AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I walk slowly at first in the direction of the elevator, my body agitated as I get inside and suffer through an interminable descent to the ground floor. As I leave the building and step out onto the bustling streets of the downtown Penn Quarter, my heartrate quickens leaving my body jittery as I begin to search without meaning to.
Search for some shock of pink hair aflame amidst the gray of concrete under cloudy skies.
There are two subway stations nearby and I head towards Archives, the one with the line that would take her north towards her place. I barely realize that my feet are moving fast until I reach the end of the block, feeling breathless and out of control as my eyes dart around wildly, my treacherous gaze distracted by every blast of pink or red that goes by, none of which belong to her.
And then, half a block down, I spot a woman. Her hair is tied but wisps of red streak through her bun at the back and I begin to walk faster, dodging people, keeping track of her as I begin to jog.
Only as turns her head to cross the road do I see that… it’s not her.
My stomach sinks and my usually strong legs wilt as I head for the subway station, realizing I’m rushing down the stairs as I hear the arrival of a train on the tracks below.
As I grab the travel pass I keep in my wallet and tap the scanner on the side of the turnstile, I hear doors opening and begin to bound down the stairs, making it to the bottom just as the doors close in my face.
I walk in quick strides down the platform, peering into the cars of the subway train for any sight of her, only for the train to begin to move, its motion faster and faster until it finally disappears, swallowed by one of the dark tunnels that lurk beneath the metropolis of DC.
I take a seat on one of the benches near the platform, planting my elbows onto my knees as I peer down at the dusty charcoal floor and try to catch my breath.
What the fuck is happening to me?
As I shudder through the gnawing sense of loss, dread and panic besieging me, I rub my fingers with my hand, looking at the faintest of scars left behind from the knife.
I know they’ve healed as flawlessly as they have because of the instructions she’s texted me this past month on which supplements and natural creams and oils to use to ensure the scars heal well and fade fast. She sent me this despite me knowing how hurt she feels, a hurt I seem to feel inside me. And even though I've been distant so as not to pull her back into me, she never stopped asking how my hands were…
When I think back to the disaster which left me scarred and broken as a boy, I don’t recall one-tenth of this concern from the man who watched over my recovery, the stakes so high…
As I make my way back upstairs to find the car I’d parked nearby, I will the longing burrowing in my gut to give way to hope that she can at least finally move on from the madness.
That maybe nowIcan finally move on.
Move on from unbidden thoughts of a woman I barely know but whose touch I yearn for inexplicably.
That I can finally go back to the life I led before this chaotic blaze of magenta light burst most unwantedly into my life.
Go back to the darkness… which I at least was the master of.
31
Greyson
One Month Later
“What about you?”
My eyes lift to the pert curly-haired blonde in her late twenties, wondering if there’s a word to describe the boredom that occurs when you’ve already passedTediousin the rear-view mirror about an hour ago.
I watch flatly as she smiles borderline lasciviously at me, leaning into my body at the round table where we’re having dinner with Gideon and his new girlfriend, Sandra, and Kennedy and a date he managed to pick up somewhere, at our childhood friend Tristan’s house.
I contemplate giving enough of a fuck to answer the question.
How often do I work out?
“Most days,” I reply, “though I leave most of my working out for outside the gym.”
I blink at her slowly and her eyes widen as she absorbs the insinuation. While my cock stiffens by default at the sight of her tongue practically hanging out of her unnaturally plump mouth, I feel distracted and irritated, as I've been pulled through some fucking portal I just want to dive back into to get back to where I was before.
My gaze is caught by the glimpse of red hair across the room, and once again, my heart rises in my chest only to fall as the woman’s face comes into view—Kennedy’s date returning from the washroom.
This contaminating goddamn habit of looking out for her taunts me—in the street, at the gym, at work. Any shade of red or pink will have me scanning the room or the street or the building for signs of a woman who would have absolutely no logical business being there.
