Crystal Roses [On Hold]

Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Sharp raps on the door is what wakes me up at five in the morning.

Who would be knocking on my door so early? I wonder, and for a second a flash of my adoptive parents run across my mind before vanishing. I shove the alarming thought away. That's ridiculous; I've covered my tracks well enough to keep them away for another two years, I tell myself.

I pry my eyelids open and heave myself out of the warm comfort of my bed and stumble towards the door. I unlock it and swing it open quickly, my eyes resting upon the landlord.

He smiles apologetically, wrinkles forming around the corners of his eyes. I do not return the smile, and his own falls. "I'm sorry for waking you at this time, but I was wondering if you have the rent for this month?" He asks.

I remember today is November 1st.

I nod towards him and turn around to get my rent envelope containing the $300 I need. I return to the door and hand it to him before nodding once more and closing the door in his face, still half-asleep.

I groan and rub my eyes before washing my face and brushing my teeth in the bathroom. I change into warm clothes for the coming winter and slip on my jacket, trying to ignore the strange feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I must be hungry, I think, heading out the door and closing it behind me. I notice the white piece of paper taped to the wood as I lock it.

I sigh and open it, thinking, why me?

Jesaray Lynette Syar, I can be a very patient man, but you have pushed it to its limit. I will regret doing this, but it is the only way to keep my job. I know you will be furious in later time, so I will say now, that I am extremely sorry, but just keep in mind, that it is you who has forced me to do this.

Sincerely, Slate Hunters

How does he know my middle name? I wonder, but take no worry to his meaningless words. He must be a man of talk and no action; I have nothing to fear. I toss his threat down the hall and proceed to the stairs, knowing the elevator is broken. I walk out into the new, November air, its cold wind biting my cheeks as I head to the nearest fast food store.

"Hi, how may I take your order?" The boy behind the Tim Horton's counter winks at me suggestively. I stifle a scowl at the hormonal teenage boy; he looks to be about sixteen years old.

I stare at him, my expression clearly stating I am not interested. "I'll have a french vanilla with an onion bagel toasted with herb and garlic," I tell him, knowing the order would disgust him.

As expected, the boy scrunches his nose in distate and types in my order. "That'll be $8.46, please," he holds out his hand before I let my money drop into his open palm.

 It is only a few minutes until I walk through the frosted doors, stomach full and warm. I pull out piece of gum from my bag and chew on it, freshening my breath.

No one likes to speak to a person with garlic breath, I think, a small smile pulling at my lips as I walk down Ironstone Street, feeling my feet walk across the pavement in quick, light steps. A feeling of premonition washes over me, leaving my skin tingling as I walk faster.

Something is wrong, I realize in a second, but it is a second too late.

A muscled arm wraps around my waist while a large hand covers my mouth, fortunately keeping my nose uncovered. I react quickly, biting into the person's palm and swinging my left leg to hook onto the person's left leg. I shove myself backward, pulling their left leg forward in the process. The person drops their bitten hand in rage, but before they could cover it again, I use their moment of unawareness to whirl around and thrust my fist into their stomach. The person -- the man -- howls in pain as I strike his ribs, his lower abdomen, and then lastly, his chest. He stumbles backwards from the force as the air leaves his lungs, and I take that moment to place both of my palms onto his chest, wrap my left leg around his right, and push at the same time I pull his leg forward. What I don't expect, is for him to hastily wrap his arms around my waist and pull me down with him. I land on top of him and he immediately rolls over, his overweight body crushes me, forcing the air to leave my lungs as he smiles. Yellow, crusted teeth meet my eyes, and I force down the bile that threatens to spill. Disgusting, I cannot help but think as I struggle underneath him, trying to breathe in any amount of needed oxygen.

Suddenly, the overbearing weight is knocked off of me and I gasp in a deep breath of air. I can feel my heart thumping in my chest, pumping the sudden blood quickly from the burst of oxygen it needed. The blood travels through my veins as I lay there, trying to calm down my breaths. A shadow is cast over me and I look to see the last person I expected to see.

Slate Hunters stares down at me, a concerned look on his face as he kneels beside me. "Are you alright? Can you breathe properly?" He asks, his dark eyes scanning over my entire body for anything wrong.

I grunt and heave my body into a standing position, flexing my body for any sore spots.

I sigh as a faint pain touches my right arm. I flex and loosen it over and over until it doesn't feel sore anymore.

"I'm fine," I finally tell a concerned Slate.

He releases a breath and steps back, his height towering over me by a few inches. I look towards the overweight man that lay unconscious on the concrete. A disgusted scowl appears at my lips before I return my stare to Slate.

Then I remember his note, and my eyes narrow. I step away from him in suspicion.

“You did this. You hired him to attack me, didn’t you?” I shout.

Slate looks taken aback for only a moment before his own eyes narrow. “I would not do such a thing. Listen, you may think of me as arrogant or egotistical, but I would never stoop so low just to get someone.” Suddenly, his expression softens and a sly smile pulls at his full lips. “You owe me, as I had saved your life.” He tells me.

My eyes widen. He is right; he had pushed him off of me to let me breathe, I realize.

I sigh in defeat and lower my head before looking up at him under my eyelashes, my expression exhausted. “Some may think of me as stubborn and cold, but if someone helps me, I always return the favour. I will let you explain.” I tell him.

His smile grows larger, his dark brown eyes twinkling as he shakes his messily styled, jet black hair out of his face. He holds out a hand and I take it before he pulls me across the street.

What have I gotten myself into? I wonder as I look at our joined hands, feeling the extra breeze caress my cheeks as we run towards his car.

Wow, his hands are soft.

-rockermp3

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