Pinned down by the dark
Been fighting with my sheets
Nearly crying in my sleep
Yes, I'm battling that well taught gripe
The most frustrating type
-Arctic Monkeys, Dangerous Animals
Chapter 1: Dangerous Animals
The side streets of New York were bare at night. There were no overzealous tourists, no businessmen shouting into their cell phones, no up and coming musicians singing and playing guitar hoping for a dollar to drop in their guitar cases, there was nothing, just dark empty sidewalks.
I'd stayed late at the library researching for my psychology project. I'd only been asked to leave when the librarian was doing her last round. She found me in the back corner, huddled quietly over a book. I apologized timidly while gathering my papers and shoved them into my beat up messenger bag. When I was walking down the steps toward the street I'd realized I'd stayed later than I'd planned.
I checked my phone; it was already nine thirty. The streetlights were the only thing lighting my path. I thrust my phone into my bag and pulled my hoodie around my small frame as I ambled quickly down the sidewalk. I'd found a shortcut to the subway a few days ago, I had to cut through some alleyways but it cut the usual time in half, so it was well worth it.
About halfway through my walk I noticed something. A strange man was following me. He'd been behind me for the past three blocks. I turned my head to attempt to catch a glimpse of him. He was tall – at least six foot – and had a lanky frame. He was wearing a black sweatshirt with the hood pulled up, casting a shadow of his face. Also, I noticed that he was limping. Strange. A black cane was in his right hand, supporting his body weight. I relaxed after that, assuming it was only an old man taking a late night stroll.
My walk was quite peaceful until I heard someone clearing their throat from behind me. "Miss?" a melodic voice inquired. This voice definitely did not belong to an old man; it was smooth and rich and sent chills down my spine. I looked behind me; there was no one else around me, no other woman he could be calling too.
My heart rate picked up and I quickened my pace. The shuffling of his footsteps became louder and faster. "Miss!" he called out. I could feel my heart beating in my ears and I panicked.
I began running, nearly tripping over my own clumsy feet, and hugged my messenger bag tightly to my side. I abruptly turned the corner, out onto the main street; I quickly booked down the stairs and into the subway station. When I was on the main floor of the station I stopped and looked behind me. There was no one.
I let out a heavy sigh and reached into my bag for my wallet. I shuffled around in the bag, not finding my old leather wallet. I pulled out all my books, supporting them with my left arm while I searched through the bag with my other hand. I started panicking. I must have dropped it while I was walking from the library. I couldn't go back and get it without potentially encountering the man who had been following me. But if I didn't have my wallet I couldn't –
"Miss?"
"Oh!" I jumped and turned rapidly, dropping my books to the ground, papers scattering around the white tile floor.
Now in front of me was the man who'd been following me. He was leaning on his cane, propping himself up. I was shocked at what I saw. He had a mess of bronze and gold hair that was sticking up every which way. His hair contrasted with his vivid jade green eyes. He had a sharp jaw line and high cheekbones. But what caught me off guard the most were his tattoos. He had two tiny black crosses at the corner of each eye and what appeared to be a tribal tattoo climbing up his neck. The tattoos suited him well.
I quickly realized I was staring at him like an idiot and bent to pick up my books. "I'm such an idiot," I muttered under my breath, gathering my books in my arms.
He dropped his cane and bent down to help me. "I'm sorry for startling you, Miss." he said quietly, dropping his eyes and picked up a few of my books, handing them to me. I quickly and chaotically tossed them into my bag.
"Don't be," I said shyly, standing and smiling shyly. I was nervous around him.
He stood slowly, like an old man would stand up if he had fallen. He smiled at me and reached into his jacket pocket. I took a step back expecting it to be a gun or knife when I realized he had my wallet. "You dropped this," he said, giving me a timid crooked smile, holding out his hand which I also noticed was tattooed. His knuckles read 2004.
"Oh! Thank you! I had no idea where it was." I said, taking it from him and opening it to check it contents.
"Everything is still there." he muttered as I flipped through the wallet. He was right. Everything was still there. "I wouldn't steal from you,"
I looked up at him. "I didn't think you –" I stopped short. But I did think he had stolen from me, didn't I? He was covered in tattoos, and walking around the streets of Brooklyn at night. I had assumed he was a thug when he was following me, hadn't I? "I mean I didn't –"
"You did." he said, interrupting me. His tone was sharp – to the point. "But I didn't take anything. Now if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to be." He glared at me and turned away, limping back up the stairs.
"Wait!" I shouted, running after him to the bottom of the concrete steps. "Thank you!"
He didn't turn around as he stepped out into the cool night air.
A/N: Alright so this is my first, I know. Bare with me here for these first few chapters. This story will be a long and intense ride. There will be much more character development to come in the next chapter. Thanks so so so much for reading. Give it a chance? I bet you'll like it. Reviews please!
