Disclaimer: None of the Savant World/the Benedicts – all right to Joss Stirling :)
Woohoo, new chapter up here as well! Hope you like it :)
By the way, a helpful reviewer pointed out that Leah's eye colour is inconsistent – once they were blue, once they were green – to clear it up: I hereby declare Leah Andersson's eyes as being blue!
Chapter Eight – Leah POV
His apartment is nothing like I expected it to be. Actually I actively tried not to imagine anything but as the only thing we said to each other on the car ride over was 'You mind if I switch the radio on?-No' I had no choice but to let my brain wander around. I expected a perfectionist's flat – white, high walls, a glass coffee table, linen sheets and an Italian coffeemaker. I did not by any means imagine an incredibly homely feeling atmosphere the moment one walked through the door. Crooked pictures are sloppily hung in carved frames, always showing the same bunch of people, always looking like they'd been passed around a lot around a dinner table at Thanksgiving or Christmas. I did not expect a collection of every CD known to mankind to be in his apartment, ranging from Mozart and Bach, over Débussy and Schönberg and over Frank Sinatra and Aretha Franklin to Bruno Mars and Metallica. I did not at all expect the safe feeling that sweeps over my body the instant I cross the threshold. Like I know that nothing can happen to me here.
"You can take the bed, I'll just get you some fresh towels and clothes. Are you thirsty or hungry?"
I don't want to smile at his eagerness but I almost can't help it. Almost.
"Just feeling the strong desire to have a shower."
Victor gives me curt nod and just points at the door leading off from the living room.
When I die I hope I'll go to heaven. Heaven where they have showers like this with massage functions and exactly the right pressure and warm, freaking boiling water. My whole body feels like it's on fire as I let fresh water run over my wounds, scars and burns and I have to suppress the tears. I don't dry my body with the towel knowing that scrubbing my skin will just make it worse. I use his shampoo, rinsing my hair three or four times. I feel like I've been a walking stink bomb for eight years.
Victor is sitting in front of his laptop when I enter the kitchen clad in one of his shirts and sweatpants that I had to roll up quite a few times. He quickly shuts his laptop and I'm reminded of what Abdul said about his investigation against him. Then again, yesterday, those words he said, "I'll always be on your side", spoken with such earnestness and sincerity, that something about them just forces me to believe them.
"Are you-?"
"What's a Savant?" I ask and have to stifle a giggle at the look of surprise on his usually so stoic face.
"Who told you?"
"I'm asking you. Why does it matter who told me?"
"Because it matters what already know?"
"Why would I ask you if I knew something already? Seriously, I thought you were supposed to be some amazingly smarty-pants agent", I turn around to leave, slightly disappointed, when his next three words shock me to standing still.
"You are one."
"What am I?"
"You're like me, like my entire family… like… the man who had you kidnapped."
"Abdul."
Victor winces at the familiarity with which I say his name but nods nonetheless.
"What is different about you?"
"About us, you mean."
"As far as I can tell, I'm not one of you." My walls have gone up again.
"We", he frowns at my scowl but continues anyway, "have the power of telekinesis, meaning we can move stuff with our minds, and telepathy, meaning that we can …"
"…speak to each other in your minds." I fade off, having a violent flashback of how Abdul did it to me the first time.
"What other power do you have?"
"Each Savant has another individual power. My brothers have stuff like seeing the future, healing, the ability to trace an object or see the past…" He stops and looks like he knows what my next question is going to be.
"What power do you have?"
"Compulsion."
He doesn't even flinch when the lamp above the dining table explodes.
It's him again. His slimy, shining face comes close and closer to mine and I can feel drops of his sweat on my skin. Now, sweetheart, tell me what you know. His sweat mixes with my blood coming out of various cuts on my shoulders and chest and I struggle to keep the tears from falling. Tell me what you know about Victor Benedict or I'll rip head off and stuff his heart down his neck. I can't hold in the scream as Vic's mangled and bloody body appears out of thin air and is thrown onto me. No, no, no!
"Shhh, shhh, it's okay. It's okay. You're safe. You're safe."
Not caring about anything about him that might have been drilled into my brain I cling to his strong arms as he holds me tightly against his chest, wiping away the tears with one hand.
"It's okay. Shhhhh. I'm here."
And it's those two words that make me feel okay again.
What'd you think? I look forward to many reviews, hopefully, because if we get up to 35, I will post one (maybe even two chapters) on Christmas :)