instantaneously trailed Soul's stare during the exact time when Sister Divina reached the two of them, appearing in front, arms akimbo.

"You seem infuriated, Divina, dear," Sister Fernanda commented, seemingly pococurante. "Is something the matter?"

"I bring you news of worriment that you must promptly attend to, Sister Fernanda," Sister Divina informed, hardly maintaining composure. "Best they not wait."

"Oh, I see." Sister Fernanda swiveled to Soul. "Would you so kindly look after the children, Estella? I assure you, they aren't a handful."

Before Soul could even respond, Sister Divina squeezed her way into the conversation, scornfully eyeing Soul, though her words were directed to Sister Fernanda. "I am fain in doing the task, Sister. We shan't burden our guest with such trouble concerning the children."

"I will return quickly, Estella. In the mean time, Sister Divina will keep you company. Now, if you excuse me." Sister Fernanda got to her feet and, with a cursory glance at Soul, which had appeared to be a warning, strode away gracefully, three moppets joining her in her brisk walk, before they crossed the threshold of the open doors, their figures disappearing.

"I see you've landed yourself in yet another upsetting problem with the authorities," Sister Divina snarled at Soul, who, in return, scowled at the hag. Sister Divina carried much abhorrence for Soul than any other nun in the institution and exerted little effort into concealing it in front of others, excluding the children, though she always discovered a way in expressing her detestation subtly without the kids picking up the hint. If one were to gather Sister Fernanda's fondness for Soul and altered it into dislike, multiplying it by three, then one ends up with the approximate amount of Sister Divina's loathing. The woman had called Soul a myriad of afflictive names whenever they were alone, and it was no surprise when Soul had developed her own kind of heightened hatred towards the woman.

Soul could only picture the joy that had gone through Sister Divina when she had left the orphanage to live independently.

"I see you haven't given up on troubling yourself to be up-to-date on my business," Soul quipped, not bothering to hide the smugness of her smirk the moment Sister Divina's visage betrayed her attempt at enshrouding her indignation.

"You're still as impertinent and immoral as you had been the last time I caught sight of you."

"And you're still as pretentious and sanctimonious as ever, Sister Divina. I'm delighted I espied no changes on the woman who had belittled my existence and had compared it to that of a rat's."

Sister Divina had looked as if she had been slapped. "I will not tolerate such ─"

A little girl, around 7, ran up to Sister Divina, the frills of her hot pink skirt bouncing lightly in sync to her curly, brown hair. The white shirt she had donned was noticeable against her clear, dark skin, but the clothing had been awfully smeared with soil that it almost corresponded to the shade of her complexion. With a high-pitched giggle, the child embraced the side of Sister Divina's leg, staring up at the woman, and it took every single thing in Soul's body to obscure her grimace at the sight of an angel in proximity with the woman, but Soul must've done a poor job, which was a foregone conclusion with her lack of exertion, because Sister Divina glared at her, the fire in her eyes igniting once she took her gaze off the kid.

"Sister Divina, look what I found in the ground! Look! See!" The kid stepped away from the nun to gently lower the item on the bench right beside Soul, withdrawing her chubby hands to proudly exhibit her discovery. Sister Divina bent down, squinting. Soul, as well, had been enticed. It was a tiny figurine of a cherub languorously laying atop a fluff of white cloud, the golden shade of its short, curly hair faded out due to the years it has spent beneath the soil, and there was a considerable amount of dirt that clung to the item; on its bedraggled, once-white robe, on the crook of its neck that supported the cherub's large head, and most especially on its full, innocent face. There was a pair of small wings on the cherub's back, but one of its tips had been chipped off, which had been Soul's doing few years back.

Straightaway, Soul recognized the figurine without a doubt. It was another one of those things that she had stolen from various of people, only to arrive at a decision that she were to bury them just beneath the surface of the soil in the orphanage's lawn before departing the institution in hopes of leading a life with complete freedom. The cherub figurine had been Sister Divina's most cherished object, given to her by her father a couple of weeks prior to his passing, and the morning after Soul pocketed it, the building was awoken by the woman's shrill scream of horror, the sound the sole reason for Soul's lips to smirk as she lay curled up on her mattress.

And in the present, it had returned to both its owner and purloiner, all due to a child who knew nothing concerning the occurrences that took place in the past after the object was lost.

"Where did you find this, Kat?" Sister Divina snatched the figurine, long fingers firmly curling around the cherub as she stared at the trembling child.

"By the fence, Sister," the kid answered meekly, before skittering away once dismissed by Sister Divina.

"Why would you take an object from a child, Sister Divina?" Soul grinned mockingly. "You, of all the people, should know that."

"Once Sister Fernanda hear of your misdeeds─"

Soul cut her off, "Sister Fernanda need not to hear my misdeeds from your lips for she has witnessed them herself. I believe your words will be of little effect to the nun I admire."

"I see." Sister Divina's eyes had not been trained on Soul, rather scrutinizing the open doors of the building, an entrance that led to the darkened corridor, and when the nun returned her attention to the wicked being before her, Sister Divina's small, round face brightened in triumph, which emplaced Soul in a state of bafflement. "And that same nun you so wholeheartedly admire have brought you visitors."

Soul swiveled to the direction of the entrance. Sister Divina's words earlier rang in Soul's ears. I see you've landed yourself in yet another upsetting problem with the authorities.

"f**k. The police," Soul muttered, panic arising within her, the causation for the abnormal rapid beating of her heart, thundering against its cage beneath the skin of Soul's chest, and she immediately got to her feet, both eyes widening in dread. Perspiration broke out on the surface of Soul's skin, most especially on her forehead and temples as the beads of sweat gently trickled down, the sun's warmth suddenly too suffocating for Soul, the soothing breeze earlier growing cold to the touch. Detective Gomez strode beside Sister Fernanda, whose face displayed shock and discombobulation, and Soul gritted her teeth, willing herself to, once again, regain the composure that she unwittingly had lost to the surprise which had flooded through her upon first glance at those who solemnly approached her.

For the past few days, Soul had remained far from trouble's reach, avoiding it within a short period of time, choosing to relish her week without periodically having to scan the area for signs of police. Temporarily, she strolled into grocery stores with no intention of swiping items necessary to her survival, walked amongst passersby on sidewalks without an unlawful goal swirling in her mind. Soul did not throw eggs at a random house, did not dress a citizen's garden with rolls of toilet paper. Heck, Soul did not even grab a boulder, raise it with trembling hands over her head, before smashing it through the window of the first lavish car her eyes had beheld.

So what exactly had drawn the authorities' attention towards her?

Soul did not linger long to discover the answer and her feet briskly bolted away to the direction of the fence, which had surrounded the lawn of the orphanage. Detective Gomez's bawl of objection intermixed with the scream of the winds, swishing past her ears as Soul ran with incredible speed, strands of her jet black hair whipping around her face, a distraction created not for those who were pursuing her but rather for the runner herself. The wooden fence of the orphanage only managed to reach the level of Soul's stomach, and, with a low grunt, she hoisted herself over the barrier, gracefully landing on both feet, panting, once she stood on the other side.

Chastising herself mentally for the brief pause on the other side of the fence to contemplate whether she created enough distance between her and the police to afford glancing over her shoulder, Soul continued her run, coercion a potent method for her legs to increase its speed, and as she sprinted across the street, a scooter abruptly halted a few inches from her, the owner immediately planting a foot on the asphalt. The blinding glare of the sun bounced off the top of the owner's red helmet, the surface lustrous that Soul was forced to fleetingly shield one of her brown eyes, stripping her of her chance in viewing the rider's face.

"Hey! Watch where you're going!" The rider, a boy, bellowed furiously, but with such little time offered to her to be able to elude her pursuers, especially the stubborn, mistrustful Gomez, Soul could only position one hand above her shoulder, before curling down four of her fingers, allowing the middle to remain upright.

A cackle of glee escaped her lips, sweet yet such a villainous chortle, her feet slapping against the ground in short, rushed steps, exhibiting no hint of decelerating whatsoever, and Soul's heart drummed beneath her chest, but not because of panic that had shot through her when the authorities strode across the lawn of the orphanage nor because of her ongoing dash, the entrance to a dislimn alleyway nigh, but because of the adrenaline powering up her velocity, the trouble she was in currently when Soul had done nothing throughout the days. Oh, how she missed the excitement, the sound of authorities pursuing her at such a short distance, avid on the idea of the gap created between them closing, ending with Soul in handcuffs and them grinning triumphantly at her.

But Gomez knew that once Soul had access to an alleyway, the task of capturing her will be difficult to attain.

Soul slipped into the alley, feet involuntarily stepping into a tiny pool of undistinguished liquid, splashing around her leg, dark droplets dancing midair, only to crash down either on the ground or, if lucky, back into the puddle, and, behind her, a couple of feet away, panting and displaying indications of fatigue, the police wasted no time to pause or hesitate, spotting Soul's figure hurtling towards an open doorway found on one of the two buildings positioned near each other. A corpulent man, with greasy hair and thick arms, ambled out, lit cigarette between his fingers, the gray smoke curling upwards, and the least thing he had anticipated to catch sight this day was a petite teenager sprinting towards him, hounded by the police, a detective leading the cluster.

"Soul, I forbid you from entering a bar!" Detective Gomez bellowed.

"You've prohibited me from an assortment of actions. I see why not disobey?" Soul yelled back impishly and as the man's eyes widened in surprise, he jumped towards the side in hopes to avoid Soul. The corners of her lips stretched into a grin of wickedness, an idea ephemerally crossing her mind, and with much vigorous haste, Soul's fingers firmly latched onto the steel knob, swinging the wooden door to a close, a bang resounding throughout the building as she pushed the lock into place, just as the men outside arrived, out of breath.

Detective Gomez banged a fist against the surface of the door. "Soullianne, open this goddamn door!"

"My sincerest apologies, dear Sir, but I may be in need of beholding your warrant. If you so kindly will slip it beneath the door, that would be swell and I shall express my heartfelt gratitude in various methods." Soul smirked, pushing a strand of black hair behind her ear. "Why the f**k are y'all chasing me? I didn't even do anything within this week besides push an irritating kid off the slide last Thursday."

"If you f*****g didn't do anything, why are running?" Gomez snapped.

"Who the hell wouldn't run if they saw a group of men carrying guns coming towards them?"

A new voice joined the conversation. "But we're the police!"

Soul grinned. "Exactly."

"You're going to f*****g regret this, kid." The frustration was discernible in Gomez's tone. "Do you have keys?"

Gomez must've not have directed the question towards Soul, who brought her eyebrows to a near due to bewilderment, because a gruff voice responded from the other side of the locked door, "I do, Sir."

"Fuck." Soul swiveled.

She had entered a kitchen. Pans, be it small or big in size, lay in a heap of grease and food stains by the sink, along with an abundant of dingy plates and utensils, producing a rancid odor drifting through the room, fusing with the stifling air, the causation for both of Soul's eyes to water as its rims lined with lingering tears. The tiled floor was not much of an aid as well; dry smudges Soul has yet to identify through the use of staring were scattered across the white floor, all in diverse shades, one in a hue of brown, one the color of a robust leaf, and there was another that suspiciously resembled a mustard, splattered just beneath the stove in a multifold of blobs.

Unfortunately, Soul seemed to fail affording the luxury of structuring a derisive comment on the slovenliness of the kitchen, the location to be prioritized when one were to discuss matters regarding cleanliness, for another door, close to a shelf containing jars of spices, swung open, revealing two spindly teenagers.

"Who are you?" One said, thick, light brown hair covering both of his ears, the surprise beginning to settle into his small, pale face.

"Boys, don't let her get away!" The same gruff voice screamed from behind the door, the doorknob jiggling. Instantly, the boys honed in on Soul.

Sighing, Soul's fingers tightly grasped the handle of a pan, pulling it from the collection that brought out the stench of day-old food, and with a diabolical smile, Soul placed her other hand on her hip, tilting her head slightly. "This is going to hurt, boys."