Chapter Nine

Everything is dull. The days passed, weeks passed, even months passed and the red-haired magician is nowhere in sight. True, I haven't been in any mortal danger, I am perfectly fine. Physically, that is. Life went back to normal, sort of. School, lessons, home, study. Just that same monotonous cycle. Even Killua doesn't show up. I manage to fix my alarm clock, so I wake up on time now and my teachers are pleased to see me not late at school for once. Gosh, I'm so pathetic. The only interesting thing in my life has disappeared without a trace and I act as if the world is ending. I continue my trudge home.

It's a rainy Thursday afternoon and I'm on the way home from school. Another mundane rainy Thursday afternoon it is. I pass by the Ginger bookstore and Hot Polly Pizzeria as I go. The pizzeria seems to be hiring part-timers, according to the tattered sign on the murky glass window. I stop walking and indulge myself in a few moments' consideration. Perhaps if I took up a job I wouldn't feel so listless at home all the time. To be honest, a couple weeks after Hisoka decidedly exited my life, I would finish my homework fairly quickly, and then I'd been reduced to staring and toying with the plushie, the only remnants of his visits, the only object I had left to hold on to my memories of him being real. Now, the plushie is stuffed in a dusty corner of my closet, with the ugly plaid trousers and oversized T-shirts of bands I used to like years ago. It had stopped re-appearing wherever I went, so I took that as a sign that Hisoka wanted nothing more to do with me.

It's time for me to make a change in my life. I take a deep breath and push the door to the pizzeria open.

I've been here quite a few times, just to get dinner for myself, and sometimes Mum and Dad. It serves decent pizza, not the best, but edible, and it's the only pizzeria near my house, so go figure. There's always just one server, a young girl perhaps 2-3 years older than me, who is always chewing some sort of gum. It's a small pizzeria with only a couple of rickety tables and chairs, one server is alright, I guess. On this rainy Thursday afternoon, Hot Polly Pizzeria is empty. Somewhere inside, a bell tinkles and I hear voices. I walk up to the counter and wait patiently. A few minutes later, the server girl comes out from the backroom and gives me a once over. I look at her too. She's wearing her usual raspberry chapstick (I can smell it from here, she put way too much), crop top spaghetti strap, ripped denim shorts, and an apron. Her hair is a dirty blonde colour, bunned up on the top of her head.

"Grab a seat I'll take your order in a sec," she dismisses me with a wave, popping her bubble gum. I clear my throat and reply softly, "Hi, err I'm here to apply for a job?" I point to the sign on the window. "You guys seem to need a server or something...? I'm here to apply for part-time."

The girl looks me over again, and I can tell from her expression she isn't pleased.

"Server? You gotta be kiddin' me," she snorts, then spreads her arms. "Look around this place, girly. I think this place has one more server than necessary." Her face darkens. "I'll get the manager."

As if on cue, the door to the backroom swings open and out steps a balding middle-aged man. He is wearing a white polo T-shirt and a benevolent smile.

"I heard that, Lizzi, well that wasn't very nice of you," the man frowns slightly, feigning hurt.

"Gramps, you know this place is going bust and you wanna keep hiring?" Lizzi can't contain her disbelief.

"Hi there, I'm Freddrick, but you can call me Fred, or Mr Fred, if you'd like," he extends a hand to me, ignoring Lizzi's outburst. "What's your name?"

"Sienna," I reply, taking his hand and shaking it.

"Well, Sienna, how old are you, might I ask?"

"16 this year."

"That's alright. I think we could use some help washing the dishes, and serving as well, when Lizzi here takes off days. She's been taking more off days than usual, so to keep this place running, we've got to hire someone." Beside him, Lizzi scoffs and I can hear her mutter "It's just a few days, geez what's the big deal? Not like he's gonna lose money when I'm not around, nobody comes here anyways."

"Okay, I'm all for it." Good for you Sienna, making a change, stop wallowing. You are not the damsel in distress anymore.

"Great! You can start tomorrow afternoon, Lizzi will show you the ropes." Mr Fred shakes my hand again and claps Lizzi on the back before turning to leave. Lizzi shoots me a disdainful look, blowing another bubble with her gum, before she too disappears into the backroom.

"See you tomorrow, girly."

"Don't drop the dishes, dammit!"

At her sharp voice, I do very nearly drop the dishes stacked in my hand. I grab the wall beside me with my other hand and steady myself, before turning to give my 'superior' a look.

"Maybe if you stopped yelling at me all the time, I wouldn't," I tell her patiently, making my way to the already overloaded sink to dump the dirty dishes. I pull on the thick rubber gloves Mr Fred had given me a couple weeks ago when I'd just started and turned on the tap.

"Whatever," Lizzi pops her gum, leaning against the counter top beside me, arms folded across her chest. "I'll be taking an off day tomorrow, you know the drill. Don't break anything, don't steal anything, and if you take my gum," she pops her gum again and narrows her eyes at me menacingly. "I'll know about it."

"Oh no, I wouldn't ever think to do such a thing." I reassure her, grinning down at the dishes I'm scrubbing. She clicks her tongue and nudges my head playfully with her knuckles.

"Just get cleaning, girly. Or you'll be here till midnight." With that, she stalks out of the backroom.

After I'd arrived, business seemed to improve slightly, for some reason. Weekends, especially. Maybe it was because I'd taken to mopping and sweeping the place twice a week, even adding a few decorations I'd found lying around at home, just to spruce the dull pizzeria up a bit. Mr Fred looked very pleased, and he told me I could come every afternoon if I'd liked, or even just 4 afternoons a week was fine, he'd pay me the same. Mr Fred was a generous man, I'd discovered and I'd always drop by to help whenever I could. I had nothing to do anyways, this helped me pass time and earn some extra income to help Father and Mother. I'd told them about my new job over a hurried breakfast one morning and they seemed quite pleased with the news.

I finish the dishes and start cleaning up the place. I glance at the clock. 9pm. Lizzi's probably already left. I peek out into the main room. It is empty but for a gruff man sitting in the corner, his grubby windbreaker zipped all the way up, cap pulled down low over his eyes. There's a slice of uneaten pepperoni pizza in front of him.

"Hi, sir, we're closing soon, I'm sorry but I'll have to ask you to leave-" I start, approaching the customer courteously. The man stands up suddenly, the chair screeching loudly on the ceramic tiles. There's a flash of metal and it takes me a second too long to realise that the man standing in front of me has drawn a small knife gripped in his right fist. My body doesn't even have time to react. Within a second, the gruff man has closed the distance between us and aimed the knife at my exposed throat.

"This is a robbery." The deep, coarse voice reverberates in my eardrums as my brain registers the meaning behind his words. "Give me all the money in the cash register." Shakily, I raise my hands in the air, shoulder width apart, palms facing him in a position of surrender.

"Let me… get the money," I tell him slowly and as calmly as I can manage. Don't be an idiot, Sienna, you've been through this before, stay calm, think of something. The weight of my hand phone stuffed in my back pocket reminds me that I still have a chance. Ever so slowly, I inch over to the counter where the cash register sits. The man follows me, taking a step forward with every step I take back.

I consider the situation. We have to pass by two more tables and a couple more chairs before reaching the register. My eyes sweep my surroundings slowly. Maybe I can get the police on speed dial while hiding in the backroom. The counter doesn't have an emergency button to dial the police, and the cash register up front has the day's earnings, a considerable amount, about a hundred or so. What to do...

"No sudden movements," he warns as we approach the register, eyeing me suspiciously.

"Okay. I'm just taking out the key to the register." My hand reaches to the back of my pocket and slowly, oh so slowly, I pull out my phone. In the split second that follows, I act.

With as much force as I can muster, I kick the table and chair on my right in front of me, in a bid to block the robber's advance. I can hear the man stumble and curse and my heart rate quickens. At the same time, my finger presses the speed dial button and I punch in 9-1-1, hurtling to the backroom and wrenching the door open. But before I can press the call button and shut the door behind me, I feel my entire body being dragged back by the scruff of the neck. I panic and try to elbow my assailant's torso, but he is too big to budge. I am about to kick him in the crotch, but I feel the cool metal blade resting just above my collarbone, pressing into the skin of my neck.

"Drop the phone."

I do as I'm told. My phone clatters to the ground. I messed up.

"Open the register. Now. No more games." The annoyance is clearly audible in his low hiss.

With the knife pressed against my neck, I walk to the cash register. I'm sorry Lizzi, Mr Fred, I couldn't protect it. I'm sorry.

"Hurry up!" The man was growing impatient, and I felt the blade dig into my throat and pain shoots through my body as the blade draws crimson blood.

I am determined not to cry. I reach the counter and pop the register open. There are a number of fifty dollar notes, and assortments of tens and fives here and there. Oh. There is more than expected. A wave of guilt washes over me.

The man lets go of me and shoves me to a corner with such force that I am not expecting, and I involuntarily lose my balance and crash into the edge of the counter. My arm goes numb and I crumple to the floor, blood oozing from the gash in my neck. I see the man grabbing wads of dollar notes and cramming it into his pockets and I feel a wave of defeat. No, I can't let him get away with this. I eye my phone that's a few meters away. I inch towards it, keeping a watchful eye on the robber. Just as I grab the phone, the robber freezes, his eyes rivet towards me and he lunges at me and I scream, an ear-splitting, blood-curdling scream. Because his knife was inches away from my face. His body is on top of me, tense, hands reaching for my phone, clawing, and me, desperately trying to shake him off.

All of a sudden, I feel his body slacken and I scramble out from under, shaking. And then I see it.

A solitary poker card, sticking out from the prostate man's back.

I feel my world spin and everything grows blurry as I look around wildly for the source of the poker card. He shouldn't be here. The plushie was supposed to have stopped working. Why is he here? I promised myself I wouldn't cry over him, but the tears were disobedient as they splashed onto my bloodstained shirt.

I feel him before I see him. Familiar hands under my knee and back, sweeping me into a bridal carry and automatically, I lean my head into his chest. He smells of rose perfume and blood. I hear the high heels click clack on the polished tiles. Click, clack, click, clack.

"I need to… lock up the place," I manage, pushing against Hisoka's chest. I will not let him just waltz into my life and treat me like another fragile good he has to care for. I can hold my own, just like I've held my own all those months he had left.

"Already done." I shudder. I have forgotten how soothing and lustrous his voice sounded. I raise my head and see the place neat and tidy, no sign of disarray, the robber's body dragged out and left on the street outside Hot Polly Pizzeria. Hisoka walks out the door and bends down, one hand keeping me close to his chest, the other reaching down to lock the door.

"How…"

"I know you keep the key in your left pocket, sweetheart." He dangles it in front of my eyes as he chuckles, slipping it back into my pocket.

"Stop… I hate you…." I murmur, my eyes closing. I shouldn't feel so at ease with him. He had left me alone for months. Months!. He didn't come when I cried and begged. He had a favourite. A favourite. Why was he here now? A rage consumes me and I pull my uninjured arm back to punch him in the jaw. My fist makes contact but he doesn't flinch.

"I… hate… you…" My fists aren't so much as feathers against Hisoka's chest and he ignores my attempts to resist his grip.

"Why… why did you come… back…"

He continues walking, ignoring my question.

"Why?" I scream, tears coursing down my cheeks.

"You left! It was better without you! I don't… need… you…" A sudden fatigue washes over me and my eyes flutter closed for good.

Silly girl.

Hisoka sighs as he sits down beside the sleeping girl's bed, his eyes roving over her newly-bandaged wounds. He'd done a decent job patching her up, he thinks, frowning as he tries to remember Machi's lessons. He shakes his head. Whatever. His eyes continue to roam. Her hair had grown longer. She had lost some of her baby fat on her cheeks. He reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

Without another word, he disappears from her room.

A/N: Hey guys! It's been waaay too long, but I've finally updated! *dances* I hope you haven't lost interest D: Thank you for sticking with me and reading Plushie! See you next time!

~Xae