"I have this strange feeling that I'm not myself anymore. It's hard to put into words, but I guess it's like I was fast asleep, and someone came, disassembled me, and hurriedly put me back together again. That sort of feeling."
- Haruki Murakami
. . .
Dahlia
"We'll look into it," The officer said. "Don't worry, Miss Wellburg."
He got back into the car with his partner and drove away in the night.
Andros was standing beside me, smoking too casually while my heart was still trying all the tricks to break out of my chest.
"What happened in the room?" I asked him.
He had walked out, a cigarette in hand, and called the cops. The cops were here within minutes, they examined the empty backyard and found no one.
"He ran away," he replied, the ember of his cigarette was the only lit-up thing in the street. The lights had died and not many houses were near here.
I rubbed my arms up and down. The storm had quietened a bit but it was still raining heavily.
"He saw you and he ran away?" I asked.
He nodded. "Yes, Dahlia. He saw me and he ran away."
"You don't look that scary."
He smirked. "Don't I?"
I looked at him. He was dressed in a shirt and black trousers, his sleeves were rolled up displaying his tattoos and menancing muscles, and the scars on his neck were touched by slight orange because of his cigarette. "I take that back."
He smiled. "I can look as scary as Hedeon when I try."
"I like you as you are," I said and then the color of my face must have turned the deepest shade of red.
His eyes turned gentle, and he threw the cigarette on the ground and crushed it under his feet. He stepped closer and kissed me. Smoke and the addicting taste of his lips filled my senses. His one hand cradled the back of my head and his arm wrapped around my waist.
He almost lifted me off the ground and he devoured my lips. I gasped into his mouth, eyes squeezing shut.
He pulled back after a while, setting his forehead against mine and breathing deeply. "You'll be my ruin, won't you?" He kissed me again. "My sweet little destruction."
. . .
I sat down on the ground, staring at the boxes.
"What...are you doing?"
I looked up. "Which one are you, again?" I hadn't spoken at all the ride here.
"Lucian."
He sat down beside me. "What are you doing?"
"I have to unpack these," I said. "Put them on the shelves. Add them to the database. I have to set up a new shelf. I have to make a few journals because somehow they just keep getting sold out, which I love, but hate, too." I tugged at the roots of my hair gently. "I want to run away to fucking... Edinburgh."
He chuckled. "Why Edinburgh?"
I shrugged. "I wanted to go there, for college."
"Why didn't you?"
I bit the inside of my cheek. "Um-" I scratched my thumb, digging my fingernail in. "I- fucking hell." I stood, walking away from him. "You didn't have to stay after dropping me off, you know?"
He stood, hooking his hands in his trousers as his curious eyes examined mine. "I thought I'd stay with you. Yesterday was tough."
"Well, whoever it was, he is gone. And I doubt he'd attack me in my store."
"Dahlia, darling." He stepped closer and looked down at me. "I doubt a little store will keep him away."
"Lucian, darling," I mocked. "What makes you think that?"
He chuckled, shaking his head. "This is a tiny shop, and while I'm sure many of your hardbacks can prove to be excellent weapons, I doubt they'll keep someone who wants to hurt you away."
"It was probably a robber," I said.
"There were three cars in the driveway, Dahlia."
I gulped. "Maybe he wanted to hurt one of you."
"Or he could see you in the room because your lamp was on."
I dug my fingernails into my thumb. He took my hands in his, threading them together.
He kissed my thumbs. "Now, Dahlia. I have to say, I like your hands a bit too much for them to be this hurt." He looked at the wounds on them. "Let's put bandaids on them?"
I nodded. "Okay," I whispered.
. . .
All of them, as if assigned schedules showed up just as one left. First, it was Lucian, then Andros, Hedeon, and now, just when I thought I was alone as I walked out of the shelter, Alexandre was standing leaning against his car.
I paused. "What you are you doing here?"
"I'm here to keep you safe, Dahlia," he said quietly. "Can I drive you home?"
I sighed. "No one is attacking me, Alexandre. That man probably saw a woman alone and decided to try his luck. I doubt it was personal."
"Here's the thing." He took my bag from my hands and put it in his car. I had left mine at Monet's house in the morning because I, being very smart, had somehow left the driver seat window down just a bit, and now the whole seat was wet.
"What?" I asked.
"Let us look after you for a few days, just to make sure it wasn't personal. Worst care scenario - we keep you safe if it turns out to be personal."
I eyed him. "I'm...I don't like being looked after like this. I'm not used to it. I...like you guys, I suppose. But this will get overbearing, and I'd hate myself if I say something mean to you."
He smiled. "I can take whatever you say to me."
"You shouldn't have to."
"Nothing would hurt more than you getting hurt."
. . .
"He may try to scratch you in the night, the living room is kind of his space."
Alexandre chuckled, taking the blanket from my hands. "I can handle a cat and in case you've forgotten, he loves me."
"Yeah," I said. "You drove me to dinner."
He grimaced. "Yes." He caressed Vaness' stomach who purred.
I folded my arms against my chest. "You're the one who said 'Sit the fuck down' to me. That was very mean."
"I am not known for my niceness."
"You mean Elliot Monet isn't known for his niceness. Alexandre Monet isn't known, at all."
"Exactly," he said and laid down on the couch. He didn't fit, at all. Vaness curled against his neck. He folded an arm behind his head, looking up at me. His other hand caressening the back of Vaness' head.
"You should take the bed."
"I'm not letting you sleep in the living room, Dahlia."
"You're too stubborn."
"I am aware."
I walked to my room, muttering goodbye to him. I could have invited him to my bed, created a pillow wall or something, but I couldn't trust myself with that and he looked a bit too delicious laying down.
The sky was again cracking with thunder. My apartment was high up, so I wasn't much worried.
Or so I thought.
I ended up glaring at the window, staring out at the storm with a pillow clenched to my chest and my body frozen with intense anxiety.
My phone buzzed.
That snapped me out of it, just a little.
A text floated on the top of the screen.
Your light is on. Are you awake?
My blurry eyes could barely read it.
Can you lay with me? I texted. There may have been some spelling mistakes. I didn't second guess myself. I sent it.
He didn't reply but after a moment there was a knock on my door.
"Come in."
He entered. His hair was a bit of a mess, and he looked so...handsome.
Why did all of them have to be so fucking handsome?
And he was naked. Almost.
Half of him was naked. Tattoos and well formed muscles smacked me in the face.
I sat up. "Hey."
"Hey Dahlia," he said, slamming the door shut. His blue eyes took me in, taking their time. "What's wrong?"
"I just can't sleep." I pulled the blanket to my shoulders. "Can you..."
His eyes lit up, just a bit. He nodded and sat down on my bed.
"Can I turn off the lamp?"
"Yes," I said.
He did. We were washed in darkness now. I felt a hand taking my arm gently and then I was pulled on a hard chest.
He tucked both of us in, my head set against his heart which was beating almost as fast as mine.
The fingers of his one hand tangled into my hair, massaging the back of my head. I sighed, melting into him. "This doesn't mean anything."
He chuckled. "Really? I'll have to return the ring now."
I laughed.
He tucked me closer to him, pressing all of me against himself. "You decide what means what, Dahlia. I'm here to comply."
"You don't seem like someone who does that."
"I'm not," he admitted. "I'm used to...taking the lead."
I felt heated up. "Oh?"
"Yes," he murmured. His one hand caressed my back. His touch spread a weird thrill through me. I wanted him to do so many things for me. "You control the pace, Dahlia. I'd like to control everything else."
I didn't speak for a while. I hated how...appealing that sounded.
Daddy issues, Dahlia. Daddy issues.
"Did the police catch him?"
"No."
"What if he hurts someone else?"
"We have no means to prevent that, Dahlia. We have no way to identify him."
"You're right," I whispered, staring into the darkness. I couldn't see anything. "I still hope he doesn't."
I fell asleep too quickly and woke up too late, still on his chest.
I wondered what would have happened if I had skipped Evan's wedding like I planned to.
. . .