Pitch Black

Three days after my encounter with Xavier, Lynn still wasn't talking to me. And it was her 17th birthday.

That day I woke up to a particularly bright day, brighter than others, which I wasn't surprised to see. The days of Lynn's birthdays were always bright in times of darkness, but a kind of quiet brightness so that those who were closest were the only ones who could see it. Like her.

I had spent the previous night reading more of Moon and Light. So far, I had read that Light continued to pester Moon and hide out in his skies against his permission, while the Sun's Light army continued to look for him. Light began to get so happy being under the Moon's rule that he became brighter. The brighter he got, the more he made the stars fade. Moon had second and third in-command stars, and they were starting to fade out as well, but the Moon could not see that they were fading over the Light's brightness. The Moon tried to exile the Light many times, but the Light simply wouldn't leave.

The Light reminded me an awful lot like Xavier, which I despised. The whole concept of the book seeming a lot like a children's book repulsed me, but I couldn't stop reading it.

Realizing this, I put the book in the top drawer of my bedside table and ran my hands through my hair. I had been letting my hazy cloud of hate for Xavier fog over what was important; and right now that was Lynn. She probably felt so rejected and hurt from my behavior, and I knew she wouldn't show it or voice it to me, either. That was how she was. She would let me realize my own pigheadedness, no matter how long it took. And the longer it took, the more upset she would be.

I glanced at the clock. 6:30. It was Saturday, and the breakfast bell rang at 6:00. Lynn usually ignored the breakfast bell and slept on until 12:00. I got out of bed, dressed nicely, looked through the small lock box under my dresser that held the money my parents sent me, took out about $200, grabbed my dorm key, and exited the room quietly so as to not wake my dorm mates.

With permission I left the building and out of the grounds into the nearby town square. Usually on the weekends the Huntington students could be seen out at Huntington square. It had small shops, cafes, and a church where some of the students went on Sundays. I enjoyed being out in the square, because it was a little more colorful than the school, and seeing more bustling crowds of people gave me a sense of life, and seeing that there were actually signs of it made it worthwhile. First, I went to a wine shop and bought a bottle of sherry, thanking the lord that I looked a bit older than 16. Then I went to a small flower shop, purchased a small bouquet of violets, went to a sweet shop and bought a sweet, crispy, glazed bread filled with chocolate I knew Lynn was crazy over, and returned back to the school. A few students were up and about, shuffling around in their pajamas just for the sheer fact that they could, and wandering the halls chatting. People gave me looks of confusion, wondering why I was dressed so properly so early on a Saturday morning. I ignored their stares, made my way up to Lynn's dorm, and finally approached it. I took a breath, tucked the sherry in my jacket out of sight, and knocked on the door.

One of Lynn's dorm mates answered. "Can I help you?" She asked.

"Is Lynn inside?" I asked.

"Yes, hold on." She went back inside and called Lynn over. She stepped to the door, still garbed in a light pink and flowery nightgown, still looking so pretty with slight bedhead. Her eyes were slightly red and puffy, and a lump of shame rose to my throat.

"What do you want?" She asked, looking at me coldly.

"Happy birthday," I said, handing her the gifts I bought. "I thought I'd take you out today."

She looked boredly down at the gifts, and then slowly back up to me. "You honestly think flowers and sweets will make up for your behavior?" She said, unmoved.

"No, but I hope you'll let me make it up to you today. You're seventeen now. We have to celebrate. Please?" I added with a little urgency. I prepared myself for begging. "I'm really sorry Lynn, I've just been-"
"Sh," she stopped me. "I'll hear the excuse for this one later." She took the flowers and sweets from me. "Meet me at the front of the school in about forty-five minutes." She gave me one last smirk before going back in and shutting the door. I gave a small smile at the door before exiting to my dorm to tidy up more properly. After this I quickly made a detour to the library.

Huntington's library was probably the largest room in the building. It took up about one-fourth of the entire school, and inside was probably half of the books in the entire world. There were even secret rooms within the library built when the school was first made to house even more books and information. We had the main room, then the room of history, the computer room, and so on. There were about 5 rooms in the library altogether, but one of them that hasn't been discovered by teachers yet. That was the room I was headed to. I walked into the library, went into the very back where the hardly-used History section was at, took a left through two bookcases that had Lynn and my initials etched on both, lightly, so that they were barely visible. This is how we remembered what bookcases to go through. Then I went through the space between the bookcases all the way to the wall, where a desk stood nestled in between the cases. I crawled underneath the table and lifted up a rope. A trapdoor slightly creaked open, having space big enough for a man to fit through, I shimmied my way down a ladder built in.

I finally found myself in a large room, and smiled, taking in the familiar scent of it. Feeling my way around, my hands came in contact with a coffee table, and then candles upon the table. I took a book of matches that were stowed underneath and lit one.

In the small candle light, I saw the familiar large couch and a few chairs were scattered around it, laying on an old but presentable rug Brandon had gotten from his aunt. Tons of other candles were posted amongst the room. A bookshelf holding a few old book and papers sat nestled in the corners, and a long-neglected painting of the school founder, Joseph Huntington, was up on the wall. Another ancient piece of furniture, a glass cabinet, was in another corner, empty save for a few fresh cobwebs. Two wine glasses I had previously swiped from the kitchens lay on the table. I put the bottle of sherry next to them, laying in wait. I took another swift glance at the room, basking in my memories...

I had first met Lynn in this room. I was fourteen, and just beginning my stay there, and she was fifteen and sick of everything. She came to the library to be alone, and cried to herself in that small corner. She discovered the small trap door and went through it. She had found herself in this room, by then dusty, unused, cold, and bare, save for the picture of Huntington on the wall. She found she could use this place to get away from everything, a more private place to cry to herself, as loudly as she wanted, for she thought no one could hear her. Usually she was a silent crier, but at this time she was so distraught, so fed up with Huntington's, she wailed as if she was slowly dying inside, sitting on the hard, cold concrete. I was in the library as this was happening, going through the bookshelves to get a book for my History class. it seemed impossible to find, so I trekked deeper into the huge library and eventually got myself lost, as I didn't know my way around the school yet, and came upon the small corner. I heard Lynn's cries of internal agony and distress, so I opened the trap door and descended inside. I saw her, looking so pitiful and in need. I can still remember it clearly as if it had just happened, the look of pain dragged across her beautiful features, her petite body racking, shuddering and shaking with sobs. Her hair was to her shoulders then, cut in a bob and framing her tear-drowned and red face, her bangs nearly hiding her streaming red eyes. She had heard me walk in and hurriedly wiped her face, despite the tears that continued to run down it.

"Did you hear me?" She had said, sniffling and wiping her nose with the back of her sleeve.

"Yes," I said, approaching her. I had still thought she looked so pretty with bloodshot eyes and her face pink with violent sobbing. I was scared to approach her, actually, so the closest I got was kneeling next to her.

She had sighed exasperatedly, ashamed of herself. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to be so loud."

"Something must have been really bad for you to cry like that," I said. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She had gave me a hard, steely stare with two perfectly round, cold-green eyes. I shrunk back under that gaze, afraid and knowing I had said the wrong thing. "You are a stranger." She said. "I don't even know you. Why would I talk to you?"

"I... I don't know..." I had said, looking at the ground. "I thought you might have wanted to talk, is all-"

"Well no, I don't." She stood then, looking like a proud statue, her shiny black hair moving about her shoulders loosely, and looking down at me scornfully. "Goodbye."

She made to leave, but I got to my feet just then and blocked her way to the ladder. "I'm sorry," I said quickly. "I didn't mean to sound nosy. I just wanted to help"

She scoffed. "Help, you say. They all want to help and then it turns out you're stuck somewhere you can barely stand and you'd rather kill yourself with a dull, rusting knife than be there." She made an attempt to the ladder again, but I stopped her once again.

"Can you please move out of the way?" She said, looking at me angrily.

Something screamed to just move out of the way because I felt a strong smack coming my way. but I stayed rooted to the spot, looking into two frosty green orbs that were slowly melting with a heat of rage. "No, I... I won't" I said defiantly. "Not until you tell me why is it that you were crying."

"Cheeky boy," she said impatiently. Then, as expected, she reached up and slapped me sharply across the face. "Move!"

I shook my head quickly, my face stinging. Frustrated, she reached up for a punch, but I quickly grabbed her wrist.

"Get off!" She yelled. I denied her, and pushed her to tell me what was wrong still. Even slightly pinched up with fury and frustration, her face still emanated a fierce beauty, and I had stared at her intently, ignoring the stinging in my face.

She finally relaxed, and the tenseness from her body slipped away slowly. "If I tell you, will you promise to leave me alone and never speak to me if you ever see me around the school?" She said sullenly.

"Promise." I half-lied.

She sighed, sitting back down, and then launched into why she had been crying. That day was the third anniversary of her parents' deaths, and she had caught a painful reminder when some children had teased her for having no parents. Feeling alone and lost, she tried to find her way to a quiet and uninhabited place to cry, and stumbled upon this room. It was all horribly unfair to her, she thought, how these kinds of children always got parcels, money, and cards written with love and warmth from the hands of their parents sent to them on their birthdays, but she had gotten nothing for the past three years. No one but herself had wished her a happy birthday, and she had spent her years passing from childhood to adolescence, alone. After her parents had died, the owners of the foster home she had been sent to suggested she go to a school for young and gifted minds like hers to "help her make a better life for herself with such an advanced mind" ("complete and utter bullshit" she had said with a small snort). Then she described her hatred of the colorless school, the cruelness of the children and how they were all assimilated into the dark walls of the school, constantly whispering into the ears of enemies behind their friend's backs, not one word out of their mouths good.

"I don't know why I'm telling you all this though." She said with a smirk, and shaking her head. "You're probably like all those other mindless zombies, and will go off telling all those other pricks about me."

"It's my first year here." I said, looking at her honestly. "I don't know anyone, so you can be sure I won't tell."

She had stared at me then, as if she wasn't quite sure she heard me right. "That's a first."

"What is?"

"You won't run off blabbing to everyone here about how I'm parentless and alone."

She smiled a little, a genuine smile, and I remembered how my heart did, and still does, perform a small back flip when I saw it. "Well, I'll warn you now deary, this place is the absolute worst to be in. Everyone is two-faced and you see the same color every single day. The worst part about it is we won't be leaving for another three or four years." She looked up at me in an apologetic way. "I'm Lynn by the way."

"Jack." I said, shaking her hand. "The pleasure is definitely mine."

"Well aren't you the young gentleman?" She said. "We've spent the entire duration here talking about me. What are you in for, Jack?" I explained to her how my parents had sent me here after I had taken a gifted class test at the previous public school I went to. I had scored above the very top percentile of "exceedingly gifted" and the school thought I would be better off at Huntington's.

"Basically, I was smarter than everyone else. Even their gifted program was too dulled-down for me." I explained. "They said a rare brain like mine was too advanced to be in a public school, so I was sent here."

"I would have preferred public school any day." Lynn said. "At least I had friends in public school..."

"We could be friends." I blurted without thinking. I put my hand over my mouth, feeling stupid and childish. She laughed and smiled at me.

"We could." She said. "But at a price."

"What price?"

"You have to promise you won't turn into one of them."

"Wouldn't dream of it." I said.

After that, we had decided to become friends, despite her earlier wish to not have anything to do with me. Over the course of a few days, I had decided that Huntington's was everything Lynn had said about it. So, we decided to make that room in the library sort of a secret hideout for us to go to and meet up when we had enough of Huntington's, which was at least once a week. The more time I spent with her, the more I found my fondness of her growing considerably. By the next month of knowing her I was undoubtedly in love with her, but didn't tell her of my feelings for her until two months after that, when we had befriended Brandon, who was no more than a weak, skinny, tousle-haired, quiet outcast who had a slight stutter when he talked. I had confided in him my feelings for Lynn, and he had bothered me about it to no end about telling her, with his annoying and squeaky nature, for the opportunity could be lost within seconds if I continued to wait. I approached her one day and told her with shaking knees and hammering heart. She accepted these feelings with a small smile, and agreed to go out with me, saying, "Well I've never been in love with you, Jack Winstead, but I've always though you were very cute." And from then on, that was how everything had started, in that small, little dusty space that over the years we had cleaned up to make it look more presentable and livable, no longer dusty and bare and unused. It took a lot of sneaking and willpower, but we managed to make that our small getaway from the world, even from Pitch Black, which I would probably be using more often now that Xavier was there.

I finally left the small room, careful to close the trap door behind me. At around 1:00, I met up with Lynn at the front of Huntington's. She was looking to be in a bright spirit, wearing a light-blue beret with a matching skirt and cardigan over a white shirt, with small, round light blue crystal earrings framing along her ears, round green eyes shining beneath a shining black fringe, hair so long it seemed to follow along behind her as she walked. I swallowed, taking in her grace, her beauty, that I had never gotten enough of for the past three years of being with her. I took her arm, and led her back into Huntington Square.

"Where to?" I asked her.

"Well, shouldn't you know that?" She asked, looking up at me earnestly. "You are the one taking me out."

"Well, I do have plans for you later on, but right now I want to take you to dinner to a place of your choice." I said.

"And what would these plans be?"

"You'll see." I said, smiling at her.

She looked at me suspiciously. "You're up to something, Jack Winstead, I know you are."

I replied with a smile, and she smiled back, to my immediate joy.

We walked through Huntington Square for a little, and she pointed out her favorite restaurant, Madame Josephine's, and we entered it. We took our seats and ordered our food from a waitress whose face was piled with heavy makeup and whose voice was ridiculously high and whiny ("She must be new..." Lynn said, looking at the waitress with a sneer. "Madame Josephine's waitresses aren't even remotely as annoying as her."), and waited. When we had gotten our food, halfway through eating I noticed that she had barely eaten it. I asked her what was wrong, and she gave me a vague smile.

"Oh, nothing."

"Lynn Taylor," I said in a haughty voice that perfected the one Lynn always gave me when she scolded me. "Don't you dare say that 'nothing' rubbish to me."

Lynn chuckled. "Oh you're so very clever aren't you?" She said. "Well... I was just thinking... You know the book that Xavier lent to Pitch Black?"

My hand gripped my fork tightly. "Yes..."

"Well... I can't help but feel that there's some sort of... meaning... behind it all. Do you get what I'm saying? Like he gave the book to us to realize a specific reason."

"Why would you think that?"

"Well... it's much like a children's book, if you haven't noticed. It has a sort of charm that everyone's drawn to, but it's definitely not what I'd call adult literature. It's like he's trying to tell us something."

I looked down at my food, thinking. I had never thought about it that way. Maybe Lynn was onto something... "What could he possibly be trying to tell us?"

"Oh, I don't know. Just... something. I'm not sure what, but it's definitely something." She shook her head dismissively and smiled. "Maybe I'm just being foolish though.

"No, you're not." I said. "In fact, you could be quite right. I wouldn't put it past Xavier to do something like that." I was suddenly reminded of my previous comparison of Xavier to the Light beam in Moon and Light.

The severity of my tone made Lynn's smile slip away from her face. "Do you know him personally, Jack...?"

"No, and I'm glad I don't." I said, putting my fork down. My good mood suddenly clouded over, and a feeling of hatred welled up inside of me. I had to get away before I found myself taking it out on Lynn. "Excuse me, for a moment." I said, getting up and taking my glass of water with me.

I went out into the breezy spring air, and inhaled, taking in the scent of the trees that were rustling in the breeze. I took in this cool air while I could, for soon summer would be coming, and the pleasantly mild temperatures would rise to scorching. I sipped my water, trying to push Xavier out of my head. Now was definitely not the time. I sighed heavily. This wouldn't do. Leaving Lynn to herself in that restaurant. I went back inside.

"Better?" She asked, searching my face anxiously.

"Yes." I said, smiling at her. "Let's enjoy the rest of the evening, shall we? No more talk about Xavier or Pitch Black. Today is your day, dear."

She beamed at me, and we continued eating. We stayed for about two hours at Madame Josephine's and left. It was now 3:00. I took Lynn for a walk, checking my watch now and then to make sure my timing wasn't off. We walked past a calm lake, alive with a few ducks and making Lynn smile. She loved seeing signs of life other than the people she usually saw at Huntington's. As we walked I felt her put her head on my shoulder, and smiled.

Soon it began to rain slightly, so we returned back to Huntington's at about five. I led her back to the library all the way to our secret spot. I knew she was burning with curiosity, but didn't say it yet until we both entered the space. I lit the candles around the room, and her eyes fell upon the glasses and sherry.

She chuckled. "Jack, what is this?"

I took her hand and led her to the couch. "My way of apologizing for my behavior." I sat her down and poured the sherry in the glasses. "And to make sure your birthday is celebratory enough. Time alone with this goofball."

She laughed, and thanked me as I handed her a glass. "Goofball, you say? Well you're not that bad." She examined the liquid in her glass. "Well, not since you got the good sherry. What is it? Spanish?"

"Amontillado." I confirmed, sitting next to her. Her eyes widened at the name.

"Where ever did you get the money for this, Jack?"

"Don't worry about it, dove." I smiled at her and raised my glass. "Let's just toast this moment to us, and to the very special birth of a wonderful girl. Happy birthday, Lynn."

She smiled, and tapped her glass to mine. "You spoil me." She took a sip of her sherry, and licked her lips. "Mmm, divine."

I sipped mine as well, and a sweet taste filled my mouth and body with warmth. It had been a delightful change to taste something other than the coppery taste of blood. After she drank nearly half of hers, she leaned over and kissed me with the passion of gratefulness, and the slightest bit tipsy. A clap of thunder shook the school slightly, and we were able to hear it from our underground dwelling.

"It's raining." Lynn said after withdrawing from the kiss. Sherry lingered on her lips and in her breath. She downed the rest of her glass, and poured herself some more, chuckling. "Perfect weather for an occasion like this."

"Now, Lynn." I said, putting my hand over her glass and lowering it. "Don't have too much."

Lynn looked at me, her eyes starting to become glazed over with the sherry. "Drink with me. It's an addicting flavor, Jack." She batted her eyelashes lazily, and raised the glass to her lips again, downing the sherry. I moved the bottle to a farther corner of the table.

"Alright, Lynn, I think this is quite enough." I said, putting my glass down and starting to feel a slight buzz myself. I didn't know the strength of which the Amontillado had. "Let me walk you to your dorm before you hurt yourself."

"Bed? Bed?" Lynn threw her hair back and laughed deeply. "But it's my birthday!" She stood up and took my hand. "C'mon, Jack. Let's go outside."

"Are-are you mad?" I stared at her. "It's pouring out there."

She grinned. "That's the fun of it. Live a little! Let's make this birthday one I shouldn't forget!" Before I could say anything else, she pulled me up, out of the room, snuck out of the school, and running in the rain. The rain was coming down in thick, gray sheets, and I could barely see a thing. In seconds I was soaked to the bone, and the water had made Lynn's white shirt visibly see-through. I called to her through the violent claps of thunder and the bright flashes of lightening. I could hear her loud laughter as she pulled me along behind her into Huntington Square. If there was anyone there to see this odd scene, I couldn't see them, not even through the two-second-long flashes of the lightening.

Lynn stopped for a while to kiss me, and then kept going. "This is so much fun Jack! It's exciting!"

"Alright, Lynn!" I shouted above the incessant rain. "I think you've had your fun, let's go back inside now! You'll catch a cold!"

Lynn looked back and two round, green orbs shone out at me, almost frighteningly, and slowly her hand slipped from mine. "Well catch me if you can, then!" And she was off into the night.

I screamed Lynn's name, and rain after her immediately. But soon, I saw I was running through bone-chilling, wet darkness, and I stopped. Another clap of thunder shot the air, and I stood hugging myself and shivering. I cursed under my breath, to Lynn and to myself for not knowing the strength of the sherry. Now she was off at God knows where. Before I took another step, however, another flash of lightening, stronger than any I had seen, struck a long way in front of me. However, within its light I saw a dark figure.

A petite figure, shaking slightly before hitting the ground, lifeless.

My heart hammered in my chest and I ran for the place as hard and fast as I could. I slipped on the pavement and gashed the left side of my face and elbow, but scrambled back up to my feet. My breath was coming out in harsh gasps, and amongst the cold rivers pouring down my face a few warm ones mingled in as well, and I couldn't tell between blood or tears. I finally made my way to the figure and knelt down beside it. The light from a nearby pub was upon the body, and I could see, unfortunately, a little clearly.

It was Lynn. She lay on the ground, eyes and mouth wide open in a terrified and silent scream. Her clothes were burnt and charred, and patches of her skin was burnt flesh. She was cold and stiff, all the color drained from her face.

This time I was sure the liquid running from my eyes were tears. I gasped, and took her fragile body in my arms, rocking back and forth, no longer feeling the cold or rain of the night. All I could feel was her broken, lifeless body. I sobbed, holding her face close to mine, staining her white complexion with my blood. All I could find to blame was myself, for getting the sherry, for letting her run away from me. I held her as tight as I should have, never wanting to let go. I would let this cold kill me, so that I could be with her.

I don't know how long I was out there, slowly rocking with Lynn's body with my face buried in her neck, but soon someone tapped my shoulder. I looked up, and realized the rain had settled some. Someone stood up above me, carrying an umbrella and offering his hand. I shook my head and looked away, but the man put his umbrella down and tried to loosen my fingers from Lynn. I jerked away, careful not to disturb her, and a scream suddenly released from my throat, more involuntarily than voluntarily. My body seemed to want to feel something, to make sure it was still alive, so therefore pushed forth a scream I had never uttered my entire life. The man continued to try to unclasp my fingers.

"Come on," an achingly familiar voice coaxed softly and warmly against my ear. "Let her go now, Jack. She's dead. She's dead. You're going to die out here, let go."

"I-I c-c-c-can't..." I said, shaking my head and talking through violently chattering teeth as he strongly and slowly pulled me away. "I h-h-have to hold onto her, sh-she'll get away..."

"She's gone, now Jack, now get up. Get up, now. That's it." He pulled me to my feet, and Lynn slipped out of my arms and onto the street. I stared at her, and my vision became blurry. The owner of the nearby pub ran out and yelled something, and him and the other man pushed me inside the warm cafe. A blanket was thrown over my shoulders, and I was seated down at one of the booths. A rocking, yellow light was above me, and I followed its blurry movement. Such hypnotizing movements it had. My body still shivered despite the warm pub ad the blanket. My eyelids grew heavy. A voice across from me, distant-sounding like the voice of some angel or god, was the last thing I heard.

"Just rest now. It's all over, Jack. You'll be just fine."

My eyelids dropped, and I drifted off into a sleep I hoped would never end.

*************************************************************************************************************

Just as feared, one of King Moon's stars, shadowed by the playful Light's beam, slowly faded into nothingness, unnoticed by the poor King.