Falling For Seconds

Chapter Eleven

The grey of the clouds made the old brick building look that much more vibrant. The green ivy scaled the building, wrapped around the windows and almost touched the roof. The concrete steps to the front door were cracked but stable.
I longed to be back in the neighborhood with the home owned by the only person in this world that made me feel like I could take on everything at once.
Gazing up at my apartment, I didn't feel like I could even take on a fly. "Couldn't I just stay with you until I have to go to my parent's?" I complained.
Levi casually shoved the sleeve of his shirt up his arm to reveal a black watch. My brows furrowed. I'd never known him to accessorize, especially with a piece of metal that reminded me of my father.
"As much as I would love to, my job is in desperate need of my presence. It will be good for you to have some time alone." He explained.
I laughed to myself. Every time I had been left alone someone had attacked or kidnapped me. I caught my reflection in the side-view mirror. I was still healing from the last near death experience. He had too much faith in me.
"What happens if... something happens?" I ask, touching a spot on my cheek bone where a bruise was peaking through my concealer.
He rested his hands on the steering wheel, his fingers spreading and wrapping firmly around the cracking leather as his eyes squeezed closed. Was he annoyed by my constant apprehension?
"I can stop by after I'm finished at work." He stated as he shrugged. "Or maybe I can give you something to protect yourself." He took the hand closest to me away from the steering wheel and patted the glove box by my knees. There was a gun in there, too?
"How many of those things do you own?" I pry.
He chuckled. "Two. There is one that stays with me or in my house and there is always one in my glove box, or between my driver door and seat."
I hardly expected an answer, much less the explanation he had just given me. I watch the glove box like if I didn't, it would open and swallow me whole. In the last three months I had seen a gun more than the entire previous part of my life. The Matte black weapon, at this point, shouldn't have me cowering in fear. Yet, here I was sitting on a warm cloth seat as my skin crawled at the thought of holding it in my hands.
"I pray you'll never have to use either of them." Levi added. His voice was so soft it was almost as if the comment was a thought that slipped absentmindedly from his lips.
I peered across the car to where he was. His body was too big for the tiny compact sedan. His knees brushed the bottom of the steering wheel while a few strand of hair tickled the roof. I smiled.
"I hate to kick you out, princess, but I really do have to go."
My body deflated. It was the moment I wasn't ready for. My fingers found the silver latch and popped the door open. Rain drops were slowly painting the sidewalk a dark shade of grey as the clouds opened their faucets.
I pulled my duffel bag from the trunk before turning on my heels to the intimidating building. The building I had once considered an impenetrable fortress. A building that rarely ever made my skin crawl. I glance back at the car hoping Levi would catch my hesitancy and walk me inside, but he didn't.
Realizing no one was coming to my rescue, I started forward. "Oh! I almost forgot!" Levi called from the door. I spun, my heart leaping at the consideration that he wasn't leaving after all. "I had a new key made for you! That way the spare one can stay hidden."
He reached across the passenger seat, holding a shiny new bronze key. My heart dropped to my toes, but I retraced my steps to retrieve the key. "Thanks," I murmured.

The sound of the door closing echoed through the apartment. The thud of the duffel bag hitting the hardwood was louder than usual. I locked the door, pulling at the knob to double check no one was getting inside.
Then I started making my way around the house, checking every window and closet, I was going to barricade myself in if I had to. My subconscious was trying to convince me that I was overreacting, but my body continued, pushing hangers apart to check for a person or secret point of entry that someone could use to get in.
It's only for a couple hours. He'll be back tonight.
"I know, but the time between then and now is... is enough time for something to happen."
You need to chill.
"You need to start thinking rationally! What happened to the realistic, judgmental voice in my head that steered me toward the safe things? This is me being cautious and safe!"
She had nothing to rebuttal with. I huffed in triumph.
I angrily pulled the clothes back together and watched them clatter and swing back and forth on the rack. The sweaters and collared shirts reminded me of Levi's comment about my grandma style.
I chewed at the inside of my lip. "My clothes aren't that bad?" I questioned as my fingers found the soft fabric of a cream cardigan with tiny white beads sewn haphazardly across its entirety.
"That's a little grandmotherly." I admitted, yanking it from its hanger and throwing it on the ground. Next was a group of collared, button down blouses that I never wore unless required by my mother for business casual Sunday brunches. They kept the cardigan company.
After more than ten minutes shuffling through every piece of clothing I owned, I ogled at the small mountain of clothes laying on my bedroom floor. If my mother saw the way I was treating all her "beautiful" clothes that she bought me, I would be strung from the balcony. I sat on the edge of my bed.
My mind flashing through images of what my life use to be. How oddly I had looked in mirrors while dressing for an evening at my parent's favorite restaurant with some of their most accomplished friends.
The scrunch of my mother's nose when I walked down in something other than the dress she had bought for me. Her comments always ending with, "yellow is too bright for your pale skin" or "the cut of that waistline makes you look frumpy".
The hours before a scheduled escapade were what created so much of my anxiety. Even now, staring at the pile of clothes, I couldn't help but run through the hundreds of possible outfits for tomorrow's family dinner. I could see the wrinkles creasing on my mother's forehead as her eyes traveled over my body, silently judging every article of clothing and compiling her comments precisely.
Every detail, down to the accessories had to be perfect. Or maybe not... I wasn't sure I liked were my subconscious was leading me. For years I had been micromanaged by the woman who gave birth to me. Every detail was to her approval and if it wasn't, I pitied the fool who didn't measure up.
No, I had to keep playing the part. For now.