What had happened back there? Other
than Richie thinking it was okay to—I didn’t even want to think about it. It was
just one huge catastrophe I wished I could forget, but knew I never could. I
didn’t even want to think about how he had ended up crumpled against the wall,
but that was reasonable. Figuring that out meant actually having to deal with
everything else that had happened.
I wandered out of the gated
community, following city streets back across town. I cursed myself for leaving
my purse behind—a safe thought compared to the alternatives; what good would a
warm coat do when I didn’t have money or a cell phone with me to call a taxi? My
heels clacked noisily on the cement sidewalk and the hem of my dress collected
all the pollutants and muck it could find.
There was a noise down the alley I
was passing. For a split second, I thought it was nothing, just something metal
falling out of a dumpster. But a nagging feeling had my feet moving twice as
fast as before, reminding me this was a shady part of town where drunks and
potential murderers hung out—at least according to Mother. Someone like me,
someone dressed like me, was targeted for money and other luxuries. Again I
cursed myself for forgetting my purse.
“Where are you running off to so
fast?” a man questioned, blocking the path ahead of me.
“N-nowhere,” I said, stumbling backwards a couple steps. I sensed another man approach behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, there he was, looking content with himself. Since when could I sense things so clearly?
The man grinned maliciously,
advancing. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing out here?” I attempted to run into the empty street when his partner grabbed me from behind. “Come to see how the poor live?”
I panicked, starting to kick and
scream until the first man clamped a hand over my mouth. They dragged me into the
alley and shoved me against a brick wall.
“Scream again and it'll be the last thing you do," the first man hissed at me. As if to prove his point, the second man casually aimed a pistol at me. "Now where’s your purse?”
“I-I-I lost it.” My heart was beating
so fast I could barely focus on anything else.
He tore open my coat and ran a rough
hand along my exposed skin. Slowly, he moved in until I could feel his heavy
breath on my cheek. It smelled stale and smoky, but sweet.
“Such a pretty thing,” he murmured to
himself. “I bet you’re mighty tasty.”
My mind succumbed to defeat; things
weren’t going to improve and I didn’t have any fight left in me. What little
adrenaline that had been summoned was overrun with exhaustion and sadness. That
was it. Someone probably would have find me sliced open in that filthy alley the
next morning, leaving everyone to pretend to mourn my death.
“Step away from her,” a baritone
voice said firmly, just as I closed my eyes to avoid seeing the man put his lips
on me. I might have felt it, but that was one image I didn’t want ingrained in
my mind for however much longer I lived.
The pressure and warmth of his body
receded, allowing a gust of cool air to rush over me. I saw the second ruffian
was held by a new man in a way that threatened his neck to snap; the gun he had been holding was nowhere to be seen. His partner,
taking in the situation, began to slowly move away from me, never removing his
eyes from the challenger.
“We were just messing with the doll,”
he said jovially, walking backwards past the rusted green dumpster and
bags of trash.
Something flashed in the corner of my
eye as something moved in the other. When everything settled again, I saw the
second man on his knees, gasping, and the first was now held in a compromising
position of his own, his arm angled painfully skyward behind his back until he
dropped the gun in his hand. My hero—though I was aware this title might have been
completely premature—shoved him forward with a powerful thrust over the still
kneeling second man where he landed face first in a puddle of water and who
knew what else.
“Leave,” he growled, most likely
causing the two to wet themselves as they scrambled from the alley. If I had
been one of those two, I might have. The word was filled with menace and the
threat of horrible possibilities. Any sane person would have scurried for his
life.
I watched, petrified, as he moved to
the gun and unloaded it, scattering the bullets and bending closed the barrel. I
felt the breath stick to my throat as my eyes widened. What was he going to do?
I was dead if he so desired, though, dead was looking like the best of the
options I had been presented that night.
He must have sensed my growing terror
for he cooed, “Do not be afraid. I am not here to harm you.”
A pale hand lay offered to me, as if
I was a small child stuck atop a slide. I took it, shocked at the cool, soft
texture of his skin. My hero led me gently back onto the street, glancing at me
every so often as if to ensure I wasn’t going to disappear or fall apart on him—to
be honest, he was lucky I didn’t. We had been walking a while when I finally
managed to speak.
“Why?” My voice shook with the word,
threatening to give out.
His features lit with a small,
understanding grin as a faint, familiar scent reached my nose. “Why what,
Abriel?”
“H-how…m-my name?” I queried
worriedly, my knees buckling for a moment. He easily caught me as I started to
stumble, and carried me to sit on a bus bench. The faint fragrance was stronger
nearer his person, but I still couldn’t place it; that was almost as unnerving
as his knowing my name.
The smile grew as he replied, “Have I
been gone so long?”
A memory awoke somewhere in my mind
and the voice seemed familiar as well. When I prodded further, I found where I
knew it and the smell. “Th-the man, who put me to sleep,” I managed, my voice slowly
growing stronger.
“I guess I never properly introduced
myself,” he said, chuckling softly. Though he seemed genuinely amused by one of
us, something was off about the sound, as if he didn’t laugh often. I briefly
wondered why he would do so before banning any distractions from my
thoughts.
He stood—a tall, pale figure clothed
in black—and made a sweeping bow. “I am Drei. The pleasure is entirely mine;”
he stood straight again, his light brown hair bouncing back to frame his face. Drei
had expressive, amethyst eyes—nearly lavender from their paleness—filled with
sympathy. Something in his face hinted at vulnerability, though his chin was
strong.
“Why did you save me, Drei?” Some
part of me was sidetracked by how lovely his name sounded and how smoothly it
seemed to slip from my lips.
Sitting beside me again, he replied,
“Because you are unique.”
A smile found its way to my lips. It
felt awkward there, considering the night, but it also felt somewhat natural
given the current situation. “Everyone is unique.” I suppressed the urge to
roll my eyes.
“You are more unique than you know,”
he said, staring at me a moment before I turned away, pretending to study a
piece of newspaper lying in the gutter. His gaze was so much more intense than
that of anyone I knew and I didn’t like the absolute uncertainty it gave me.
As we sat in silence, I tossed this
tidbit around in my head—still not wanting to meet his eyes—letting it expand
into something of importance. I was unique. And more than that, Drei thought I
was unique. Somehow that made it even better.
“Come,” he said, standing, reaching a
hand out to me. “I shall walk you back to your neighborhood.”
My hand slipped into his, this time
with more confidence that I could trust him given our history—if it could even
be considered as such. Drei was there to protect me, keep me safe. It seemed
then he was my guardian angel, or perhaps a fallen angel, who knew something I
didn’t. Either way, he had saved me, and all I wanted was to return home without
any more incidents. Since this is what he had silently promised, I was not
going to question his motives.
After all, my birthday was
already ruined and meeting my mystery man was the sole saving grace. Why spoil
that, too, by asking too many questions?
