Hemlock Clan: What I Am

~ VI ~

Cameron

My hand was on the handle of the door that led outside, ready to open it. Leaning my ear against it, I held my breath, listening ...

Listening for what?

Do I need to check outside this door again? Just in case... well...

What if ... someone was there again?

I shook my head, getting annoyed at myself. I had to stop this. There was nothing outside. The road leading to the docks was always quiet at this time of night. No one came down here at this time.

Well, there was the other night ... those two guys ... one asleep on the floor and the other one ... the other one ...

Gritting my teeth, I pulled my hand away, spun on my heel and stomped my way along the wall of the empty warehouse towards the gatehouse next door.

Stop thinking, for fucks' sake. Stop thinking about them. About him.

Just stop.

I hated thinking. Hated the thoughts whirling around in my head. They were constantly taunting me, bullying me, terrorising me. They never gave me a break. They were always there ... always judging me.

Even now, when I was supposed to be working, supposed to be walking around the docks, checking all the outer buildings, making sure every window was closed, every door was locked ... even when there was no one else around, my thoughts didn't leave me alone.

That little voice at the back of my head ... it was nagging at me. It was trying to remind me of the handsome guy that I'd nearly walked right into the other night. The beautiful stranger that was hiding around the corner of the empty building. The gorgeous man that had left his friend sleeping on the floor.

And that same little voice was pointing out that no one as attractive as him would want anyone as broken, as deformed, as scarred, as damaged as me.

I scoffed. I already knew that anyway. There was no need for that little voice to keep reminding me.

As if by muscle memory, my mind went back to that night, to that guy, to those icy blue eyes so light they were almost white. They'd been wide with ... shock? Surprise?

Probably. He wasn't expecting to see anyone.

He'd bolted and left his friend asleep on the floor. Why would he do that? Why leave his friend? Was it because of me? Did he see my scar?

What were they doing, anyway?

Not really wanting to know the answer to that question, I tugged at the long sleeves of my black shirt of my security officer uniform and tried to wipe the scowl off of my face as my boots clomped against the hard concrete of the floor towards the gatehouse. The heat of the day had lessened slightly as night drew over the city, but the atmosphere was still sticky and warm, the air feeling thick. I breathed in deeply, feeling the dense air filling my lungs.

As I approached the gatehouse, I could hear Rosie and Mark chatting, most probably about the latest episode of the soap opera they were both addicted to. Working nights meant that we often had reruns of soap operas and sitcoms blaring on the television in the gatehouse. They were much better than the teleshopping channel. There was only so much a person could do to try to sell crap on TV before it became cringey.

During one very long and boring shift, Mark and I had decided to watch a teleshopping channel and had counted how many times the host had called the necklace he was selling beautiful. Forty six times. In ten minutes.

"Can you believe that she did that to him?" I heard Rosie's excited voice as I opened the door to the gatehouse. "I didn't see that coming! I thought they were in love."