Hendrix ✓

40 ★ Keep you safe

     Whatever this is, I already don't like it. Lots of things don't add up. We were being lied to. Hendrix clearly hasn't been doing well. She's living in a dump. I only hope there isn't more to learn.

     Before I can carry on to ask these questions, the telltale sound of the door opening interrupts. I stiffen when I hear it close, and then the noise of shoes hitting the wood floor.

     My mate is back, and I'm completely unprepared.

    

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Hendrix POV

     I park my car in my usual spot, shifting a glance out the dim window to look out into the pitch black parking lot. I parked as close as possible to the building, but I'm still scared witless of what could pop out of the shadows.

     It's always scary for me, walking up to my apartment at night. Especially when I'm 5 months pregnant with a belly so big I already can't see my toes.

     I hate the fact that because I'm a woman, I naturally have to fear for my safety when the sun goes down and I'm alone. It's not fair.

     But I have to brave it whether I like it or not. I'm tough, and my hormones make me meaner than a wet hen. A mugger would be stupid to mess with me. It's just that my energy levels are low, and it's getting worse every day.

     So, slipping a hand into my purse and clutching my pepper spray tightly, I climb out of my car with much effort.

     Pregnancy turns everything into an ordeal.

     After locking up my car, I waddle to the building and slowly heave my way up each and every stair. The only sounds to be heard are my feet, and the sound of my panting bouncing off the cement walls. By the time I'm to the top, I'm already hot and sweaty, and out of breath.

     I have gained way too much weight during these past few months. Not that being a little sturdier is a problem, but I really wasn't used to carrying this much weight before. I put it on so quickly that I didn't have any time to get used to it. I think that's the reason I'm so weak. I constantly need breaks to get my energy back.

     After taking a quick pause for breath, I trudge to my door. The lovely smell of chicken makes me smile. Jamison is here. I love when he surprises me with a visit. He's a good cook, and keeps me well fed.

     I open the door after finding it unlocked, and push it shut behind me. Kicking off my sandals, I shake my head as I waddle towards the kitchen with a hand on top of my protruding belly.

     "I keep telling you to stop fattening me up, if you don't stop it I'll have nothing to wear!" I laugh, amusement coloring every word as I turn the corner.

     The sight of my kitchen stops me in the doorway, and I sober up immediately. This isn't something I expected.

     He hasn't changed at all.

     Same messy black hair, scruffy jaw, and ruby red scars. His presence is large and demanding of my attention, he fills the entire room with his arrival. He's misplaced in my dreary looking kitchen. He represents a wonderful phase in my life, and my apartment is my foul life after him. Seeing them collide is bizarre.

     His cherry eyes that stare back at me seem to hold a different light. Gone is the cool and collected sheen. They seemed desperate, restless. I recognize those eyes.

     They mirror my own from the past 5 months.

     My vision blurs as my eyes focused solely on him. I sniffle once, and then twice before wiping my eyes and shaking my head.