Welcome to Our World

Chap 11: The Many Questions of Ghirahim

"Fine! You want me to leave? Take me back to the forest! You'll never have see me again!"

I shifted in my seat, remembering that one moment, remembering that one look he gave me. And it's only been two days since I left. Not that it was much of a difference.

Just...why did he make me so irritated? Why was it that he could mess up my plans and treat me like crap, but when I get in his way, he'll throw a fit and say that I shouldn't have done that? Why?

And why did it hurt to walk away from him and say that I'd never be back?

Why am I thinking about this!? It doesn't matter! I already said that I'd forget about my world. I didn't need it. I even convinced myself there was a scientific and perfectly reasonable explanation as to why I thought I had my own world.

For the past week, I had been in a dreamlike state. I was thinking of things that clearly weren't real. It made sense because I could only imagine things when I was dreaming. It explained why I imagined him up for my paper in Language Arts too.

It explained everything but the cut on my arm.

I tired to convince myself that I had fallen and somehow ended up cutting my arm. However, it just didn't feel right. Whenever I tired to think up as to why the cut was there, I'd imagine a pair of vivid black eyes staring at me.

I tired my best to push the distant memory of those eyes from my mind, but they'd come back up and remind me of him. And then one thing would lead to another and for a moment I'd remember that I had been in a different world.

"No! Stop thinking about it! It was nothing but a dream." I thought to myself, shaking my head.

"Alright, that concludes the lesson for today. Use the remainder of class for your own purposes." The teachers stated, shutting his book. But wait! It wasn't any teacher; it was the Language Arts teacher.

The moment he shut his book, he looked up at me and smiled. I didn't have to be a genius to know he was heading right over to my desk. "Hello, Gina. How's your story coming along?" He pushed his glasses up his nose. I made a face.

It was unavoidable to think of the 'dreams' when I had to write that stupid project.

"How many pages does it have to be again?" I asked. As it turned out, when I started writing it, I found it just a bit more troublesome that I had expected.

"At least 35 pages." He answered.

"May it be in journal entry format? As though I were recording it during a journey?" I inquired, leaning my hand upon my head. He was silent for a moment.

"It must have at least 60 entries then. Each entry should be at least a two paragraphs." He looked down his nose at me, driving a hard bargain. "It also has to be typed and presentable." At least he was being nice and pleasant about it.

"Yes sir." I sighed, turning back down to my notebook.

That night, after I got home, I started to re-type my story. It was much easier, I must say. However, checking all my grammar, punctuation, word choice, and whatever else was what kept me up most of the night. Not only that; but I realized that I had only a little over half of the 60 entries written. I had no idea what I would do for the rest. I couldn't imagine up the rest.

Though, I spent the rest of my weekend lazing about, rather than writing my story. I slept in late on Saturday, playing a few video games, and watching TV. I went to church early Sunday morning. And I could have sworn I saw Daniel standing in the crowd.

And the only real successful thing that I did this weekend was make a batch of cookies. Which my mother, neighbor and I devoured rather quickly.

I was back to school the first Monday of the month. But that week to me was a blur. I don't quite know how to describe it. I remember feeling numb the whole time. Nothing seemed real to me. It was all boring and grey and dumb.

Had my 'dream' started to feel more real to me than the real world?

Was that bad?

However, when I woke up Friday morning, for once, I felt something. I felt sick. Nervous. I just knew something was going to happen.

I did my usual routine and walked to school, being cautious on my way there. And when I passed by the small forest near the school, I fad a funny tingling sensation in my stomach that made me want to throw up. It subsided when I continued on, but it was still there.

"Gina, how are you this morning?" My usually annoying Language Arts teacher asked me. I shrugged my shoulders, trying to ignore him. I was more focused on trying to figure out why my body was acting as though it were about to jump off a cliff.

"Are you sure? You've been very quite all week. You don't seem like yourself." He asked again, leaning against my desk. I shrugged.

"Is there anything that you need help with? Be it school or family problems?" He pressed on. I wanted to roll my eyes and get up, walk out of his classroom and go home. But I didn't.

"Nah..." I answered, trying to get him to leave.

"Alright." He stood up straight. "If you ever need someone to talk to; I'm here. As well as any of the other teachers." He assured me, returning to his desk in the back of the room. I turned back to the white board. And for a moment, I wondered why he cared.

The nervous feeling came back to me. I leaned my head down on my desk and closed my eyes, trying to block everything out as best as I could.

"Today we're going to do something different." The teacher explained. I opened my eyes, and moved my head just so that I could see him standing at the front of the class again.

Had I been thinking so hard I hadn't noticed class began?

"About a week ago, I demanded a writing assignment in which you had to write about the weirdest thing that's ever happened to you." I narrowed my eyes now, knowing that I did not like where this was going. "Today we will be drawing a scene from your situation. Each student will present what they have drawn to the class. Then, each student sitting down will write one question on a piece of paper and hand it into to the person presenting."

I sat up now, sure that my face showed that I was more than confused. A little angry, actually.

Last week, the weirdest thing that I had gone through was...was...

I couldn't think about it. I couldn't think about him. I refused to. I didn't want to draw him. I didn't want anything to do with him.

I sighed deeply, closing my eyes and trying to block out the nervous feeling again.

Oh man, I hated this teacher. I wanted to punch him in the gut...no matter how inappropriate it would be. Just when I was convincing myself it was a dream, and the cut on my arm was healing nicely...my stupid teacher had to bring him up again.

The other kids had already started their drawing. I just sat in my seat, staring at a blank piece of paper. I refused to pick up my pencil and drawn a single line. Not when I knew that my drawing was going to be about my 'dream'.

"Any trouble, Gina?" My teacher came up again. I sighed, out of annoyance. Will this guy just leave me alone!?

"I'm a bad artist." I explained.

He smiled, shaking his head with amusement. "It's better to try than not at all, right?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. Then he walked away from me, back to his desk. I turned back to my paper, the strong need to tear it to pieces present.

I sighed again, making a face as I convinced myself to do the right thing. I didn't have to make it look exactly like him. The clothes I had to get right, but I didn't have to draw that stupid face. His head and hair. Technically, it wouldn't be him.

I started with the head, sketching out a circle. Then I added a chin and started on his neck and torso.

"You drew that?" Anthony, the boy who sat next to me, asked as he leaned over towards me. I looked back at my paper; the man still had no face. I didn't want him to. Because then it wouldn't be a person.

"Yeah." I answered. "Why? Is it bad?"

"No, no!" He stated, raising his eyebrows. "It's really good."

"Thanks." I furrowed my own eyebrows. He actually thought that it was good? This was nothing compared to the real man himself.

And so, we all sat as the teacher called us up one by one to show our work. Halfway through the class, my name was called.

"Gina, you're up next." He raised his eyebrows at me, smiling. I sighed and handed the picture to him, to put under the over head projector, which would display the picture on the white board for all to see.

"So, uh, yeah. This is the weird guy I met." I explained, looking back at my own drawing. He was posed as he usually is, when he had his hands above his head ready to snap and teleport. And he was colored with colored pencils. I even went as far as to shade where it was necessary.

I heard murmurs spread through the room. People were looking at each other and back at the white board. What were they saying? What did they think of it?

The teacher cleared his throat. "Alright, write your questions down on paper and pass them to the front of the class." He commanded. I waited, biting my lip, as they wrote what they thought. It was intense, wondering what questions were bouncing around in their head.

The moment I got the questions, I read them off.

"Question 1: Why does he have no face?" I thought for a good, normal reason. "I got lazy. I didn't feel like drawing it." I stated. Then I skipped over a few other questions, because they were the same.

"Why is he obsessed with Diamonds?" I looked up, smiling just the slightest. "I have yet to figure that out."

"Why does he have abs?" I made a face at that one. "Uh, I don't know. He probably goes jogging every day or something."

"How did you meet him?" I searched my mind very quickly for an answer. "Uh...well, I was walking in a forest...by my grandma's house. I stumbled upon him. He said he lived nearby."

"Is he a transvestite?" I made another face, remembering when I suspected he was gay. "No, he's not. He's just...a whole new level of weird. "

"Is he psycho?" I rubbed my face with one hand. "I wouldn't say that anymore. He's just different in his own special way."

"Do you love him?" I stared at the paper for a minute, letting it click in my mind. I still couldn't believe that I had said that out loud last time. "As a friend." I forced out of my mouth.

"But, like, I remember you saying, like, that you liked him, like, a lot." Jamie called out, shifting her position in her seat. I pointedly glared at her, ready to take the 'likes' that came out of her fat pie hole and shove it back down there.

"That was before I noticed how much of an idiot he turned out to be." I grumbled.

"Where is he now?" Someone else asked.

"He's back at his house. He's home schooled." He lied.

"Does he speak another language?" Another from the back asked.

"No, he speaks English. He just uses words in a wiser manner. He has an expansive vocabulary."

"What's his name again?" Lizzy called out.

I glared at her, openly. I wanted to burn a hole right through her pretty little blonde head. And of course, of all people, Lizzy had to be the one to ask that particular question.


Everything that I had convinced myself was fake...all came rushing back.

All the memories of my world. It wasn't a dream. It was real. And I was apart of it.

Everything about Ghirahim as well, from his death threats to his moody ways.

Link, Daniel, the old woman. My powers. The temple. The Kikwis. The Forest. The Kiss. Oh god, the Kiss... and the cut on my arm.

"What's a Demon Lord?" Another asked, bringing my from my deep thoughts.

I shook my head, chocking on my words. "Um, I don't know. I think it's just some person that has super powers of a demon."

"Does he have super powers?" I stopped to think. Yes, he does, but I'm not going to tell you that, now am I?

"No, but he thinks he does. 'They just haven't come to him yet'." I fake quoted.

"Have you, like, kissed him?" Jamie asked. I narrowed my eyes.

"That's none of your business." I threw right back at her.

"What's he's like?"

"He's weird. Very weird. He doesn't like other people. On his bad days, he's bipolar. On his good days he's calm. Though, he's always making trouble and doesn't consider any other person's feelings. And he's a big baby." I paused, thinking on it. "He's an idiot. He's rude. He's stuck up and he's stubborn." I explained, frowning. Oh my gosh, why did I not see this part of him before? Was I that obsessed over the one good thing he did that I became blinded?

"But he can be nice too, right?" Sara, a shy girl in my class, asked, timidly. I paused.

"Well, when he wants to be, yes."

"Last time I thought you said he was very sweet on the inside...?" She pressed on.

"Ha, that's before he told me I was dragging him down. He called me an 'annoying girl'. And he doesn't use my real name. He also called me infuriating and told me to basically stay out of his way." I grumbled on.

"Sounds like he's mad at you. What did you do to piss him off?" Derek, a jock, asked me.

"He was fighting with another friend of mine. I got involved by..." I trailed off, trying to avoid the whole 'he cut me' thing. "...I got involved by sticking up for my other friend. And I don't know, he just blew up on me." I half lied.

"Oh! I'll say. It's not cool when a girl buds into a man's fight. Makes them feel stupid and weak." Derek commented.

I made a face. "I don't care! I didn't want my other friend to get hurt!" I exclaimed.

"That's probably why he's mad at you." Nichole, another girl, suggested.

"He's mad because I defended my friend?" I thought he made it clear to me not to bud in on his plans, whatever they may be.

"Yeah, I mean, if he likes you more than a friend, he'd be jealous and angry because you picked the other friend over him."

I stared at her for a long time, tilting my head. That did make a lot of sense. But...it's only got to be one factor. The one with me screwing his plans up was another.

"Will we ever get to meet him?" Another called. I laughed.

"Oh, I wouldn't count on it. But..." I smirked. "...you never know." Especially with Ghirahim.

"Alright, class, we've got to move on." The teacher boomed, smiling brightly. The class groaned, but quickly got over it.

I was back in my seat now, looking at the picture I had drawn.

I should probably draw his face now. I mean, I already said his name and acknowledged that he was real. I might as well.

And while I'm at it; I should go back to my world.

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