The hours flew by like water rushing past in a stream. To be totally honest with you, I had hardly paid attention at all during either of my lectures. The only thing I could think about was the prior events of the day. The book and then Fredericks. From there, everything else seemed insignificant.
I was staring at the ground as I began my walk home, thinking about what language the book could've possibly been in that I would understand.
I must be losing my mind, I thought as I passed by a group of people talking amongst each other. Nothing that had happened today made any sense whatsoever.
"Hey! Alexander!" exclaimed the same voice from earlier. I looked up to see Fredericks walking towards me, a friendly smile on his face.
I courteously stopped and waited for him to catch up.
"Hello," I greeted, slightly awkwardly.
"You can call me George if you want to," he responded lightheartedly. "If you don't mind, I'll call you Alex."
"Yeah, that's fine."
We stood there in silence.
"Well, anyway, I was wondering if we could walk to your home together? I want to talk to you."
"Uh, yeah. That's fine, I guess," I said almost hesitantly. The two of us started the walk to my apartment. For the first couple of minutes or so, we were absolutely silent. "So... umm, what did you want to talk about?"
Look. I'm not usually this bad at social situations. I like to consider myself pretty good with people on a good day. But I'd been thrown off multiple times earlier, and I was left in a state of absolute confusion. Sue me.
"Oh! Right, my apologies." I realized that he had a very strong British accent in that moment. How did I miss that earlier? "How long have you lived in New York?"
"A couple of months now. Three, to be exact. I moved here for college."
"That's it?"
"What other reason would there be?"
He laughed. "Well, maybe you're trying to find something. Or rather, someone. So where did you live before this?" he asked, cutting off my chance to question him about his cryptic response.
I stiffened. My past wasn't one I liked to share that much. "I prefer to keep that private, actually."
"The Caribbean?"
"H-how did you know that?" I spluttered, stopping and turning on him.
"Lucky guess. Come on, we're not there yet, are we?" He resumed walking.
Are all people who live in New York like this?
I quickened my pace to keep up with him, and if he noticed, he didn't say anything.
"So do you live alone?"
"No, I have a roommate."
"Oh? And will he be there when we get to your apartment?"
"I have no clue. He just kinda comes and goes when he wants to. He's actually really weird."
George laughed once more but didn't say anything else, and an uncomfortable silence fell upon the two of us again.
He's kinda cute, I'm not gonna lie.
"So, why did you come to New York?" I asked, trying to restart the conversation.
"Hmm, I'm not sure really. It's been so long, I forgot the original reason why."
"How long have you lived here?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Try me."
"I'd rather not. Maybe another time. But I suppose you could say that I came here to find something."
"Did you find it?"
He paused to consider this. Then, he smiled and nodded. "Yes. I have."
After that, we started to talk about more mundane topics, and I didn't fully comprehend how weird all of this was at the time. George was a stranger to me, and I didn't know anything about him, and here he was... walking me home? I should've been more wary than I was. He could've been a murderer or something, but I guess I just found it nice to have a friend other than Thomas, no matter how weird he was.
"Here we are," I said when we arrived at my apartment building.
"May I come in with you?"
"Yeah. Sure. So what's England like? I've never been there."
"Oh," he said. "It's extremely cloudy and cold and wet. But nice. I haven't been there in a while, actually. I'd like to go back."
I led him up to my apartment and opened the door for him.
"Thank you," he said as he stepped past me and walked inside.
"Thomas?" I called, which yielded no response. "I guess he isn't here."
"Oh. I was looking forward to meeting him." George moved to the shelves and began to search the books piled in neatly. His eyes widened with interest.
I set down the bag I carried with me besides the coffee table. "Want something to drink?"
"No, I'm good, thank you," he said as he moved to inspect the plants hanging from the walls.
I watched him, unsure of what to do next.
What is even going on today? I seriously must be out of it. Here's a total stranger in my apartment, and I just let him in here, and we're acting like it's totally casual.
I settled down on the couch and melancholily took out some work I had to do for one of my classes. We continued our conversation as I did so.
Soon enough, George's mood began to shift randomly. He seemed suddenly annoyed by something, as if someone was butting in on our conversation in the middle of an in depth philosophical argument. "Well," he said, standing up. "As much as I hate to, I have to leave. We should do this again sometime."
"Yeah," I responded. "Sounds like fun."
Just as he stood up to go, the door opened, and Thomas walked in. The taller man was looking down at something in his hands, presumably some paperwork or something. He glanced up from the paper at me.
"Hello Alexander. Have a good day?" His eyes moved to George as he continued with, "who's your little frien— what are you doing here?"
I blinked in surprise and turned to George, who had straightened his posture and adopted a coldly polite smile. "Mr. Jefferson!" he said in a tone that seemed friendly, but I could detect a dangerous toxin lurking beneath the guise. "How wonderful it is to see you!"
Thomas' eyes became dangerous, and he moved his hand into his pocket. He said nothing in response.
"What? Aren't you happy to see me?"
"Happy isn't the term I would use," Thomas spat in reply.
"Careful, Thomas. Let's keep a civil tone here in front of our friend, shall we?" George took a look around. "So this is where you live here. Hmm. You never really struck me as the crowded city type, but what do I know?"
"What are you doing here?"
"I was just dropping in to say hello! Defensive, aren't we?"
The hatred between the two of them was plain enough to see.
"Anyway, you should be pleased to know that I was just leaving," George said with a pleasant smile. Then, he held up his arm and opened his hand, revealing a silver chain with a feather charm at the end of it. "How pretty."
Thomas' eyes went wide with surprise and horror. "Give that back!"
George didn't respond, but he began to move his hand, swinging the pendant back and forth.
"Give it back now!"
"What if I kept it?"
"George," I said, cutting in. "Just give it back to him." I was curious; I'd never seen the pendant before, but it was obvious that it was important to Thomas.
"How kind of you, Alexander," George said, his gaze locked on Thomas. "But I think I might keep this little charm."
I'm not exactly sure what happened then, but the next thing I knew, Thomas had George against the wall, a knife pressed up against the Brit's throat.
I tried to yell, but strangely, I found that I couldn't speak or make any noise at all. It was like I had totally frozen. All I could do was watch.
"Careful, Mr. Jefferson. You don't want to be rude to your guest, now, do you? Especially a guest that has a higher authority than you could ever dream of?" George asked, his tone amused. It was as if he was on a picnic with a friend, and that friend had just told a funny joke.
Thomas didn't respond, and I couldn't move, despite my struggling.
"You could end it all right now, you know," George continued, smiling warmly at Thomas. "You could kill me and that would be it."
"Give me a reason I shouldn't," Thomas hissed back, pressing the knife against George's neck even further.
George pointed to me without saying anything, just smiling as if he was having a pleasant afternoon outing.
Thomas turned to me, his gaze locking to mine. And for a second, the hatred disappeared and was replaced by concern.
George lifted the pendant and let it fall into Thomas' other hand. Once the chain was caught on his fingers, Thomas lowered the knife and took a step away from George, still looking at me.
"Don't ever let your feelings get the better of you again, understand? You might regret that day." His warning was thinly veiled, but even I could decipher his threatening tone. "But for now, I think my services would be useful elsewhere. I'm late for a meeting with a certain merchant now." George moved past the still Thomas and left the apartment without another word.
And suddenly I could move again.
"What the f—" I began, but Thomas was quick to cut me off.
"Did I hurt you?"
"Wh-what?"
"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"
"What? No, I'm fine. Let's talk about how you almost killed a man instead!"
"I didn't almost kill anyone."
"What is wrong with you?! You almost murdered him because he stole a necklace from you?!"
Thomas glanced down at the pendant in his hand, then slipped it on around his neck and closed the clasp before tucking it away underneath his shirt. Then, he turned to one of the plants and examined it.
"I scared you, didn't I?"
"Yes!" I yelled in aggravation.
He turned to look at me. "I'm so sorry, Alexander. I didn't mean to hurt you. I let my emotions get the best of me."
I paused, unsure of how to continue. "I assume there was another reason for you trying to kill him?" It came out softer than I intended.
"He's a murderer," Thomas replied coldly, slipping the knife away into his pocket. "He's a thief, a liar, and a murderer. And he'll kill you in the worst possible ways. He doesn't aim for something vital, no. Instead, he'll watch your blood leak onto the floor. He'll watch the light slowly deteriorate from your eyes. And he'll walk away. So that in your final moments, you're alone, without a single soul to keep you company. You die like an animal. To him, you're nothing more than the deer he hunts for pleasure."
I felt my mouth go as dry as sandpaper. "Wh-what?"
"You'd do best to stay away from him. I can't lose someone else I care about to him." Without another word, he turned on his heel and went to his own room.
~•~
Cold.
All I could feel was the stinging sensation of an intense biting cold at first. There was nothing but darkness.
And then, I was able to feel. Able to see.
My lungs were burning and my legs were aching as I ran as fast as I could. I think I was on all fours, and a strange primal instinct had taken over.
What was I running from?
Had to get away. I had to get away. But from what? No—from whom?
There was darkness, but I could make out the shapes of trees and rocks and other such things. I leapt over a fallen log and skidded to a stop in a clearing to catch my breath.
I raised my head to sniff the air, and I suddenly grew a couple of inches. I was standing on my two feet again, breathing heavily.
Suddenly, there was a crack in the nearby foliage, and I felt adrenaline pulse through my tired body once more.
"Who's there?" I called, drawing a strange weapon from my pocket.
A laugh resounded through the clearing. I turned, trying to pinpoint the source of it.
"Show yourself!" I barked.
"You're in no position to make commands," said an all too familiar voice as a man appeared from the bushes.
I felt my heart drop, but I let my fist tighten around the blade of the weapon as I lowered myself into a fighting position.
This was what I had been waiting for my entire life.
The man looked at me and smirked all too knowingly, and suddenly, my legs gave way and I was on the ground.
And once again, everything went black.