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“I won’t hurt you,” he tells me softly. His voice is like the pitter-patter of soft, summer rain and I want him to speak more. Still, I don’t move. My instinct is to run, as soon as he moves away from the door. “Can I come in?” he asks.
I take a step back, feeling the hard, wooden boards of the bookshelf. The place is too small. If he jumps at me, I’ll have nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide. He is twice my size. It won’t be difficult for him to take me out easily.
“I took off your chains,” he continues and this time, he takes a step forward. The hairs on my back stand on their end as he does so. “No one is keeping you a prisoner.”
I lift my hands to my face, touching the bandage. I feel a dull pain and it makes me afraid to speak.
“I don’t know how much you remember, but we saved you from those guys,” he explains. “One of them hit you and by the time we got there, you were unconscious. We brought you back here and I bandaged you.” He gestures at my face with his index finger. “It’s just a minor fracture. You should be fine in two weeks. You can talk, even though it might be slightly unpleasant. Just make sure not to open your mouth wide. Also, you have a cut on the inside of your cheek. That’s why I brought you this,” he shows me a green plant in his hands.
I notice they are big, with long fingers. I remember how Vanessa told me once that guys with big hands are packing and how we both laughed about it. Without wanting to, I glance at the guy’s mid-section and immediately blush, even though I didn’t really see anything. I turn away, but that redness of the cheeks remains. I can only hope that he didn’t notice me do that.
“Can I come in now?” he asks again.
I’m still hesitant. He can tell me anything and I wouldn’t know if he’s lying or telling the truth. But, something in his eyes tells me it’s alright. My heart isn’t beating wildly any longer. I’m not shaking. I’m even contemplating staying here a little longer and just hearing out what this guy has to say. I mean, if he wanted to hurt me, he would have done it by now. At least, that’s what I’m hoping.
I just nod in reply to his question. He walks in, takes two steps, then stops.
“Do you want me to leave the door open?” he suddenly inquires.
We both glance at the door at the same time. Fight or flee? My mind is racing. I’m not sure what I want to do. The road is open. I can just run out the door and keep running until I reach safety. But then, a tiny little voice whispers in the back of my head. What if safety is right here? I look back at this man. I don’t know if he means me any harm. He could smite me with his look alone, let alone by raising his fist to me. But I sense no danger. The books around me whisper that it’s OK to let my guard down a little. The comfort of the bed I was just lying in is in stark contrast to the one I woke up in yesterday. Things have changed. I can feel it. So, I nod gently.
“I’ll just sit over there, on that chair, OK?” he continues to tell me his every move and I almost smile.
He does exactly what he said he would, while I’m still standing in the same spot, waiting.
“Are you hungry?”
The mention of food awakens my stomach. I just hope he won’t bring me a sandwich.
“I can get you some warm soup,” he continues, as if reading my mind. “I think I’d even be able to find a straw somewhere, for you.”
I look at him, as if I’m seeing him for the first time. He’s a bit older than me. His face has a beach tan, but I can’t imagine this guy surfing. His hair is longer, his beard is bushy, but I can see his lips clearly when he’s talking. He’s got a few sun freckles on his nose. I want to ask him something, but I’m not sure if I’m supposed to move my jaw too much. So, I just point at myself, then do the talking motion with the tips of my fingers, hoping he’ll get what I’m asking.
“Sure,” he chuckled, revealing a set of pearly whites that were in stark contrast with the black bushy beard and his sun-kissed cheeks. “You can talk a little, just try not to move your jaw too much and don’t overdo it.”
“Where… are… we?” I try, expecting another surge of pain, but all I feel is slight discomfort. I speak slowly, making sure to adhere to his advice about watching my jaw. If he bandaged me up this nicely, he must be a doctor, or at least a medical professional of some sort.
“That is a good question,” he chuckles again, raking his fingers through his hair. “Although, a little tricky to explain. Besides, it’s not mine to explain it.”
I shrug my shoulders, in a gesture of wondering. Luckily, he understands.
“Someone will be with you shortly, to answer all your questions better than I could,” he tells me again.
I point at him with my index finger, feeling like a kid playing charades. Then, I spread my arms slightly to the side, palms up, hoping he’ll guess that I’m asking him why not him.
“All I can tell you is that this is my home and I can promise you that no one here will hurt you,” he continues and for some inexplicable reason, I believe him.
At that point he stands up again and smiles at me. I swear, he is the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. His black t-shirt is hanging close to his torso which looks chiseled to perfection. His jeans are torn and I see now that he’s wearing black leather boots. I remember the biker gang that arrived shortly after David hit me. So, he’s with the biker gang.
“Isabel,” I point at myself, feeling a sudden urge to introduce myself to this demi-god.
“Isabel,” he repeats with a chime of a thousand angelic bells in his voice. “That’s a beautiful name. Not that I expected a less beautiful name for a girl like you.”
There’s a sweet compliment in this clumsy sentence construction and it makes me smile for the first time in a while. A quick bolt of pain reminds me I’m to remain serious, for my own good. I point at him again and I swear this inability to talk properly is more and more entertaining.
“Oh, me?” he asks and I have to prevent myself from smiling, which is harder than I thought. “I’m Theron.”
I raise my eyebrow. It’s a name I’ve never heard o
