#10

“Beautiful night isn’t it?”

Chapter 2: His Voice

It’s been years since the incident happened. We still kept in touch with each other by notes, of course. But the responds is much faster. It’s like he will leave me a note (mostly on my study table since it’s much closer to the window), I will reply him. But when I stepped out of my room for less than five minutes, I’ll find a fresh not eon my study table, waiting for me to read it’s content.

As time passed, I began to find various notes in my pencil box, my book, my school locker, my school desks and even in my story books (which he outs it as bookmarks). He was always there to listen to me and for that I felt grateful. With much gratitude, every time I baked cookies, I’m sure to leave a batch for him to munch on along with a cup of warm milk. I would place it on the study table and the next morning, not only the place was empty, but the glass of milk too.

But there was always something extra on my table... A note.

Delicious cookies! Good morning, Red Rose.

Red Rose, a nick name he gave me. A nickname he won’t fail to use. I smiled every time I received his note. With much care, I would keep his notes in a silver treasure box which he gave for my 13^th birthday. Not to forget with a note saying,

You’re officially a young teenager!

In big bold cursive letter.

But now, I’m 17 years old, facing the reality of the cruel world. Bitched that hung around my locker, terrorizing me and such. Every night, I would write a letter, not notes, to him. Complaining how much I feel like punishing them and all that crap. He once offered to punished them for me but I told him no, it’s not worth it. He understood and that makes me feel something towards him.

On the night before my 17^th birthday, the bitches in my school celebrate my birthday by embarrassing me. They ‘accidentally’ poured orange paint on my when I went to the cafeteria. My friends couldn’t do anything about it. None of us can. I didn’t have any spare clothes; neither did my friends until he laid a white shirt, a pair of trousers and a belt along with a note;

You sure you don’t want me to punish them?

My heart screamed YES! But I knew, deep in my heart that it’s not worth it. Things will get worsen and I have no time to deal with bullshit like that. But if I want revenge, I would do it by myself and not let my mysterious friend do my dirty work for me.

Nah, I’m fine (: Orange suits me, don’t you think?

I changed and went back to my classroom and sat next to the window. The only place where I can be as close to him as possible, even when I can’t see him; I can sense he’s there.

I prefer your black hair though. It’s mesmerizing.

I blushed when I read his note.

Are you sure? ‘Cause I’m thinking of highlighting orange streaks onto my hair.

I placed my note into a basket with a bell attached to it, which I hung outside my window. It was his idea to communicate with me while I’m in the classroom. As long as I don’t look down, everything will be fine. He is a genius though, able to think up these kind of ideas. He told me that the basket is out of sight since the hedges are tall and the teacher in my room couldn’t see it.

Nah, don’t change who you are just because of some stupid bunch of bitches.

I smiled, and class started.

I couldn't sleep that night; my mind was whirling with plans to get back on those girls. Since it was a cloudy night, I climbed out of my window and onto my roof; where I sat there and started day dreaming. Of out the blue, I felt someone’s warm and firm back came in contact with mine.

“Beautiful night isn’t it?” a deep voice spoke.

My heart skipped a beat. It’s him! I know it’s him. It’s the same feeling every time he left the note. I started to turn around, so I could take a good look at him.

“Don’t,” he stopped me.

“But, why?”

“Be patient, my Red Rose,”

I sighed.

“My Red Rose, don’t be disappointed. This is just the beginning of a new step,”

“There are steps?”

“Yes, Red Rose.”

“How many?”

“Be patient,”

Somewhere, a clock chimed.

“1…2…3…4…5…6…” he counted along with the clock.

“Don’t be alarmed of what I’m going to do next,” he breathes softly in my ear.

“9…10…”
He placed a white handkerchief over my eyes, causing darkness to descend upon me.

“11… You can’t see anything, right?”

I shook my head.

“Good,”

The clock chimed 12.

He hesitated.

Should he do this? Will it ruin their connection?

He didn’t care.

He tilted her head up, gently brushing her fringe aside and decreased the space between them.

He could feel her breathing heavily.

She felt about and took hold of his hands, which much to her disappointment, was covered with gloves.

Instead of her lips, he kissed her softly and gently on her forehead.

He then whispered softly in her right ear,

“Happy birthday, Red Rose,”

He let go of her hand, thrust a note into her empty palms, and like a cat, gracefully jumped down the roof with a thump and disappeared into the dark night.

Since she couldn’t feel his presence anymore, she then took off the handkerchief, allowing her eyes to adjust. She tingled with delight as she unfolds the note he trusted to her.

This is for you.

She was puzzled and she finally understood the note. She opened the silky white handkerchief and what she saw made her gasped loudly. The white handkerchief was embroiled with big, bold golden letters.

It was none other than her name.