Page 2 of Bright Blinding Ruin

He gives me a weird look. “Yeah. You’d think that wouldn’t be an issue in a college town, but there’s all these new, fancy places that serve—” From what it sounds like, he’s launching a monologue about the other bars putting him out of business.

Again, it’s like I already know what he’s going to say. “And you need someone who can afford the rent.” Why does this all seem so familiar? Why can’t I shake the feeling that I should be somewhere else? It’s the strangest thing, and I almost miss the fact that Frank gives me one more week to get the rent together.

“And I hope you’re smart enough to know an eviction doesn’t look good on anybody,” he warns, and he’s right. Having an eviction on my record would mean it’ll be harder for me to get a place in the future.

Nobody wants a tenant who’s been evicted.

Frank must sense I’m too lost in my head, because he gives me a nod and says, “I should get down to the bar. Don’t worry too much, kid. I’m sure things will work out.” With a smile and a pat on the shoulder, he leaves.

I watch him go, feeling some kind of way. Depressed, down in the dumps, like nothing I will ever do matters. Things shouldn’t be this hard. I shouldn’t have to fight constantly just to keep my head above water. If this is what life is going to be like for the rest of my life…

What’s the point?

I don’t have a dad to help me. I never had a mom. My foster family are pieces of shit, and I don’t talk to them anymore. I’m alone, and as I stand there on the metal scaffolding, I can’t shake how much everything weighs on me.

Closing my eyes, I head into the hall. Key in hand, I unlock the door to my place and step inside. It’s a small place. Slightly bigger than a studio since it has one bedroom, but the bedroom is tiny; barely fits a bed and a dresser I trash-picked not so longago. I’ve only been here a few months, and it still doesn’t feel like home.

Nowhere feels like home. It’s a feeling that has followed me my whole life; I never really felt at home anywhere. It’s like I knew, deep down, I was meant to be somewhere else.

But where?

I drop my bag, about to collapse on the bed and pull out my dad’s picture. It’s the only thing I have left of him. Everything else… well, you’d be surprised what gets lost when you’re shuffled around from family to family because no one wants a moody ten-year-old girl who hates the world and blames everyone for her unlucky life.

But before I can pull out the picture, I hear something in the living room, and I rush out of my bedroom to find that I’m not alone in my place. Someone stands near the window overlooking the street, someone I don’t recognize.

And, obviously, someone who shouldn’t be in here.

A man.

He doesn’t notice me, so I move to the kitchen as silently as I can and pull out a butter knife. Can’t exactly stab with it, but I don’t have any good stabbing knives. I move around the counter in the kitchen, toward the stranger, seconds from asking him what the hell he’s doing here.

The man is tall. Six and a half feet, maybe. I can only see his back, but even so, I note how wide his shoulders are, how well-built he is all-around. Strong. Someone like that could easily overpower me, but whoever he is, I’m not going to make it easy for him.

Seriously, how the hell did he get here? I didn’t hear him follow me in, and I locked the door behind me.

“I must say,” he speaks, his voice carrying an accident that is oddly known to me, “you disappoint me, Rey. I thought, surely, you would’ve caught on by now.” The man pulls away from thewindow, and though the only light I have on is the one in the kitchen, it’s enough for me to see just how gorgeous he is.

Short blond hair, with cheekbones chiseled from white marble. A square jaw, a strong nose, and brilliant blue eyes that currently study me like I’m some failed experiment. His mouth is drawn into a thin line, his expression reading unimpressed.

“Who are you?” I ask as I hold out the butter knife. Ten feet between us, and yet it’s like he’s right on top of me. I’ve never seen his face before, but I know him. I know I know him; I just can’t remember where.

The man glances at himself. “I must admit, the clothing in your world leaves much to be desired.” A notch of distaste as he speaks, and he tugs at the t-shirt he has on. “But they were necessary to blend in.”

Blend in? What the hell is this guy going on about?

He gives his back to me again, gazing out of the window like he was before. “I will say, though, your world does have some marvels. Ravaging a world like this, the destruction would be beautiful.”

I don’t move closer to him, but I do call out, “Hey! I asked you a question, buddy. Who are you? What are you doing in my apartment?”

The man smirks as he returns his stare to me, and he moves away from the window, stalking toward me. Clearly, he’s not frightened of my butter knife… or of me. He stops when he is three feet away, close enough to pull all of the air out of my lungs.

“You truly don’t recognize me?” he asks, and I decide right then I don’t appreciate the way he watches me. Like he’s a hunter and I’m his prey. Like he wants to toy with me because he already has me injured and cornered.

He breathes out a dramatic sigh before taking another step closer.

He’s too close. I don’t want him this close. I go for him with the butter knife, but he swats my hand aside and grabs my wrist to stop me from attacking him again. His hand is so large it curls around my wrist easily, and then some, and his grip is inescapable.

I try to push him away with my other hand, but he grabs that wrist too, and just like that, I’m out of options, and all I can do is stand there and gaze up at him with wide eyes.

---