HIDDEN PROPHECY. (SEQUEL to Devoured Destiny)

Thought Eight. - Clunk.

Thought Eight.

No, I definitely don’t trust this man.

I’ve known him for, what? A day?

Precisely. And trust isn’t just something you can put out there and dangle in the face of any ol’ stranger. No. Trust is earned, and deserved. Trusting the wrong person can very well destroy you. Destroy me.

I can’t have that.

But for some unknown, peculiar reason, I still have this uncontrollable feeling of trust towards Jones. How can I even explain it? It’s like from the moment I set my eyes on those midnight orbs, I was demoted from my sturdy castle of normalcy, and surged dramatically downwards into a spiral of consumption and devotion. My heart trusts this man, yet my mind is telling me that it is not logical, nor is it safe to do such a preposterous thing.

I look over at Jones, as we continue walking silently side by side, and notice that he’s biting the inside of his cheek. Is he nervous?

What could possibly make him nervous? Make him second-guess walking this dark alley, just off of a street I can’t remember the name of all ready?  As far as I’m concerned, he doesn’t need to be nervous or frightened of anything. I do. But seeing him nervous rubs off on me, and soon enough, I too am cracking my knuckles and biting my bottom lip.

“You OK?” His voice wraps around my earlobes like silk. Only two words he spoke, and I’m shivering for more. 

I shake my head in astonishment.

Common girl!

Get with it!

“Yeah, yeah. Just dandy. Can you please tell me where we are going? Or why this can’t wait until the morning? Or maybe you can tell me why you look as nervous as I feel? Huh? What. Is. Going. On?” By the last word I said, we had already stopped walking. He is staring at me, his eyebrow quirked and his lips set in a smug smile.

I’m starting to think that this is his ‘signature’ look.

“Impatient, just like your mother.” He shakes his head back and forth, as if he can’t believe it. “I just hope that you are as accepting as she was too…” He looks up into the night sky at the stars, and I can’t help but wonder what the hell goes on inside that beautifully –big head of his.

“Like my mother? You don’t even know my mother!” I exclaim, finally allowing myself to think properly. Instead of ogling stranger danger.

He finds this amusing.

“Are you mentally ill? Is there something that I should know about you before we continue this journey?” I continue bantering, not knowing where to begin the insanity or end it.

“Ah, shush. We are almost there, and then I can just show you everything. So please, have a little faith in me, and in what you are going to see shortly. Don’t close off your mind too suddenly, and don’t shut me out. Trust.” And now we are walking again.