Don't Take This Risk
It was fairly late one evening as I arrived home from work, exhausted as I discarded my belongings on the coffee table and collapsed on the couch. I stripped myself of my sweater and shoes and reclined onto the soft material, stretching as far as I could on the tiny piece of furniture. It was another dark night filled with stars, visible just outside a window over my sink. I peered through the semi-foggy glass at the twinkling sky, feeling my eyes growing heavy.
I was roused from sleep by my vibrating phone, left on the table beside me. I shifted, pushing myself to a sitting position and rubbing at my eyes. Glancing at the clock on the wall, I found that it was still the middle of the night and, brushing my hair behind my ear, I picked up the phone.
"Hello?" I answered groggily.
The voice that came through the line was charming yet languid, a French accent noticeably thick. "Hello?" A pause. "This is... This is the suicide hotline, yes?"
My breath caught in my throat as I panicked for words. I managed to stutter, "Um... no, it isn't."
What else was there to say? I had to hope that this person wouldn't be too disappointed with my answer, especially considering who they were attempting to reach.
"Oh," came a stale, slack reply. Then realization. "Oh. I see. Yes, this was clearly a sign that I should not have called... It was my mistake. I will hang up now."
My heart leapt. Do something, do something! You can't let him hang up! I feared the worst. The least I could do was keep him on the line until he was in the right hands.
"No, hold on! Let me get you the right number, at least." I was on my feet as fast as I could be, rustling papers around and trying to find a phone book. "It has to be here somewhere," I mumbled to myself. I heard the man on the other end chuckle to himself almost ironically and I pressed my lips together anxiously.
"There's no need. What I said earlier, it was a careless joke." He was definitely making excuses to try to end the call. "Do not think any more about it. Goodbye now."
The finality in his tone seemed too grave. If he didn't want the number, I had to at least be sure he wouldn't hurt himself after our call. I could feel myself shaking at the weight of the situation. I needed to save him somehow. No one ever deserved to feel this way.
"No!" I shouted nearly desperately. Pulling my tone into something more tame, I begged, "Stay and talk to me."
"About what?" He asked hesitantly.
"What's your name?" Maybe if I could get him to start opening up to me, we would get somewhere. I would probably never know why, but I felt a strong pull toward this stranger. I wanted to help him, to save him, if even for just another day. I wanted to show him that he could still find happiness in his life, even if times were dark at the moment. Although, he kept putting up walls with every response he gave. The next one was no different.
"I'm nobody." His words seemed stuttered and kind of forced. It was almost like he wanted to give his name, but changed his mind. Quickly, I drew a reference and hoped that he would understand as well. I wanted to connect with him even further.
"Emily Dickinson, right?" I forced my voice into a sweet, lighthearted tone, silently begging him to know what I was talking about. A short laugh bubbled from the other end of the line and my heart fluttered a bit.
"Heh. Are you a nobody too? Then there's a pair of us. Don't tell!" I could feel the humorous nature of his words wash over me like a relief. He sounded genuinely pleased to be having such conversation. My mind was flooding with possible ways to keep this going as I once again returned to the couch I had been lounging on.
"Who's your favorite author?"
"Eh... I find myself very fond of Christopher Marlowe's work. Shakespeare is quite nice too." His voice suddenly became passionate as he began reciting his next words. "O Mistress mine, where are you roaming? O, stay and hear, your true love's coming... That can sing both high and low: Trip no further, pretty sweeting; Journeys end in lovers meeting-" As he finished, his tone lowered back to normal a bit, seemingly put off by his own words. "Ah, in lovers meeting... If only my journey could end in such a way. Alas, I am to be forever unloved. And that is fine."
No. How could he accept that so easily? I could hear the blood rushing in my ears, the adrenaline of fear taking over my body once more. Almost as if I could feel his finger about to press the 'end' button on his phone, my brain scattered to look for a way to keep him on the line. I came to the words he so wanted to hear, turning them over in my head, like rotating an hour glass and watching the sand flow this way and that. Before I knew it, the words escaped from my lips.
"I love you."
There, I had said it. I could only hope that he wouldn't snap at me and think I was deceiving him. There was no way to tell where he was in his head right now. I knew almost nothing about this man, but his life mattered, and I had to make him see that. As for the words I had spoken, I had never said them to anyone but a family member before and I was thoroughly embarrassed, a deep red creeping along my face. I brought a nail to my lips, lightly tapping it between my teeth as I waited for him to react.
"Eh? Do you really mean that, miss?" Disbelief and amazement flooded though his voice. "You love me?"
It took a moment for him to really digest the words I think, because I was doing the same thing. Turning them over and over in my mind and trying to decipher just what they could mean under these circumstances.
"I... want to see you." My mouth opened to speak but I quickly bit my lip to silence myself. The possibilities were being carded through in my mind; what was the worst that could happen? "Please come see me, Mademoiselle." My heart jumped at the purr in his accent, a welcome chill running down my spine. "My lovely Mademoiselle... what is your name? Who are you? Tell me who you are."
The man's voice lilted with emotion and sent heat all throughout my being, my very core set on fire by his fervor. There was no backing out now, and not just because of the situation. "I'm Heidi."
"Heidi," he repeated, my name sounding exotic on his tongue. "What a beautiful sound. Heidi, will you come see me?"
"All right." My answer was immediate. I wouldn't back away from this man without ensuring his safety.
"I'll be waiting," he promised. Then as an afterthought, "Oh, let me give you the directions to my house. Where are you coming from?"
"You really came." He sounded genuinely happy when I showed up at his door. It felt so surreal to me. I barely knew this man. I had spent maybe fifteen minutes on the phone with him, and per his request I had walked, quite briskly, to his home in the middle of the night. Temperatures were also low and near freezing, making me shiver restlessly, which I think he could see as he moved to envelope me in his arms. The embrace brought me face to chest with him and I could hear his heart beating strong and steadily, reminding me that he was still alive. Pulling back and taking my hand, he led me into his room. "Come, come, sit."
We settled on his bed, still hand and hand. I couldn't make out many features of his face, as it was mostly shadowed by the hood on his head. His long, light hair flowed out from beneath the hood, his eyes slightly glowing in the dim lighting. His thumb began gently stroking my knuckles and my face reddened. The man's eyes were filled with warmth and a smile stretched across his face.
"I can't believe you really exist. You are so beautiful." The words came out breathlessly. "Can I fetch you anything? A bite to eat, a glass to drink?"
"If you're cold, I can warm you up..." His smile turned a bit mischievous.
"I'm fine," I answered, flustered, and looked away. When I turned back, his face was nearing mine. He meant to kiss me, no doubt. And who was I to stop him? He needed this. Maybe even I needed this. I found myself mesmerized by the expression in his features. Pure lust, longing, fear. I was magnetized, and our lips brushed lightly at first, then more firmly. I felt like his kiss could consume me; like a slow burning fire, warming my lips and spreading through my body.
"There's so much I want to do with you." His words raked through my nerves, leaving goosebumps in their wake. The implication in his words was staggering. "So much I want to know about you." His breath fanned over my ear as he nuzzled my cheek. I squeezed our locked hands tighter together and my free hand tugged at his shirt of its own will. "I want to hear everything about you."
I came back to myself slightly, pulling back to look into his eyes, which were mostly hidden under his hood. I cautiously reached for the material, trying to unveil his face. His slender fingers caught my wrist in a gentle grasp. "Heidi." It was the first time he'd said my name in person, sending a jolt through me. Our gazes were searching each other, trying to understand. I tried to move my hand toward his hood once more, but his hold remained so I settled on his cheek instead. I felt the heat radiating off of him, a fuzzy, dizzying heat.
"I'd rather hear more about you," I quipped. He leaned into my touch, smiling.
"What do you want to know, love?" That was a loaded question. There was still so much to learn about this man. The attraction I felt toward him was natural and I couldn't help that, but for starters...
"What's your name?" It felt silly given all that had happened thus far, without even knowing such a simple thing.
"I'm whatever you want me to be, darling. Call me whatever you like." His chipper tone combined with the words were very unnerving. It felt sad, somehow. "Now let me ask you a question. Why do you love me?"
My mind went blank for a moment. Why did I have to say that? Love is a strong word. It makes people crazy. So many thoughts raced through my mind. But I was never big on lying and so I chose my words carefully.
"Why not?" This was a loaded question as well, I realized. This would either suffice as an answer or open a whole new door full of uncertainty.
"Why not?" he repeated back. "Because I am a stranger. Because I could be a murderer for all you know." My heart skipped a beat. Two beats. "But don't worry. Even if I am, I wouldn't kill you or anyone else you care for. Because I love you." His tone was very endearing, certainly, but the subject matter was... scary. This brought me back to how we met, what we had talked about, even if very briefly.
"Then can you do something for me?"
He narrowed his eyes with adoration, brushing his fingers through my hair. "Anything." That one word made me shiver. He was clearly already devoted. I took a breath.
"Call the suicide hotline." I watched his face for a few moments, seeing several emotions pass over it, but settling on one; betrayal.
"So, it's about that? The reason you said you love me, the reason you're acting like you care..." His tone was dark and with every word, he began untangling himself from me. "You want me to call the hotline - to pawn me off to somebody else."
"I never said I didn't love you," was the first thing that popped out of my mouth. My face was contorted with my desperation. I grabbed for his hand again, holding it tight with both of my own. His face relaxed a bit.
"Do you?" He set his right hand on the other side of the bed, of me, right next to my hip. He leaned forward, close enough for me to feel his breath. "You don't know what kind of man I am." A small smirk settled on his lips. "Or just how hungry I am." I could feel the hand by my hip fisted tightly into the sheets. "I want to eat you up, Mademoiselle."
My breathing was quite shallow as he leaned over me. Gathering courage, I spoke, "You don't scare me." His smirk widened.
"But I should."
He pressed his mouth against mine, gazing into my eyes as if daring me to make the next move. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling him press our bodies together and gasping at the sensation. His tongue slowly smoothed over my lower lip and I retaliated by nibbling his lip in return, slightly returning to our previous aura. I felt his deep moan ripple through me before he pulled away, muttering, "You like that, don't you?" He kept close to me, but spoke detachedly, "So you'll just let me have my way with you?"
"Will it stop you from hurting yourself?" My eyebrows knit together in concern.
"You shouldn't give yourself away so easily like that. Least of all, for a stranger like me." The man's deep voice rang louder. "Really, what if I were to tell you that I am a killer? That I know what it is like to crush someone's heart, to see the blood drain from one's skin..." A somber tone crept in. "and the warmth from one's eyes?"
"I won't let you kill yourself." He chuckled.
"You're stubborn. I like that." As he leaned his head on my shoulder, his forehead rested against my neck and his hair tickled my skin. His lips brushed against me as he asked, "Why do you care about me?"
Before he could react, I pulled the hood from his head and threaded my fingers through his hair. My other hand wound around his back, hugging him close. He stiffened a bit.
"Because I love you." The words felt more true now than ever. This was more than a physical attraction. I truly felt for this man. I could feel his pain, how deeply he suffered. I wanted to fix what was broken, mend his wounds, make him whole again.
"You love me?" He repeated the words with disbelief, with a glow of hope around his accent.
"That's right. And I'm never letting you go."
"A-" He seemed to contemplate for a split second. "Ahaha... is that so?" His arms circled my abdomen and held tightly to the material of my shirt. "Well, who says I would want you to?"
I leaned my head on his, feeling his heart beat along with mine; a happy, fast-paced pounding. A dangerous romance, an unstable foundation. I was determined to find a way to make this work. It could be attributed to my own loneliness, but what did I have to lose? I looked down at the man in my arms, held fast to me in a light slumber. I pressed a soft kiss to his hair and he lightly groaned, snuggling closer.
Risky Love Ending