Chương 12: Lamentations

Jotham must have spent approximately thirty minutes conversing with Deus before Histoire heard his soft footsteps approach her door. With the door shut in a fit of rage, she could do nothing else to relinquish the heavy feeling in her chest than to lay in her bed facing the ceiling. She listened to her own heavy breathing which soon quietened and she was once again able to hear her own heartbeat. It decelerated as well.

Jotham stopped by the door holding what seemed to be a heavy suitcase, one similar to that of Dr. Amin which carried sterilization and cleaning equipment. The doctor left it behind when Jotham volunteered to assist with the removal of the cast, stating that all the heavy equipment would not be required for such a uncomplicated task.

Per doctor's instructions, Histoire would have to remain inactive for at least another three days after the cast was removed. The residual pain was expected to have subsided by then, and subsequent to the other week she was granted leave from school, her ankle would be healed to the point where no one would be able to actualise an injury.

She would still need to maintain minimum movements, leaving the house for the sole reason of attending her lectures and nothing more. Despite the oppressive confinement and curfews, Histoire was not daunted as she was already living under the same self-imposed modus vivendi before the injury.

"You should be jubilant. You're finally getting rid of the burden," Jotham commented and set the case down on the floor by the bed. Histoire heaved a weighted sigh and sat up, positioning the pillows behind her to rest on them. Once she was comfortable, Jotham sat down on the bed and proceeded to gently lift her left foot so the cast was rested on his lap.

Jotham was an exceptional student and a part of Histoire believed the altruistic persona, which he adapted well into his childhood, was an act of penitence for the contrition he felt. Histoire met Jotham a few months after she began her first year in Íroas, and she was aware of nothing concerning him besides a certain incident that appalled the community.

His parents could not say that he was not a rambunctious child before he began school. To Histoire's surprise, he was portrayed to have been naughty and misbehaved at any opportunity he saw fit. All of this was said through humour as a recollection from the past, but Jotham's story took quite a different twist.

No one besides his parents and, naturally, the victim and her parents where aware of the unfeigned narration. When he felt Histoire was at least deserving of knowing the full truth, Jotham was the one who disclosed his life's greatest lamentation to her. This was after she had done the same to him and the two bonded over the realization that they were not so dissimilar from one another.

As with Histoire, Jotham expressed an aversion to the use of his gift, so much that he contravened his parents' aspiration of their son growing up to be a 'Protector'. Histoire's opinion was not so contrasted as well. Jotham's gift was a powerful one, but he failed to surmount and impose his authority over it. In simpler words, he could not control or contain it until the later stages in life when Íroas managed to train him to keep it under control.

Unfortunately, someone had already succumbed to its power by then and did not survive after she sustained severe burns. Even with his ability under control, Jotham was not so keen on putting it to much use.

But after Histoire broke her ankle, he knew he had to toss his personal preferences aside to be there and protect her. She would not be able to fend for herself without him, and he could not denounce his strength any longer.

"Jotham," Histoire's voice penetrated through his meditative state of thought after he spent a minute staring at her foot.

"I need you," she muttered the last part with a low tone, but he was close enough to hear. That was all he needed to be convinced. He nodded and flashed her a smile. She reciprocated by doing the same.

Jotham raised his index finger and Histoire saw a rare sight she had anticipated for years. A lengthy luminescent and phosphorescent blade of electricity shot through the tip of his finger. The beam was vigorous and aroused Histoire's concern, but she did not want to appear to be dubious and underestimating of his control over his own ability.

It danced about until he was able to keep it vertically aligned in a matter of seconds, then he moved it down to the cast. He glanced at her for a second to see the same smile on her lips. 'I trust you', her lips formed as he would not have been able to hear her over the electric hum.

He held the tip of the beam against the top of the cast and ran his finger down from her calf to her toes, turning her leg slightly to do the same for the other side. It burned through the fiberglass, effortlessly breaking it apart. The two pieces fell to the floor with a loud thud.

"Finally," Histoire muttered as she bent out to reach out for her foot. The beam of electricity disappeared and Jotham looked down at the mildly red flesh. Histoire tenderly pressed her skin where she was sure Dr. Amin had made an incision. She should see a pink, feint and very thin line, only one inch long. She guessed only his finger needed to touch her bone in order for his ability to be effective.

It still hurt but it was nothing she could not tolerate.

"It's still swollen, but that's what this is for," he reached out for the handle of the suitcase and pulled it up to the bed. He pulled out some alcoholic wipes and cleaned around where the skin was different from the rest in contrast. He then pulled out some pain relief patches, tore open their packets and placed the sticky surfaces against her skin and around her ankle.

"Does it still hurt?" Jotham was compelled to ask when Histoire hissed after the cold patch came in contact with her skin. She lifted her foot off his lap and twisted it while flexing her toes, barely.

"I don't think I want to put this foot to use anytime soon," was her response and she let it rest once again. He nodded and pulled out some bandages. He applied at least three layers of the fabric around her foot and calf, replacing the cast. As he did so, Histoire subconsciously turned her head to the side towards the window that faced the street.

Her intention was to look over at the house across the street but the drawn curtain blocked her view. That action did not go unnoticed by Jotham. He was curious but not so much that he would ask about it. He was aware that she was hiding something and would evade his questions.

"You're really lucky to have someone familiar like Deus living right next door. Had it been someone else, they would not have helped you like he did. You aren't a huge fan of public and crowded areas like hospitals, after all," Jotham stated, drawing her full attention to him. She was not dense enough to miss the point he was trying to make nor could she find the right words to explain to him why she did not take a liking to Deus despite what he did to help her.

'Had my stupid father not taken my name off the door, my own family doctor would have been here to help me instead,' she thought, dreading the idea of being indebted to Deus.

"I don't hate Deus," she began, pausing for a second to catch her breath, "... it's just... he brought up my father when he was here." Jotham nodded immediately. He did not need her to elaborate.

"So that's why you weren't so keen on seeing him earlier. Because of his father's social standing in relation to yours, you're experiencing conflicting emotions towards him," he said, his voice radiating with sympathy. He began to gently massage her left foot. Deus did say that using her to get to her father was not on his priority list, however, to Histoire, the matter bore some importance.

"Deus is not so amiable as to consider personal feelings when it comes to formal matters," Jotham said, ceasing his actions. Histoire, who heard his words, bit her bottom lip to suppress her anger.

"He's been paying special attention to me as of lately. When he sees an opportunity for success, even if it means using you, he'll take advantage of it," he finished off with a hint of a tone she did not recognise. It sounded like a cocktail of pain and anger, irritation and concern, whichever she could discern. He heard his own words and was not content with what he said.

Histoire sat upright and moved closer to him. She cupped his cheeks with her bandaged hands and turned his head so he could face her.

"I know you want to be recognized for your diligence rather than the fact that you're related to someone who could be of use to Deus," she said, 'But that won't be possible as long as you think of him as a close friend,', and she finished off with a thought she did not want to relay to him. She lowered her eyes and turned to face her door.

"Hey, I don't blame you, Histoire. It'd be very childish of me to," he said, this time taking ahold of her hand. Jotham was not the type to hold a grudge of something as unreasonable as that. If there was someone at fault, it was Deus.

"You aren't thinking of quitting, are you? Opportunities like this are very rare. Even if Deus is a two faced boss who thinks nothing of you other than a tool, you have to get over it," Histoire said next and Jotham nodded agreement.

The irony in her words was that she planned on giving up on her chosen career path. Becoming a model was a dream her mother once had that was passed down to her. Not that it was forced on to her like how Jotham's parents wanted him to become a 'Protector'. Histoire wanted to share something with her deceased mother, even if it was just a dream that proved to be unattainable for both of them.

Histoire looked deep into Jotham's blue eyes, and him into her green ones. Both reflected a hidden pain.

"Promise me you won't," she demanded and he brought a smile to his face.

"I promise."

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