Near Past

Though Celine had not always been a Leroux, she could not imagine her life any differently.

Like every other night, she sat on the ground beside her husband's grave, in a little black dress with a wine glass in hand. It was a routine she followed ever since his death, and sometimes she'd bring one of her children to sit with her.

With Yves [ee•v], she felt accepted.

Yves was a smart man; he seemed to know everything that the average person didn't; how to hijack a plane, how to steal a car, how to get away with murder. After all, he was the sole survivor of the French government's extermination of his family, the LeRouge.

More importantly, he knew how to make her smile.

Celine had been studying for her PhD in Psychology overboard in France when they met. It wasn't long before she chose to overstay her trip and drop out of school. She went on to live with him for two decades. There, she adopted a French accent.

Celine pressed her palm in the grass and brought the red wine to her lips.

She had deliberately chosen the top of a hill to rest his headstone. The spot on which she sat was reserved for her own grave when the time came.

The next sip she took finished the drink. Before she left, she looked down at the bottom of the hill's slope where the land flattened many acres outwards. If she had to estimate, there were at least 50 thousand stones.

And about 12 hundred were the work of Yves.

Not the largest percentage, sure, but Celine could never replicate it. Either way, she gave him a burial ground that stood over them. Even in death, he was greatest.

She spoke to the ground under which he lay. "At last, I'll have finally completed my project... I'll finally get my closure."

~

Later that night, Celine was clad in a black nightgown. Rather than sleeping on her mattress to ready herself for the big day ahead, she was squatted before her filing cabinet. From the bottommost drawer unit, she retrieved a folder.

It held details of her first ever project; the project that mattered the most.

Project Neo.

***

14 Years Ago

Yves' sacrifice was necessary.

So that the name Leroux wouldn't meet the same fate as its counterpart LeRouge, he allowed himself to be made unrecognizable so the authorities could never identify him.

The two had been cornered into a cave one wretched day. Their escape route could only hold one person. Yves urged that his wife survive. He knew he'd be found, but he wanted nothing more than to remain unknown.

Celine remembered how much she cried as he told her his plan. She knew it had to be done for the sake of her children.

It was a good thing she had long discarded her humanity. She took a knife in her hand and inhaled as she began to slice her husband's body into tiny pieces. She tore his skin from its flesh and scooped both his eyeballs out with the knife's tip—squashed them, ran its blade through each of his fingertips so they couldn't be read, and with a hammer, crushed all of his bones.

All the while, he had a smile on his face.

She left only his mouth—reduced to a sheet of dried flesh—and removed it from the bloodied pile of meat and gore to give it a final kiss.

When she heard the whirs of the enemy helicopter, she threw down the knife, removed her gloves, and ran away.

She kept his lips in her hold as she ran. It would be the only thing resting under his gravestone.

His sacrifice was necessary. Because of it, no one would know his name and, by extension, no one would know hers.

After Yves' death, Celine knew she would continue his legacy. But, she quickly realized that starting from zero was difficult; for a long time, she had nothing. No home, no food, no PhD in Psychology.

Just a yellow flower that Yves left behind. She kept it protected and tucked away.

The ground was wet with puddles from the rain that fell the previous day. Celine was hunched over a dumpster in an alleyway between two restaurants. From the waste, she found a banana, a pear, and two carrots. Moldy and odorous, but edible.

She turned to her children. "Rosalie, share the banana with your twin. The carrots are for you three. And for you, Dimitri, a pear."

She then turned to her eldest daughters with a solemn look on her face. "Chloe, Louise, I'm sorry. There isn't enough and we have to let the little ones eat first. I'm sure you understand."

The teenagers, clad in ripped, oversized, and dirtied clothing, nodded wearily. Their mother held their faces in her hand, and she rubbed their cheeks.

"We'll be heading back to the States tomorrow." Her statement was directed at them. They were the only ones who somewhat understood their situation.

"Why?"

"Your uncle Cameron says we can stay at his house for the time being."

The two exchanged a smile. "Really? Louise, do you know what that means?"

"We'll finally meet our baby cousin!"

"Right, Maman? We can finally play with Luka. He's so adorable. He's got the chubbiest cheeks."

"And green eyes!"

"Who's Luka?" Rosalie asked with a slice of banana in her mouth. It was the first time she spoke all day. But it was also her first meal of the day.

"Quiet down, all of you. We can't be too loud here," Celine interrupted, her head moving side to side. "We must start walking to the airport. It's a long walk and our flight leaves early in the morning. I want us to sleep there tonight."

"Okay."

"Everyone find a hand to hold." She watched as her children partnered up how they usually did. The twins sandwiching Dimitri, Lucienne and Juliette with Louise, and Chloe with Mariette.

Chloe, fourteen, was the oldest of all eight. She walked closest to her mother who was in the rearmost position.

She glanced over her shoulder. "Mother?"

"Yes, darling?"

"I want to know how Dad died."

Celine straightened up. There was no way she would tell her children that she killed their father. They wouldn't understand.

"Are you sure you'd like to know? It may be too much."

"I'm fourteen now. Can't I know?"

She ruffled her hair playfully. "Your father was a hero, Chloe. He took his life to protect all of us."

Chloe made an 'o' with her lips. "Really?"

"Yes. Always remember that, okay? That he loved you, me, and all of your siblings, and died so that we could all live happily. He was a great man. I'm sure you know that much."

She nodded with understanding. "I do. I miss him a lot."

"I know, honey."

~

"How are you liking it so far? The USA."

Celine sunk into the couch and chuckled at her brother's question. "You're asking as if I didn't grow up here."

The television in front of them was playing a rom-com that they were barely paying attention to.

"But," Celine began, shifting on the cushion to make herself comfortable. "I'm not used to having to engage in small talk with strangers. Seriously, what is it with you Americans?"

"You're saying that as if you weren't American once." Cameron laughed.

He looked at the area between his living and dining room, where the kids were playing. Mostly, it was Celine's daughters admiring Luka's features, the twins playing hand clapping games, Mariette stuffing her face with cake from the fridge, and Juliette urging her to stop making a mess.

Dimitri waved toys in Luka's face to get his attention, excited that there was finally someone his age to play with.

Cameron's laugh quieted. "I was worried about you. You went off to a whole different continent, married a guy I never got to meet, and then went homeless after he died. I mean, what the heck?"

She shrugged. "The French just live more interesting lives."

"Sure, they do." He sighed. "Well, what's your plan from here?"

From the coffee table, Celine lifted a glass of wine. "I'm still figuring it out."

"You can still go back for your PhD," he suggested. "You only had two years left, anyway."

"Psychology...," Celine threw her head over the couch in thought.

She sipped the drink, but slowly lowered it. Everything she learned while pursuing a doctorates in that field... it didn't have to go to waste, for psychology was the scientific study of mind, thoughts, and feelings. Of how to control one's mind, thoughts, and feelings.

Celine looked downward at her little black dress. She was flashed of an unpleasant memory—of a grudge unresolved, and revenge yet to be gotten.

And seeking revenge on the dead was difficult. But not impossible.

Her lips curled for a Cheshire-like grin.

The first step was to search for a vulnerable mind.

***

She met him at the playground, her twins on either of her sides.

Seated on a bench, the man looked to be in his mid-twenties. There was a laptop on his lap. Standing at a diagonal, Celine watched him intently. He was oozing vulnerability.

By her waist, Rosalie tugged on her sleeve. "Mother, can we go play now?"

"Go ahead. Be safe."

"Okay. Come on, Cora, let's go."

Celine swirled the glass of wine in her hand before going over to take a seat on the bench. She made sure to leave some space between them. When he noticed her presence, he cleared his throat and wiped his cheeks.

"Which one's yours," she asked.

He turned to her and gestured his head one direction. "My nephew over there."

She followed his line of sight with her own. The little boy was underneath a slide, palms over his eyes. "Ah, the one counting for hide and seek."

He smiled. "It's his favorite game."

She looked at her own daughters. They scurried behind the poles that held the swing set. "I think he's playing with my girls."

He paused to find them. "Are they twins?"

"Yes." She then reached out her hand. "I'm Celine, by the way."

He shook it. "Neo Ruhl. Nice to meet you."

"Neo," she repeated, extending the hand that held a glass of wine. "Do you drink?"

"Oh, no thank you."

"Are you sure? It's a good stress reliever." She glanced at his laptop. "It looks like you need it..."

Neo shook his head with an airy chuckle. "Alright, if you say so."

He drank less than she would've liked him to. Celine insisted that he drink more. That doing so would relax his body.

"I'll be driving with my nephew later," he'd reasoned as he refused.

With that, she had given up. It didn't matter anyway, said the grin on her face. Celine swirled her glass in circles. This wasn't just any drink.

For a while, they watched their respective children play around the playground, and they commented every so often on how seriously his nephew played hide-and-seek.

At some point, Celine could see that the drink was finally settling in his body. His eyelids sat lower than they should've.

That was her cue to speak. "What are you stressed about, Neo?"

He turned his head only slightly. "Huh?"

"You were crying earlier, weren't you?"

He looked down at his laptop. "Mhm. I failed my exam..."

"Why?"

He pulled his lips into a thin line. "I'm just not very good at Accounting."

Celine hummed. She needed more. "Where's your nephew's parents?"

"They're not alive anymore..."

"Did you ever want children of your own?"

"Actually, I'm infertile..." Neo turned his head slightly and smiled. "So, I'm glad I can be sort of like a father. It worked out in the end."

She leaned towards him. "Do you ever wish you were free? You know, without a kid to take care of?"

His lips were slightly open. It was clear he was in a zone halfway between consciousness and unconsciousness. The gears in his head turned abnormally slow.

He closed his mouth and began to think; Celine couldn't allow that to happen. He wasn't supposed to be thinking. Quickly, she asked another question. "Are you angry at Damien?"

"He was hurting. It must've been hard for him." Neo pinched his brows in anguish. "He must've cried. I-I wish I could've been there... Of course I'm not angry."

"Are you angry at Eve?"

"Angry at...?" He squinted his brows and snapped her head to her. "I love Eve. What are you asking?"

Celine clicked her tongue, irritated. She should've gave him more to drink. It was wearing off too quickly.

Before he became himself again, she asked a final question. "Where do you live?"

"520... Silver."

Celine rose from her seat and raised a shoulder. "It's unfortunate, Neo. You're perfect for this." He hummed in question, but she left to grab her daughters with his address etched in her brain and a grin on her face.

That day marked the start of Project Neo.

The goal? To finally get her revenge. The method? To create a client.