Wandering Alone

Chapter 4

I took a deep breath.  I was ready.  I pulled back the hammer, hearing it click into place.  The next thing I felt was pain.  I clenched my teeth as I grasped my elbow, looking through tears to see who was twisting my arm.  A boy about my age stood grasping the gun, yanking with all his might.  His eyes were shut closed as he pulled, wrenching it from my grasp.

I let go, startled.  What was he doing in my house?  He fell backwards, hitting his head on the ground.  He hissed in pain as his hands flew to his head, tangling in his brown hair.  I jumped from the bed, leaping over his body and through the open doorway.  My heart was beating so fast I thought I was going to pass out.  I ran to the hall closet, fumbling around searching for something, anything, that I could used to defend myself.  My fingers closed around the handle of a baseball bat just as the kid came running out of my parents bedroom.

"What the hell are you doing in my house?!"  I screamed, holding the bat in front of me like a sword.  It hadn't exactly been my intention, but I wanted him to know I was armed.  He looked at me, raising his hands over his head in surrender, and smirked.  He actually fucking smirked.  "Answer me before I call the police!"  He smirked even bigger, his lips twitching.  He was trying not to laugh.  I could feel irritation bubbling inside of me, making it's way out.

"I'm sorry to scare you,"  He said, his voice thick with a British accent, "But your front door was wide open.  I heard someone crying so I came up to the door, but no one answered."   I gasped.  Katie must have slammed the door so hard it bounced back open. I remember that happening last spring.  My step dad left in a hurry and the door bounced back, letting the rain pour in.  By the time I noticed the whole bottom floor of my house was covered in a tin layer of water.

I lowered my bat, coking my head at him.  He was about six feet tall, with shaggy brown hair and blue eyes.  He wore a dark blue, almost black T-shirt, blue jeans, and white sneakers.  His lips were a rosy red color, twisted into a taunting smile.  One of his black eyebrows was raised, and it was then that I realised I was staring.  I quickly tore my eyes away, clearing my throat.

I felt my cheeks go red as I relised what he had seen.  He stopped me from killing myself.  Did I want that?  I have to admit, I felt a bit of relief.  I didn't really want to die, I was just overwhelmed.  But still, it might have been better just to pull the trigger...

"Thanks..." I muttered awkwardly, rubbing my elbow. It really hurt from where he had jarred it. 

"What for?"  He asked, his brown eyes sparkling.  I wrinkled my eyebrows, and let the bat fall completely to my side.  If he didn't know what I was thanking him for, then he was no where near mentally fit to do physical harm to me.

"For stopping me from-"

"This is the first time I've ever seen you."  He stated, winking and extending a hand.  "My name is Zane, I just moved here."  I stood there, blinking in shock.  Was he really going to forget everything?  I can't even explain how much of a relief that would've been to me.

"I'm Demitra." I said, taking his hand and shaking off my near death.  I would have to live, for now.

"Pleased to meet you."  He grinned, flashing me his pearly white teeth.  We stood there, shaking hands for who knows how long.   I couldn't help the smile that was glued to my face, for some reason I felt happy.  After a while we migrated into the living room and sat on the couch.  We talked for hours, just enjoying each others company.  How did he have this effect on me? No one else could coax me to act like myself.  Actually like myself, and not the perfect, proper person I pretended to be in front of others.

 Around six o'clock he announced, "I've got to go now, I need to eat before I head to my new youth group."  Oh, he was a Christian.  Not that I had anything against Christians, I just...wasn't one.