Disclaimer: If I owned Pokemon, would I be writing *fan* fiction?
KLIO
prologue: shock
October 24, 2006
The funeral was a small affair.
Her mother came, and her grandparents. She wouldn't have wanted them there.
She would rather have had no funeral at all, if Matt couldn't come.
Her mother was weeping. "It took me sixteen years," she sobbed. "Sixteen years
to realise she was even there, and then she - she -" A loud sob cut of her
words. The priest was talking in a flat, nasal voice, about how she was a fine
girl, sensitive and talented, and would be missed dearly.
Who wouldn't miss her? The priest certainly wouldn't.
It meant nothing.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
July 12, 2005
Klio yawned and swung her legs over the side of the bed,
rubbing her eyes. She absent-mindedly drew a comb through her fine, light
brown hair and slipped into an anorak and jeans, popping her lenses into her
eyes as she walked down the stairs. Her mother looked up and jumped, as if she
had forgotten that Klio lived with her. "Oh - um, good morning, darling." Klio
grunted in reply and sat down in front of the television. Her old Growlithe
came up and put his paws on her knee. She scratched his head as the morning
news begun.
"Hello, viewers, and welcome to Saturday's Good Morning Lavender," said
a serious-looking blonde woman with cherry-red lipstick and high cheekbones.
"I'm Diana here with our top story today. A teenage boy was found dead under
the cliff by the sea just out of town. His age is estimated at fifteen or
sixteen years of age."
Klio watched the screen, not really paying attention.
"The boy's parents have not come forward and he has not been identified as of
yet. A photo will be shown shortly. If you know the boy in question, we urge
you to call this number." A telephone number flashed onto the screen. "The
photograph will now be shown. Warning - this is not for the weak of stomach."
The photograph was shown on the screen and Klio's stomach gave an unpleasant
lurch. She could have sworn she felt her heart stop beating. No. It wasn't
him. There was no evidence to suggest it was him. Except that it was. "No..."
whispered Klio, straining her eyes for some difference. It was him.
His dark blonde hair was caked together with sea-salt and dried blood and his
right leg was twisted at a grotesque angle. Clothes stained dark red. Face
white. The worst part was his eyes. Klio saw his eyes and burst into tears.
They were open, but completely blank. They had lost all their old humour and
life.
It was a nightmare. It was a bad dream. Klio would wake up any minute. It
couldn't be real.
"Honey?"
It was her mother. Klio stared her mother in the eye, a wild look in her face.
"It's a bad dream!" she cried. "I'll wake up any minute." Her voice cracked.
"Won't I? Won't I, Mum?"
"Honey, I'm sorry, I know you were close -"
"Close!" Klio jumped to her feet and screamed, "You don't know
anything! You don't know anything! You don't know him and you don't know me!"
Her mother stared at her. "Klio, I tried."
"Don't lie!" screamed Klio. "You never tried! You never loved me! You didn't
even know I was there! Don't pretend you tried!"
"Klio, please, darling -"
"You have the nerve to call me 'darling'?" Klio stared at her mother in
disbelief. Her mother stared back, trying to see behind her daughter's
blue-green eyes. "After all this, you still want to pretend you cared about
me? Only one person ever cared about me, Evangeline." Her mother flinched at
her own name. "Only one person. And you know what? He's gone. And he's never
coming back."
"Klio -"
Klio was already out the door.
She ran. As fast as she could, to the cliff by the sea. "Matt!" she called
wildly. "Where are you?" The wind whipped her long hair around her face. She
knew it was all his crazy idea of a joke, and soon he would come up behind her
and tap her on the shoulder. She would screech and he would double over with
laughter. She could almost hear his voice, shaking with laughter...
"You should've seen your face, Kli..."
But he didn't come. She looked around desperately. She wouldn't accept it. She
wouldn't. Matt wasn't dead.
The salty wind howled in her ears, seeming to tell her, "...gone...gone..."
Gone...