When she arrives at the cobblestone pavement that led to the doors of Weston Preparatory Academy, her heart is racing and her breath is ragged. Vera leans over and rests her hands on her knees for a minute, desperately trying to regain her breathing. A small breeze lifts a strand of her hair across her shoulder, slightly tickling the side of her neck. It's nearly dark, the sky a mixture of a spring's shy blush and of fall's plum bruised cheeks. Around her, the air is a strange mélange of gentle fervor and venomous crisp wisps of wind.

Vera had rushed to the elementary school the second the familiar voice disconnected from the call. With a quick apology for not being able to walk with Kaela back to her home and for leaving so abruptly, she hurried to the school with worry etched onto her expression. Although the magic show was several miles away from there, Vera decided against calling a taxi- thoughtlessly rushing without a single ounce of hesitation.

Now that Vera finally arrived, she looks back on her tactless actions and realizes that she has only managed to waste time and energy. With a final heave, she brings herself off her knees and straightens herself up. Her heartbeat is frantic, a wild jumble of drumming and pounding, but she wears a calm, collected face. She makes sure that has collected herself before entering through the large, worn wooden doors of the academy; even going to the extent of fixing an unperturbed smile on her face. There is no use looking like the worried child that she really is, afraid and naive of consequences and responsibility- just as there was no use to still remain shaken up from the magical circus act that should have not had any effect on her.

Refraining from tearing through the doors and frantically running down the dull stone halls, Vera quietly steps into Weston, her small footsteps ringing down the walls of the academy. It appears empty, although the faint sound of one, possibly two, children crying emits from her left, the utterly pained cries of muffled by stone and wood.

Unsure of where else to go, Vera follows the sound of their cries. Her ears strain against the overbearing silence. Wondering down familiar yet at the same time distinct hallways, she places a hand on the stone, pebble wall as her feet guide her to where he might be. The rough, coarse texture of cement scratches at her fingertips, just before her fingers run across the relieving smooth and cool surfaces of pebbles buried amidst the grey mortar.

The tap-tap of her sneakers against wood grows louder and louder as Vera reaches the end of the hall way, only to slowly falter when she realizes that there is another hallway in front of her. It is hard to make out of what lays at the end of the passage; the dull, poorly kept white lamps hanging above her on the bridge of dying out.

Vera continues to ponder the hallway, her soft erratic breathing bouncing off the stones on the walls. As she fumbles for the way to him, hands scrambling at pebbles, feet gently tapping against wood, she finds herself also searching for a little scrap of memory, hidden beneath all of her other thoughts.

When she was ten years old, young and naive and oh so very lonely, she had convinced herself that she was the only living person on earth. In the midst of isolation and desperation, Vera had burdened herself with the longing for a friend. Everyday she wandered past the walls of her home, a dark and empty mansion with not a single breath of life, all except for her own. Old grey walls generously decorated in chipping paint, creaky wooden floors, and torn down wallpapers of faded blossoms and aging daisies- the large mansion was a hollowed out version of itself.

People come and go into the mansion, but she could not remember a single face. She could not recall the people she met, nor could she remember their names or who they were like. They always would come with a letter, written in cursive black fountain ink, all addressed to her.

To my dearest niece, I sincerely apologize for my absence. I cannot seem to meet your presence today, so it seems that I have some urgent issues to attend to. However, I do hope you will continue your studies with your teacher of the day, for gold there is, and rubies in abundance, but lips that speak knowledge are a rare jewel. Your parents would be proud, if they could see how brilliant you've become, Vera. Yours Truly, Monsieur A. Gardien

All of the letters were written from the same person, all written in the same neat cursive writing, and imprinted with the same golden seal. And all of the letters came without the sender, only arriving in the hands of an unfamiliar teacher. All of her past teachers were all of different colors, shapes, and sizes, yet all of them were the same to her. They were all strangers who disappeared the day after they met her, teaching one lesson on day, then gone the next.

She remembered the anxious feeling bubbling in her stomach as she sat on the rather uncomfortable wooden chair, the thick sturdy material of her uniform's navy skirt digging into the underneath of her thighs. Vera would then be greeted by the foreign sight of a new teacher, who's only purpose was to serve her learning needs. Then after the few hours of squirming in her seat and shakily writing down numbers and letters of all sorts, she would find herself being whisked away into her bedroom and into a strange, peaceful sleep.

And the next day, the process would repeat itself all over again. And again. And again. The same tired and expressionless smile of a new teacher as they suppress all of their emotions just before shaking her small hands. Different lessons, different teachers, yet everything could not help but be exactly the same as they were before. She could not say that she hated her lessons, for they were the only thing that had provided her with company.

When the day had been over, when the lesson had been learned, when the problems had been solved and when the papers have been completely covered in neat rows of black handprinted letters, she would be sent to have supper in her bedroom, a plate of tasteless food already laid out on the dusty service of her bedside table, a chair already set for her.

There was not a single time that she could recall the flavor of the stale potatoes that rested lifelessly on the ceramic white plate.

And when night had made itself present, Vera would push away the plate of half-eaten food and make her way towards the wooden and glass windows that hung above her headboard. She would climb onto the creaky mattress that would always groan beneath what little weight she wore, and stare out into the starless night sky. Her hands would always manage to find the slightly shredding cotton material of her stuffed animal laying in the dark corners of her bed.

She could not help but wonder why even the stars did not make any effort to accompany her. There had been nothing else for her to do but to stare back at the empty black skies and wonder if she was truly the only child left in the world. The grey walls and painted daisies were the only things that had never change. She could not imagine herself without those two things, for they were constant factors she had found herself growing up with.

For as long as Vera could imagine, she had always been by herself. Although she longed for something more, something like a friend, a person whom one knows and with whom one has a bond of mutual affection, typically exclusive of sexual or family relations. A tutor had taught her that word when she was five, and although she did not truly understand what it meant, she had ever since then longed for it.

Perhaps maybe it was her imagination, but it was always colder and always a bit darker when Vera was by herself. There was no denying that fact, for she had constantly remained in a state of slight shivering in between the sheets of her bed at night. She had read in a book, one that is probably still hidden within the space underneath the loose floorboards somewhere in the kitchen, that "the eternal quest of the individual human being is to shatter his loneliness."

Was she always supposed to be alone? Were other kids like her too? What was it like to be outside? Vera would ask the night sky, then patiently wait for an answer as she laid in bed, hugging the sheets to her body. She did not know what else to do, but dream a way out of the hollowness she felt in her small, frail chest.

Vera was never held back from leaving the house. There was nothing really keeping her from dashing out the weary wooden doors, all except for herself, who has grown up in comfort of the dark and afraid of loneliness that the day had held. Her fear did not make any sense to her either, but it still managed to keep her from taking a single step into the wilderness of reality.

She was afraid that if she had ran out of the safety of her darkness, she would find that the entire world was just as empty as she was.

Then one morning, there was a letter in an ebony envelope, that had arrived at her doorstep with a single knock. There was no sign of the sender, and for the first time, the envelope was not accompanied by another teacher. It had laid on the dark wooden step several inches away from her feet, its golden seal glinting as the sunlight showered upon it.

With careful fingers and shaking hands, Vera had slowly opened the envelope to reveal a crisp white letter. She remembered holding her breath as she unfolded the paper and read the contents it had held; she had been afraid that with a single exhale, it would crumble away in her hands and scatter in the wind. Vera could not have believed what the black cursive letters were telling her.

To my dearest niece, Joyeux anniversaire, ma belle nièce. Today you turn your last year of youth. May you shatter your loneliness. May you watch the stars and see yourself running with them. And may you cherish this and hold it dear to you, for such a gift so precious may only come once. 

Yours Truly, Monsieur A. Gardien

She was told in a letter several years ago, that she had been born at the brink of sunrise, when bright luminous golden beams of warm light were just peaking from behind the mountains, illuminating the haze with kisses of hope and faith. Back then, at the age of four and when she was only starting to read, she did not understand the letter, except for the two words 'hope' and 'faith.' Given three years later, and she had began to realize that the words within that letter had spoken highly of her- which could not have possible been accurate. And as several years grew by, Vera eventually told herself to stop reading that letter and to push away its contents to the back of her mind because there was no point in keeping that locked in her heart.

She did not want to be hopeful, nor did she want to be faithful. She did not know what she wanted, she had forgotten how to long for anything else but a friend.

That must have been why her own birthday must have slipped from her mind. Vera had forgotten all about the day of her birth; the date and the month of it was hardly of any importance to her. But this had been different. Because no sooner had she closed the door and stepped back inside, there was another knock that echoed loudly throughout the empty house.

She had jumped slightly, her mind racking of what might be behind the door. It could be a teacher who is running late, Vera supposed as her hand rested on the rusted metal knob. It could also be Monsieur A. Gardien, who must have finally decided to present himself to her,she thought, although even that sounded unlikely in her mind. If the man did not show himself for twelve years of her life, there was no reason for him to pay her a visit now, was there?

Another soft, yet impatient knock had brought her out of her moment of hesitation. She had come to the decision that she had nothing to lose. There were no windows in the front of the house, no peephole for her to stare out at, only a doorknob that was begging her itching fingers to turn it-which Vera had hesitatingly obliged. Her heart had squeezed in her chest from anticipation, and her breath was still held tightly in her lungs.

The door had swung open, only to show a boy that stood at her waist line. His slightly wavy hair the color of spilt ink stood out from the paleness of his face- all in the same way had reminded her of herself. He had the same slim and delicate eyes, the same soft curve of his jaw, and the same He was smaller than her, thinner, even more frail than she was. However, their was something that the boy had, that took away a piece of the startling resemblance. The little boy had carried himself with confidence and defiance, his chin kept high while his wide dark eyes remained focused solely on her.

He had worn khaki slacks and a white collared shirt that did not fit him quite well- but more importantly, the little boy had worn a name tag pinned onto the pocket of his shirt. The black cursive had spelled Remedius Adelaide over the crisp white canvas of the pin. For a moment, Vera could not do anything else but stare at the name, repeating it over and over in her head.

Vera was not alone in the world anymore.

She did not know this boy, but she did know that he was precious to her.

Vera could feel his heavy gaze resting on her, or more accurately, burying into her forehead. She had raised her head and met his eyes, taking in the rich darkness that his irises had held. Did her eyes look like that too? The little boy narrows his eyes and looks at her with an almost annoyed expression written on his little features.

She could not help but smile. She wanted to laugh, she wanted to cry, she wanted to let out the strange, overbearing happiness that had taken over heart the second she had finished reading his name. She did not know what to say or do in a situation like that, but the blame could be put onto her many teachers who had never taught her how to react when she were to meet her only relative and her only friend.

She did, however, remember being taught that when a person is given a nickname, they are more likely to grow fonder of the person they are with. "Remi! I'm going to call you Remi!" Vera exclaimed, all before suddenly remembering the stuffed animal that laid on her nightstand from the previous night. Do friends like gifts? Would he be her friend if she gave him her most precious toy? Before the boy could respond, she had dashed to her room to fetch the raggedy plush animal.

Although the little boy did not know it yet, he was the first to help crack the very surface of her loneliness- something she could not do by herself.

"You tore a gaping hole in the fence and destroyed all of the grass within a twenty feet diameter." Vera restates as they are walking back to their house, the utter shock clearly evident on her face. After having a long conversation with the principle of Remi's academy, she barely managed to convince the woman to allow Remi to stay in the school if he had agreed to take three days off from school, which the boy gladly agreed to.

Because no one was there to witness what had really occurred, with only two unconscious boys and torn out patches of grass as the only spectators of the incident, they had agreed to not give Remi any harsh punishment, such as expulsion or anything of the sort.

Remi shakes his wavy black hair out of his eyes and kicks a cigarette out of his path. "Have I not already repeated myself for what must be the twenty third time?" He sighs exasperatedly before fixing his collar with his right hand. "I was not aware of what I was doing. It happened within several seconds, which of those several seconds, there was not a single moment I could recall."

Vera crosses her arms and stops in her tracks. "Could you please at least tell me what you think might have happened, Remi?" She asks, although he only pretends as if she did not speak at all and continues walking down the sidewalk without her. Huffing a breath, she runs up to catch up to him, nearly falling in the process as her vision sways in front of her.

She manages to regain her balance and gently tugs on the sleeve of his shirt. "Remedius Adelaide, will you ever try to listen to me?" Vera tries to place a sense of authority into her voice, although it comes out more of a soft plea. She can't understand what she has been doing wrong, nor can she find the reason why her only relative could not stand her for a mere second.

Although Vera tried everything to get him to grow used to her presence, her efforts only seemed to push him further away from her.

The next day, she had found the stuffed animal lying on the wooden space in front of her bedroom door. And although she could not seem to understand why that had caused her eyes to water and her throat to tighten, she had fixed a smile onto her face and brought the plush into her room. Vera had buried it into the bottom drawer of her nightstand before proceeding on with her day, pretending as if Remi Adelaide had actually accepted her friendly token of welcome.

"Remedius-" She says again, but before she can continue to repeat his last name, he turns around to face her.

"Did anyone tell you to question me any further? Is there any reason as to why you feel the need to act as if you are an authoritative figure, Vera Adelaide?" He questions her, his youthful voice harsh and cold- a little bit too cold for any child's tone.

Vera inwardly flinches as he flippantly throws her full name into the air with a certain amount of careless anger. This was not the first time he had every spoken to her in such a manner. In fact, this was how it has always been, from the moment they had crossed paths. However, she refuses to let that cause her to lose her calm demeanor. She can not let him see that he is right- that she would never be what he would consider an authoritative figure in his life, no matter how hard she tried. There were just some things that she could not get, and his affection was one of them.

But somewhere along the line, from the moment she had received the letter, she decided that he was going to be someone she was going to care for. And although he did not, could not, and perhaps will not return the same feelings, Vera decided that she was always going to do her best to take care of him.

Because he was alone too. And so was she. And she did not believe that anyone should suffer through the same colorless days and flavorless tastes. "You don't have to sound the way you do. I'm not accusing you of anything. I'm not questioning your actions and behavior."

The little boy raises his chin and scoffs. "Did you take that line from a parental guidance book? I understand your need to be a parent, but perhaps you should consider the fact that I will never see you as anything that high of a standard." He then continues to walk in the direction of their house, uncaring of her paling face and worn expression.

Her voice wavers as she speaks. "I'm...only...worried about you." She ignores the heavy pounding in her head and the spinning view of the world in front of her. Vera takes several wobbly steps behind him, desperate to catch hold of him. She could not let him wander the streets without her, it would not be safe. She closes her eyes and reaches for the sleeve of his crisp, white shirt. Her fingers barely graze the white fabric before the world turns completely dark.

"Like most kids say, 'whatever.' I don't need you to-" He says over his shoulder before his words comes to a halt. His heart plummets in his chest as he freezes in his place, his slim and delicate eyes wide with a glint unseen by most, his expression carefully crafted into one of complete and sudden vulnerability."-Vera?"

Her velvety black hair covers the rest of her face as she lays crumpled at his feet. Motionless and utterly still she is, not a single rise or fall of her chest to convey whether or not she is okay or not. 

Vera's small, delicate hand rests on the cement floor, outreached in a frozen motion towards her little cousin. She needed to protect him. She needed to keep him safe. And may you cherish this and hold it dear to you, for such a gift so precious may only come once.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Hiya! First of all, *takes Remedius Adelaide and slaps him silly* WHY R U SO RUDE. DAT SASS NOT APPRECIATED HERE. *stares at Remi in his adoraaable uniform and wide eyes* COME HERE YOU BUTT LET ME HUG YOU BEFORE SMACKING YOU UPSIDE THE HEAD FOR BEING SO MEAN WHUT EVEN YOU'RE EIGHT YOU CAN'T JUST UGH.

Thanks so much for all the kind and heartwarming support! Together we've reached Paranormal #103 ! You guys are all amazing and I seriously appreciate each and everyone of you wonderful readers. As usual, if you think this story deserves a chance at The Wattys, please do leave a comment, or add #Inexorable(Wattys2015) and #Wattys2015 and #MyWattysChoice in a twitter post, retweet, tweet OR share it on Facebook and any other social media site (Instagram, etc) Other ways you can support the story is to simply share Inexorable with your friends and families and spread the word or leave a comment or a vote (only if you think it deserves it.)

Also, can we please get this chapter to 300 reads, 60 votes, and 30 comments? (THAT WOULD BE ABSOLUTELY AMAZING. Oh and hey, maybe a q u i c k e r update hmm (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧                        SORRY FOR THE GOALS POSTED ABOVE IT'S CAUSE WHEN I DON'T DO THIS IT SEEMS LIKE THERE IS ALOT LESS FEEDBACK AND AH AH ಥ‿ಥ