Plug In Baby: Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR - ROGAR
It was unbearable not being able to tell Tasha the truth. I didn't know why, but I found lying to her much harder than lying to any other human being. I really didn't want her to trust me, but she refused to believe my warning, and I was very against proving to her that I wasn't trustworthy.

She was very determined, and as sharp as Carlisle, albeit not quite as observant because she was human.

I sat on the couch in my living room, tuning one of my three guitars. I had a normal acoustic, an electric acoustic, and an electric guitar that the Rolling Stones had used in concert once. That was the beautiful thing about being so wealthy – I could afford the best of everything.

The one I was tuning was the normal acoustic, because that was the one I was planning on using.

I sighed, recalling the first time I'd laid eyes on her, out on the running track, moving quickly and elegantly. I had to think of her like a gazelle – fast, elegant, flighty, and comparatively fragile. I was the cheetah – fastest thing on legs (well, not the fastest, Edward Cullen was faster, but almost), lean, flexible and muscular. This was no lion and lamb situation. It was too fast-paced for that.

I tended to be a fairly poetic type of person, and a bit of a hopeless romantic. I could romanticize anything.

I wasn't sure what exactly had caught my eye about her, whether it was her blue-black hair like raven feathers, which was straight to human eyes, but to my more sensitive eyes it possessed a kind of subtle wave that was almost hypnotic, or her beautiful, haunting eyes that held mysteries in them like mine seemed to hold her attention. The biggest of these mysteries was well-concealed pain, such that I didn't sense any of it coming off her.

Those ghostly silver eyes gave away some clues to her past but I yearned for more information. They teased me with hints that I couldn't decipher. I needed straight out answers. I wasn't great with hints at the best of times and those beautiful eyes were intriguing and frustrating all at once.

Thinking of Tasha only made it more difficult for me to keep myself under control, but if I had learned anything in all my seven hundred years, it was restraint.

I finished tuning my guitar and started playing. I never bothered with writing down what I played, because my memory was just about photographic, so I could always play it again. I quite often sat here and played whatever I felt like playing. I would write down lyrics, but not notes. I only needed the lyrics to jog my memory, and the notes would return to mind.

I sighed, looking back over the depressing piece of paper that I'd written the lyrics on. It was only depressing because of the words I'd written on it. More so because so many were already true. I didn't want the last few verses to come true too. It didn't rhyme at all, but it sounded OK when I sung it, so I left it alone, despite the fact that something about it was just not right.

I put my guitar back in its case and wandered over to my computer, which was in the corner. The first thing I did was check my emails. I didn't have any important ones, so I opened up World of Warcraft. My main character was a level sixty Blood Elf hunter, but I had something like six characters, all above level fifty, including a Death Knight that I'd spent three days straight playing, solely working on gaining levels.

I couldn't focus on anything for more than a certain amount of time. The computer quickly grew boring. The frustrating part about it was that I knew exactly what I wanted to do – go to Tasha's place and watch her sleep – but I couldn't do that. If I went out in this weather (there was a storm raging outside) even I would be blown away and buried beneath mountains of snow.

I glanced at my watch, a Rolex, naturally, and growled. It was only eleven in the evening. I still had nearly ten hours of time to kill before school and nothing left to do with it.

I settled for reading Romeo and Juliet for the millionth time. It was the current topic of study for my English class. I was bored of the same old topics – the number of times I'd studied that particular play in the past decade was absolutely ridiculous. It was the same with every other classic novel or play. Sometimes I wished English teachers would ditch the old topics and have their students study modern texts.

"Bloody Shakespeare," I muttered two hours later, upon completing yet another read-through. "Always kills someone or another who's central to the story." In this case it was both the 'main' characters, plus a few others on top of that. Hamlet was worse – pretty much everyone died in the end of that play.

It always amazed me how much spellings had changed since Shakespeare's time, and even my own – when you're seven hundred years old, and were an educated person in your day, it really puts the evolution of language into perspective. Most of the language I had grown up using was completely obsolete now, or had totally different meanings. English as we know it today was not my first language, nor was it to be my last.

I still had a frustrating eight hours ahead of me during which I had absolutely nothing to do. I hated not being able to sleep at all, ever. There was very little to do at night, and I was the kind of person who got bored easily.

I meandered back over to my computer and opened up my internet browser. I could always 'chat' with people on the other side of the world – or Philippe and Cain, my friends from five and three centuries ago respectively. I'd met Philippe right at the end of his first century, and Cain right at the beginning of his.

To my surprise, Tasha was online. We'd swapped instant message addresses during lunch break. I wondered what she was doing staying up so late, but I decided not to say anything about it. I sent a quick 'hey' to her, and launched into a debate with Philippe over where the richest diamond deposit in the world was located. Such was life – Philippe was a gemologist and also happened to be my closest friend, not geographically speaking.