[LOVEY]
⚘
I'M GOING TO DIE. I'M GOING TO BLOODY DIE.
My arm feels like it's broken, and even though I know it's now, I can feel the tears stinging in my eyes. I don't remember much since the gunshot. Right now, the only thing on my mind is the fear of not running fast enough.
I can still hear Mori's scream. They knew nothing of the situation, and yet they were left alone in a room full of broken glass. I couldn't go back for them. Each time I turned to retreat back up the stairs of the fire-escape, Creep wouldn't let me pass. He'd narrow his eyes, and bark at me to keep moving.
I thought it was a joke. Maybe a part of me knew better, but I didn't take any of this seriously—not until I could have died. I might be lying on the floor with a bullet through my chest if Creep wasn't there to throw my chair out of the way. I owe him my life. I hate that.
He led me out of the building, disappearing into the bustling crowd of bystanders that had gone to look. Knowing Mori, they had their hand on the phone as soon as they were able to stand. I couldn't bear to think about them. I must be a stranger in their eyes now, and to leave them alone in a shattered living room was possibly the worst thing a friend could do. I didn't even have time for an explanation.
My heart was racing as we ran, and things were going blurry. I felt like I couldn't breathe. My arm felt bruised and swollen. I wanted to stop and fall to the ground.
"Hey," Creep said sharply, turning around, "how many times do I have to tell you? We have to keep moving."
I didn't realize I'd come to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk, eyes trained on the ground as I felt salty tears cascade down my cheeks. I wanted to go home. I wanted to be anywhere but in Paris, with anyone but him.
"Lovey, are you listening to me?" He snapped.
I lifted my head, showing him my tear-stained face. Strangers glanced at me in passing, concern visible in their eyes. Creep nearly flinched at the sight. Perhaps he wasn't accustomed to showing emotion, since he lacked even the most minimal kind.
Pursing his lips together, he shook his head, beckoning for me to follow him once more. I nearly didn't, until I noticed him change his route, heading into a small telephone booth near the end of the pavement. I wondered what he was doing. Wiping the tears with the back of my hand, I trudged after him, slipping into the booth carefully.
He shut the door.
"Cry," He said.
His words sounded more of a demand than a consolation. Then again, I don't think the latter was even a thought in his horrid little brain.
I narrowed my eyes. "I'm not crying in front of you."
"You're already doing it, just get it over with."
"No."
We were cramped in the small space, nothing but a scraped-and-battered telephone sitting between us, but I would have given anything to throttle him on the spot. If it wasn't for the fact that neither of us liked the idea of being near each other, so much as touching each other. I cringed at the thought.
"You're making a scene outside," Creep said, lowering his voice. I didn't know why he bothered. We were the only two in here. "That's the last thing we need right now."
I scoffed. "What I need right now, is to go back to my hotel room, stuff my face with food, and pretend someone wasn't trying to murder me a few minutes ago."
"We can't go back to the hotel."
"Why not?"
"If they could find you at Mori's apartment, they can find you there. You aren't safe. I don't know how they tracked you, but they did."
He was giving me answers to questions I didn't ask. All I wanted was for my throat to stop feeling like it was closing up on me. My face burned with tears, my heart was beating too quickly, and there was a voice in the back of my head chanting: you could have died, you could have died, you could have died!
"Where am I supposed to go then?" I spat out, pressing my back against the booth.
Creep squinted his eyes, lowering his head to glance out of the foggy widow. "I know a place."
"Where?"
"Worry about that when we get there."
"And what about my clothes?"
"We'll get you new ones. Just finish crying and let's go."
If he'd been paying attention, he would have noticed my internal fury at him stopped me from crying minutes ago. My face was still marked with the stains, but I was clearly lacking any substantial tears.
"Heartless sod," I said.
He didn't respond, but we both knew it was true.
_
THE SAFEHOUSE WAS A FAIR DISTANCE AWAY FROM THE TELEPHONE BOOTH.
At least, that's what he called it: The Safehouse. I thought it was a completely unoriginal name, and the location was anything but comforting. To get to the entrance, we had to enter through the doorway of an inconspicuous apartment in the 8th Arrondissement, traipse into a garden shed, and move an unstable bookshelf away from the wall. There was another door behind that, which led us to a small, brick room.
It was damp and humid, and the dim bulb flickering from the ceiling didn't provide much light. Maybe that was for the best. I'd rather see nothing at all than to see the squalid little hole he brought me to. There was a small bed in the corner of the room, but there was no table, dresser, bathroom, or window. I wouldn't be surprised if I saw a rat scamper by.
Creep brushed past me, taking his jacket off and hanging it on the corner of the cracked mirror beside him. That was the only thing besides the bed, apparently.
"You've got your spoiled-brat face on," he remarked, "cut it out."
I frowned. "What face?"
"The one you have on right now. I get this isn't your five-star hotel, but it's one of the only places you won't be found."
"Really?"
"No satellite connection in here. My agency installed this safehouse long before I was recruited, and it's got everything you need to survive in dire straits."
I hated how he phrased his words. It made me feel like we were already at the end, without having a chance to start. Like I was going to die. Like I was already dead. Survive in dire straits. Even though it had only been a little more than a day, I already found it hard to remember what life was like before all of this.
"So you've been here before?" I asked, mainly to distract my over-thinking mind.
"Yeah," Creep exhaled sharply, "you'll get used to it."
I didn't want to 'get used to it'. I wanted to leave.
Cautiously creeping over towards the bed, I took off my tweed jacket, gently setting it on the mattress. I sat down beside it unwillingly. The rusting springs creaked under my weight, almost as if they were screaming for me to get off.
Creep leaned up against the wall opposite me, crossing his arms against his chest as he stared me down. I hated his gaze. He wasn't afraid of eye-contact, and once he had his subject locked, he hardly ever glanced away. The silence made it worse.
A second more, and I would have melted into the cushions from pure discomfort, if it wasn't for the trickle of sound that started to leak in through the walls. I snapped my head towards the bricks behind me, checking to see if something was there. Nothing.
'We'll meet again,' the sound sang. It was music. The muffled sound of a love song, familiar in the strangest way. 'Don't know where, don't know when.'
Creep noticed my confusion.
"Abilene," he explained thinly, "she's the elder who lives on the other side of this wall. She plays that song everyday."
The tinny-sound mimicked that of a record player, but the voice of the singer still shone through. It unnerved me. 'But I know we'll meet again some sunny day'.
"We're behind someone's apartment?" I whispered, hesitation coursing through me.
Creep pursed his lips. "Next to it, but yes."
"And this, Abilene, won't hear us talking?"
"She's deaf," he said. His expression seemed to soften at the thought of the elderly woman, but it was almost too subtle to catch. "She plays the music in honor of her late husband. I did some digging on her the last time I was here, just because I was curious. He bought her that record a few years before he died."
I propped my legs up onto the mattress. "Are you ever not a Creep, Creep?"
"No. It's my job. You're my job."
"Have you ever thought of me as something more than your job?" I said distastefully. At my words, his brows furrowed ever-so-slightly. He adjusted his stance against the wall, as if he was trying to read my mind.
"In what way?" He queried.
"Perhaps as a human being?"
"Are you not one?"
"That's not the point," I snapped, "you call me your job, and yet you argue in the face of professionalism. You don't treat me like a human, you treat me like a liability."
"You are a liability."
He said those words with such spit-fire, it made my blood boil with hatred. I wanted to throttle him with my bare hands, but I couldn't, due to the fact that neither of us were keen on touching each other.
'To the folks that I know,' the song sang through the walls, 'tell them I won't be long.'
Creep was still staring at me. I hadn't responded, mainly out of anger. He didn't deserve a response. I almost died today, and even though he saved me, he never failed to make it known that it was only for his job. He never saw me as a person in the slightest. It made me feel like my life was a burden to everyone around me.
"I don't care if you hate me, Lovey," He muttered, "but try to get it through your daft head, that if I was not there today, you would be dead."
I hate when people I dislike are right.
"I should call Mori," I said, changing the subject.
He changed it back. "You should stay out of danger."
"They're probably worried sick."
"And if they're not?"
"You don't know anything about them."
"I know more than you'll ever know, Lovey."
I inhaled so sharply, I thought my chest might explode. Creep didn't seem at all bothered by our tense argument, still leaning against the wall like a marble-statue. Narrowing my eyes, I slumped onto the bed, turning my back towards him. I laid there in silence, the musty smell of the mattress tickling my nose.
'We'll meet again,' the song sang again.
I wanted to be on the other side of this wall. I wanted to be on the other side of Paris. Of France. Of the whole entire world. Anywhere was better than being stuck in this room with him.
'But I know we'll meet again some sunny day.'
We stayed in silence as the song ended.
There was nothing more to say.