I stared aimlessly at the pamphlet on the table as I picked at the half-eaten sandwich on the plate in front of me.
Filled with coupons and discounts from local stores, the brochure had certainly been of good use during the shopping trip I did this morning. Though the day had been productive, time seemed to have gotten ahead of me today.
After stopping by Elisabeth's house to water her plants while she was away, I had just barely managed to get Celine to a birthday party at her friend's house on time. Having ended up in traffic right at the busiest hour on my way back home, I realised I sucked at time management.
Now, however, as I was sat eating my leftovers from lunch at the kitchen island, time couldn't have gone by any slower.
When did my weekends become so dull?
Oh, that's right. Ever since I stopped spending my weekends at the bar or on the street.
Gathering the coupons I had still yet to use into the kitchen drawer, I swiftly crumbled the rest of the pamphlet into a ball and threw it in the already overflowing trashcan. I would have to remember to take the trash out before the truck came by tomorrow.
The distorted ringing from my phone caught my attention as I headed to the living room to watch some television. Although there was nothing that interested me on the few channels we had available, it was better than sitting in silence with only my own thoughts to entertain me. Maybe I would have to find a book to read on my free time, as Julian had suggested a couple of weeks ago. Not that he read too many of those.
I was surprised to see Zayden's name on the caller ID. I ignored the way my heart sped up as I accepted the call.
«You doing anything tonight?»
I cocked my head at the question, recalling him saying that he wouldn't be back in town until tomorrow afternoon.
«Um, just planning on hanging out at the apartment.» I sat back in the couch and started searching for the television remote. «How about you? Anything special happening in Range tonight?»
«Actually, I figured I'd come back earlier from Range,» he replied. «Meet me behind the bar in an hour. I have something I want to show you.»
I paused, processing his words in silent confusion. In one hour? He must have already started driving back from Range a couple of hours ago then.
When I didn't reply right away, he teasingly added «that is, if you would rather want to hang out with me than with your television tonight.»
I smiled and agreed to meet up in an hour, a wave of excitement building in me as I thought about what he had in mind for tonight. He certainly was no predictable man, one minute playing the role of a reserved and indifferent leader, then the next almost making me flush uncomfortably by his forwardness.
With nothing else to do in the meantime, I spent the next hour hour getting ready.
Running the comb through my newly washed hair, I stared at my reflection through the foggy mirror. I couldn't help but take extra notice of the way my appearance looked now compared to how it did just a year ago. As I put my hair into a french braid I noticed that the dark circles under my eyes were less prominent. Probably due to my change in sleep schedule. My collarbones didn't protrude as much as when we were living on two meals a day. Upon the recommendation from Elisabeth, I had even bought a moisturising cream for my skin. And although it was still slightly dry, my hair looked healthier, and less rough. Though the lifestyle changes seemed small, the effect in my complexion was showing. I couldn't say I disliked it.
Still, I thought as I changed into the clothes I had chosen for the evening, my eyes sweeping over my figure.
I seem... lankier.
Though the difference in muscle tone wasn't too visible, I couldn't ignore it as I looked at myself in the mirror. Not working my muscles regularly in the ring was doubtlessly the reason for the change. I certainly wasn't constantly feeling sore or having my body ache every morning after work. And for that, I was grateful.
Putting my boots on, I paired them wth a denim jacket before grabbing the keys to the apartment. I paused in the doorway, contemplating putting on the perfume Elisabeth had picked out for me on my birthday. Zayden would probably appreciate it...
Half a minute later I was out the door and headed for the parking lot outside the apartment complex, the whiff of the perfume around my neck hitting my nose as I quickly descended the stairs. After positioning myself on my bike and adjusting the mirrors, I took notice of the brisk wind around the parking lot. Exhaling in disappointment, I put my helmet on and kicked the bike into gear. The scent of the perfume would surely be gone by the time I arrive at the bar. What was I thinking.
I checked the time on my phone.
08.00 pm
I had been waiting for forty-eight minutes.
A handful of people had entered the bar since I had arrived, the pace of arriving customers rapidly picking up as the night moved on.
My fingers were starting to grow cold as the chilly breeze seemed to find a way through the back alley quite frequently tonight. Although the anticipation of meeting Zayden lingered in the back of my mind, I couldn't ignore my growing irritation.
Had I misunderstood the conversation? Was this not the bar he meant when he asked to meet up? No, this was the only bar both of us had any real association with. He couldn't have meant any other place.
Opening my phone, I checked the time again before searching for any unread messages regarding his delay.
As the music from the bar got louder, and the voices rowdier, the feeling of unease started in my stomach. Though I had tried calling him fifteen minutes ago, I tried again- only to be redirected to his voicemail. My hand tightened around the handle of the motorcycle in silent frustration. Had he forgotten our date?
He might have been too tired to remember once he got back to his apartment. He might have even fallen asleep the minute he arrived.
I settled back down on the bike, frowning down at my phone.
This wasn't like him at all. He never disregarded meetings, no matter how tired he was. Hadn't he seemed excited on the phone earlier? It didn't seem like he would simply forget.
I sat there, silently grinding my jaw for another ten minutes before unhooking the clasp on the helmet in my hands and placing it over my head. My mind hadn't decided if I should be irritated or concerned that Zayden never showed up. However, there was no doubt that I wouldn't be able to sleep tonight without knowing what happened. I wanted an explanation, if only a conformation that everything was ok.
Kicking up the stand on the motorcycle, I swiftly navigated the bike through the smaller crowds of people waiting outside the bar. Once on the main road, I headed for Zayden's apartment.
**
Ignoring the doorbell that had yet to function during any of my visits, I knocked on the door to the apartment.
As I waited, I put my hands in my pockets in an attempt to warm them up from the ride over. The wind had picked up outside, the air surprisingly sharp for it being in the middle of summer. A dreary overcast had seemingly settled in for the night.
There was no answer to my knock.
I knocked again. Leaning forward, I listening for any rustling on the other side of the door, or any sluggish footsteps. The hallway was as quiet as ever.
In a last attempt before trying the phone again, I tried the doorknob.
My breath caught as I pulled the handle all the way down. To my surprise the door slid open, not without creaking from its rusty hinges.
I was frozen for a couple of seconds, my brain trying to make sense of the situation. Zayden never left the door unlocked.
Holding my breath, I strained my ears for any sound coming from the open crack of the door. Before I got a chance to psyche myself out, I slid through the gap and entered the apartment.
I didn't know what I was expecting to find. An empty room? Zayden fast asleep? An infiltrating gang just waiting to pounce?
The apartment was absorbed in darkness. I was barely able to make my way to the nearest lamp without tripping over my own feet. The slick and slightly slippery wooden floor panels didn't exactly help my balance either.
What the hell is going on here?
I paused momentarily at the thought of not being alone in the room. My eyes drifted from one side of the room to the other, still trying to adjust to the dark. Swallowing, I pushed my anxiety away and quickly located the electrical cord. My fingers scrambled to find the switch.
There was little flare left in the single lightbulb under the hood of the lamp. Still, as the light flickered to life, the shadows of the room dwindled, along with the growing anxiety in the back of my mind.
I checked the door behind me, and sighed in relief. It was still open, and there seemed there were no one hiding in the shadows. No sound of guns being loaded, no feet shuffling to get into position. Looking around, everything seemed-
I almost yelled out as I caught sight of a figure in the room.
A man was sprawled on the couch. His face was buried in the cushions as he rested on his stomach with one arm dangling off the side. He would have looked to be peacefully sleeping had it not been for his shoulder being bent in an odd angle, making the left side of his upper body awkwardly tilt slightly downwards.
I carefully moved toward him, but ended up almost tripping backwards as my shoe slipped on the floor yet again. Cursing, I regained my footing and closed the distance to the couch. My mind was scrambling to find an explanation to the situation.
«Zayden?»
My voice cut the silence of the room like a knife. The hair, the outline of his frame; there was no doubt in my mind that it was him.
The stillness of his body unnerved me. Pushing down the growing fear in my stomach, I crouched down next to the couch. I held my breath. Cupping the sides of his head, I carefully rotated it to the side, exposing his bruised and battered face to the dim light.
My breath caught painfully in my throat as I hurriedly shifted closer to him. I let my thumb carefully caress the side of his face as I examined his appearance, stunned. His nose was slightly crooked, dried blood surrounding his nostrils. Black and blue discolourations had started to form under his eyes. His upper lip was cut. With trembling fingers, I placed them under his jaw, locating his pulse as I leaned in to listen for his breath. Though unsteady and slightly shallow, he was breathing.
I could only stare at him in shock.
«...Who did this to you?» I whispered bitterly through gritted teeth, my voice sounding strange in my ears.
He still wasn't answering.
«Zayden,» I tried again, my voice more urgent.
His eyes did not flutter in response. His breath did not pick up.
I touched his face carefully, trying not to cause him any more discomfort than needed for him to wake up. Still, as I gently tapped his cheek, and patted his arm with a growing sense of urgency, there was no response.
My heart started to pound loudly in my ears, and I felt myself start to panic at the lack of feedback. He must be passed out.
Ignoring the growing blurriness of my vision, I dug into my pocked and hastily brought out my phone. Instinctively, I called Brock. The phone rang twice before he picked up.
«What?! Where is he now?» He yelled after I had described Zayden's state. My hand rested on the back of his neck as I explained the whole situation as fast as possible. My fingers lingered in his hair for a bit before letting go. The back of his head was damp with sweat.
Over the phone, Brock instructed me to get a pack of ice and a towel for his swelling. I was told to attempt to wake him up, but avoid shaking him in case there was trauma to his head. I almost sighed in relief when he informed me that Rick would be at the apartment within the next two hours.
My breath shallow with worry, and my mind only focusing on the task at hand, I struggled to find my footing as I tried to get up. As a result, my phone slipped out of my hand. Letting out a string of curses, I reached down to the floor and felt around the couch and coffee table next to me. The wooden panels around me were wet, just like by the door.
Irritated and slightly disoriented, I gave up on trying to locate my phone, and pushed myself up on my feet. Heading for the kitchen, I swung open the door of the freezer and brought out a pack of ice.
I paused for a second, considering bringing another icepack for his shoulder.
Something caught my eye during my process of thinking, and I couldn't help my gaze from landing on the red mark on the handle of the freezer.
Huh.
I frowned and looked down at my hands. The pack of ice was stained red, and so were my fingers.
Slowly stepping back into the living room, I found a light switch and turned on a second light. Red stained footprints painted the floor from the front door to the couch.
My heartbeat was the only sound my ears could pick up. Bracing myself against the wall, I lifted my foot and looked under my shoe.
They were the colour of deep red. Stained with blood.
_____
A/N: I'm really looking forward to moving on with this story arc, so thank you for keeping up with me! I'm happy you're here x
Next chapter is scheduled to be up on 11.06.21