Crimson Mists

12. An Hopeful Heart.

"What we once enjoyed and deeply loved we can never lose, for all that we love deeply becomes a part of us-" Hellen Keller.

Chikamharida's POV.

I was supposed to be by my bed resting, a duvet over my fatigued form, covering every tired bones and every mood draining emotions but instead he was here, forcing me to wonder his reason for seeking me out.

My light skinned helper, skinny in silhouette and impressively tall in height was leaning against the rough walls of our hallway, barely a breathing space between him and the knob of my door.

The moonlight illuminated our gladness and skimmed our darker emotions. We stood in an hallway, lacking in everything except our forms, our heavy breaths and silence- the silence which I was about to break but he did first, apparently impatient.

"Where did you keep your phone?" He asked, pushing away from the wall so he was directly facing me. "I've been calling you."

I decided to taunt him. The little information he hid from me the cause of my anger. I shouldn't pick a fight, but with a damaged phone screen and the other emotional outlet I had almost leading to my death, I had decided that what I was doing was the best decision ever. Or maybe it wasn't even a decision, just an innate part of me that had been in hibernation.

"Firstly,"I said. "I'm not allowed to answer calls on the job except it's unavoidable. Secondly, Maley and her gang are the ones who broke my phone when they attacked me."

He looked at me; it was a deep look that spoke volumes, like he was saying things silently through those fathomless depths.

"Open your door Harida," he said. "The walls have ears."

And I listened, gripping the knob with wet hands and turning it after plugging the key.

We were finally in the four corners of my room, I first and him after. I switched on the light to illuminate the space, and I led him to the wooden seat by the window.

"You can sit down Henry," I said. "We aren't enemies."

While he sat down, I deemed it reasonable to change into dry clothes which would offer more comfort than his presence could. Feeling his eyes on me all the while I had waltzed to the closet and then, my bathroom. When I was finally in joggers and a baggy shirt, I sat on my bed, ready to assimilate whatever useful information had brought him to me.

I cleared my throat, it was loud and squeaky like I had a mucus producing factory in my voice box.

"There's drink in the kitchen if your suffering from dry throat," he said, raising a brow at me, a smile on his face, one I could easily tell was forced.

"I should be telling you that. Well, since it's not clear enough let me say it again- you need to go for a check-up," I said, crossing and uncrossing my legs. Eyes focused on his raised brows as I said, "You keep forgetting that we're not on talking terms. When you're not keeping a secret from me, you talk to me but what you say always leaves me confused. You say one thing and it means another; it's like you're a person with many faces, deciding to show a different one anytime you feel like it."

"About that," Henry started then stopped. "What type of secrets do you think I'm keeping from you?"

"The lady I saw you with-"

"I was hoping you wouldn't see that. It's not meant to be a public news."

I sighed. He really wasn't getting it.

"Henry," I said slowly, my eyes focused on him, on his dark eyes which were pleading for things I couldn't ever know. "I told you all about my family. You know that I have nine siblings and you know of my background. Heck, you know almost everything about me down to my education. Why don't you want people to know about your wife? Why don't you want to tell me about yourself?"