~ 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 in sought. "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 fueled my irritation. I stripped off the blood soiled clothes, tossed everything into a plastic bag. Shower. Scrubbed the night off me.
When I came back, the room was spotless. Almost.
A plate of pancakes sat at the bedside table, cold and waiting.
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 pancakes? Why here?
My stomach ached from the blow and famish so I poked one with a fork, waited then took a cautious bite.
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.
Then I slid a pistol under my pillow and let the bed take me.
At least tried to.
The rain outside wouldn't quit. Neither would the thought of that bench.
Stupid. I should've ignored it.
Against my better judgement, I found myself rushing back down the street. Flannel pants, no shirt, no plan, rain slicing through me like glass, and just this gnawing thought I couldn't shake.
And there she was. Exactly where I left her.
She looked wrong. Too still. Her eyes were open and blank, fixed on nothing. They were empty in a way that felt all too familiar. Like staring into a cracked mirror.
Something in me twisted. Not pity... Recognition. That hollow look...I knew it. Wore it once. Still wore it some days
Tell me, where's the justice in watching something pure rot under the weight of other people's sins?
And for the first time in 23 years and 4 months, I felt my heart bleed for a stranger.
"Pathetic," I muttered at her or at myself. I wasn't quite sure.
We were strangers sure. But in that silence, it seemed as if our souls had been acquainted long before tonight.
The night had grown old, heavy with rain yet peaceful. No moon above but I swore I could feel it beside me.
And maybe I'd never know her. Maybe I shouldn't care. But she'd already stolen more from me than I ever meant to give.
I swung myself onto the top edge of the bench. "The names Zayn, sweetheart." I began, staring at the empty sky, "Live. For me. If nothing else."
The words disgusted me the moment they left my mouth. But in the corner of her eyes—It happened so subtly, so sudden, it could nearly be mistaken for a play of light, but I saw it, I felt it.
The slightest flicker of hope in her dark green eyes.