Memories, Return to Me ((Drake))

[India Nightingale]

"Meet me in the Common Room tonight. Midnight. Come alone."

It barely constituted as contact, but it was the first time India had spoken to Drake Manning since their confrontation in the Common Room a month ago. She had seen him around Hogwarts - in lessons, in Hogsmeade, on prefect duty - but she had always made a conscious effort not to be left alone with him or to have to speak to him. Something about the seventh year boy made her skin prickle; he made her hidden memories stir restlessly within her mind. India was afraid. Yes, she wanted to know the truth about her past, but Drake... she could tell he was not just her past; he was something more than that, something important and significant. She could deny it for eternity, she could forget him - because she had evidently succeeded forgetting him once already - but in her heart of hearts - a heart she was only just beginning to understand - India was aware that without the truth, she would never be content. Even if the truth was something to be feared... she could no longer put off the inevitable.

It was time to face Drake Manning.

Which was why India had been motivated to brush past Drake that morning and utter those soft, determined, steely words. "Meet me." She'd just had an average breakfast - had noticed him staring her way - and had proceeded to stalk past him. Then, she had subtly inclined her head upwards and given the message he no doubt had caught. She'd left him behind as she exited the Great Hall. Now, at ten minutes to midnight, India was sitting in the Slytherin Common Room, waiting to see if Drake was man enough to face her. He had been waiting for this moment; he had to come. Drake Manning had been yearning to corner her for weeks after that heated argument in this very room. India could tell from the glazed darkness of his eyes as they bore holes into her that the older boy was desperate, and now she would be able to give him what he wanted. Hopefully, Drake would be able to return the favour. "I need this," India convinced herself calmly. "I need Drake to give me answers. The answers no one else can give."

At 11:59 p.m. India began to panic - just a little. "What if he doesn't come? He's a prefect. He knows the rules... But wait - he can't be that uptight. No. All the girls talk of what a womaniser, what a rule-breaker he is. Even Skye said so. He has to show." India sat, still as a statue, in one of the armchairs, waiting on alert for the faintest sign of human life. The Common Room, at this late hour, was completely deserted; not a single soul, ghost or creature dared to challenge the silence. The only flicker of movement came from the dying embers of the hearth, still radiating warmth that washed over India's chilled body to help calm her beating nerves. She was dressed in her pyjamas - ready to dart back to her dorm if necessary - which consisted of a pair of black silk pants and a long-sleeved, button-up shirt; a matching dressing gown clung to her thin frame along with her milky pale fingers, white as ghosts against the jet blackness of her clothing. India's face was still the same as it was half a year ago; still deathly pale as though the colour had been sucked out of her life, as though the blood had been drained from her frail body. The only difference was the shock of blonde splayed across her gown, rather than the old black locks that used to blend in as one.

Finally, at midnight, India was alerted to the sudden patter of soft footsteps leading from the male dorms. Her breath locked in her throat as she stood half trembling, her fingernails digging into her waist even through her pyjamas. Her feet, bare, silently crossed the floor of the Common Room so she could face the intruder face to face. As each step grew in volume - sounding like trumpets in India's ears, but really only at the pitch of a pin dropping - she finally composed herself enough so she was no longer shaking. Then, her eyes connected with his, and the world stopped for a moment - an eternal moment that left India breathless once more. But time had to move again as Drake slid effortlessly towards her, until he stood but a metre away, his taller frame casting a long shadow across the Common Room wall. India's eyes still stayed fixed to Drake's, a mixture of his natural green and the vermillion glow of the fire. Eventually, she inwardly collected her nerves and spoke, her words soft and calculated. "So you came." Expressionless. Emotionless. "I have some questions... and I think you can answer them for me."

India inclined her chin upwards and stared fully into Drake's enigmatic, handsome face. "No doubt you will have questions of your own. Well, I must first tell you this: I do not know you. At least, I do not remember you." She paused thoughtfully and let silence hang in dramatic drapes around them. "Something happened to me a few months ago; it changed me. I am a different person now... I am changed because I don't remember all that I once was. There are some people who survived my amnesia, and there are those," India's eyes glittered in the darkness, "who have been erased. If you, as you before claimed, once knew me - knew the person that I used to be - then I want to know about her. I want to know who I was with you. Because I don't remember you, Drake Manning; I don't seem to remember you at all. And although I get the feeling you mean something - or meant something - in my life, my memories refuse to cooperate. So why don't you cooperate with me? That is all I ask. In return, I will listen to whatever you have to say to me... without arguing about it in front of the whole world, this time." India allowed a thin but cold smile, and her grip on her side tightened in anticipation. Here was the moment of truth. "Tell me who I am, Drake."

[Drake Manning]

Drake Manning was not told what to do. He had lived his life the way he wanted it, and he wasn't about to obey some little note that someone passed him which told him where to be and when. Then again, what if this person was India Nightingale? What if the note asked him to meet her, the one person whom he had admitted to needing and wanting. He stood at the edge of the boys' dormitory, just minutes before midnight, and starred at the note in his hands. Simply the sight of India's scribbled handwriting was enough to make him both want to retreat back to his bed and then run into the common room to face her. She has forgot about you. Move on. This is all just a trick. Don't be stupid, Drake. He wrestled with his conscience, but in the end his conscience lost.

Quietly walking toward the common room, Drake's mind was nowhere near the thoughts of whether or not he should be out so late. He could have cared less if he was a prefect. What would Mary do to him if she caught him? Punish him? Drake found the idea of that amusing. As for any of the other prefects, who would really be dense enough to tell Drake that he needed to go back to his room? Nobody. Unless they were out of their mind.

India was standing, waiting for him. He held back the small bits of emotion that tried to seep through as he walked toward her. His face was expressionless, his heart squeezed by his desire to prevent India from getting control over him. He didn't speak, letting her explain the reason she had called him there.

Questions? Amnesia? Who was this girl, standing in front of him? This wasn't the India that he knew, and if it was some sort of trick, she was truly demented. "I don't know you either," he said after India seemed to have finished. His voice was heavy with disbelief, and Drake turned, ready to walk away from this as he doubted his decision to come in the first place. He stepped and then froze, his back still facing India. What if this was real? What if she was telling the truth? He didn't want to believe it though. Why should he waste his time on someone who could so easily forget him. Drake was always the one who did the forgetting. Drake was always the one who had control of who was important and who was just another flash of light in a dark room which was forgotten merely seconds after it existed. Not India. Not anybody else.

"You were the one person who understood me," he whispered, though it seemed loud enough to fill the space and the room around them. "You were the one person..." he turned, "...who I wanted. Who I needed." The pain he felt inside was straining him, and he hated that India could do this to him. "But not anymore." He was retreating back into his cave, behind the walls that were his exterior. "You couldn't answer me then, and you can't answer me now. You've changed, and so should I."

[India Nightingale]

India felt her hopes drop. He didn't know her? How could this be? These last few weeks he had spent staring after her, watched her like a hawk, like she was prey. It frightened her, his intensity. And now he was denying he knew her? It didn't make sense to India. She had been so sure Drake would give her answers... She hadn't prepared for him letting her down. Now what would she do? Forget him and search for answers elsewhere? India's doubts clouded her mind, but then her natural resolve - rising from nowhere in the depths of her unconscious - gripped her thoughts and forced them to halt in their self-pitying direction. No. Drake Manning knew something. India could tell - she believed she could tell; she believed she knew him. She had to make him confess, otherwise she wouldn't leave. India refused to leave empty-handed. "You're lying," she grit back, just about holding her frustration bay. "Don't lie to me. I'm not lying to you, so you had better be honest with me. Tell me the truth."

India almost thought she'd lost all hope of making Drake stay when he began to turn around. However, that resolve of hers made her start towards him - scared he'd leave her alone again... scared she'd never get the answers she was so desperate for. However, he stopped, and India came an inch close to colliding with his body. Her breathing quickened. Had he changed his mind? Then Drake began speaking, so quietly that India barely caught it - and yet it felt like an echo around the room, within her ears, as she stared at his shoulder in the dark. India felt rather than heard or saw Drake beginning to open up to her, and she drank in his words like a drug addict, like it was medication to her damaged mind. Somehow, he spoke familiarity, and yet India still couldn't understand. The blocked wall of amnesia continued to stand in her way and she willed it to be knocked down with all her strength. India willed Drake's eyes to be a strong enough power to break her.

But then Drake was closing up again, his eyes shutting its doors to his soul, and India felt her panic surge once more. No! He couldn't leave her. Not like this, not with so much left to be discovered. Drake had known her, she had known him... Apparently she had understood him, and that seemed a concept beyond India. Now her taste buds had been sated she needed to know more. In desperation she reached forwards on instinct and grabbed Drake's wrist, still an inch of distance between them, their eyes locked in combat as her fingers squeezed him tightly. "Please," she whispered, moved to tears and yet she didn't know it, the moistness of her eyes glittering like diamonds in the firelight. "Don't go. I need you. I need you more than ever, so please... stay." India felt the sob ripple in her chest and gave in to her emotions, finally feeling the tears spill from her eyes like a dam broken, slipping fast and furious down her cheeks.

India closed the gap between them. Her head came to rest on Drake's shoulder, her forehead slightly touching his shirt, using him as a feather of support for her heavy head. Blonde hair slid downwards, trailing along her cheeks with her tears, and she let them fall, numb to the shame of crying, to being so open with who, in her mind, was a stranger. India's hands continued to hold Drake's as though she'd never let go, too afraid of being alone. "I'm alone. Was I always alone?" she voiced aloud through her racked breathing. "Were you with me then? Did you make me happy? Because I don't think I've ever known what happiness is." India shut her eyes and forced her breathing to even out. "Please don't change. Please... give me another chance. I can understand you again. Please... Please don't leave me this time." India didn't know Drake Manning in her head... but she knew this time that these words didn't come from her head - they came from her heart... the heart that remembered Drake Manning and all he was worth to her.

[Drake Manning]

Drake wanted to pull away from her when she grabbed his wrist, but he didn't. He wanted to erase her from his memory, but he couldn't. He wanted to let her stand there in confusion, feeling the same way that he had been feeling ever since she refused to answer him at the end of the last school year. But... he wouldn't. She was more alone now than before. She was more lost and confused than he was. She was more like him than he wanted to admit, which only made his feelings for her stronger.

"Happiness isn't real," he answered cynically. His mind went to Brianna and the conversation they had last had. He wondered what she was doing now... if she was even alive. Happiness couldn't be real, not in Drake's world. India was crying on his chest, and Drake stood there in another of his transfixed states. The fact that she had admitted to needing him gave him a sense of ease. It gave him the feeling of being alive just like it always had. When Drake felt needed, felt like he had the power, then he felt alive.

"You have changed," he said again, now more calm and purposeful than before. "You're just like the rest of them now." The devil inside of him came alive, and he was preying on India's weakened state. She was emotionally strained, and it only helped Drake to fight and ignore his own emotional state of decay. Her weakness gave him power. At the same time, the view of India that he once had began to slip away. She wasn't the same stronghold that she used to be. She had deteriorated. Whatever had happened to her had made her weak. He wasn't sure if he liked this or not.

"You'll never understand me," he said, taking his hands from hers and putting them on either side of her head. He pressed his forehead against hers and starred into her teary eyes. He was searching, searching for the India he once knew. She was somewhere inside, and he was determined to find her. But for now, the dark part of him had taken over. Pressing his lips against hers, he pulled her close to him, an electrifying jolt rushing through his body as it pressed against India. She couldn't resist his kiss. She was too weak and she needed him. She had said it herself.

With his strength, Drake maneuvered the two of them to the nearest couch. He kissed her neck, the soft skin which was hidden behind layers of golden locks. He stopped for a second, taking a deep breath and feeling his pulse quicken throughout his entire body. Then, he starred into her eyes again; eyes which lead to an emptiness that Drake readily recognized. "I wasn't the one who left before," he said, the painful memory of her refusing to give him an answer flashing to his mind. He pushed himself up off of India so that he was sitting at one end of the couch. He'd been trying so hard not to want her that it made him want her even more.

[India Nightingale]

“I know,” India bit out in an angry, defiant whisper. “I know, because I’ve never felt it.” She looked up into Drake’s eyes with the most honest, most intent stare. “Are you telling me that I was never happy? Even with you? Then it just proves I can be happy with no one. No one could... penetrate me.” Her voice was hollow, but her tears proved the emotion, thick and dense. “If you’ve never been happy, then I don’t need you,” India began speaking again after a long pause where only her heavy breathing could be heard. Her tear-stained face twisted into an expression of disgust and resistance. “I don’t need another source of pain in my life. I’m going to rebuild the life that has been returned to me, piece by piece, and if all you will do is provide more heartache for me, then no, I don’t want it, not anymore. I used to think I could take it – I used to think that was all I ever wanted or needed. But I’ve learnt that life is not all about sorrow, Drake. I’m not a child anymore. I will fight for my life like I have never fought before.” India grit the words out with suppressed anger, letting the shards of unyielding stubbornness and determination seep out rather than her rage. She could control her dark side better, but her power over her sadness had been diminished; no longer was India an emotionless ice queen. India could feel.

India’s voice died away and Drake’s continued where she’d left off, as though their conversation was a tuneful melody rather than a confrontation. However, it felt like anything but a musical composition, with Drake staring down at her in calm indifference that pierced India’s heart more than she could admit. She couldn't, though, stop the tears that seemed to flow faster as Drake spoke, her grip on his hand tight as she fought to control her anger, her fear, her sadness. Drake Manning made her feel so much... so why didn’t she understand or remember? Surely, this boy was the key to her memories. India willed herself to be strong as she stared in the face of adversity. She felt herself being short with Drake, though, when he began attacking her for her changes. “And whose fault is that?” she snapped before she could think. “Do you think I wanted to change? Do you think I asked for the only man I ever loved to kidnap me, to hold me hostage in my own house? Do you think I wanted him to lie to me, to take away my memories and everything I ever stood for? Do you really think I wanted him to ruin my life?” India railed at Drake until her arms shook with the effort. “Goddamnit, Drake, did you really think I wanted to forget you?!”

India’s voice rose to an angry high pitch, her face flushed pale pink with the exertion of her frustrations. Recollecting herself emotionally, India stepped backwards once, feeling the distance and barriers begin erecting around herself so naturally. She couldn’t help it. She was scared. She was scared of how much Drake could hurt her, how much he had already drawn out of her. One day, India was sure this boy would suck her dry. “I changed, Drake. But I’m still me... I’m still India Nightingale. And the part of me that makes me me... that will never, ever change - whoever tries to change it.” India glared up defiantly at the other Slytherin. “Never. I’d rather die.” She suppressed a surprised gasp as Drake’s hands slid to her head, drawing her frail body closer to his again without her realisation. India was caught off guard. She stared into his dark eyes with only a little fear and a lot of need; a need for answers. Drake’s words hit her like a brick wall and she immediately replied, “And I doubt you ever understood me.” Her whisper was calm and quiet and yet vicious. India didn’t know what had caused her to say it, but she wanted to see what reaction it would evoke from Drake. So far it was Drake playing all the mind games, rejecting her, whilst she lay her soul bare for him to tear at. Not anymore.

However, all conscious thought about control flew out of the window when she felt Drake’s lips join with hers in a heated clash. India trembled against his more powerful frame as he pressed her to him, and she melted. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t react at all; she was powerless. It was then India felt a familiar sensation in the pit of her stomach, ram against her chest, and closing her eyes, she saw the flashing second-long vision of Drake’s face against hers, kissing her as he was now, and she knew. India remembered. Drake Manning’s identity was clear once more: he was the boy she wanted but could not accept. India’s eyes flew open in shocked horror, but she was still pressed against Drake, and his lips continued to caress her mouth. Drake, Drake, Drake. India’s heart beat wildly against her chest. Yes, Drake. Her mind wanted her to pull away, but her body was screaming for the opposite. India succumbed to her natural desires and fell completely limp in Drake’s arms.

India barely felt themselves moving across the Common Room until she collapsed onto the couch with Drake’s large shadow looming over her. She felt her heart beat out her fear. She was in such a vulnerable position, and she hated it but wanted it at the same time. India needed to feel protected, safe, as though she could fall into someone’s arms and be lost forever. But that’s not what Drake had ever wanted with her, was it? He found her fascinating, she remembered. Most likely he just wanted her for her body. India’s mind screamed for her to run. However, she continued to lie still, with no visible reaction, as Drake kissed her. When his lips travelled to her neck, she gave a low gasp. “D-Drake...” she began unsteadily, feeling her fingers flex in desperation, shaking on her knee. Finally, he pulled away, but India could still feel the burn of Drake’s mouth on hers, along her pale neck. She watched him recede to the end of the couch and stared across at him through the short distance. He felt like a world away from her. India remained silent for what seemed like eternity, until she quietly replied, “I remember now.” She bowed her head and looked away. “I remember it all... You... the alcohol... Ryann Taylor... Us... The Winter Ball...” India’s hands fisted against her silk pyjama trousers. “I remember it and... I know why I ran away. I was scared. Not scared of you, I was scared of... us, of what we could become.” India looked at Drake again with emotional eyes. “Drake. Did you... do you love me because you want me, or do you really love me... for who I am? Because I could never, ever succumb to you, even... even if I loved you too, if you only loved me for the games, the lies, the old me. I’m not just about darkness and pain, Drake. I have a soul. And I don’t think you really love my soul, do you?” India’s voice was cold as it once was, but she hurt inside; every word cut her up into tiny pieces. Because deep down, India knew all wanted was love.

[Drake Manning]

Though their moment of passion was brief, Drake couldn’t deny the chemistry between them. No other girl that he’d been with, that he’d slept with, or kissed, gave him the same jolt of indescribable feelings that India did. Everything about it was different. When his lips were on her skin, his mind wasn’t spinning its next web of deception like usual. He wasn’t pretending to be someone he wasn’t, or trying to play the control games that he liked so much. Sure, he was his normally fake self at times with India, but deep down, he knew that more of the real Drake was showing more than usual. And, for that moment that she was in his arms, he was simply Drake, vulnerable and too distracted to be scared that India would find out.

“You remember,” he said, melodramatically. He found it ironic that their first intimate embrace, their first passionate kiss, served as the medium through which her memory of him returned. He starred forward, fighting the looming battle between head and heart, half of him ready to begin kissing India again and the other half of him trying to push her away so that he could just put this behind him and move on. The old Drake, the normal Drake… it was a lot easier. A lot more familiar and routine for him. If he ventured into unknown territories, he was only setting himself up for trouble.

“How am I supposed to fricking* know, India. I’ve not believed in love a day of my life, and you expect me to tell you if I love you. And even more, why I love you.” He did his best to feign anger, but it wasn’t that hard as he was feeling mostly frustration. Frustration easily came off as anger. “All I bloody know is that I told you I needed you. That I wanted you. Heck, I might have even said that I loved you. And if you really think I’m going to throw that word around with any sort of meaning, well then you don’t know me.” He was standing now, his voice increasing in volume with each syllable. In realizing this, he lowered it to a harsh whisper, not really in the mood for the entire Slytherin house to join this heated meeting.

“And if you love me back because you think that I love you, well then don’t. Just don’t. Because I’ll always be the Drake that you can’t stand. I’ll always be the complicated mess that you couldn’t say yes to in the first place. If it’s love you’re looking for, then you should have known as soon as your memories returned that you can’t find it with me.”

He felt his breath start to shake. It was though an anxiety like no other had paralyzed his body. He half wished that if he tried hard enough to push her away, it might do just the opposite. He just wanted to be honest with her, to make everything easy since lying seemed to always make things worse. The problem was, Drake had a hard time figuring out what the truth was. What if he was lying to himself? How could he be truthful with India if he couldn’t even find the own truth about his feelings, his mind, his twisted web of lies. “Goddamnit, India. We’re not even eighteen and you’re asking me to love your soul! Look at me! Do you think I even give a damn about my owl soul? Do you think I even know what a soul really is? Or do you even think that I care what a soul is?” How could she not realize that it was Drake Manning she was talking to. It seemed that even if he did want to be with India, he’d never be able to live up to what she wanted in return.

[India Nightingale]

India didn't take well to Drake's tone; it was turning nasty. The scene was shifting from an apathetic Drake and a distraught India to two angry, hurt individuals fighting the same thing. India couldn't help it; she felt her frustration and resentment towards this man overwhelm with each word he sent her way, and when he finished, she leaned forward towards him on the sofa, her eyes blazing and her face etched into a portrait of fury and bitterness. "You think I believed in love?" she spat out in disgust. "You think I believed in anything at all? I didn't believe in anything or anyone - I don't think I even believed in myself. I was an empty soul, Drake. I won't pretend to have been anything more than that." India's hair clung to her cheeks as she jerked her head away from glaring at Drake to stare avidly into the burnt out fireplace. After a short pause she continued. "My whole life... was a mess. I was doomed to relive Hell the moment I was born. I lost my parents before I had even reached my first birthday. I lost my sister when I was eight years old. I have always been alone, especially in the last decade, and I have never ever believed in love. It was stripped away from me and... and then... you came along." India turned back to Drake fiercely, as if mentally forcing her will, her thoughts on him. "You, with your arrogant mannerisms and fatal habits. Don't think I've forgotten your drinking habit, Drake, because thanks to you I remember everything."

A pause and India grit her palm and forced herself to carry on. She had to get this out of her mind, her system - otherwise she would never move on and... function like a real human being that she was striving to become again. "You made me feel, Drake," India stated a little more calmly. "I had never felt before and you made me feel. I don't know what love is. But I thought, if you could ignite that fire inside of me - the Ice Queen or whatever those imbeciles enjoy calling me - then maybe..." India couldn't look at Drake's eyes anymore. She averted her gaze and stared at the floor. "Maybe you could teach me what love was as well."

At Drake's next words, India replied, "Need and love - aren't they the same thing?" She gripped her thin frame with her shaking arms as though trying to protect herself from Drake's onslaught of words. "You never gave me the bloody chance to know you, that's why," she hissed with rising anger again. She had no idea why Drake had to take the offensive - maybe because he was a man and he couldn't hold a proper conversation. Whatever was swirling in that dark head of his, India could not help but mirror his emotions. What Drake evoked within her had not changed despite the fact India herself had changed completely. "That's why I'm asking you - because you told me that and I freaked out. No one uses that word so carelessly, and if someone was going to say it to me - me, India Nightingale - then to me, they're out of their mind." India stood up angrily, unable to contain her fears and her rage. "I am a disaster, Drake Manning. I can do no good. I ruin people's lives - oh, you have no idea. Who would love a damaged person like me? I turn people away, I can't face love and affection; I am a workaholic, I care for no one; I pretend to be strong when the truth is I am scared of so many things. Do you want me to list them for you? Fire. Men. Love. Myself. Yes, I hate myself. I hate looking at myself. I can't look in the mirror without tearing the glass out. I'm bloody anorexic, Drake, can't you see that? Nothing is right with me! I am broken!"

Breathing heavily after her loud speech of all the failures and weaknesses in her life, India stepped away, suddenly realising she had revealed everything about herself to Drake without meaning to. Why had she just said all that? How had he conned his way into learning all the problems with herself? Those were things only she knew, that she kept to herself. "That's why I couldn't say yes, Drake. So, do you still want me to?" A snide, cruel smile twitched at India's lips. "Do you want broken little me? I didn't think so. No one wants me. You should thank me. I saved you from Miss Disaster here. I never said I would love you. I just thought, well... maybe I did. Maybe I had changed enough. But evidently I was mistaken and... I'm not right for anyone in this world. The day someone tells me they genuinely love me is the day I'm in my grave."

India jerked her head at Drake at his next words and she felt her scathing tone increase. "And don't make it seem like you're the only complicated, messed up person in the world. You're looking at the worst of the worst. I don't care if you're messed up - I'm messed up. For God's sake, this entire world's messed up. Maybe I was looking for love from a messed up person, but obviously, like you say, that person isn't you. I'm just... too messed up for you, aren't I? And after chasing me for so long, playing with me like a toy... after all that, Drake Manning, you're not strong enough to realise that love is the same as being messed up." India turned her back on Drake and shouted at the ceiling in frustration, her hair cascading down her back as she blinked back anger and disappointment. "To be in love is to be messed up; the most messed up people are those in love. That's what I've been told and I've scorned it before. Now I get it. It's a curse, to be in love, and I was doomed to fall for an idiot and be cursed to be the most messed up person in the world."

India turned on Drake again and, storming towards him, grabbed him by the collar and pulled his face towards her livid one. "YES! I am asking that! You're an adult, Drake Manning! You were an adult at the age of seventeen! You're not five anymore, for God's sake! Wake up! Grow up! This world isn't meant to be dark and crap like you and I think. I used to think I only wanted to be dark and crap, but I'm through being dark and crap; I'm through being the fool, the Ice Queen, the idiot who falls in love and is cursed to be the most messed up person in the world! You can stay in that dimension if you want, Drake, but I'm leaving it, with or without you. I can't love my soul either - I've never loved it and I've never taken good care of it. I don't know if souls have a shape or particular needs, but I know this - they need people, and that sucks. But even though it sucks, you'd better start trying now, otherwise you might as well go kill yourself! Because what the hell is the point of living?! Eh? You tell me, Drake! You tell me! If life isn't about this soul inside of my body," India jabbed her free finger at her heart, her voice choking, her eyes filling up again. "If it's not about this, then what the hell is it about?"

After staring at Drake for a long minute, India flung him away from her, back onto the sofa, and began to stalk away quickly, trying to hide tears that were, to her irritation, running down her cheeks rapidly again. "d**n you, Drake Manning.d**n you. You are never again going to extract from me as much as you extracted tonight," India claimed in a loud whisper, not even bothering to turn and look at him. She was ready to leave and, depending on if Drake stopped her, she was going to leave right now.

[Drake Manning]

Drake took one bullet after another of India's words. Each burst through him with a sharp pang of pain, exiting as quickly as it entered. He did nothing to stop her though. In fact, he welcomed the feelings that her words evoked. Some masochistic part of him was able to enjoy the idea that he was able to cause India to react in such a way, and even more welcoming was the idea that she could make him feel the way he felt. Her actions and words were so poignant that he was numb to the point of silence. He was so angry with India and yet so desperate to reach out to her at the same time. In the end, his stubbornness won over.

For half of what she said, Drake wouldn't have known where to begin with a reply, even if he wanted. Lucky for him, the last thing that his stubborn nature wanted to do was to offer any sort of answers to India in return. He had seen how easily she had spilled her mind to him. She had left herself open and vulnerable. If he were to even start with a reply, he feared he might do the same. Drake was determined to avoid this route.

"Good! I don't want to extract any more from you. I don't care what you have to say anymore." Drake shouted with such a fury that it would be impossible for India to detect that it was his pain and regret which were fueling his anger. If she could only realize his true motives. His true desires. But Drake was too adamant about maintaining his wall of defense. "Run away just like the last time. Run away like the coward that you are. You know you've regretted not running sooner. I may have been blinded by stupidity before, but now I know what you are, and I don't need you anymore. I don't want you. Just.... just LEAVE!"

She was gone. Drake didn't have to tell her more than once, and India had disappeared around the corner. Every fibre of anger within him hoped that his words could hurt her. He hoped that he could make her feel as terrible as he felt. But then there was the ache; the dull ache inside of him which had persisted for months now. It was the pain he felt when knowing that India herself was suffering. It was an ache which was caused from the deep down desire to take away India's pain. It was the seed of Drake's confusion, rooted so deeply that he had fought it and failed to defeat it. It was the desire that he tried so hard to bury, to forget, and to hide. But there was no hiding it. There was no pretending that it didn't exists. As long as there was an India Nightingale, Drake knew no way to escape that feeling which invaded his every second.