"I just wanted you to know that this is me trying."

T A N N I

"Go away," I moved several steps back from Giles. "Leave me alone or else you will regret it."

"Fine," he smiled. "Just remember that I'm always looking for answers, and I'll get them."

And with that, he walked away. I let out a sigh of relief.

He was gone.

He couldn't hurt me anymore. For now, I was safe. He didn't touch me.

That's when I froze. Someone knocked over a pile of books. Someone saw what was happening.

Oh no no no no no no.

"Hey, you're okay," a voice whispered beside me. I flinched, afraid that they were going to touch me. "I'm not gonna come near you, promise. I just need you to get up off the floor, idiot."

Wait––I knew that voice.

"Go away, Book-burner," I muttered angrily. Mark snorted, kneeling down to my level.

"Well if you'd rather I left you here––" he cut himself off. "Just get off the floor, I won't ask questions, I won't bother you any more after that. I just need to make sure you get to your dorm safe and that he didn't hit you or something like that," he scowled, a look of disgust forming on his face when he mentioned Giles. I had to fight a smile when I saw him angry at someone who wasn't me.

"Well, would you look at that," I grinned up at him, getting off the floor, still shaking but feeling better than before. "You worry about me; I guess you're warming up to your project partner after all."

"Don't flatter yourself," he rolled his eyes, beginning to walk away.

I caught up to him and we walked in silence for a while. Mark was the person who knocked over the books. Did he do it on purpose to help me or was he just being a clutz as usual? Did he actually care or was he making me believe he was helping me so he could go and tell everyone I have a deep dark secret that I'm hiding?

"Stop overthinking," he said, sharply. "It doesn't look good on you. I'm not gonna try to destroy your life, I'd rather spend that time catching up on all the sleep I've missed this week, Arsonist."

"That's on you," I said simply, ignoring the fact that I, too, had slept a maximum of six hours over the last three days.

"Is this your dorm?" Mark stopped in his tracks so suddenly that I walked into him.

"Um––yeah. Thanks," I said.

"Great, I'll be going then," he turned sharp on his heel and hurriedly walked away.

"Wait!" I called out. "Why'd you help me?"

His cheeks turned slightly pink. "Uh––why wouldn't I?"

"You hate me."

"Is that your only reason?" asked Mark. I looked down, it did seem kind of stupid when he said it like that. "For the record, Arsonist, I do hate you, but that doesn't mean I'm letting you get harassed."

"Thank you."

"Anytime," he gave me a grim smile and left me standing there, staring in absolute bewilderment.

Mark had willingly helped me?

♡♡♡

"I found these in my locker," Nico chattered away, holding up two drawings of a couple of little kids with blonde hair.

"It looks like they were drawn by a six year old," I said, peering closer.

"That's what I thought," he said, putting on his glasses (big, thick framed ones. They looked extremely stupid on him) to peer at the drawings. He waggled his eyebrows at me. "What? You like me with these on, don't you?"

"You wish."

"Shut up, you know I'm irresistible," he said smugly.

"You wish," Amira echoed my words. She turned around in her seat, high-fiving me. Harper and Mark, however, had been extremely quiet that entire lesson. I assumed it was just one of Harper's days, and Mark was pretty quiet anyway––unless he was being sarcastic and immature.

"What are we supposed to be doing right now?" I asked Amira.

"I think he's leaving us to work wherever we like with our partners," Ami whispered, "I need to go find Celeste," she grimaced.

"Good luck," Nico said, giving her a soft smile, "I'll see you outside, later, yeah?"

"Yep," she beamed. Nico's hair turned a bright shade of pink. "The grounds, after class, okay Mark?"

Mark hummed his agreement, still staring at his desk. Amira looked at me in confusion and mouthed the words 'talk to him'.

What the hell was I supposed to do? I just annoy him with my presence, like he does to me.

Another problem that was related to Mark was the project. When I first found out about it and when it was discovered that I'd have to work with him, I was only thinking about one thing.

Hell no. There was no way I'd do this. Book-burner would find out about my ability and tell everyone about my brother and I'd probably either get locked up or be hated by everyone for all eternity because I'm a danger to society.

BUT...Since I'm so smart, I remembered that this school used to be an army base during the war. James's army base. Meaning that I could get James's old records and information packs and find out what was going on with his friend.

I wasn't going to pass up an opportunity like that. An opportunity to not only possibly understand my ability better but a chance to get to know what my brother's life was like after he left me.

But under no circumstances was I going to tell Mark about my ability. If it got to the point where I actually needed to talk to him, I'd lie and say that I didn't have an ability––but my brother knew the people who built the school, so he might have known why.

Yep, that's what I was going to do.

Sounded like a pretty solid plan to me.

"Should we go?" I said, noticing that Mark and I were the only ones left in the classroom. He was still staring at his desk. "Everyone else has already gone to work, shouldn't we be heading off to the library or something?"

"You go ahead without me," he mumbled, refusing to look me in the eye (what was wrong with this guy?), "I'll be up there in a second."

So that's how I ended up leaving him, all alone in the classroom, looking unnaturally crestfallen.

And I'm not going to lie to you...Although the mere sight of his face made me lose my temper sometimes, at that moment, I wished I could help.

♡♡♡

"HOLY—," I heard a boy's voice shout in fear, as I waited in the library for Mark to arrive. It had been about five minutes since I'd left him.

"Language," I interrupted tiredly, cutting him off. I wasn't in the mood for people to start shouting in a library. I don't think he heard me though because he kept cursing.

I looked up from my book just in time to see who'd screamed.

It was Mark.

And he was falling down the stairs.

Ah, look who finally decided to join us.

"Ugh," he groaned, running a hand through his brown hair when he got to the bottom of the staircase, landing on his face. I found myself smiling at his disgruntled expression. Unfortunately, that was when he decided to direct his gaze at me.

"What are you grinning at?" he mumbled angrily.

"How did the ground taste?" I smiled wider.

"I hate you," he stuck his tongue out at me. How much more childish could he get?

I laughed. "Are we gonna get started on this?"

"Yeah, sure," he muttered, looking down at his feet. I'd had enough of this.

"What's wrong with you today?" I blurted out.

"Huh?"

"You haven't said much at all, not even with Nico and Amira, and you never shut up when you're with them. You keep staring at the floor and you won't look me in the eye. Have I done something wrong? I mean, more wrong than usual?"

Mark stared at me in awe, his jaw was gonna hit the floor if he gaped at me like that any longer.

"You haven't done anything," he coughed nervously. "Except for being an annoying brat, as usual," he added as an afterthought.

I nodded in agreement. And so we worked.

That was one of the worst hours of my life.

"Do you have any siblings?" Mark read the question out of our 'starter booklet'. A million memories and images flashed through my head, all of them so visual, and vibrant. I became terrified of my response. What would I say? Yes? No? I used to?

I looked up and observed the boy beside me, scanning him for any signs that showed distrust. However, all I saw was boredom in his sea-green eyes, he looked tired and unconcerned. From what I could see, he would forget whatever I told him by tomorrow.

"I had a brother," I shrugged. "He died from the bomb," I continued, lying.

With concern in his eyes, Mark gazed down at me. He opened his mouth as if about to comment on my response; thankfully, he stopped himself at the last second, looking back at the paper, and scribbling down my answer.

"You?" I asked him, expecting him to respond. He only shook his head.

"Did your parents survive?" he asked another question. These were too personal, I didn't trust him enough.

"I thought it was obvious?" I said, "anyone living their full life here wouldn't have a family."

Mark hesitated but finally agreed with my statement.

"I guess you're right," he said. But I could hear the disbelief in his voice.

If I was being honest, I had no idea what happened to my parents. They were horrible to me and James and they left us at the soonest possible moment when the war began, leaving my eleven-year-old brother to take care of his seven-year-old sister.

Until he left for battle, that is.

I didn't ask Mark about the rest of his family and surprisingly, he seemed more relieved than I had expected.

I began to get tired of this mind-numbingly boring task. Surprise, surprise. So when Mark was about to read off the last question on the sheet, I interrupted.

"Take this," I said, handing him my book. The one that he'd so graciously burned. "It's my favourite book, so you might learn a bit about me from reading it."

Was I just saying this to keep him away from me? Yes, yes I was.

Mark made a face of disgust. "How the hell am I supposed to understand you from this?"

"First of all, you can insult me all you like, but don't diss the book. Second of all, just read it, you idiot," I glared at him.

I didn't know why I'd given him my book. 'A World Without Colour' was my absolute favourite novel that I usually would never give to anyone. It was one of those books that I just loved so much that it felt like mine. Not meant for anyone else.

"Why do you wear gloves?" Mark interrupted my thoughts.

Why are you being so nosy? I wanted to say.

"None of your business," I replied, "it's not important anyway."

"Okay, well then what's your ability." he pressed, "you can't hide from this one, it's on the sheet." He waved the sheet of questions around, as if I couldn't see it.

"I don't have one," I panicked. Mark raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I'm an orphaned charity case, I shouldn't even be in this school," the lies flowed from my mouth like I'd been saying them my entire life (which I had).

Mark got up from the beanbag we were sitting on, leaving me staring up at him as he walked across the library.

"Where are you going?" I called after him.

"Taking a break, meet back here in ten minutes," he replied, not looking back at me. He reached the door at the back end of the library and closed it on the way back.

What the hell had just happened? I sat there in shock, unsure of everything that had occurred. Where did he go?

At that thought, I heard something. Something that answered my question for me.

Music. Piano. Coming from the room that Mark had just entered. And it sounded heavenly.

I got up from the beanbag and slowly walked towards the source of music, careful not to make it obvious to Mark. I peeked through the crack in between the door and the doorframe.

And there he was. Playing the piano, looking way calmer and at peace than I had ever seen him. He was talented. Really talented.

Abruptly––and to my disappointment––the music stopped.

"Do you want to try?" Mark fully opened the door, crossing his arms and looking at me with a knowing smile on his face. "You should work on your spying skills."

"Sorry," I muttered, "you play like a kangaroo having a seizure."

"Interesting comparison, but thanks nonetheless, Arsonist," he rolled his eyes. "Now, do you want me to teach you a few chords or not?" I bit back a smile, nodding slowly.

"Okay, sit down," he pulled out the chair for me. He looked as if he wanted to say something else but held it back.

"What am I supposed to do?" I said, unsure of why I was in this position at all.

Actually, I did know. It was the perfect distraction from talking about my ability and James. Not that I was going to tell him that.

"Do you mind if I sit beside you?" he cleared his throat nervously. "I need to guide you with the chords and all that, so it's easier if we're sitting near each other." I hesitated. Giles had taken my gloves off earlier, I had no idea where they were; so, I couldn't guarantee that I wouldn't hurt Mark if he was so near.

As if he'd read my thoughts, he threw something down on my lap.

My gloves.

"I––how did you––?"

"Giles left them behind," he shrugged. "Since you seem to have attachment issues to them, I figured I should pick them up."

"I don't have attachment issues," I glared. "Not to the gloves."

"You're right, sorry," he grinned. "I meant to say that you have attachment issues with me, instead."

"Wow, you're hilarious," I rolled my eyes. He was beginning to irritate me again. Just when I thought we were getting along a bit more. Nonetheless, I budged up slightly on the piano seat, leaving him to sit down next to me. I pulled on the gloves.

"What do you want to play?" he asked.

"What were you playing when I walked in?"

"Für Elise, Beethoven. I can't believe you didn't recognise it, you uncultured swine," joked Mark

"I know it, I just didn't know the name," I bit back, "show me how you play it." Mark raised an eyebrow.

"It's simple at the start," he explained, "but it gets kind of horrible later on. Are you sure you wanna learn it?"

"If you can then why shouldn't I be able to?" I crossed my arms, staring up at him.

"Because not many people can. He wrote it for a student who he was in love with, making it super easy at the start so she could play it. But when he found out she was engaged, he wrote it so that she would never be able to play it," said Mark.

"Good thing Beethoven wasn't in love with you then," I snorted, "still don't see your point."

"I mean that you're a complete beginner, I've been playing for years," he stated. Then he saw the disbelieving look on my face and sighed. "Fine, we'll do as much as you'll be able to. Just don't get mad at me if you can't do it."

Ha! Victory.

"It starts off with this," he said, pressing a chord. I followed his actions.

It was unclear how long we stayed in that music room, but I did know it was a lot longer than we'd spent working on the project. I was pretty sure it went into a bit of dinner as well.

Because soon enough his fingers were on mine and we were playing the piece together. It felt odd, at first. Of course, I've touched people before (with my gloves), but never like this. Never this long.

Without warning, I began to feel unnervingly aware of my own heart beat.

It went faster.

Faster.

Faster.

"Sorry," I muttered, pulling my hands away from him in alarm. Mark nodded, an understanding look on his face. But of course, he had to be sarcastic.

"I told you you wouldn't be able to handle it," he mocked. His eyes softened. "We'll try again next session, yeah? We clearly needed the distraction."

We clearly needed the distraction. He knew he was trying to distract me. Was that his intention from the beginning? From the moment he got up? Was he trying to get me to follow him so he could get me to think about something else?

No. That couldn't be it. That would mean he cared. And he didn't.

This was Mark we were talking about. Mark. Pull yourself together, Tanni.

"I need to go meet Nico and Amira," he scratched the back of his head nervously. "We've missed dinner."

"Yeah, Harper's probably worrying, too," I mumbled, getting up. Although missing meals wasn't a new thing for me, I felt guilty for making him miss out on food. We walked out of the library, until Mark stopped at the top of the stairs.

"It wasn't so bad working with you today," Mark blurted out. "Um––I mean––we should probably plan what we need to do next session."

I frowned at him in confusion but decided (for once) not to make any comment. "Yeah," I said, slowly, "work on it and we can make plans for it later."

"Cool."

"Cool."

"Cool," he repeated again.

I swear to God this was the single most awkward experience of my life.

"I'm gonna––I'm just gonna go..." And with that, I left the library, puzzled and unsure of everything that had occurred today, leaving Mark standing, looking crestfallen on the landing.

But I couldn't think of that right then. I had things to do.

♡♡♡

"Hey, what's up?" I asked, walking into the dorm. "Session with Nico go okay?"

Harper looked up sharply at me. "You missed dinner again" she signed.

"I did."

"Why?"

"No reason," I shrugged. "Just got caught up in the session. I'm heading out for a walk...Are you sure you're okay?"

Harper nodded, looking down. She began to tug at her sleeves, which I'd noticed she does whenever she's feeling particularly nervous.

"Harper––" She glared up at me, so I shut up.

"Just go on your walk, Tanni. I'm fine," she said, sternly. Frowning, I decided not to argue.

But before I left, I made sure to drop a bar of chocolate I'd been saving on her bed.

She needed it.

♡♡♡

The second best thing in this school (the first being the library) was the beach. It was gorgeous in the evenings, with the wind roaring ferociously in the winter, thrashing against the waves. Yet the sunset was always always beautiful.

As well as for the aesthetics, the beach was my favourite place to go after I'd almost killed people. "It's been a while," I chuckled, sadly, to myself. That was the truth, I'd only been here seven, no wait––six times at most, I had honestly forgotten.

When I reached my usual spot– a fallen down tree, I began my usual 'ritual'.

Turning around to face the tree, I pulled out a pocket knife. The whetted tip of the blade pressed against the tree's bark and I slowly began to carve two names.

Giles

Mark

The tree bears the names of every person I'd ever touched long enough for me to have possibly killed them. I know, it sounds depressing. But it had always been comforting, in a way, like sharing the trouble with someone else, only without fear of judgement.

Step one: complete.

Step two: notes.

Notes. Letters. Writing. Poetry. Quotes. Fiction. The only reasons I was still alive and the only things that could truly calm me.

I slowly pulled out my notebook and ripped a page out.

And I wrote.

Note 1:

'I almost killed a boy.'

Description – Wavy, brown hair. Pale skin, wayyy too tall. Looks like he hasn't slept or eaten in days. Drowning in a sweater. He never takes off his headphones, it's annoying.

Opinion– Arsehole, too nosy for his own good. Kinda confusing. But can be nice if he tries?

AWWC Quote/s –

"You set the world on fire! Idiot."

"Sometimes we have to watch everything burn, in order to find the real, colourful meaning of the world."

Note 2:

'I almost killed a boy who'd be better off dead anyway.'

Description – Black hair, seems innocent enough. But haha no. Eviler than Mr George Wickham– Pride and Prejudice, and that's saying something. Average height; and his nose is weird. All in all, he looks like a small goat. And not one of those goats that are absolutely adorable. No, he's a goat that would kill you with one glare.

Opinion– I think that's kind of obvious.

AWWC Quote/s–

"I never trusted you."

"Then why didn't you fight back?"

"I didn't want to be the villain."

Fun habits, am I right? Haha, definitely didn't roast the guys I almost killed... yeah, totally not.

Anyway, I've touched six people so far. Yeah...six people. I had a note for each person.

I picked up both newly written notes and ran off to the library. To be specific, the back door of the library––the one that leads outside.

The place where Giles found me last night.

I tried to steady my hands as I pulled out Giles's description and carefully placed it in one of the books Mark had knocked over. No one reads those anyway.

Next, I went to the place I'd set Mark on fire. It was near the dorms, but outside.

Yeah, I really need to find a better way of describing things. Way to go, me.

Trying to find the exact place that I'd walked into Book-burner was harder than I'd expected. Mainly because it was dark when we first met. However, after about ten minutes, something clicked.

The hut. There was a hut next to us, the one my book was lying next to. As soon, as I saw the battered house, I sprinted inside.

It was literally just shelves.

Shelves everywhere. Big shelves, Little shelves, lopsided shelves, and shelves that were so pristine and perfect that they couldn't have been made by a human being. So. Many. Shelves.

The word shelves didn't even sound like a word anymore.

Shelves shelves shelves shelves she––Yeah I'll stop now.

After lighting a candle so I could see inside, I pulled down a book from one of those shelves––sorry––and folded up Mark's note, slipping it inside. I sighed with relief, two almost kills in less than a week was a record. And not a good one either.

Writing these notes was a relief for me. And if they were ever found by someone else––it would likely be long after I was gone. Imprisoned. Dead. The quotes from my book were a way of leaving the good parts of my soul to be found when I become too dangerous for the world.

I made my way towards the door of the small building, reaching forward to turn the knob. But I guess life had other plans.

Because just as I was about to leave the hut... it burst into flames.

A/N – ASDFGHJKLJHGFER I LOVED WRITING THIS CHAPTER THE DRAMA THE GOSSIP THE MIXED FEELINGS ITS JUST>>>> anywayssss, did you enjoy it? what was your favourite scene in this chapter, i'd love to know :))

pls remember to vote/comment and have a WONDERFUL day/night