Page 20 of Whispers of Fire

Can’t fucking understand myself. She’s a stranger, well, a stranger I’ve been watching everyday for three weeks, but still, how can she have this effect on me?

Leaving her side, I walk toward my open kitchen at the left side of the house, my body completely aware of hers behind me. Opening the first drawer, I grab a notebook and a pen and start boiling some water. Going back to her, I set them next to her on the couch. Her eyes stare at it, then at me, then back at it.

Does no one ever do nice things for her?

Never been much of a talker myself, but I want to know everything about my new obsession, so she’s gonna have to write cause I don’t know how to sign.

Yet.

Yet?

I’m so fucked.

I stand next to her, the weight of her silence hangin’ heavy in the air, and I feel like a jerk for not knowing how to sign properly. She deserved a lot more than I could probably give her. The thought of learning sign language had crossed my mind in the past few days while I was taking inventory of our rifles. I’ve watched a few videos online and I think if I train myself enough, perhaps I can learn a few things to say to her. At least to show her that she’s not the only one that has to do the effort. It can come from me too. I can meet her halfway.

You don’t even know her, back off.

My walls are already starting to crumble but I hold on, trying to take a step back and just enjoy the sight of her.

Sure I can still keep her at arms length.

Sure.

Going back to the kitchen, I grab a mug and make a cup of tea. Watching her for days, I noticed she likes to take a cup with her to her bedroom at night and remove her tea bag quickly in a small dish.

I’m not obsessing about her habits, no, I’m, hum, I'm just noticing things.

That’s what a good neighbor would do.

I carefully remove the teabag before it gets too dark and bring it to her. When I hand her the mug, our fingers brush against each other for the briefest of moments, sending a fucking jolt of electricity coursing through me. Haven't felt that in a long time. It reminds me of the raw, primal desires lurking just beneath the surface.

Cool the fuck down, she’s not like the other girls you’re used to.

I’m used to the club chicks, taking any guys they feel like, not really caring about who’s who. Never been one to shame women for acting this way but I bet intimacy would feel fuckin’ different with Rose.

It would actually mean something.

Her eyes meet mine, surprise flashing across her face before softening into a warm smile. She holds the mug delicately with her injured fingers.

"Thank you," she mouths silently, her lips forming the words I can't hear but understand nonetheless. I nod and settle into the leather armchair beside her, deliberately avoiding the couch to give her some space. But damn, I wish I could be closer to her, feel her warmth against me, wrap my arms around her and tell her everythin’s gonna be alright.

“I… I had a work thing, that’s why I was out the past few weeks,” I say in an apologetic tone.

Since when do I ever justify myself?

People fear me and I never have to explain myself to anyone except Ares, but even he doesn’t give me shit about what I do. Seeing her puffy eyes, knowing she looked at her window every damn day tightens my chest and makes me want to grab her and protect her in my arms. She nods, looking at me like she thought I would never come back.

“Your parents, they did this to you, right?” I ask, studying her injured hands. I need to know.

I need to know who I’m gonna have to hurt back for wounding my angel.

As much as I tried to stay away from this feeling, telling myself that I have no fuckin’ right to dive into her life, the thought that someone had hurt her is impossible for me to ignore. She shakes her head and grabs the notebook, scribbling something then showing it to me.

“My teacher did this,” is written with round and balanced letters. Lowering my elbows on my thighs, I ask, “What’s his name?” clenching my jaw. She takes the notebook and writes her answer.

“It’s okay, it’s nothing,” is written. But it’s not fuckin’ okay. It won’t be until I find the motherfucker and at least spoon his eye out for daring to touch her.

“It’s not fuckin’ okay, Rose. Now tell me who did this or I’m going to punch every single teacher of this town until I find the fucker who did this to you,” I say firmly, letting her know she won’t escape this.

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