Sol

CHAPTER ONE

DEEP IN HER THE DARKNESS RESTS

––––––––

It’s been exactly three hours since Sol came back from her grandmother’s funeral. The ceremony was peaceful and almost embarrassingly calming on her nerves. There were no tears noticeable enough to make an entrance on her pale cheeks. She stretched her limbs out on the cold wooden floor, and started the mental exercise of pondering about life so far.

The old lady tied to Sol by blood, was in reality no closer than a passing neighbor. Sharing their life together under one roof has been a pure coincidence, perhaps a working of fate if one believes in such things, but in this second case their fate has been extremely quiet and uneventful to the point of being unbearable.

Sol has seen her grandmother, by her fathers side, only two times prior to agreeing in living with her. Her dear mother and father decided it would be best to live abroad for a while. At least until all the turbulent past calms down. However, what they didn't seem to understand was that Sol was never going back to that place again. She was not capable of becoming that same naïve girl, she identified with for as much as a ten year long period. She grasped the knowledge unheard of, and with this freshly made perspective, living with her distant grandmother made her life a tad bit colder than what it actually was.

Upon finding the old lady breathe out her last breath, an urge to smile crawled on her mind, but she managed to suppress it as she still got some consciousness left and found that to be quite indecent. This smiling sensation wrapped in a relieve, hit her only then, three hours later as she stepped into a home, now devoid of another human contact. On this cold floor Sol saw her grandmother leave the place they shared for four years. It wasn't a long time, but they both would most certainly agree, that their air was clouded by uncomfortable feeling, only two people with different lifestyle suddenly coming together would be able to feel. The single positive thing Sol could point out on her deceased grandmother was that her words and intentions at all times matched perfectly.

This old relative was graced with the utmost simplistic thinking, but was nevertheless honest, sometimes almost brutal. That however, didn't hurt Sol at the slightest. She didn't detest hatred or pain as long as they were coming from a place of truth. What she did detest however was pretentious kindness, politeness and all decorations people would put around their words to make them look more pleasant. And as a general rule this latter category others would daily throw themselves in, was more disgusting than any hatred she saw or could potentially experience.

Sol had been given a gift, an insight, into seeing people’s true intentions. She was able to perceive the unvarnished truth behind the masks others wore and were so desperately holding onto. In her four years of living with this relatively new gift, she encountered only a handful of genuinely true people, one of them also being her grandmother. Ironically enough, all of them were in someway painted by the hateful color. No one particularly liked them or appreciate their honest opinion.

Sol liked this type of people a lot more than the kind type, as they would mostly pretend, but would still find it difficult to live with another person. There was a time in her early childhood when she thought she could not live without a certain friend, while now her one and only friend was solitude.

Upon deep pondering, a particular thought appeared which gave her slight restlessness, a hint of unease, making her curl on the side like a little child.

At the funeral, all the faces, which were only a handful of number present, revealed not too much of too little as to in what kind of relationship they carried with her deceased grandmother. They were most likely to be loyal costumers of her flower shop she loved dearly – this marking as the only love this old lady possessed – with only one, maybe two friends of hers, whom Sol had previously seen visiting their house. Among the handful present people however was a girl, no more than a few years older than Sol that strangely didn't fit into this concept of paying a funeral visit to an old woman, a mere owner of the flower shop.

Was she also a faithful costumer? And if so, where were her parents, at least her mother? How come she was alone?

It didn't make sense, at least from Sol’s perspective, how could such a young girl be of any connection to her otherwise cold, merciless grandmother. The unease also didn't seem to fade away as she so vividly remembered the girl’s face.

She was very beautiful however not in a traditional sense. Not like those one sees in television commercials or streets that portray your potential first love or girl next-door concept. No, this girl didn't have perfectly straight hair parted right in the middle as the new trend demanded, but had relatively long messy hairstyle that oddly didn't appeared disorganized. She also had uneven eyelids, which in no way diminished the intense gaze her nearly black eyes exuded. One corner of her lips was slightly more lopsided than the other and this, yet another asymmetrical feature made her a tad more approachable, though she still very surely stood on the unapproachable side of spectrum. Girl’s attire was very well put together, very modest and appropriate for this kind of ceremony, however for some unknown reason this bothered Sol as she could sense it was only a disguise for something unpredictable about her personality.

How these detailed observations occurred in Sol’s head was beyond her reasoning, considering it was a funeral of her close relative and she should most definitely pay more attention to that person, but there was something so very alive in this girl, so very alluring about her beauty, she couldn't just look pass by it. Also, when would be another chance for them to meet again, even if she wanted this to happen? The possibility of their fantasy meeting ceased to exist as soon as Sol put her train of thought trough it. The trail road disappeared and she agreed within herself to better forget everything about it.

Another death has crawled over her life and she should at least be more understanding of what it brings with it, she should be more caring but the weight that has been from now on put on her shoulders was heavier.

On the second day of living completely independent she headed to her school with surprisingly light steps. With still a little less than a semester away to complete before graduating, it was Sol’s utmost priority that the school was convinced she lived with a relative or someone trustworthy enough to pass for a guardian. The task was however easily completed because of her extremely flexible, open-minded parents. They would send her money and would come for a few days visits, even before the funeral. So for her loving mother and father, it was a natural resolution to this problem to stick on their fragile daughter’s side and ride together on a rocky boat trough the storm. However this daughter was no longer fragile and would never take their help, monetary or caring, for granted, so she decided to step up her game as soon as she graduated.

The flower shop that now bared a sign of mourning period on the glass-door would need to be removed before the week switched and she needed to figure something out for the business to continue. On the telephone talk with her mother she explicitly said that this should not by any means be her concern, which they would take care of it. Either by finding someone to work part time or they would simply sell it. The location was great and the offers from other developing businesses have been interested in it for quite some time, but Sol has made her mind in keeping it. She wanted to keep the flowers alive, as this was the only thing that seemed to run on love and devotion trough her grandmother’s veins. This was probably the least she could do.

***

This high school was aimed at upper class residents of the streets her house also stood in, however Sol still viewed it just as another school, with another brainwashing system she needed to lower her head to. This disgusting sensation she felt with each passing day over herself, held an enormous pressure on her nerves and she honestly didn't know how many hours would need to roll over to push her into madness.

By the entrance of her classroom her three friends stood, waiting to share another small talk, she so greatly wanted to avoid. Playing along, she pretended to smile and with her bright eyes flashed right trough their souls seeing them for what they really were.

In reality, she didn't want to get to know anyone and despite having three school friends, these friendships, without any layer of depth, didn't mean much to her. Sol was as much alone as she was with them or on her own. These pretense games were practiced only to smoothly pass until graduation, without additional bullying that happened so often to obvious loners and outcasts, and after the final day passed she would never have to see another set of these pathetic looking faces anymore.

These three artificial friends were at the core so similar yet the outside told a different story. What were other people capable of seeing were three labels, each attached to a different girl: Lovely, A.I. and Saint.

The very pretty girl or Lovely, was maybe not everyone’s first love in literal sense, but she was definitely a girl every guy in the school at least once thought about while trying to get some sleep at night. Flirtatious and supposedly knowing how to make a guy’s heart beat of break over her, made every girl ache with jealousy. However the odd thing about her personality was that she would never admit her obsession with love. On the outside she acted flirtatious but only to the extent of getting attention – she actually didn't fall for any of the guys and didn't seem to notice the girls feelings. What she craved was a romantic love that could magically fill her empty heart up and she would forever be stuck inside of a fairytale ending: and they lived happily ever after. This was her underlying intention that only Sol could read. The girl had no clue about it most of the time. She just wanted attention in large quantities that kept leaving her empty and she would always wonder what is it in her life that is making this hole bigger and bigger.

The other, average looking girl, had been living with a pair of glasses that seem to be stuck on her even in her sleep. She also surprisingly attained a muscular body that belonged more to an athlete than a bookworm. She knew absolutely everything and the thing Sol agreed on was that this girl’s memory was par excellence the best she ever had a chance of encountering. She remembered every detail from biology, history, nutrition, people personalities, streets, maps, technological jargon, machinery and what not. She virtually held knowledge of the whole world but could never come up with her own knowledge, hidden behind her carefully build facade. This girl lived with identity of artificial intelligence, as her nickname A.I. stood for, and could not grasp that her intelligence was just that, artificial. All this was so clear to Sol but not to anyone around her, as they would all be put in awe time and time again when faced with the brain of their school.

The girl that unwillingly adopted the nickname Saint was a tricky case – at times even to Sol. She was incredibly kind, humble and caring. With her soft features, gentle smile and overall benevolent character she was able to make any person open up to her so that she could caress their wounded soul and make it whole again.

When Sol meet her for the first time she genuinely thought this girl was the closest personification to a saint one can get. She would plead to others with pity in her eyes; still without a hint of pretentiousness but soon enough a fall was about to be detected with Sol’s hawk like eyes. This girl was waiting for someone to take pity on her poor soul, as she didn't have any self-respect. She waited for someone else’s hand to lead her out of this misery of a life she lead so skillfully. Most of the time her kindness was honest but then there appeared a fading shadow that slapped Sol’s cheek and made her wake up from a delusion she just experienced. This saint was no different than the other two, or the whole school at that.

Every single face was holding something underneath – hidden intentions. Behind every action, reaction, word, gesture, past and present lay a reason no one seemed to decipher. Every person boastfully prided themselves with knowledge of their hidden self, an insight into their psyche entirely unbiased, while Sol couldn't be more certain when she said, it is all a lie.

The last class on the schedule was about to begin, the boredom persistently hovering over all the heads gathered into the same line of sight: reading a book on history. Their history teacher, however, was an odd ball.

Mr. N was in his late thirties, who kept encouraging their students to express their honest opinion on works he assigned or recommended to them, all the while he never helplessly defended his side of the argument and would always patiently listen to another party express their thoughts. He had a keen interest in mythology and this little fact was enough for Sol to remember a time when she would secretly enter her fathers study room, throw herself into his long line of various books, in search for those with lovely pictures while dreaming of being everyone’s hero or perhaps even a goddess.

Mr. N passionately explained his version of meaning on Dante Alighieri’s classic, Divine Comedy, during which Sol lost herself in the beautiful imagery created by Gustave Doré, and not in the eloquently spoken words of their teacher. As she slowly flipped the pages, taking her time to seize up every detail, her heart started to beat slightly faster, her palms sweating until she could no longer take the dreary feeling and would raise her hand.

‘Can I please excuse myself, I am not feeling well,’ Sol said with a tension in her voice, face turning visibly paler – even more so than usual.

Her three friends were the first to turned their heads towards her and followed her excuse intently, letter by letter.

‘Of course,’ said Mr. N showing surprised expression, ‘you can go straight home and rest there.’

There was a hint of genuine worry written over his face, and at this others turned towards her as well, some eyes following until she exited the classroom altogether.

Sol went straight to the bathroom at the end of the hall, and threw up her small breakfast she ate that morning. This definitely shocked her, as she never threw up over any stressful situation and most certainly not over a handful of drawings. After splashing her face with cold water, pausing for a second to take a deep breath, she looked at her reflection in horror. The mirror indeed showed an ill person. But not that of disease or sickness she felt only seconds ago, but of disgust and to her she looked so depraved of energy, motivation and life it made her want to vomit again. Funny thing was, Sol never pitied herself, as she consciously chose this lifestyle, but there was still something disgusting accumulating inside of her for quite some time now. Something rotten and sour that was about to become visible to the naked eye.

This ends today, she thought.

Aimlessly wandering trough the streets, with every step getting further away from her home, she kept walking until the night begun to show its face. It wasn't even 7PM and the darkness already begun swallowing the surrounding space, announcing that the end of the fall reached its peak and it would only get darker from here on.

Exhausted with burning feet, Sol detected a small convenience store and suddenly decided that grabbing something simple