~ They say; just because it's in red doesn't mean it's dangerous, yet it rarely isn't.~
There's another mess, another mess I didn't leave behind. Clothes laid sprawled across the floor, on the ground before my bookshelf is a heap of scattered books–old and new. My drawers are opened and the contents emptied.
Today is really just my day.
And there's not just a mess but a blinding mop of red locks cascading down a leather tightly clad feminine figure.
Her manicured fingers raided my room, flinging my clothing here and there. It flew through the closet, littered the polished wood. She appeared too occupied with whatever she was searching for to even notice my presence.
I approached her, slow and quiet . In a brief second, my fingers curled around her throat and slammed her into the wall. The loud sound of wall meeting flesh bouncing off the high ceilings.
Instead of a pained whimper, she let out a strained chuckled, familiar disgusting blue eyes accessing me casually.
"Nice to meet you too, Zayn."
I slammed her into the wall again in an attempt to rid the smirk off her face, drawing my dagger out and digging it deep into her throat until a string of blood trickled down her collar bone. Her strangled cry triggered a strange satisfaction within me.
"Always so aggressive and yet you wonder why I fell—"
"What are you doing here?" I gritted, my voice hitting her so cold, so raw that she flinches once before gathering composure.
She tsked, rolling her eyes. "This isn't exactly a," her knee connected with my abdomen hard. The dagger dropped to the floor with a clang, "Warm welcome."
Momentarily stunned for a few seconds. I stumbled back, my hands clutching my aching and definitely bruised flesh.
I let out a pissed groan, straightening up to meet the stupid grin on her lips.
"Pardon me, Red." I folded my hands, my eyes scrutinizing her lithe figure. I walked out of the room, shutting the door before strutting in again with my hands spread wide in the most exaggerating animated way. I was certain I looked like one of those nasty American Kardashians. "Ah! Welcome, Rebecca. I see you've redecorated. I wasn't aware my room needed a new look." Her lips pulled down slightly in a frown at the title.
I reached for a barely full bottle of red wine, laying on my bedside table and emptied the contents into two glasses.
"Please, help yourself," I offered her a glass. "Take a souvenir in fact. I mean you've already taken my sense of security."
"Oh, thank you, Zayn." She clicked the glass with mine before sipping the drink with a grin. "You have fine taste." Her eyes still darting around the room, in search of something I wasn't even aware of.
"Enjoying the ambience? It's called 'ransacked'."
She chuckled and I clicked my tongue, hating the sound of her voice. "It's…" she trailed off, eyes still soughting. "unique."
"I hope you found everything you needed," I frowned. "Except my patience."
She finally met my cold gaze, playfully slapping my shoulder. "Oh, stop it, Zayn," she giggled, her voice turning raspy as she trailed a finger down my bare arms. I grasped it roughly, tightening my fingers around them till it shifted with a crack.
She hissed, attempting to tug her hand away. My grip doesn't falter as I plastered it onto the wall.
"Now answer my question, Rebecca before I decide on blowing your brains out."
"Stop calling me that."
"That is really your concern right now?"
"Call me by my name."
"Good grief," I pinched the bridge of my nose in exhaustion. I didn't have time for this.
"Say it," she pressed, eyes suddenly desperate.
Oh.
Slowly, my scowl twisted into a smirk. "Aww, does someone still have feelings?" I mocked with a chuckle. "That's cute."
Were you that concerned that your significance wasn't impacting enough to leave your name in my mind?"
She only glared, biting her inner cheek hard.
"Well, apologies, love, I can't recall." Bullshit obviously but it was entertaining to see her smug expression crumple up so quickly.
"Yes you do."
Such a desperate little Rebecca.
"Really now?" I pinched my chin in fake thought. "Is it Bethany?"
She clicked her tongue in annoyance, her composure shattering. "Try again."
"Daniella?"
"L, Zayn. It starts with L."
"Laura."
"No."
I widened my eyes in mock realization. "Oh I have a good feeling about this one." I don't fail to notice the way her eyes mildly lit up. "Lakimi, no?"
"It's Lawrencia, you stupid fuck." She snapped and it only served in adding to my sudden mirth. There's an unexplainable joy that comes from pissing people off.
I inched closer, ridding the proximity between us. I don't fail to notice how her breath hitches and the goosebumps that rises along her skin either.
"Well, Lawrencia. You want to tell me what you're in sought for? In my room particularly?"
"My lingerie," she blurted.
I grimaced, withdrawing back. "And what on earth would that be doing in my room?"
"I left some of my belongings here."
"And I burnt them all."
"Why would you burn them?"
"Why would I keep them?"
Hurt flashed across her blue globes but I could give more of 2 Xaviers.
"They were expensive."
"So was my apathy."
"Za—"
"Bullshit, Rencia. What are you really searching for?" I questioned.
She swallowed hard, her eyes darting here and there for an explanation.
I let out a small sigh, contemplating the quantity of stress it would take to clean my room of her blood and dispose of her body. "How about a little tit for tat, Red?"
Her eyes shifted back to me.
"I won't kill you, not yet at least. You saved my life so consider this a reward."
My voice dropped to a threatening tone. "Now, run along, Lawrencia. I don't want to ever see you here again."
She stared at me silently, perhaps hoping for a moment of mercy that would never happen. Then she adjusted her clothing ever so subtly before leaving the room silently without a word.
Whatever it was the pesky woman was searching for must've been important enough to risk her life coming back here.
And she will not be finding it. But Rebecca would be back. I knew she would.
I followed her out the door of the house, watching as she took one last backward glance at me before running down the dark street.
"Dayumm," Xavier suddenly hollered, sounding absolutely stoned and wasted. "Who's the chic?"
I didn't bother dignifying him with a response as I left for my room.
The sight of my scattered belongings again only served to add to my further irritation as I began to unclad myself of my blood soiled clothing.
I pinched the tips of my tainted gloves, pulling it off and flinging it into the small growing pile of bloody clothing.
I packed them into a plastic bag before stepping into the shower.
Minutes passed when I'm finally finished with cleaning myself and my room. Every single part of skin and surface is impeccable again.
I scanned the room for anything out of place and then my eyes came to land on a cold plate of pancakes all lonely and laying against my bedside table.
Pancakes at 1am? How very thoughtful Xavier.
Plopping down onto the mattress, I eyed the plate cautiously as if it would in an abrupt moment, mutate into something alive and attack me.
Why would he suddenly just decide to make pancakes and keep it here?
My stomach ached with a dull pang, both from the earlier blow and famishness. I prod the pancake, poke it a few times with a fork before tasting it slowly and swallowing down.
I waited a few minutes to see if I'd need to take out antidotes for poison but when nothing happened, I finished up the plate.
I collapsed onto my bed with a small sigh, tucking my pistol under my pillow.
My eyes fell shut but the rain pattering down outside brought my thoughts back to the bench.
I failed to ridden my mind of the thought and soon again, I'm rushing down the cold wet streets in nothing but flannel pants.
She's exactly right where I left her. My heart dropped to the ground.
I should've woken her up.
She's just…staring, not moving, not blinking. She looked like a lifeless drenched doll abandoned in the rain.
I barely gave it a thought before scooping her fragile figure into my hands.
I wasn't certain what to do, her entire being shivered against me. I couldn't bring her to my home. I just couldn't. But I couldn't leave her here either.
The coat was completely soaked too. I scanned the surroundings for the closest shelter. There, just ahead, was an almost large sycamore tree a few feets away, close to the wrecked houses. I rushed there, the rain harshly pelting down against us.
I placed her down under the tree. The ground is cold, it's damp, it's dry. It's not much but it'll have to do.
I nudged her gently, relieved that her body responded but more petrified than relieved with the way she was stared blankly, she wasn't blinking, she wasn't speaking, just staring blankly at nothingness.
What frightened but saddened me more were how lifeless her eyes were. Like a life figured doll abandoned in the rain by its owner.
The only possible thing you could've read from her cold expression was a lost willingness to live.
And for the first time in 23 years and 4 months, my heart bled for a stranger.
I shouldn't care. I'm not supposed to care. But I did. I saw myself in her eyes. I've never met someone whose pain felt so strikingly familiar.
Her trembling figure met my arms, she leaned against me sullenly, she cried, I let her.
We were strangers in the flesh it seemed, companions in the soul.
The night wasn't so young anymore but it was peaceful. The moon wasn't in the sky tonight but I could feel it in my hands.
Who had hurt something so pure, so innocent? Now tell me world, was this fair? Was this just?
And maybe I would never find out who she was but she had stolen a place in my heart. Place? She had stolen it whole.
Leaning down gently, I whispered into her ears. "The names Zayn, sweetheart," I muttered softly, slowly like she'd fade away if my words were too sharp.
"Please please live for me, darling."
And It happened so subtly, so sudden, it could nearly be mistaken for a trick of light but I saw it, I felt it.
The slightest flicker of hope in her dark green eyes.