BROWN SKIN | BOOK 1

|| C H A P T E R . 25 || PART IV

"Beau, I think—"

"The place isn't top notch."

I waited my turn by saying nothing else. I waited. I should've just said what I needed to say loud and clear instead of hold in my feelings. We spoke at the same time and the only words heard were his.

Beau actually collected a lot of abandoned items from the vehicle with a backpack on his shoulders, some money, a baseball cap, and different clothes similar to his attire already. He tried to offer me a couple, folded neatly like disguises. The baseball cap tucked low to hide the pupils.

I said no because I wasn't going to wear a dead person's clothing.

Beau pushed the door open as it groaned a low creaking sound. My bare feet carefully climbed each step and observed the apartment. He couldn't glance in my direction as he stood by the door letting me in. I knew what he meant about the home. It was nothing fancy like the Dales house.

A typical long couch and two comfy chairs faced each other. A long brown table steadied itself over the rug. The kitchen adjoined with the living room and the counters made of white marble were embedded with navy-blue cracks as detail so polished as plain adornments. Essentials were provided in a typical selling living stay but bought: a refrigerator; stove; microwave; and a flat screen. Personal accessories that topped the icing on the cake were a glass ashtray compiled of burnt cigarette butts and half empty liquor bottles.

Beau led the way to the staircase closest to the wall with wooden creaks following his steps. Mine too. Several rooms drew a mysterious illusion when the area could have nothing at all. Beau pushed open a cream-colored door barely shut. The room absorbed the dim light from the hallway. With the flicker of the light switch, everything fell into place with the idea I had not imagined.

I expected his personality to glitter and glow on the bedroom walls or at least see a messy bed with a floor that can barely be seen.

It was. . .neat actually.

The ruffled bed just appeared unorderly as if a sleepy body has engulfed in sleek sheets leaving dents. The four walls were spotless and glossed with a paint shade of coconut milk.

"And this is my room," He scratched the back of his head then closed the door behind me.

I didn't plan on being alone with Beau at this point in time and really had the urge to bust through the door to run. The frustration began to pile up with all the turns in events without my knowledge. I wanted to tug strands out of my hair with no one still knowing where I was located and not being home by now. I had all contacts saved on my phone that I left, never having to remember the final digits, that even being no use. Did anyone care? Was I just a figure that filled up space in their memories or eye-passing? I apparently was, since I arrived here, so what has changed for me in one season?

This made me mad. Mad enough fire ignited in my red-hot veins and bones only knowing it was okay for people to be careless and lie. It made me sick to my stomach that even bile not there boiled up in my throat.

"I'm not ignoring this any longer," I said with an undertone of bass and demand.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"This!" I cried out, my palms displayed out to him trying to shake off the fear and anger contained in my body.

"I'm supposed to be where I belong so I can forget this madness, but I'm here, losing my damn mind!"

Beau pushed himself up but held the doorknob to stabilize his posture with weak muscles. Beau swallowed as his unnoticeable Adam's Apple bobbed, and with a low-level soothing murmured, "I will take you home Ebonee, just not right now okay, just—"