Wingless and beautiful episode 2
đWINGLESS AND BEAUTIFULđ
đEPISODE_TWOđ
The next day, Meredith dropped me off at CRC. She didnât
say anything, maybe for fear of jinxing my decision to go
out of the house, but I know that she was over the moon
that I wanted to come back to the center.
âI have a meeting in the town center,â she called as I
got out of the car. âIâll pick you up in the afternoon. Keep
your cellphone open.â
I nodded and headed towards the grounds. Meredith
waved at the guard standing on the gate, who immediately
let me in. I walked to the side of the building, towards the
path of trees that led to the woods.
Last night, I thought about the words that Hunter said to
me. I felt like with the limited words he said, in the short
span of time that I spent with him⊠he really reached out to
my soul. He spoke the words I couldnât say to Meredith⊠the
words I could not even admit to myself.
I hated to acknowledge it, but Meredith was right. I
needed to talk to somebody. And somebody who knew
exactly what I was going through.
As I reached the garden, I saw Hunter sitting on the
bench, lost in his thoughts again, listening to every little
sound around him. I knew that he was aware of my
presence even before I was standing in front of him. The
minute I sat beside him, I heard his sharp intake of breath.
Suddenly, I felt self-conscious.
Could he smell me?
I smelled my shirt and caught the scent of the floral
perfume I sprayed on myself after I took a shower this
morning.
I looked over at him, taking slow breaths, so as not to
make a single sound. He was wearing a pair of jeans, a
white shirt over a red jacket. His hair was disheveled like he
just combed it with his fingers after he took a shower. He
was wearing those sunglasses again.
âGood morning,â he said.
âGood morning,â I greeted chirpily. âHow did you know I
was here?â
âI could smell your perfume the minute you walked
towards the bench,â he replied.
âIt could be anybody,â I pointed out.
He grinned and shook his head slightly. âI highly doubt
that. The sense of smell is the most powerful sense and
most likely the one thatâs linked to the memory. I remember
your scent from yesterday. You smell like⊠you.â
âEr⊠is that a good thing?â I asked.
âYou smell like sweet strawberries combined with a
scent of freesia and honeys-ckle,â he replied. âItâs always a
good thing.â
He practically enumerated the scents of my perfume,
my soap and my shampoo. Being blind must have turned
him into a bloodhound.
There was silence. None of us spoke for a while. For the
first time in many months, I actually felt that silence could
be peaceful. Not the deafening kind that brought the
memories of that tragic night back into my reality.
I actually felt like I could be me again. I didnât feel like a
ghost⊠with nightmares chasing me.
âHow old are you, Allison?â Hunter asked, breaking the
silence.
âSixteen,â I replied. âAnd you?â
âSixteen turning seventeen soon.â
I tried not to heave a sigh that would make him sense
my emotions. But in,side, I thought⊠how bad was it for a
handsome, agile sixteen-year-old boy to lose the most
precious gift of sight?
âDo you get visitors often?â I asked.
He shook his head. âThey gave up on me. They only
come when I call them⊠if I needed anything.â
âWhoâs they?â
âMy dad,â he replied. âMy aunt and uncle. They just
read my progress reports from here. And then they wait for
me to call.â
âAre you⊠having any treatments in this institution?â
He shrugged. âThe doctors check on my eyes every
other day. But mostly it was just⊠counseling.â
âWhy did you say that your parents gave up on you?â
He sighed. âJust my dad,â he corrected me. âWe fought
all the time. He wanted me to undergo some⊠more
aggressive treatments. I donât see his point.â
âWhy? Donât you want to⊠you know?â
âSee again?â he asked. I didnât answer. âDidnât you just
say yesterday that seeing was not always a gift?â
âYeah⊠I shouldnât have said that.â
âBut you were right. If I am able to see again⊠I would
see that my mother was no longer with me. And I would
remember that it was my fatherâs fault she wasnât herself
when she drove our car into a tree.â
I felt a pinch in my heart when I heard him say that his
mother was gone. Because it reminded me that he wasnât
the only one. Mine was gone too.
Two gunshots.
The first one was for my stepdad, so he could no longer
hurt me. My mother saved me. She made sure that I would
live and the months of physical abuse I went through under
the hands of my stepdad would be over.
The second shot was for⊠her. Because she couldnât
live with the fact that she killed the man she loved the most.
I hated her for it. Even though I would always love her, I
know⊠deep in,side my heart I would always hate her for not
being strong enough. For not thinking about me when she
pulled that trigger the second time around. For leaving me alone⊠knowing I was not old enough to take care of myself
and her sister was not capable enough to replace her in my
life.
I didnât realize it, but my breathing became heavier. I
felt the load that was in,side my chest. It had always been
there. I refused to acknowledge it. Not when I woke up that
day in the hospital. Not during those times they forced
counseling on me immediately after I was discharged by the
doctors. Not all these months when Meredith encouraged
me to talk to her about how I felt.
But now⊠here with Hunter, all the pain, all the burden I
hid in,side my chest just resurfaced, refusing to be ignored
anymore. And before I knew it, I was whimpering. I was
feeling that blinding pain of losing my mother⊠being saved
by her⊠and being abandoned by her seconds after. The
emotional and physical abuse I went through under my
stepdadâs broken mind and violent hands were nothing
compared to the pain I felt when I woke up in the hospital an
orphan.
I felt Hunterâs arm around my shoulders. He gently
pulled me to him so I could rest my head against his chest.
And there⊠for the first time in probably months⊠I cried.
âMama⊠where is Papa?â I remembered asking my
mother when I was five years old.
She laughed. âYouâre special, Allison. God created you
so you could be all mine!â she replied, k-ssing me all over
the face and then tickling me until I tapped out.
I know now that she tried so hĂŠrd not to make me feel
like there was something wrong with me. And how much she
wanted to make me feel complete even though my own
father walked out on us the minute she told him she was
pregnant.
âI love you, Mama,â I said to her in my tiny voice.
âAnd I love you very much too, my little angel.â
âSssshhhâŠâ I heard Hunterâs soothing voice against my
ear.
I pulled away from him, wiping my cheeks with my
fingers. Hunter did the same to his although he tried to hide
the fact that he was crying too.
âShe took⊠took her own⊠life,â I stammered. âWhen
my stepdad threatened to kill me⊠she didnât have a choice
but to pull the trigger. So I would be here today. So he could
no longer hurt me. For months, he was physically assaulting
me. He would beat me up and I remembered hiding under
the bed whenever he came home. My mother was helpless
to defend me sometimes.
âWe loved him. And he would always feel remorseful
when he sobered up. But one night, it went too far. In his
poisoned mind, he saw me as a demon that he needed to
torture and kill.â I looked up at Hunter, who was listening to
me intently. âYou asked me yesterday what was wrong with
me. I have a scar on my face. He used a chemical on meâŠ
claiming that it would reveal the demon residing in,side me.
It burned my skin. The wounds may have healed. But the
scars would always be here to remind me of that fateful
night.â I took a deep breath and suppressed a sob from
escaping my l-ips. âMy mother was strong enough to kill him
to protect me. But unfortunately, she wasnât strong
enough⊠to live with it.â
Too many months I held these emotions in. And now
that I finally cried⊠I was afraid I wouldnât know how to
stop.
âI⊠havenât cried since that night,â I sobbed. âI try not
to think about it. But every night, it all comes back to meâŠ
when I sleep, the nightmares haunt me. Sometimes, I was
scared to sleep at all.â
Hunter reached out for my face. I took his hand and
guided it so he could touch my cheek. His touch felt warm
against the cold, dead skin of my scar.
âThis scar was not supposed to remind you of what you
lost that night. It was supposed to remind you of what your mother gave up just so you could live,â he said in a
soothing, calm voice.
I shook my head. âI hated her for it. How could she
leave her little girl behind? We werenât rich but we were
happy. And I had everything I ever needed. Now⊠I have
nothing. Just my aunt, who was too young to raise a kid on
her own.â
Hunter touched my scar again.
âI look monstrous,â I muttered.
âIâm sure you look tough.â He gave me a reassuring
smile.
My tears subsided and Hunter released my cheek. He
turned to the direction of the lake. He heaved a heavy sigh
and said, âMy mother found out that my father was having
an affair. She had been drinking when she picked me up
from school. Then she started crying in the car, telling me
bits and pieces of how my father had been cheating on her
for years. She lost control of her emotions. UnfortunatelyâŠ
she lost control of the wheel, too.â
âYou were in the car with her?â
He nodded. âI lived. She died. I wish I did too. There was
nothing left for me here. A few months after my motherâs
funeral, my father proposed to his mistress and brought her
home. Now, you see⊠how could I come home? I could
not⊠would not⊠bear to be under the same roof as my
father and his new family. I came to this town because my
uncle lived here. And he told my dad about this place. They
figured it would help⊠fix me.â
âDid it?â
âNot even a little bit,â he chuckled humorlessly. âAnd
honestly⊠I just lost the will to try. The perfect family I once
had was gone⊠but not before I found out it wasnât really
perfect after all.â
âDo you blame her?â I asked him. âYour mom? For what
happened to you?â
Hunter fell silent for a while, contemplating on his
answer. âIt was easier for me to blame somebody who was
there to hear me curse and whineâsomebody I could
punish. So I never thought about blaming my mom for what
happened to me⊠to us. Because none of it would have
happened⊠if my father was not cheating on us in the first
place.â
âI havenât thought about my mom in a long time,â I
admitted sadly. âI didnât know whether I should thank her
or⊠blame her. Love her or hate her.â Tears rolled down my
cheeks again. âAll I know is that⊠I wish she never left me. I
didnât want to talk about it. I didnât want to cry. But Iâm
getting tired of being strong sometimes.â
Hunter nodded. âI know exactly what you feel.â He felt
for my hand and gave it a squeeze. âAllison⊠you can be
weak here with me. And I would never judge you or expect
anything from you. Know that the things you feel about
losing your mom⊠I feel the exact same things too. So you
donât have to worry. Youâre on friendly grounds here with
me.â
I smiled and I wished he could see it. It had been a while
since I talked to someone who understood me⊠it had been
a while since I felt like I really had a friend.
âThank you,â I whispered. I leaned my head on his
shoulder and I felt him put his arm around my back. I did
what he said. I allowed myself to be weak⊠even for just a
little while.
The next day, I asked Meredith to bring me back to the
center. She was more than happy to oblige. She must have
noticed something different in me yesterday. Sure, my eyes
were swollen, but I did feel lighter. Slowly, I was able to face
my demons. I was able to unload a little of those suppressed
emotions⊠the emotions that prevented me from
functioning properly and looking at life positively no matter
how many times I tried to smile or laugh and say that I was
okay.
When I hopped off the car and entered the grounds of
CMC, I immediately walked to the path that led to the
garden I shared with Hunter. When I got there, I was
surprised to see that he had a basket with him and a guitar
case.
âWhatâs all these?â I asked.
âFigured I was starving you, sitting here all day. So, I
thought we should have some sustenance,â he replied,
grinning.
âAnd the guitar is for?â
He shrugged. âI havenâtâŠâ he trailed off. I figured that
he meant that he hadnât played the guitar since his
accident. He wanted to give it a shot today.
As I looked at Hunterâs handsome face, looking lost and
confused, I thought that if only I could make him find a
reason to live each day of his life, I would feel okay. I would
probably gain back a little of the light I thought I lost. He
didnât deserve to be in this institution. He belonged in
school, with pretty cheerleaders swarming in his circle,
hoping to catch just a little of his attention.
âIâm starving,â I said. I opened the picnic basket, took
out the cloth and placed it on the table. Then I took out the
sandwiches and the bottles of water and cartons of juice he
brought. âWho fixed all these?â
âIâm friends with the chef,â he answered. âHeâs the only
one who kept me happy in this place.â
I laughed. âI could understand that.â
âWhat did he put in there?â
I recited the contents of the basket as I took them out. I
pulled out the last piece of item. I was surprised to find that
it was a rose. I s-cked in a deep breath.
âWhat is it?â he asked.
âA⊠flower. Rose to be exact,â I replied. âI think⊠heâs
mistaken this for a date.â
Hunter fell silent for a while. Then he said, âYeah. I
didnât ask, so it isnât a date.â
There was an awkward silence that followed. I looked at
Hunter and his face looked a little flushed. I havenât been on
a date before, and my mother never lived long enough to
talk to me about it. Meredith wouldnât know how to talk to
me about boys. She didnât even know how to talk to me
about my mother. Imagine her opening up a topic about the
birds and the bees!
I placed a box of apple juice and a sandwich in front of
Hunter. âBon appĂ©tit,â I said.
âMerci. Toi aussi.â
After eating, I fixed the table. Hunter tried to help, but I
told him to stay put.
âAllisonâŠâ he started to argue.
âHunter!â I said firmly. âYou donât have to prove
anything to me. I am not judging you. I donât pity you for not
being able to move around as much as you possibly can.
The only thing that I feel sorry for is⊠that you canât see
what a beautiful piece of heaven this place is⊠and I will
always be thankful that you shared it with me.â
He fell silent. He drew in a deep breath, as if he was
contemplating on arguing with me but decided not to.
âAlright. Whatever suits you,â he murmured, finally leaving
me to clean up the mess and putting the items back in the
picnic basket.
âSo⊠whatâs with the guitar?â I asked. âYou play
before?â
He nodded.
I took the case and opened it. I found a beautiful guitar
with a combination of black and violet gradient prints. I took
it out and sat beside him.
I started strumming and then blending the strings to
make sure each gives out the right sound.
âYou donât forget how to play,â I said to him. âMusic
comes from the heart. And your hands⊠know exactly what
to do, even if you cannot see the strings.â
I started plucking the strings and produced a steady,
melodic sound. Again, I remembered my stepdad. It was one
of the things he taught me. Our favorite bonding moment
would be to play guitar together.
Tears welled up in my eyes as I played our favorite
piece.
Cats in the Cradle.
It was a difficult piece for me at first, but I got better
with time. Like Hunter, I havenât played the guitar since my
stepfather lost his sanity.
Hunter listened to me intently. I didnât sing. I just let the
music take over my hands⊠the way I told Hunter to let it
take over his. I was afraid that if I sing, my voice would
tremble and I would start crying uncontrollably.
When I finished playing, he was shaking his head
slightly.
âWhat?â I asked.
âYou must be some kind of kick-ass chick, huh.â He
beamed at me. âThat was beautiful. I didnât expect that you
would know how to playâand really, really well. I havenât
met a girl who could play as good as you do. Most girls I
knew would rather paint their nails, not break them by
playing the guitar. Now, Iâm challenged.â
I laughed. âOkay, Rockstar. Letâs see what you got.â
If before, he was reluctant to play the guitar again, now
I could see the excitement on his face. He took the guitar
from me and started feeling the strings, making sure he got
all of them located. And then he started plucking the strings
to play a familiar song.
âSweet Child Oâ Mine.â
It was my turn to be dumbfounded. He may be blind
now, and he feels like he has nothing left going for himâŠ
but his heart and his hands never forgot how to live. His
guitar skills were beyond amazing.
I was smiling when he finished playing. He inclined his
head to mine, turning his ear to me, as if he was waiting for something.
âWhat?â I asked, laughing. I know what he wanted and
somehow, I wanted him to wait for it just a little while
longer.
âOh come on!â he gro-ned in frustration.
Finally, I stood up from my seat and started clapping. I
even put my fingers in my mouth to whistle. Yes, he was
that good. He deserved an applause.
He stood up from his seat, too, and then he bowed.
âThank you, thank you!â After that, we both laughedâŠ
genuinely and heartily⊠like we both didnât think we would
still be able to play the guitar again.
He sat back on the bench and played another song. It
was something that I knew as well. A smile crept into my
face. I closed my eyes, and before I knew it, I was singing,
âYou got a fast car⊠I want a ticket to anywhere. Maybe we
make a deal, maybe together we can get somewhereâŠâ
That song touched me in many ways. I knew Hunter felt
the same way too. At first, I thought it was quite ironic for
him to play a song called âFast Carâ when he lost so much in
a car accident. But then again⊠that was a good sign,
wasnât it? Acceptance was always the first step to moving
forward. Like playing âCats in The Cradleâ was a form of
acceptance on my part that things were never going back to
the way they used to be, but that didnât mean I wonât find
happiness again.
When we finished, he turned to me. âYou could make a
career in show business, you know?â
âWhy is that?â
âA kick-ass chick who can play the guitar and sing as
well as you? Darned, youâre going places!â he praised.
âWell, so long as I donât make live performances.â
âAnd why not?â
âIâm Scarface, remember?â
He set his guitar aside and reached up his hand to touch
my cheek gently. âHeyâŠâ he whispered. âI swear, someday,you will play and sing in front of a crowd and you will wow
every single one of them.â
âWell, I hope youâll be one of them.â
He nodded. âI may not be able to see you, but I sure
would hear you.â
I sighed sadly when I pulled away from him. How I wish
that would be true. That I wouldnât be scared to show my
scars in public and Hunter would be able to see me play.
It was almost five oâclock when we headed out of the
woods. Meredith was coming to pick me up soon.
âWell, it was indeed a lovely day,â I said to Hunter. âI
donât think Iâve smiled more in the last couple of months.â
âMe too,â Hunter agreed. I stared up at him. He was
looking at my face, although I know he couldnât really see
me behind his sunglasses.
âWhatâs the color of your eyes?â I suddenly got curious.
He didnât answer. Instead, he slowly touched his
sunglasses and perched it up his head. He stared down at
me in probably the most mesmerizing blue eyes I had ever
seen. They were expressive⊠as if they were meant to see
through my soul. And they were framed with long dark
lashes I didnât think possible for boys at all.
Perhaps, if people would look closely, they would see
that his eyes were cloudy due to the damage in his cornea.
But from afar, no one would be able to tell that those
beautiful, bright blue eyes⊠could see nothing but
darkness.
âBlue,â I breathed.
I think I forgot how to breathe as I stared up at him.
Hunter is… beautiful. Even without his eyesight⊠he was
perfect.
âAllisonâŠâ he started. And I thought he sounded
nervous. âCould you⊠I mean⊠tomorrow⊠umm⊠could
you come back tomorrow? Spend⊠the day with me again?â
I blinked back and then I decided to tease him, âHunter
Vaughn⊠are you asking me out on a date?â
I really didnât think he was. Because⊠how could he? He
was beautiful even though he was blind. Iâm not blind so I
could see the monstrous-looking scars my stepfather left
me. There was no way heâd be interested in meâŠ
âYes,â he replied. âYes, I am.â
I stopped short, not really expecting that answer.
âUmm⊠do you even know how I look like? I look
horrendous,â I said. That was a lie. I didnât really look
horrendous if one could manage to look past my scar. I had
long, dark brown hair and long dark lashes surrounded my
hazel green eyes. Okay, maybe I didnât look as bad as I
wanted him to think, but with my scars, I was definitely no
Barbie doll.
Hunter shook his head. âI may be blind, Allison. But
believe me when I say that⊠I see you.â His voice was
serious⊠sincere. âAnd you⊠look unbelievably beautiful to
me. Like an angel sent down from heaven.â
I bit my lip because I didnât want to cry. I didnât get
many compliments these days. So, when I did⊠it really
touched me.
âThank you,â I murmured.
He smiled. âSo⊠is that a yes?â
âItâs an⊠âIâll think about it,ââ I teased. âGoodbye,
Hunter.â I turned and headed to the parking lot where
Meredith was watching me curiously.