Fan Fiction ❯ Ice ❯ Ice: Beyond ( Chapter 1 )

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

Ice: Beyond
PG-13
By: Ierra
AKA Kyoki

"Thank you... you want me to THANK you?" Her eyes went from semi-calm to furious at that
moment. "You just published my diary for the whole world to read and you want me to THANK YOU?!"
She screeched, seemingly not caring about the attention she drew from the action. "Are you
insane?! Do you not know the meaning of privacy? Are you just plain ignorant? Or do you not
understand the meaning of the phrase 'you are a fucking moron!'"

She let out a low growl, then swirled around, took two steps, and threw herself on the stool
next to me. She laid her slightly pale arms on the counter, resting her head upon them, her
dirty blond hair cascading around her arms. It was short, only about an inch below her
shoulders, but it was beautiful. She was beautiful, though she never seemed to notice the
attention she drew. Even now, as she sat with anger etched in every muscle of her body, she
was beautiful.

She took in deep breaths, and slowly the anger dissapeared from her stance. I knew that she
was still upset, but I had learned long ago that she was good at keeping that to herself.
Her shoulders straightend, and she slowly sat up right. She took in a few more deep breaths,
and when she turned her head to the right to face me, I froze.

Her green eyes didn't seem to fit her as well as they had so many other times I had seen her.
Her eyes were cold. Ice cold. At this very moment, blue would of fit her perfectly.
I surpressed a shudder at the coldness held in her eyes, but I did not break the stare.

"Are you done with that paper?" She asked calmly, coldly.

I stared for a second longer, before responding. "Yes."

"May I have it?"

I moved it towards her, slowly, unsurly.

Her hands grasped the paper tightly, making it clear to me that I was right. She is still angry.

She moved the paper infront of her and stared at it a moment. The page was the article that
had been written by her. I had read it many times earlier this morning, but I could not resist
the urge to read it again here, at the arcade I visited daily. Even if I only came here to see
her.

I watched the war wage in her eyes. She tried to keep the cold expression on, but in the end
the rage filled her eyes and she ripped the page with the article out. She tore it into as
many peices as she could, making sure there was no way possible to tear each peice again.

She turned again, staring at a girl that could pass for her twin, were it not her blue eyes
and longer, more golden colored, hair.

This was the girl that had upset her.

She was not an easy one to upset.

At least, it's not easy to get her to lose all self control in public.

That is exactly what her friend had done.

Lee Alent had just lashed out at her best friend. In public. Here. In front of me.

I had seen her do something I had thought she was not capable of.

Of course, I understood why she was upset. Her friend had sent in one of her diary entries
to be published in a magazine. They had accepted it, and now Lee was furious. In all
possibility, her friend had just had one of her ditzy moments. She had been known to do some
pretty odd things, and mistaking a diary entry on a computer for a short story was something
she could very well do, and do it innocently.

That, however, did not save her from Lee.

Her eyes seemed to flash, and she closed her eyes, shaking her head. As if it would shake
away the anger everyone knew she was feeling by now. She stood up, her stance hard, her
eyes back to ice.

She grasped her friend's arm tightly, glanced back at me, an emotion flashing through the
ice for a mere moment, before she dragged her friend out of the arcade. There was no doubt
in my mind that the girl was in for another lecture.

I turned back to look at my neglected cup of coffee, before raising my eyes to the stand
next to me.

The stand that clutched yet another copy of the paper that displayed her article in it.

I picked it up, flipped to the page I knew it was on, and skimmed over the words once more.

A sigh escaped my lips, and I wasn't sure if it was from saddness, happiness, or relief.
Maybe it was none of those.

I stood up, giving the paper one last glance, before walking out the sliding glass doors.

The last words would be forever printed in my mind.

'The words 'I love you' can never be spoken to someone too much, but the words 'I hate you' can.
I have been told 'I hate you' too many times, and as a result, I hate myself. Maybe, if this
one person would bend, and tell me that it is a lie. That he does not hate me, it would make
a difference, but I have no faith that he will.

I have no faith that anyone can see beyond the ice.

Beyond my mask of coldness.

If they could though, they would, in all likelyhood, end up using it against me.

So maybe it's better this way.

Maybe I should hide behind the ice for forever more.

Maybe I should give up the hope that someone will smash the ice in, and reach out a hand to
help me.

Maybe I'm just too far gone, too lost in myself, to be saved.

Maybe, just maybe, I've built my wall of ice too strong.

In other words, maybe no one's strong enough to break the ice down.

So therefor, maybe it's my fault.

Just maybe.'