Limitless: Chapter Nine (Part 1 of 2)

Astorial’s eyes lit up as if on fire. Something flashed in them, something

that Anna couldn’t identify. With sudden brutality, he let out a howl before

screaming, “Yes! Oh yes! We knew it.”

Anna, a questioning look on her face, went to ask him whom exactly ’we’ was,

and what exactly they 'knew,' but before she even began to form the first word,

he had already interrupted her urgently.

“I was right! Aren’t I always? Oh! Lynaira!” And then, calling, “Hey,

Lynai--”

Anna put a hand over his mouth in shock. “What are you doing?” She released

him, but kept her hand near his lying jaw.

He seemed confused. “I’m calling to tell Lynaira, of course.”

“You promised to never tell anyone!”

“But . . .” His childish eyes didn’t seem to understand. “She’s my best

friend.”

“She’s your sister, for God’s sake! Doesn’t mean you get to tell her!”

Anna’s words were too sharp, so she tried to lighten it by saying, “Besides . .

. we’re friends now, right? Friends don’t betray other friends.”

“No, you don’t understand. I’m not betraying.” His eyes were still bright,

his body was on edge with happiness. “Lynaira! Come, bring Cyladminnie. We’re

taking Anna to the shack!”

Lynaira, who had been pointedly ignoring the two since her departure, spun

about in surprise and shock. “What? Why would we ever do that?”

“Trust me.” His smile was almost devilish. He leapt out of Anna’s lap and

straight up to the pair, where he hurriedly whispered something in Lynaira’s

ear. Her eyes jumped in shock.

“Come on, let’s go!” Nearly dragging the two over to Anna, he asked

earnestly to the human, “How fast can you run?”

Anna stood up. She felt her heart burn suddenly yet strongly, and a memory

of Darell passed through her mind. She ignored it and questioned, “Why?”

“I don’t want you to lag behind.” Astorial grinned his grin again, that

mischievous grin, and Anna couldn’t help but love it.

Without a moment’s warning, the three took off running. Anna took a wary

glance at Brassin and then flew after them as fast as she could. It took her

only a few seconds to realize that they were heading towards the hammock of

trees, and suddenly was bewildered and confused. But, without giving it much

more thought, she let the thumping of her feet fall in rhythm with the cubs’.

Anna had never been much of a runner, but imagining the beat of her feet was

actually the beat of a pencil upon a sheet of paper seemed to help marvelous

much. Drawing. She had always loved it, even from a young age. She could still

remember sitting out on the porch one day and catching Eliott without his normal

book. His tales were replaced with a few bound sheets of paper. She had been

confused and interested, and crept over to him, until she slowly peeked her head

above his pad.

“Yes, Anna?” he had asked dully without looking up.

“What’re you doing?” Her voice wasn’t questioning, but in complete and utter

shock, as if she had found a saint murdering.

Perhaps it was her voice that made him look up, or perhaps there was some

distant part of his heart that knew one day drawing would be the only thing she

had left.

He had sat her down and taught her. He had given her a pencil and a sheet of

paper. “Let your imagination run wild, Anna! Draw the first thing that comes to

mind. Make it beautiful, fantastic, spectacular!”

She drew a bunny with a carrot. When the two year old showed him her work,

she looked intimidated and worried.

He only grinned. “Don’t be scared, Anna. It’s wonderful. You really made

this bunny you. That’s what art is, Anna. Taking ordinary things and making them

extraordinary. Taking ordinary things and making them you.”

Those words would follow her forever. Nearly everything she did from then

on, she tried to make it extraordinary. Tried to make it her.

Such small things the mind remembers! She remembered the entire scene, even

when she was two years old, and could very clearly remember that blooming right

next to Eliott was a white jasmine. For some reason, it reminded her of a bunny,

hiding in its burrow at day and adventuring out when nightfall swept over the

land. That’s why she drew a bunny. The carrot came with, of course, because all

two year olds believed that carrots were just always with a bunny, like a dress

or toy was with a little girl.

But those memories were gone, pressed together awkwardly like the pages in a

book in Anna’s mind. She looked around at the landscape that was dancing past

her gracefully, linking arms and spinning gradually out of sight, reacting to

the hum of the footsteps. Anna almost smiled, but even the thought of smiling

burned a hole in her heart.

Suddenly she was gone, lost in her book of memories, but it was the later

chapters. Darell was there. They were sitting on a tree in the forest, long

after they had run away, long after her last flash back. She was laughing at

something he had said, and he was studying her face very intently.

“What?” she had questioned, her smile immediately fading.

It was his turn to grin. “You have a gorgeous smile. You should show it more

often.”

“What’s there to smile about?”

Darell laughed aloud. “Pessimist.”

“I prefer . . . realist.” She grinned again, against her better judgment.

He returned her smile to her. “As would any true pessimist say.”

“Shut up.”

But, no, Anna must go back. She must read the story as she started it, go

back to where her memories had last left her. Where was she?

She was walking down to dinner with her father. The stair handle felt coarse

in her hand, and she almost closed her eyes as she walked down the stairs. The

argued words between her and Darell still rang in her head, and she was almost

frightened at the prospect of being yelled at her father.

Anna slid down the stairs and opened her eyes to the living room. To her

great dismay, everyone was seated and waiting for her. Marcus sat between his

mother and Celine, reaching up to grab food and stuff it in his mouth despite

their scoldings, Raf sitting next to Celine, an empty chair, and then her

father, who was also next to her mother. Anna hated them all immediately for

seating her next to her two least favorite people.

“Ah, Anna,” her father greeted. The rest of the table turned to see her, and

Raf stood up, as was proper etiquette. Almost reluctantly, her father stood as

well.

“I’m glad you’ve come. Supper’s getting cold,” he said in a falsely sweet

voice, pulling out Anna’s chair.

Without speaking a word, she walked up to her chair and sat down. She felt

all eyes on her, waiting for her to yell or scream or curse out her father.

Instead, she scooted her chair in and reached for her fork.

They were having turkey and beans that night, a very plentiful and large

meal. Anna kept her eyes on her plate, burning to start an argument but at the

same time having no real motive to. What was the point of starting an argument?

She decided to keep herself quiet.

The rest of the table was silent as well. Everyone but Father looked

awkwardly from him to Anna to their food. The silence was daunting, brooding,

rude, and the impact of it was suffocating Anna. It was like there was a weight

on her chest, restricting her breath, keeping her from breathing properly. She

began to take deep breaths, and suddenly felt light-headed. She wasn’t sure

whether it was the lack of breath or the impending anger that was throwing her

head out of loop. Heat crept in the back of her neck, and trying to calm

herself, she messed with her food.

It was silent for a whole of twenty minutes. She tried to focus on other

things, like mashing her green beans and cutting her sliver of turkey into

bite-sized pieces, but her mind reverted back to the man sitting next to her,

his giddy face grinning, eating his food almost merrily as if he was rejoicing

in her misery. As if she had given him the best birthday present of all. And so

the world began to spin, and she felt her chest grow tighter, and tighter, and

tighter, and . . .

She threw down her fork and stood up. The family looked up robotically, each

of them looking as if they were confused and shocked, but sort of expecting this

to happen the entire time.

“I can’t take this anymore!” she screamed to them all, then turned to her

father. She felt her chest lighten, and her heart raced at a rapidly break-neck

speed, urging her every word on encouragingly. “I can’t take you anymore,

Father!” She was about to go on, but he interrupted her.

He didn’t say a word, he only laughed. His laughter made her stop dead in

her words--suddenly her eyes widened and went ablaze with anger. “Oh Anna,

Anna,” he cooed gently, but Anna could hear the hatred in his voice, “come, now.

Take a seat. Dinner’s just only begun!”

“Just begun? Well, I can’t take this hell for two more minutes!” She let all

her anger out, opened the cage that was restricting her. Everybody’s glance gave

her more power, gave her more fuel, more anger.

“Anna,” Celine whispered gently. At least her voice didn’t have hatred in

it. “Sit down, dear, let’s finish dinner. After all, it is his birthday.”

“I don’t give a damn whether or not it’s his birthday!” Everyone’s eyes went

wide at her simple curse, and Celine immediately put her hands over oblivious

Marcus’ ears.

“Anna, the ba--”

“What should I care if the baby heard it? Is he mine?” She kicked her chair

in and stepped away, her voice echoing through the room. “If I don’t care about

ruining my father’s birthday, why would I care about Marcus?” But her eyes were

on her father, not Celine. Her voice began to get higher with each word.

“Father! Is this what you wanted? Tell me, is this what you wanted?”

“I’m sure I don’t understand.” His voice plainly said he either didn’t care

or was lying. Or, thought Anna, both.

“Did you want me to hate you? Did you want me to explode at you? Why did you

come? Tell me, why are you here?”

Now he stood up as well. He didn’t seem angered, didn’t even seem bothered,

but it was obvious that he didn’t like Anna towering over him as if he was the

child.

“Well, Anna, I just wanted to spend dinner with my family, and--”

“Like hell you did!” She screamed this at the top of her lungs, throwing the

words into the air and leaving them to sit for a few more seconds before

cranking out her next thoughts. “You came into this family right after Celine’s

dad died. You woe my mother, make her feel better. Then you just sleep with her,

have me, and pretend as if you’ll remain a father figure in my life. You say you

love me. You tell Mother we had fun every night up in my room before I went to

bed.” Anna shook her head. The room was starting to swim in her tears. “Have you

ever told her the truth about those nights?” A pause while she waited for

response, and with her voice fashioned in venom, she again questioned, “Have

you?”

Her father’s expression had completely changed, from nonchalantness to

anger, pure, unruly anger. “How dare you! How dare you speak to me in such a

manner!” And without even a thought in the world, he stepped up and hit her

across the face.

Pain exploded in her left check. Anna stumbled backwards, grabbing onto the

back of Raf’s chair for support, bending over with her hand to her face.

“Father!” Celine stood up immediately, shock in her eyes. Her real father

she never knew, so she always considered Anna’s father as hers. “What . . .” She

stumbled in her shock. “What are you doing?”

“I’m showing her how to properly speak to her father. Anna!” Anna refused to

respond, pushing herself upright from Raf’s chair, keeping her back to her

father. “ANNA BLISSIL, YOU TURN AND FACE YOUR FATHER LIKE A PROPER DAUGHTER.”

“YOU LEARN HOW TO BE A PROPER FATHER AND I’LL BE A PROPER DAUGHTER.” Anna

turned back to face him. Celine knew exactly what she was going to do.

“No! Anna! STOP!” But before she had even finished her sentence, Anna was

upon him.

The fight didn’t last long. Anna had only hit him twice when he grabbed her

by the elbows and threw her against the wall. Mother ran out of the room in

terror while Marcus and Celine burst into tears. She kept on screaming for them

to stop, begging them, saying that violence wasn’t the answer.

After Anna hit her head against the wall, the world went blurry. She faintly

saw him approach her, his fists raised, and then heard a faint call, from

seemingly far away: “RAF!” And she saw someone crash into her father, and

immediately heard a new scuffle break out.

Part 2