Chapter 25

Willow and Allister are torn apart and Willow grows closer to Pierce.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Sweet and Sour

 

            The breath of winter became more pronounced. On Monday, the sky finally burst, raining snow upon Crescent City. Kids smiled and opened their mouths to taste the sweet white stuff. But by late morning, the snow melted for it was a light coating. The heavy stuff was predicted to come later in the week. Still, kids in Crescent City kept hope for a snow day.

            Meanwhile, Pierce walked to the Academy later that morning. It would be open, he knew, for the Thanksgiving holiday was over. He had his heavy wool hat pulled low down over his ears, his hands stuffed into his pockets to revel in his body warmth, and a bright red scarf wrapped snugly around his strong neck. He appeared warm, but the wind blew right through him. He shivered as a strong wind swept over him, chilling him.

            “Jeez, h-how’d it g-get to be s-so c-cold?” he asked out loud, his teeth chattering loudly. He shook and ran when he finally saw the Academy ahead of him.

            He yanked open one of the doors and slammed it shut. Warmth encompassed him, and he gladly threw off his coat, scarf, and gloves. The whole place was as toasty as an oven.

            Few people who worked at the Academy roamed around the room. Some stared at him as he entered, but most didn’t pay him any attention. Jay and Tyler, friends of his there, greeted him warmly with pats on the back.

            “Good to see you guys,” Pierce said.

            Jay shrugged.

            “We’re always here,” Jay mumbled.

            “Not always, man,” Tyler countered. “You remember that time…?”

            “Oh! Hah…,” laughed Pierce.

            “Don’t go there,” Jay warned. “Just because I was puking my head off doesn’t mean you can go and rag on me.”

            “I definitely remember that!” chuckled Pierce.

            “Yeah. You had to take a day off because you went to a party the night before and got yourself so drunk you were sick,” recalled Tyler. “If I recall correctly, you puked on a hot babe, didn’t you?”

            Jay threw Tyler a dirty look. Tyler punched him in the arm, laughing loudly.

            “I’m just joshing, my man. No harm done. No harm.”

            “Tell that to the girl,” Pierce retorted.

            Jay glowered at Pierce. Pierce snickered at the look on his face.

            “You’re way too sensitive,” Pierce said, smirking at the countenance on Jay’s face.

            “Hey, Pierce, what’re you doing Friday night?” Tyler asked, scratching at a spot on his dark skin.

            “Actually, Ty…I have a date.”

            Interest sparked in the atmosphere. Both Jay and Tyler smiled.

            “So, you finally got a chance to hook up with a chick?” Jay questioned, raising an eyebrow. “Impressive.”

            “Thought no one here interested you?” Tyler meant it as a question of why Pierce was suddenly interested in girls. Pierce sensed this and glanced at Tyler.

            “I changed my mind.”

            “So you have found someone,” Jay thought aloud. “Which one is she?”

            “Well…you know Willow Halliwell?”

            Tyler’s eyes went wide as Jay pursed his lips in amazement.

            “You aren’t…what…you are?” Tyler spluttered.

            Pierce nodded, his expression was solemn, but his eyes were alight with a smile.

            “Man…,” breathed Jay softly, “she’s…beautiful. How’d you get her?”

            “She’s more than beautiful, Jay,” Tyler gushed. “She’s supremeness. Have some respect, would you?”

            Jay shrugged, his insides brimming with curiosity, He flicked his eyes up expectantly at Pierce. Pierce returned his gaze and smiled a happy, secret smile.

            “We were…” Pierce thought for a minute, remembering this past Thanksgiving. “…just talking. We’ve known each other as friends for a while, but she’s been…more interesting lately. I decided to ask her out.”

            At the same time, both Tyler and Jay droned, “Dude.”

            Pierce had to chuckle at their current state.

            Before, Pierce had never really dated all that much, especially back at home. He was too busy taking care of his baby sister, literally a baby, to do anything. So that’s why, among other reasons as well, Pierce left home and came to Crescent City. He was old enough to legally fend for himself. Nobody could stop him.

            Pierce was even prouder of Willow than ever because she was strong, willful, and beautiful. She really knew how to kick butt. Never mind the fact that she was the Black Widow, but Pierce thought it cool she was. He would keep her secret forever. He would never betray her for anything or anyone.

 

            Pierce assisted one of the coaches in unpacking various training materials that were needed for one of the martial arts classes taught after school to elementary kids. There was also a program for teenagers and another for adults as well.

            He unpacked belts for the different levels of the martial arts; gold ones, black, green, etc. He wasn’t really paying attention when the coach called him over.

            “Pierce, there’s someone here who wants to see you,” Coach Wilton explained stiffly. “She says she needs to talk to you right away.”

            “What�"?”

            A sudden thought struck him. Willow. Wilton was new, so he wouldn’t know who Willow was. And the only girl who would come to him would be Willow and only Willow, It was the only explanation he could think of.

            “Thanks, Coach. I’ll go see what she wants,” Pierce answered.

            Wilton nodded and walked off. Pierce grabbed his coat and opened one of the double doors. He looked around. Before he knew it, Willow rushed into his arms, sobbing hysterically.

 

_____

 

            The bitterness was a sweet and sour taste in his mouth. Sweet in the fact that it felt good to lash back out at Willow for what she did to him. Sour because something inside of him was scolding him for what he did to her. That part was relatively small, though, which came as a big relief to Allister. He wanted to savor the flavor of victory, of being triumphant. Of doing what he wanted instead of what she wanted him to do.

            It felt real good.

            As Allister walked through the hallway of school, a renewed energy pulsed through his entire system like waves of electricity. He joined his friends, who were relatively surprised and thrilled to see him after two months. They quickly allowed him to join in the fun of their group once more. He laughed and joked the way he used to before he had ever met Willow. His eyes strayed from his friends as a solemn girl floated right past him, gazing at him with huge sad eyes as she approached her locker. Al reverted his eyes back to his friends and laughed at a joke one of them had just cracked.

            Willow stroked back her hair from her face as she rummaged through her locker for the right books for her morning classes. Her pale peach skin was flushed from the cold. Raven locks fell over her face so that Allister couldn’t see what her reaction to him was. She closed her locker door gently so that it didn’t make any noise. Willow swung her backpack over her shoulder and walked towards Al. Al did a double take as she approached him. His friends became silent and stared expectantly from Willow to Al. Two snickered. The others held taunting smiles on their idiotic faces.

            “What happened?” Willow breathed lightly, her voice a moth’s wing brushing the air.

            Al pursed his lips, frowning deeply at her question.

            “It’s over, you know,” he stated simply.

            “It doesn’t have to be.”

            “It is. And it’ll stay that way, okay?”

            “If you really hate me,” challenged Willow, “then hit me so I know. For real.”     Al’s frown ran deeper into his face, more pronounced now. His friends snickered at this.

            “Yeah, man,” Dan, one of his friends, chuckled, “let’s see if you have the guts to hit a girl.”

            Al then made his move. He slapped Willow hard across the cheek. She fell to the ground in a heap. People gathered to stare at the commotion. Willow placed a hand to her burning cheek and slowly raised her eyes to Allister’s. Tears glittered in them like precious jewels. Allister glowered down at her.

            “Now you know,” he said softly.

            A single escaped, leaving a wet trail down her cheek.

            “Come on, guys. Let’s go.”

            Whispers issued from all around them. His friends were more shocked than triumphant.

            “You actually hit a girl, man,” said one of them.

            Allister glared at him, and he quieted under the harsh intensity of Allister’s gaze.

            He left Willow alone and crying. He heard her pattering footsteps fading behind him as she ran out the school doors.

            Good riddance, he thought.

 

_____

 

            Her face burned from a flurry of emotions. Tears flowed from her eyes. The place where Allister had slapped her stung horribly. The place where Allister had pulled a chunk from her heart hurt more than her face. He had chosen to no longer care for her, either as a friend or something more, it didn’t matter now. All that mattered was that he didn’t care, period. It was over between them.

She ran and ran, not caring whether she was going to miss school. She needed to find someone who really cared. Willow wanted Pierce.

            Her heart hurt deeply as she ran; she allowed the pent-up emotion to flow free of her system. She ran through crowds, pushing past people. Some stared strangely at her, others cursed at her or glared at her. Willow didn’t notice any of this. She just ran. Finally, she found herself in front of the Academy of Athletics. She knew that, deep in her gut, this was pathetic. But she needed someone, anyone. Someone who cared enough about her to listen and be kind to her.

            She knocked on one of the doors because the place was closed at the moment, but she knew Pierce would be here, working. He just had to be.

            Willow wrapped her arms around her, her coat still zipped over her form. She was suddenly glad that she hadn’t removed it. Someone opened the door and a man, probably one of the staff, answered. He appeared irritated at her presence. And it was very apparent to her in the tone of his voice when he spoke.

            “Yes?” he asked impatiently.

            “D-do you k-know if…,” Willow choked out, her voice shaking horribly, “…Pierce Stevens is….h-here?”

            “Why? What d’you want?” he snipped.

            “Please…just…let me see him,” she whispered mistily. Her eyes were starting to leak more than ever now.

            “Okay, okay…I will. Just don’t get all weepy on me.”

            The man disappeared into the building, the door slamming after him. Willow peeked through the tiny window in the door. She saw the man talking to another man, a coach by the looks of him. The coach nodded and disappeared from view. Willow stood away from the door and off to the side. The door opened again and there stood Pierce, looking around his surroundings, confused. He was made even more confused by the fact that Willow flung herself into his arms the moment he saw her.

            “Willow?” he mumbled. “What the�"?”

            But he became silent when he noticed that Willow was crying hard into his shoulder. Pierce gently wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. Willow clung to him. Pierce drew her closer and placed his head on top of hers. He kissed the top of her head tenderly and then drew back. He gazed at Willow with a deep concern. He placed a gentle hand on her cheek.

            “What happened?” Pierce asked soothingly. “Tell me.”

            As Willow stared up at Pierce, he stroked back her fresh tears with his thumb. His touch calmed the storm within her. His words put her at ease when no one else’s would. Willow blinked a few times, forcing back her emotion so she could explain clearly.

            “My friend�"or at least…he was�"well…he doesn’t like me anymore. Al…he’s�"he…slapped me. I can’t believe it. He…h-he slapped me.” The emotion entered Willow’s voice; it cracked on the last word. “I think I know why.”

            “So…your friend hit you?”

            Willow nodded.

            “But Allister’s not my friend anymore.” Willow took a deep breath and laughed bitterly. “I sound like such a baby.”

            “No,” Pierce murmured. “No, you don’t. You’re upset. It’s perfectly normal. Okay?”

            Willow smiled up at Pierce sadly.

            “Yeah…I guess it is.”

            Pierce nodded, his face solemn as he stared down at Willow.

            “Why did he hit you?” he questioned seriously. His tone was slightly…protective.

            “Allister…he’s…,” Willow breathed, “jealous of us. He…was close to me.”

            “That jerk hit you just because he didn’t get what he wanted?” Pierce fumed quietly. He balled his fists, lurching forward. Willow placed a hand on his chest, stopping him. “Why shouldn’t I…I beat that son of a b***h up?”

            Willow looked straight through Pierce, her eyes remorseful.

            “It was my fault. I-I challenged him to hit me if he really hated me,” Willow explained. A small tear slipped down Willow’s left cheek. It dropped off the edge of her chin and onto the sidewalk. “And…he does.”

            A steady calm then pulsed through Pierce. His teeth were still gritted angrily, but not as quite as much before. He uncurled his stiff fists and allowed his arms to fall back by his sides. Willow pursed her lips, watching the furious glare in Pierce’s eyes fade. It scared her extremely for him to be angry. She did appreciate the way he wanted to protect her, but she didn’t want him to go and use violence to settle it.

            “Pierce…”

            “Willow,” Pierce murmured. He looked at her as if were about to say something.

            But then, unexpectedly, Pierce embraced Willow tightly. Willow was taken aback for a moment. She eventually relaxed against his warm figure and buried her face in his chest.

            “I’ll always be here for you,” Pierce whispered. He stroked her hair lightly with one back, his other delicately holding the small of her back close to him.

            “Yes,” was all Willow could manage.

 

_____

 

            “Four days, sir. Have you even thought about it?” asked Fleming timidly.

            Severin lifted his eyes slowly from his folded hands that laid on the smooth, waxed surface of his expensive maple desk. His hair fell over his strange eyes; a frightening glare appeared in them. Fear lurched in Fleming’s body. His poor heart pounded in warning. But poor Markus Fleming couldn’t look away at the least; his gaze was locked on that of Severin. It was like looking into the hypnotizing eyes of a predator. Fleming didn’t dare blink once.

            Severin smiled softly, pleased at having Fleming’s full attention.

            “Some, Markus. Some,” Severin said.

            “H-Have you decided?” Fleming asked dazedly. His eyes never wavered from Severin’s.

            “Not nearly. As your men continue to watch young Willow and Pierce, I will make my decision when the situation serves best for me. Then I will tell you. I can’t just yet.”

            “What would have my men do, sir?”

            “Just keep tabs on the two children for now. Watch them carefully, examine their every move. Report it to me like always. If you find something of interest that might alter my plans, report it to me immediately no matter what.”

            “Yes, sir. I understand.”

            “Hopefully,” Severin hissed. “Now go.”

            Fleming went without argument, happy to break Severin’s penetrating gaze. He quickly left the room like so many times before in the past few days.

            Severin’s mind lingered on the current Willow-Pierce situation. The other boy, Allister, was wise enough to stay away from Willow on his own accord. That made Severin only a little pleased. What troubled him was that Willow and Pierce were growing closer day by day. Of course, the boy already knew that Willow was the Black Widow. It had already been revealed when she had no choice but to use her remarkable abilities to save him.

            What bothered him the most was how Willow might tell him everything. At least, everything she knew about her transformation at the tender age of nine. About the serum. He also knew that Pierce knew more than should be allowed. Severin knew that the boy had to be rid of. The boy knew too much of his own accord, but Willow knew even more.

            He left his thoughts swirling around and slowly began to plan.

 

_____

 

            The sirens blared, loud and piercing the silence of the night. Red and blue lights flashed on the brick walls. Noise and voices pulsed through the atmosphere. Detective Carys Eberhard crouched down over the ground in silence. She looked for evidence; anything would be great. There was nothing.

            Eberhard stood slowly, closing her brown eyes and listening to Longhorn’s conversation with one of the guards who had been involved.

            “Jameson, tell me slowly about what you saw.”

            Jameson inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying not to hyperventilate.

            “It was…well…a girl. A young girl, probably about seventeen or sixteen. She had white hair…the strangest thing. I’ve never seen anything like it. Her face was too dark to see, but her eyes glowed red. Weird, it was. And…she landed on the ground and took out Marly and Dan. She knew some kind of…martial arts or something. She looked like an expert at it. She knocked me unconscious, but before that, I saw her…I-I…s-saw h-h-her…stab Dan and Marly…”

            Jameson was crying silently. Longhorn awkwardly patted his shoulder. He had written the account down.

            “S-she…s-s-s-he…k-killed them! Killed them!”

            “Boys, take him to the station and treat him to a donut,” ordered Longhorn.

            The two other officers near Longhorn nodded and led Jameson obediently to a single police cruiser. They took off, Jameson still sobbing hysterically. Longhorn shook head in sympathy, his expression was solemn and sad. Carys walked over to his side and stared ahead at the building in front of them.

            “Anything?” Longhorn asked half-heartedly.

            “No. Nothing,” Carys blandly answered.

            “Pity.” Longhorn shook his head. “It’s now eight men dead, four knocked unconscious, and six things stolen. Worst of all, no perp.”

            “Eight dead?” Carys gulped. “Who would do something that…that cruel?”

            “Like our mysterious Black Widow friend?”

            Eberhard glowered at Longhorn.

            “She didn’t do anything.”

            “We don’t know that. Evidence so far reveals that the perp has the same abilities as the Black Widow. Same features, too. What more do you need?”

            “That one vigilante is working for justice,” snapped Carys. “The other’s a thief.”

            “A thief? A thief! We have not a thief on our hands, Eberhard, but a murderer.”

            “The Black Widow is�"”

            “Eberhard, I warned you not to go there. Not unless you want to lose your job. Your only job.”

            “Sir�"”

            “Don’t go there.”

            Carys simply frowned in reply and sighed, frustrated that he neglected to listen to her reason. Thanks to him, more people would probably die from his insolence. He didn’t know anything about this. At least Eberhard had the decency to connect it. It wasn’t Willow who was doing it. She would know if Willow had been doing anything serious. It wasn’t Willow at all. It was someone else who looked like her. Carys wondered if this new criminal had anything to do with the case years ago that bordered around a Dr. Severin Struthers…

            “Let’s go, Eberhard. The others will take care of this.”

            Carys simply nodded. She opened the door of her police cruiser and sat in the driver’s seat. Longhorn entered his own car. They took off. Though she paid attention to the road, her thoughts strayed to Willow.

 

_____

 

            Tuesday was even gloomier and colder than Monday. Even down in the Underworld, where light from the world above rarely flooded in, it was darker than ever.

            Severin stood at his window and stared down at the grimy streets of the Underworld. The poor, petty thieves of Crescent City mostly lived here, deep in the underground tunnels of the city. Some light came in through the stone ceiling of the tunnel, but it was often dim compared to the thick darkness. He had had no choice but to escape here because he knew that this was the one place the police never dared to look. And they didn’t really know about it either, which helped a lot.

            Then, someone knocked at the door.

            “Come in, Markus. You should know as well as I by now.”

            Markus Fleming entered nervously. He appeared braver this morning as Severin turned to examine the young man’s appearance.

            “Good morning, sir,” Fleming greeted. His face remained expressionless, as did his voice. Only respect showed through him.

            Severin now fully faced Fleming. He walked to where the boy stood and narrowed his eyes. “Welcome back, Markus. Anything to report?”

            “No, sir. I wish there were, though.”

            “Then, go find something!” Severin snapped lightly.

            Markus trembled only a little, barely shaken. What was wrong with the boy?

            “Sir, have you thought about the date any yet? It’s important for us to�"”

            “I have, Fleming. Have patience, please?”

            Fleming quieted.

            “Thank you. I’ve decided that, in light of recent events, the date is sufficient enough. I already have plans at the ready for you and your most trusted men.”

            “Really? I mean, sir?” Fleming asked hopefully.

            “Keep yourself in check, man.”

            “Sorry, sir.”

            “To the plans. Sit down and I’ll explain it to you.”

            Fleming simply nodded. Little of his enthusiasm showed now.

            Severin and Fleming sat to discuss the plans concerning Willow. Little did Willow know that, in a few days, things would be different.

 

_____

 

            It felt cold. Not just outside, but in her heart. It was like Viola’s death all over again. Of course, Viola and Willow had never fought before, but also they hadn’t been friends for that long either.

            Willow glanced up at Al from underneath her curtain of black hair. He pretended she didn’t even exist, passing right by her without a single thought of regret. One thing protected her from completely drowning in her own depression. That was Pierce. He was the last and only hope she had left to ever be happy with another person. She clung to it with desperation.

            Frankly, she was probably overacting about Viola’s death. She believed that Viola’s death hurt more than Willow and Allister’s breakup. There was no other way to word it (sadly). They broke up from being friends, completely diminished. And the last flickers of hope Willow had had before were extinguished quickly. Allister wasn’t ever coming back to her no matter how much she wanted him to. It was time to forgive and forget.

            One question: How could you forget about someone you had loved so deeply?

            It went unanswered as Willow settled into the seat for her last class, English, before lunch. Mr. Anthony was up at his desk, shuffling random papers around, tidying up as the class wandered in and settled down. Willow rested her head down solemnly on the desktop and waited for class to begin. She was deaf to the noise around her. Her classmates had grown used to Willow, excluding her for the outcast she was. She didn’t belong here; she knew it was too true. Thankfully she was able to survive this long, but she didn’t know how longer it would last.

            Mr. Anthony had been a college professor before he settled down to work at Wayview High. The girls loved the good-looking thirty-year-old professor; he didn’t appear to notice this at all, taking their sudden enthusiasm in English literature to simply be of mutual interest. Willow admired the man for another reason: he was simply doing what he loved and wished to pass on his love to the younger generation. Unfortunately, no one but Willow and Ernie Sanchaz, a handsome kid who wore big, goofy glasses, were interested in his long lectures.

            On the surface Willow appeared tougher than steel, but on the inside she was a real softie. She loved books and literature, though it had been a while since the last book Willow read. Often times she forced herself to sit down with a good book from her personal library and read until it was finished.

            Anthony’s eyes flicked to Willow as he welcomed the class back after a long Thanksgiving break. He acknowledged her with a nod and she him with a faint smile on her lips. She wasn’t very enthusiastic right then, especially about going to school. Something that Anthony understood well.

            “I thought, to start off, it would be a good idea for all of you to take out a piece of paper and compose a poem that has to do with what you’re feeling now. Any kind of poem is alright. As long it has what you’re really feeling in it,” Anthony explained with a deep love in his voice. It was apparent that he was very excited about seeing the class’s work.

            Wait till he gets a load of the girls’ writing, Willow mused with a thick smirk across her face. That should be interesting.

            She chortled silently to herself, sad not to have someone to share her quip with. The hole in her chest ached more. She wrapped her arms around herself as if she were trying to keep the pain from flowing out.

            Willow knew what to write.

            From her backpack she extracted a cheap pen and a piece of loose-leaf paper. The pen shook awkwardly in her hand. She exhaled, trying to rid her system of all the tension she felt. How would she start? This she asked herself while staring at the clean blue-lined white paper. How did she feel?

            She began. The words that flowed from mind to pen were extraordinary. Willow never knew she could produce something so…so deep. She became immersed within her work, never glancing up once except in thought. The words kept coming harder than ever before.

 

You Could

 

More than ever

I wish I were close to you.

Look what you did,

and now I waste my tears on you.

It’s horrible,

how I feel,

I know that you could

hurt me deeply.

Love does that.

Love hurts.

 

I want you more than ever,

to be close to you now.

I didn’t mean you any harm,

and look what you did to me.

It hurts,

love hurts.

My breath is stolen

and I know that I’m broken.

No solace can complete me,

fix me.

The pieces of my heart

scattered on the floor

are too many to count.

 

I know you could hurt me,

yet I still came to you with hope.

You broke me more than ever before.

The fire burns deeper now

and it destroys me more than you ever could.

It hurts,

these wounds within me.

Time may heal the wounds within

but they can do nothing for the

searing memory you left with me,

your bitter taste leftover

from being one.

No solace can complete me,

fix me.

I’m too scattered about.

Only he knows how to soften me,

to fix me.

He’s more than you’ll ever be to me.

 

Resentment to its highest degree,

but he diminishes the pain

from my heart.

He heals me,

feels my pain

and the wounds within that bleed horribly

from your wake.

He knows how to cure me,

to make me better so I can greet the world

with open arms and clear, pure eyes.

Your love broke me

and his love can heal me.

More than you could.

 

            When Willow laid her pen down on her desk, she leaned back into her chair, satisfied. Something about writing “You Could” swept her clean. She didn’t feel as nearly mad and melancholy as before. It had swept her clean of all the dust and dirt of Allister’s past relationship with her. Not entirely but just enough so that she didn’t regret any longer.

            Mr. Anthony walked through the aisles, glancing at his students to make sure that they each were all working on something. He stopped at Willow’s desk and rose an eyebrow.

            “Done already, Willow?”

            Willow nodded.

            “Yeah.”

            He placed a hand on Willow’s desk near her poem.

            “May I?”

            “Um…” Embarrassment and worry came over her. She flushed. “…sure, I guess.”

            Mr. Anthony picked up the paper serenely. Some girls threw jealous glares at Willow, other simply sneered. She ignored it and concentrated on a hangnail on her middle finger. She picked at it nervously. Anthony placed the paper back down in front of Willow.

            Willow looked up at Anthony, waiting for him to burst out into laughter. Instead he was smiling, but it wasn’t the kind of smile she was expecting. It was a smile full of paternal warmth and understanding. Willow couldn’t help but to smile back, relieved and relaxed of her previous worries.

            “It really is what you were feeling, Willow. It was…” He struggled for a word. “…fascinating to read about the normal struggles of a teen. The style was choppy, but it worked with the range of emotion. And the title was very well thought out, too.”

            “Thanks, Mr. Anthony,” Willow breathed. “It just…um…wrote from my heart.”

            “And that’s exactly the point I wanted to make. Most great work comes from the heart.”

            “Yeah. It does.”

            Willow and Mr. Anthony smiled. They thought the same, she knew. It was good to meet another person who shared the same understanding of life she had. Anthony briefly nodded at her. He then drifted away to look at Ernie’s work.

            Willow exhaled, looking down at her poem and reading the last words to herself.

 

Your love broke me

And his love can heal me.

More than you could.

 

            True enough, she decided. True enough.

 

_____

 

            “She’s a menace. All she has done has caused trouble for us. And this won’t be tolerated because she’s a vigilante psychopath.”

            The entire congregation of police officers, deputies, and detectives laughed at Longhorn’s comment. All accept one.

            Detective Carys Eberhard stood in the back of the meeting room. Her eyes were filled with deep loathing for Longhorn. It was different; it wasn’t the Black Widow who was killing people. The Black Widow hadn’t been seen for nearly week. Just because of that, people were starting to get on her case. Now they were blaming her for a crime she didn’t commit? Preposterous, Carys believed. Willow wouldn’t do anything of the sort. She wouldn’t kill, even for her own pleasure. She had seen two people die already and that was sure to throw her off.

            “That’s why I gathered you all here today. It’s because of the Black Widow that the Crescent City Police Department is being spotted for not, I quote, ‘diminishing all the crime out there.’ People have begun to rely on this…vigilante. But now that we have proof that she’s guilty of committing a serious offense, we can all take her in.” Longhorn narrowed his eyes in pure pleasure. “Finally.”

            The congregation nodded and murmured in agreement with him. Eberhard’s fists tightened, wishing she could say something, but couldn’t for fear of losing her job. There were no other options.

            She frowned at Longhorn, whose eyes were glittering with merriment. They just wanted the glory, he wanted the glory. They all just wanted to divert the attention back to the CCPD. They wanted it to look like they finally brought in this sly criminal that looked like the Black Widow that prowled the night as she did. Only this night crawler killed instead of saving lives. That was the major difference. What the two chose to do.

            “So, I say to you now this: If the Black Widow ever touches our streets again, we’ll be there in an instant to capture her. She’ll be locked away in the rightful place: jail. She’ll stay there and she won’t cause any more harm. She’s now, from this moment on, a wanted criminal.”

            Everyone cheered, all except one. That one left the room, rage boiling her insides. She knew what she had to do. And she was going to do it.

 

_____

 

            “And then I say, ‘Man, seriously! What the hell?’”

            Everyone at the table laughed at this; all except Allister. He tried to pay attention to his friends’ crazy antics and playful banter. It didn’t work. His attention kept shifting to Willow and what he had done to her.

            Before, Allister had been happy that he felt Willow got what she deserved. But because Al was naturally a good person, the pleasure at his actions hadn’t lasted long. First, he had been happy and smug, next, angry with his friends over nothing, and now he felt regretful. What had he been thinking, making her feel worse than she already had?

            Allister dared himself a glance from his lunch. Willow was sitting alone at an empty table. Instead of looking tough, she was more serene, calmer than ever before. What had he done to her? Why did he have to be the jealous, imperfect person he was? Why couldn’t he have just simply accepted the fact that Willow loved somebody else and not him? He had to make such a big thing out of it, and now he regretted it more than ever.

            He sighed. He picked up a forkful of macaroni and cheese and shoved it into his mouth. He chewed without really tasting his food and swallowed, swigging from the bottle of coke he had bought from the vending machine in the school cafeteria. Al shoved some more tasteless macaroni into his mouth, trying to satisfy the faint growling in his stomach.

            He returned his eyes to the present, drinking from his bottle.

            “Al, what was with you and Willow before?” Dan asked from beside him. His eyes were curious.

            Al shrugged. The wounds in his chest ached from her name. The regret flooded him harder.

            “Nothing. She was nothing,” he lied. He barely paid attention to the words he uttered. “Just a phase. Everyone has them.”

            Al forced a tight smile, also forcing a laugh out of his system. It sounded bitter against his ears. It wasn’t right. Dan, his best friend, didn’t laugh at all. His expression was serious and not mocking.

            Dan leaned in to whisper in his ear.

            “How could you? Do that?”

His questions were separate from each other.

            “I thought you were for it, Danny,” Al mocked him.

            “I only went with what happened at the time. Why? Why was it necessary?”

            “You just don’t understand.”

            It was true. What had happened in the past was too hard to explain with words alone. There was too much emotion settled within the entire topic.

            Allister went back to chewing his lunch. His teeth mashed the cooked noodles into a thick mush. He swallowed carelessly and gulped some coke. Dan glowered at him. Al ignored him. The remorse was even more apparent in him now. It hung over him like a thick black storm cloud that loomed right over the horizon, waiting to burst everything all at once down on him.

            He wished he didn’t care. He wished it, but it was too hard not to.

            But he still cared for Willow whether he liked it or not.

 

_____

 

            Pierce waited by the center flagpole of Wayview High as the bell rung and kids flooded out in a thick, loud crowd. Teenager of different races and personalities rushed past him. Some were hopeful-looking girls who attempted to catch his eye. Pierce paid them no mind and kept watch for Willow. He scanned the crowds and groups, but so far he failed in locating her.

            Then, he spotted her. She walked alone out of the entrance doors. Her chin was proudly raised, but her eyes were cast off into the distance. Willow didn’t notice Pierce until he called out to her.

            “Hey! Willow!”

            Willow blinked and glanced up at Pierce, dazed at first. A big smile erupted on her lips. Happiness glittered in those strange, lovely eyes of hers.

            Backpack slung over one shoulder, Willow walked over to him. He noticed there was now an unusual bounce in her step. Pierce smiled back, happy that she was happy to see him.

            “Wow…Hey, Pierce!” Willow exclaimed. “How come you’re here?”

            “I figured you needed someone to talk to,” he explained. He wove his hand into Willow’s. She flushed with pleasure, her smile growing wider. “I don’t want you to feel alone. Especially with your friends gone.”

            “Gosh, you’re so sweet. What did I do to deserve you?” Willow cooed. Pierce and Willow walked side-by-side on the sidewalk closely. Some people stared at them. They didn’t notice it.

            “How should I know?” Pierce quipped playfully back. “You were just yourself.”

            “Do you think that’s enough? To be myself, I mean?”

            “Will…ah, it’s enough. I have you. You’re perfectly imperfect. Stay that way, okay?”

            “For you, I will,” Willow laughed.

            Pierce leaned down to brush a kiss against Willow’s cheek. Willow smiled a little and looked up at Pierce with bright, happy eyes.

            They walked together, hand-in-hand, from Wayview High to the city streets. Sweetness and happiness filled the two as they chatted merrily about their lives and their interests.

            “So, you like to read?” Pierce asked curiously.

            “Yeah. I’ve been reading ever since I was a kid. I haven’t been reading much lately.” Willow glanced at Pierce. “Do you read?”

            “Me? Occasionally. Sometimes books that interest me, other time the newspaper and magazines. I’m not a bibliophile, but I love books enough, I think.”

            “I think that’s good,” mused Willow. “Not many people read these days. I’m sure that’s kinda obvious.”

            “Every man to his own. I would know. Sports probably interest me more than anything.”

            “Hmm…Why am I not surprised at this most shocking revelation?” Willow teased.

            “Maybe because I like to get my butt kicked by pretty girls,” suggested Pierce. He smiled down at Willow. Willow smiled shyly, looking away. She flushed, which added to her already pink face from the cold. “You’re so pretty, you know that?”

            Willow looked curiously up at Pierce. She raised her eyebrows.

            “You think?” Willow wondered tentatively.

            “I know so. You’re the one who doesn’t.”

            “I don’t need to.”

            “To some extent, you’d think you would.”

            Willow shrugged. “I don’t care if I’m pretty. I have better things to do than worry about my looks.”

            “You do. You bathe, don’t you?”

            “Hygiene. It’s not healthy not to bathe, you know.”

            “Tell that to people who don’t.”

            She wrinkled her nose. “Thanks for the image!”

            Pierce curled his arm around Willow’s waist and drew her even closer. She rested her head on his chest while they walked. Pierce had Willow’s backpack slung across his own shoulder. He gently stroked her hair. The warmth of Willow’s form against his own created a comfortable climate. He wished that they could stay like this forever.

 

            Pierce and Willow spent most of the day running around the Academy helping the various coaches, and sometimes even the kids. Pierce knew that Willow volunteered for the fun of it, but also that she worked here as a job Wednesdays and Thursdays. It paid quite well, and he knew that she got a decent amount of money from her job. The rest was simply out of the goodness of her own heart.

            The afternoon wore on into the early evening. Because it was winter, the day was shorter and the nights longer. It grew darker quicker. It was about 7:00 PM before Willow and Pierce completed their work for the day. They walked from the building, hand-in-hand, and bundled up tightly within both their own coats. Willow’s hair was tied back in a rubber hand to keep it from flying all over the place. A warm wool hat that neglected to appear funny hid Pierce’s buzz cut. It was just plain in color in style, so it didn’t draw any unwanted attention.

            Pierce walked Willow home, wary of the dangers of Crescent City there were at night. They chattered some more about their interests. They found that they had lots in common they didn’t know they shared. Willow didn’t really have any family around like Pierce. Pierce had left his own family because it had been hard for them, and him. So once he had graduated high school, he saved up money and bought a cheap home in Wayview far from the other town, Patterson, that bordered Crescent City.

            Pierce told Willow some about his childhood, and she did his. Then she told him something that would have shocked him if it weren’t for the fact if he had already known it.

            “My mom…she was killed by my father’s crony in front of me at the age of six,” Willow uttered quietly. The emotion was apparent in her voice.

            “Willow, I’ve known that. Your father told me about it when he had me kidnapped.”

            “Really? I mean, wow. What else did he tell you?”

            “Quite a bit, but…Willow that doesn’t matter to me. I told you that before. I don’t care about your past or your imperfections. I…I care for you, okay? Don’t forget that.”

            Pierce drew her into a hug as they stopped in front of the Stravinsky house. Willow greedily hugged back tightly. Then, all too soon, the moment was over and they pulled away from the embrace. Pierce leaned down and kissed Willow on the cheek. He then placed a gloved hand on her cold flushed cheek. She sniffed to keep her running nose satisfied.

            “I’ll see you later, okay?”

            Willow nodded. “Will do.”

            “Bye.”

            “Bye, Pierce.”

            Willow watched him until he disappeared into the darkness. She too disappeared into her house.

Author's Note

If you haven't noticed, my poem "You Could" is featured in here. I believe I wrote it solely for the purpose of this chapter. I just feel so bad for Willow. She is just so torn, but I'm glad I have her choose someone to love.