Page 34 of Reckless

And where was my broken king to come and heal my pain with his dark hands?

Nowhere.

A place in between reality and make-believe. A place where little girls' dreams thrive and adults' wishes burn like dandelions after they’ve had their wishes cashed in.

Grunting, I adjust my pillow before focusing on the screen, the dark-haired vampire on the screen making me recall another dangerously arrogant dark-haired boy and I cringe remembering the deal I had mentioned to Kaleb just yesterday.

I knew I needed protection but I never in my darkest dreams imagined something like this happening to me. I was just desperate to feel safe again in my own life. It was no secret control was constantly dangled between my fingers and I was constantly grabbing at strings in an attempt to hold on.

Kaleb was a last resort. It was clear he was powerful. Based on his notebook he had connections in nearly every dark corner of the city and still he turned me down like I was nothing but a dirty piece of gum on the bottom of his stupid combat boots. Like I was a nuisance intruding on his world. An inconvenience in his game. The worst part of all it was how much it unexpectedly hurt.

His quick rejection.

The sting of Kaleb's rejection hurts worse than one of my bruises.

My fingers rub my forehead, and I already feel a headache coming on. I’ve never been more confused. I mean who were those guys and how did they even get into my apartment? What were they even looking for?

It certainly didn't seem like they were there to rob me. After all, the small amount of money I have in my wallet is still there, and they didn't take my laptop or the jewelry in my mother's room. But they were looking for something. That much was clear.

The man with the lion tattoo crosses my mind, his words itching over my skin. Let's leave a message for the boss, shall we? I suppress a shiver, the bowl of soup in my hands growing cold. I set it next to my laptop, my appetite having all but evaporated.

Turning the volume up on my laptop I snuggle down into the couch and cover my whole body with my blanket. My cheek brushes my pillow and I flinch. I just need to forget. Forget that whole night until it's nothing but a smear across my memories. Closing my eyes I force my thoughts to turn off before returning back to my show. I allow the familiar dialogue to soothe me until I slowly start to sink into the couch. I let the characters' faces and petty squabbles take all my attention and energy and I watch as another episode begins to automatically play, the loneliness washing away like dirty sea water.

I’m so immersed in the show that I nearly yelp when I hear a knock at the door, my whole body tensing. They couldn't be back already. Back for more. I didn't have what they wanted. And they had left. I’m frozen on the couch, my fear eating at me as my show continues playing in front of me.

They knock again, a little louder this time and I jump up ignoring the wave of pain that washes over me at the sudden movement. The knocking turns into pounding and I wish more than ever that my crappy apartment had a peephole. It would make situations like these so much easier. Like for instance, I could check to see if my assailants were back at my door demanding a repeat of last night.

Ignoring my inner conscious telling me how stupid I’m being, I make my way towards the front door. Besides, if they kept knocking like that my landlord was going to have my head shoved into a Chinese takeout container before next month's rent was due. I could barely make rent as it is and whoever heck was at my door was persistent. The knocking hasn't stopped for at least a straight minute.

“Who's there?” I whisper. The words coming out are softer and less authoritative than I intended. So much for scaring them off with my no-bullshit voice.

“Open the dang door!” I flinch at the words and the knocking continues even louder than before. At this point, all the neighbors on the whole floor were going to be up.

“Open the door Blondie.”

Kaleb? What the hell was he doing here?

Reaching for the door handle I undo the padlock before unlocking the remaining two the apartment came with.

“What are you doing here?” I say when his imposing frame fills the doorway. His obnoxious Timberland boots are already resting on the tiny welcome mat that reads Bee Our Guest in cursive letters. I had bought it at Home Goods when we first started decorating our place. Seemed like a good idea at the time although now the doormat looked childish and pathetic under this rude god’s imposing foot.

The tiny cartoon bee trampled to death under the weight of his attitude.

The pathetic cartoon gasping for air.

I'm so focused on his combat boots suffocating my doormat that I don't notice how quiet he’s being until I look up to find his eyes piercing mine.

He looked angry. No, he looked furious.

“What the hell happened to your face?” The words slipped past his teeth like it was painful for him to speak them.

“What-” I start, momentarily having forgotten my bruised state in my surprise. My fingers brush my right eye and I wince at the pain, a rotting sensation on my skin. I glance down at my feet only to remember that I’m in my pajamas, my polka dot spandex shorts and worn-out Kook’s t-shirt glaring back at me.

“I said what the hell happened to your face!” He yells, reaching out for my cheek and causing the two of us to stumble further into my apartment. His fingers caress my jaw, his gentle touch surprising me even as I flinch at the contact.

“Fuck.” He mumbles. I don't think he even realizes he let the curse word slip.

“Who did this to you Rose?” He asks again, his dark eyes pouring into mine until they're all I see.

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