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And I have never ever locked my door once.
Goosebumps erupt on my skin, the hair on my neck stands at full attention while my heart hammers in my chest. My feet drag on the floor as I step into my apartment, but I take a deep breath and force myself to move.
There’s nothing extraordinary inside. The usual mess of my living room is the same. A blanket is
still dangling off the couch and cushions are on the floor. I’m not outgoing much, so my apartment is where I spend my time when I’m not in the club and if it’s a stranger or even the police was in my living room right now, they wouldn’t see anything suspicious.
But I do.
The wine glass on the coffee table isn’t there, nor the book I’ve been reading. Swallowing my nerves, I look at everything more carefully. The Bonsai tree in the corner of the room has been watered, and I’m not the one who’s done that.
For a second, I’ve considered the idea of calling the police, but I don’t have any trust in them. For me, the law enforcement lost their image of safety long ago. I don’t trust in anything, alive or not. Nothing’s good. Nothing’s safe. Nothing’s trustworthy.
So, I check my apartment, every cabinet, every drawer, every window, and every room. There’s no one. And Night doesn’t look tense, worried, or scared. He doesn’t like new people, and I don’t think he’d be this relaxed if there was someone in the room. I finally stop walking around the house like a mad woman and sigh. It must be my distraction. Since the day Nick showed up in my life, I haven’t been myself. I’ve been easily distracted, and my mind has been so preoccupied I keep forgetting things.
Fucking Nick. He’s complicating everything with his existence.
Finally, when I convince myself there’s no threat, I go to my bookshelf to choose another book to read. I look at my collection of the ancient cultures and myths, before finally deciding on the Greek Myth. I settle down on the couch with my book in hand and Night on my lap. My eyes are moving over the room, expecting a movement, a danger, a something. Closing my eyes, I breathe through my nose, trying to calm my nerves and reassure myself that I’m alone, that I’m safe in here. Finally, when my heartbeat slows down, I open my book and start reading.
For someone who was raised to be religious, losing faith in God is traumatic. You feel empty, lost. You feel like you need to find another belief to anchor you in the world, something bigger than you, something that isn’t cruel and that doesn’t let you suffer under his gaze. That’s how I start my collection of ancient cultures. I don’t know what I’m really looking for or hoping to find in those myths, but reading about the gods and goddesses who have failed to make existence in twenty-first century gives me a sick satisfaction like I can say “See? You’ve failed, too!” Reading those strong power figures just as myths and imaginary creatures gives me the power to deny their strength, just like the way he denied me his mercy once upon a time.
Do you think I’m an atheist?
No, I’m not. I don’t think there’s no god, I know there is. I just don’t believe in him. I’ve lost my faith in him when he showed me his cruel face. I don’t think he deserves my loyalty or my submission. I think he’s as fucked up as the world he has created.
Do you think I’m a sinner?
Well, I am. Because being innocent has only caused me pain.
Swallowing down the bitter taste in my mouth, I open Prometheus’ Eternal Punishment. This is the story I feel the most connected to. I can feel his hate for Zeus’ like my own. I know how it has felt to survive another day without dying, how complicated your emotions have become between feeling relieved and cursed.
I close my book and head to the kitchen to get myself a glass of water. My coffee jar is full, but it was almost empty this morning. I look at the phone on the countertop and consider calling someone, the police, or the girls from the club, but I decide against it. After everything with Violet and Angel, I’ve gotten closer to the girls; Harley and Salem are almost like my friends now, since we’re always together in the club, but I’m not a woman who would call someone for help. So, I straighten my back and look for the sharpest knife in the kitchen.
As I go to bed with a deadly weapon in my hand, I feel safer.
***
I sit up in panic. I don’t know what has woken me up, there’s still fifteen minutes until my alarm, but my heart is ramming in my chest. I get out of the bed; the knife is still in my hand as I walk around the room. There’s a strange smell in the house, and it gets stronger as I get closer to the kitchen. When I step into the living room area, a tray of breakfast greets me on the kitchen counter.
I stop dead in my tracks before forcing myself to move toward the tray like it’s a grenade instead of food, but it’s not much different than a bomb for me right now. Someone’s been in my house, in my kitchen; that is an explosive danger.
Eggs, bacon, grilled cheese, and tomatoes are on the plate. Everything’s still hot, the scent is still fresh. Whoever this person is he was here just a few minutes ago, but that’s not the reason for my gasp. I caress the smooth surface of the chocolate, the only brand I’ve ever eaten, the chocolate I’ve brought to my present from my past, from the hopeful and exciting days when I was dreaming about meeting a boy with a gentle smile.
He’s been here, sharing his chocolate with me like he did when we were kids like nothing has changed or no time has passed.
Nick’s been here.
Chapter 16
Past
Age 12
The first week has passed by filled with fear and tears. I’m staying in the same room with other girls at my age, but I don’t talk to them. My mother’s words chant in my mind.
Don’t trust anybody.
I don’t. I can’t.
