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So, between the two, I knew when I felt better, I would prefer not to be trapped with a murderer, even if the other psycho was still running free.
“Well, thank you,” I offered, “For bringing my stuff back to me. I really appreciate it.”
He shook his head curtly, “I thought you might want it. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to save your tent…”
Flashbacks of feeling trapped as I tried to go through it, attempting get away from the guide tore through my brain. I shook my head, to get the image out of my mind, but quickly covered my strange reaction with a comment, “No, I know. It’s fine. The bag is much more important.”
Jonathan stared at me, as though he was about to comment on my strange reaction but decided against it at the last moment. Instead, he didn’t respond. He just went about his business, so I started to go through my things, seeing exactly what was there.
In a way, looking at the clothes and the things that I had packed before my whole world was flipped upside down was odd.
It almost felt as though I wasn’t even looking at my belongings. It felt as though this belonged to someone else, who simply had the same style and size as I did.
For the first time since this whole ordeal happened, I finally realized the enormity of it. I thought about what happened and what could’ve happened, if Johnathan wasn’t there to help me.
I felt my breath quiver with fear, as I glared down at the brightly-colored, summer clothing that I wasn’t sure I would ever want to wear again.
I stared at the clothing, I guess for an obnoxiously long time, contemplating how long it would take for me to actually feel like myself again.
“That is yours, right?” Johnathan asked me, breaking the morbid, disturbing connection I was creating with the outfit in my hand.
“Yeah. It’s mine,” I answered, though my voice seemed far away.
At first, the man seemed as though he was contemplating going about his business, but the tone of voice that accompanied my response caused him to turn back around.
“Okay, what is it?” He asked, sitting down on the chair across from me.
“What do you mean?” I asked, even though I knew exactly what he was referring to.
“You’re looking at that shirt like it’s going to attack you. I don’t want to care, but I’m involved, so what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It’s…just…I never liked this shirt,” I lied.
“Oh, bullshit,” he insisted, which caused me to perk up a little, surprised by his harsh reaction, though I felt I should be used it by now. “You and I both know that the shirt triggered something. So, you should probably talk about it.”
“You don’t want to hear about it,” I replied, “It’s probably nothing.”
“You’re right. I don’t want to hear about it, but that’s because I’m a selfish dick. Right now, I’m asking you about it, so you should tell me, and I will try my best to give some advice.”
“Why should I tell you if you don’t want to talk about it?”
“Because, right now, by some strange twist of fate, I’m all you have, so speak.”
I made a face at him, narrowing my eyes slightly, “You don’t have a very good bedside manner.”
“You think I don’t know that?” He hissed, “Another thing I know, is that you’re trying to get off subject, so you don’t have to talk about whatever is bothering you and I’m not going to let you do that, so talk.”
I grinned, feeling slightly silly, having been caught. Even though he was rough and, as he said, kind of an asshole, I couldn’t help but be attracted to him.
He angered me…a lot and I couldn’t decide if he was crazy or just didn’t care about anything, like his attitude suggested, but below all of that, everything he seemed to do was for the right reason.
For instance, I knew that he had gone out of his way to find my pack for me. I wasn’t sure why he had done it, or if that was his plan when he walked out the door, but he didn’t have to do that.
He also didn’t have to help me, but he did.
Now, he didn’t have to force me to talk about what was bothering me, but apparently, he wasn’t going to let it go until I spoke up.
This man was so strange, but equally intriguing.
