A slight, almost inaudible tap jolted Doranbolt awake. He retrieved his knife from beneath his pillow, shielding his tired body instinctively. When a quick scan around the room revealed an empty apartment, he relaxed his hold on the weapon and let it clatter harmlessly to the floor. He then raised his hands to rub the remnants of sleep from his eyes and blinked the last of sleep's cloak away from himself.
He had almost forgotten why he had awoken in such a panicked state until the quiet tap sounded yet again. It took a moment before he could place the sound, and when he did, confusion coursed through him. "Who's knocking on my door?" He whispered, pulling a hand through sleep-mussed strands of raven hair.
He walked hesitantly to the front door, not bothering to change his rumpled clothes from the day before. Most likely, it was Lahar, come to annoy him some more. Honestly, that man had absolutely no sense of boundaries. He opened the door, preparing himself for the inevitable surprise attack from his superior. What Doranbolt didn't expect was twin pools of chocolate staring at him with a mixture of shy awe and brash confidence.
"Wendy?" Doranbolt gasped, blinking a few times to assure himself that this wasn't a figment of his imagination. Even after he cleared his eyes, there she stood, blue hair gently waving in the bitter breeze that blew from outside.
He regained his senses as the cold autumn wind caressed his bare arm, sending shivers flying up his arm. Doranbolt darted his glance towards Wendy's bare arms and suppressed another shudder of cold. She had to be freezing with her skirt barely covering her kneecaps.
Before his mind could stop him, Doranbolt leaned back and beckoned to the child in front of his door. "Hey, come on in. It's a lot warmer in here than out there. Besides, now that I've got a door, I have to put it to use. Protecting next door neighbors from the cold is in the job description."
The faintest tint of a blush brightened her cheeks and her only response was a meek nod. All of the confidence that had been shining in her eyes had receded into their brown depths, which now only reflected anxiousness and discomfort. Her gaze darted around the room, as if assessing all possible escape routes. It made him happy that she was considering her every option, yet it also worried him. Just how many hardships has she endured, forcing her to check the houses of her neighbors for possible escape routes?
Doranbolt lay across his faded couch, gesturing to Wendy to follow suit. She sat herself rigidly in a leather chair, back stiff and eyes still alert.
"Hey, kid, relax. I don't bite." Doranbolt crooned, attempting to quell the rising anxiety in Wendy.
She smiled tightly at him before heaving a large sigh. "Sorry Mr. Gryder. There's just…been a lot happening lately. You can't ever be too cautious."
When Doranbolt regarded her face once more, he noticed the black smudge of restlessness beneath her eyes. Her head hung heavy with weariness, as if her very soul had been exhausted to the very core. All in all, Wendy emulated fragility.
Doranbolt wanted to crush her tiny body to his chest, to feel her fatigued head lean into him and slip into a deep, unencumbered sleep. His body leaned forward as if to act on his wish, but soon his consciousness snapped at him and reined him in. Instead, he a stuck in an awkward pose, unable to continue his momentum because of moral obligation and unable to sink back into the couch due to the need to be closer to her that pulsed through his entire being.
"I agree with that. The world can be dangerous at times." As he spoke those words, Doranbolt's mind flickered to the two youths that he had left for dead in a decrepit alley way. Yes. The world was a dangerous place. That was why he wanted to shied Wendy from the horrors of reality. "But if you get too anxious about everything, you'll never be happy. The only thing you get from fear is more fear."
Her eyes narrowed at him slightly and her tiny fists clenched at her sides. She trembled as she spoke, obviously angered by his paternalistic words. "Don't talk to me like I'm a little kid. I've seen a lot of stuff that most people only see in their worst nightmares. I've endured things that you can't even begin to imagine. So… don't talk down to me…please."
By the end of her tirade, her voice had lowered to a simper and her eyes glimmered with unshed tears. This time, Doranbolt didn't stop his body's movement. He rushed forward, pulling her into an embrace.
One hand curved comfortingly around her back, pressing her shivering figure further into his chest. The other hand rested atop the smooth crown of her head, stroking the wind-tossed strands soothingly. "I didn't mean it like that, Wendy. I just don't want you to be scared of anything."
Her only response was the wracking of her frame as she let out a hitching sob. Doranbolt felt wetness seep into the shoulder of his shirt and knew that it was due to the tears that now cascaded down her cheeks.
"Shhh, Shhh. There's no need to cry. I don't know anything about your past; I had no right to judge you. I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to hurt your feelings." Panic was starting to rush through Doranbolt's veins as he attempted to comfort the child now clasped in his arms. He had never really dealt with children before, let alone crying ones.
He gently pulled her head away from his chest while still keeping contact with the rest of her body. The hand that was once atop her head now pushed the fringe of her bangs from her tear-soaked skin. He tucked it behind her ear, keeping it away from her face. Then, without thinking, he brought the pad of his thumb across her cheekbone, wiping away the silver stream of water that had collected there.
"M…Mr. Gryder?" Wendy whimpered, attempting to pull away from his grasp.
He stilled her weak struggling with a tiny bit of force added to the hand on her back, not meant to be threatening, but meaning to keep the warmth of her body flush against his. "Shhhhh, don't call me that. I'm not old, remember? Call me Mest."
She squirmed from his grasp, standing a few feet away from him awkwardly. "Mest…I…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bother you. I…I'm just being stupid."
"You're not stupid. And I wasn't bothered. Just…Don't cry. When you cry, I feel sad too." Doranbolt was tripping over words. He couldn't find the right thing to say to her. It seemed that she was getting more and more upset with each passing moment.
"I need to go. My brothers are probably worried about me. I… I*'ll see you later Mr. Gr… I mean Mest." Wendy fled his apartment, the door slamming shut behind her with a loud crack. Doranbolt had only caught a brief glimpse of her face as she was fleeing, but he was certain that a new trail of tears had etched itself into her face
He stared stupidly around the room, unsure of what to do with himself now. Doranbolt felt strangely cold now that the warmth of her body had left him. His arms felt heavy and useless, too bothersome to lift. Without Wendy in his arms, Doranbolt felt…empty.
He was throwing himself deeper and deeper into a rapidly widening abyss, drowning in the feelings that even he didn't fully comprehend. All that he knew was that he wouldn't let Wendy escape from him. If he lost her now, he would lose the tiny fragment of a soul that still resided inside of him.