Young Writers Society

Kiira Hasame – A Small Glass

“Hold up. This one is just a child.” Kiira looked up at Dante as he protested. Elarie shrugged as she held up the glass of Bourbon to her lips, taking a small sip of the alcoholic beverage. Dante sighed softly as he looked down at Kiira, placing his hand on top of her head.
Kiira blushed softly, looking down on the ground. “Umm.”

“What is it?” Dante looked down at the small girl.
“Well… I don’t mind, drinking um… that.”
Dante shook his head slowly. “No, even if you are dead, you’re too young.”

Kiira nodded slowly, accepting the fact that yes, she is only a child. She looked up at Dante again, observing him. She doesn’t know why, but he reminded her of her older sibling, before her dark past began. She couldn’t help but be attached to him, no matter what.

“Little girl or not, she’s dead. She can do whatever she wants can’t she?” Elarie finally spoke up.

Kiira then grabbed the glass of Bourbon that was sitting on the table. Dante and Elarie looked at her with curiosity. Kiira took in a deep breath and began to sip the liquid from the glass. She felt a tingling sensation on her throat. As she finished the small glass, Kiira made a face, seeming like she was going to throw up.

Kiira started coughing. “This is…”
Dante patted her back gently. “Don’t drink something you can’t handle, Miss Kiira.”

Kiira stood up. “Um… I’ll be right back.” Kiira began to walk into a different room she hasn’t recognized. Her guess could be the dining room. She sat on one of the chairs that was next to the dining table. She looked down on her hands resting upon her legs. She started thinking about her again. The woman whom she loved so much, but in the end, ended their relationship. Tears began to fall upon her cheeks. She couldn’t stop the feeling of pain.

She heard a door open. Kiira quickly rubbed her eyes and looked up, seeing Dante.
“You okay?”
“Y-Yes.”
“Hmm… We are going to push on further.”
Kiira nodded slowly as she stood up from the chair.

I wish none of this has ever happened.

Elarie | The Kitchen

The kid looked like she was gonna hurl and somewhere in her head, Elarie knew she ought to feel bad about that. What would her daddy have said if she'd let Tristan have a big man's drink like that? But her daddy wasn't here to tell her off and Tristan wasn't here to get drunk and if she had to be dead, she shouldn't have to have a conscience as well.

Elarie took another drink of the bourbon while the girl rushed out of the room and Dante gave her a scathing look.

"You think that was a good idea?"

Elarie shrugged and watched him go after the kid. She wondered what a nice guy like that did to get himself in a place like this. More than she had, maybe. Or less. She only did what she had to do and now everyone was in heaven where they belonged. Everyone except her. But maybe the people in heaven couldn't handle people like her. It didn't make her bad, Elarie knew. She'd just done what she had to.

That was why she was alone with her daddy's bourbon and her own shivering thoughts. Like, should she be sad that Tristan wasn't ever gonna get drunk? He wasn't gonna 'cause he was in heaven they certainly wouldn't have no devil's juice up there, her grand-mama wouldn't stand for it, but was he missing out? The bourbon wasn't so bad after a couple of glasses. It still burned the back of her throat but it was kind of warming.

Elarie didn't even look up when the door opened.

"Come on, get up."

"Why don't ya just leave me behind."

"Maybe I will. Do you want that?"

Elarie shrugged and took another gulp of the bourbon. She ran a hand through her pale hair, her fingers brushing against the black headband. She should have been able to feel the place where she put a hole through her head, but instead there was only soft hair and fleeting memories.

"My daddy left me. I found him sprawled out in the barn and the bourbon was smashed all over the floor. They would have said that's what did for him, but he was sick before that. People just didn't see it, or they didn't care."

Elarie stared into the distance, talking more to herself than anyone else. "Everyone leaves. Just some don't get to decide when."

Finishing the glass, Elarie stood up but brought the bottle with her. "Alright. Where are we going to?"

Dante Draven | On to the Second Floor Hallway
First Room to the Right

He walked back into the room where Elairie sat drinking still. Still trying to figure out how to best help Kiira as he rubbed his neck and asked Elairie to join them.

"Why don't you just leave me behind?" Elairie asked him with what he could tell was more than just the hot fire coursing through her body. There was more to it, so he leaned on the counter top gently.

"Maybe I shall. Is that what you would want?" Dante replied with a soft tone as he peered at her, always give someone who think they have none a choice. Of course, with only a brief hesitation Dante learned more about this young girls violent past. What she had to have done to land herself a place among us her.

As she spoke of her father, Dante couldn't help but remember his own father. Drunken rages that were common whenever rich company wasn't around. Sometimes, even then, and those were the worst because then he had to make public excuses for it.

"Everyone leaves," she spoke again, pulling him from his own memories, "Just some don't get to choose when." Before Dante could reply, she downed the last of her drink, signalling the end of their conversation. Dante understood he would readdress the matter at a later time. For now, he pointed back to where Kiira sat waiting as she asked their destiniation.

"Sleep is the best medicine." Finishing with pointing upstairs. "I shall find us a room to rest up in."

After a few minutes he had wiped away the last few drops of silent tears Kiira had produced in his absence. He had knelt down to her level like he had done with his younger sisters. Brushing them away with the backs of his hands. Elairie sat on the chair beside the little girl. Maybe she wanted to give her the same comfort he was, and had just forgotten how to. Maybe it was something more. Perhaps, she needed someone to wipe the tears from her eyes too. Dante didn't know as he held Kiira's shoulder gently, "Princess' don't cry, little one. It's going to be fine from now on. I promise." he said with a smile as he flicked away the last little traces of sadness from his palm. Elairie gave him a look as he said the last thing. There was something deeper in it. He turned his attention back to Kiira who finally gave him a soft, warm smile, the kind of smile that his sister gave to show him she was brave even though it still hurt. He missed her terribly. She was all alone now, with only their moth-- Stop. He told himself immediately. He had to wait.

A few more minutes and they found themselves on the landing of the second floor. Dante leading the way, pulling Kiira along by her hand gently, with Elairie just behind his left shoulder. He didn't see anyone at first, so he walked a few steps to the first open door and peered inside.

Two beds lay nestled into the opposite corners of the room. A small dresser on either side, separated down the middle by a picture of black. Like someone had decided to paint the canvas with every color in the world and leave nothing in its wake. He lead them inside and pointed to the beds. "Find some rest," at their looks, "At the very least find some peace. Relax. I will take the watch first." He closed the door, locking it as he drew his pistol. If they gave him looks Dante did not see them, he slid to the floor directly next to the door and gave a silent sigh. He did not open his eyes again.

I love you... played over and over again in his head as the darkness surrounded him. Her sweet voice whispering eulogies in his head.

They agreed, or maybe were just to tired to disagree. Though after a few moments Dante found himself propped up on the wall, and those two laying on the beds. The voice of his past still singing to him somberly. He doubted they were sleeping, but it was silent in the room for a while. All save she who would never let him sleep again, and all of whom he wanted to dream of. How long the quiet lasted was anyone's guess, but it seemed, silence even among the dead was a rare thing to come by. A loud knocking sound echoed into their midst, like somebody being thrown onto the wooden floor. Followed by screaming and yelling. Dante locked back the hammer of his pistol and opened the door with a hand for the other two to wait just a moment.

He saw two men, one on the floor the other standing over him. There was murder in their eyes, the kind of menace that would tear a body limb from limb. He knew that look all to well. Seen it up close and personal, and all to personally. He raised his pistol, stepping into the hallway just in front of their room. "Stop!" He bellowed deeply as the man converged on the other. They didn't seem to hear him.

So he fired a warning shot into the floor just between them, echo knocking off dust from the pictures and ornaments decorating the walls. The two men peered bewildered at the sudden interruption.

Dante locked the hammer back into place again, a fierce calm flashing over his features. Replaying exactly how he had died to the letter. Exactly what he had done to earn him a place in this blasted home. His vision hovering between what was in front of him, and his Father and Uncle.

He breathed, and squeezed the weapon in his hands and steadied his gaze. "I said stop." Dante repeated firmly.