I know I normally post updates on Fridays but for whatever reason, the site wouldn't let me upload anything for the past couples days. So I apologize for the wait and without further ado, I give you the next chapter! Enjoy!
Detta hadn't strayed from her house all week and it was only partially due to fear. The doctors recommended that she just rest, especially the psychiatrist. He had said that even though she had little physical harm, the mental anguish of knowing that someone was trying to kill her could be overwhelming. Detta didn't need a doctor to tell her that. They gave her Valium but the full prescription bottle sat idly on the sink in her bathroom. She could only work with a clear head and her boss didn't care what happened to her. If she missed a column, she was canned. He called her up two days after the accident to tell her so after San Francisco relayed the information to him. The only time she left the house was to walk down to the mailbox.
Thankfully she was in relatively little physical pain. She had a minor concussion but recovered from that quickly. Her nosebleed stopped once she was uprighted and the gash on her head wasn't as severe as she thought. A deep scar wasn't expected from it and she didn't even need the butterfly anymore. Didn't keep it from being ugly though. The bruise was scabbed over and she was black and blue into her eye and cheek. She couldn't sleep on the right side of her face because of it. She still had bruises on her legs from being tossed around; same with her arms but the worst of it all was the gouge on her upper thigh. They said it was probably something from the console that had cut her like that but she now had a four inch stitched up hole on the outside of her leg. It didn't hurt, not even to the touch. It just wasn't that nice to look at. The doctors said the scar would fade considerably but she'd always be able to see it. But that didn't stop her from rubbing vitamin E cream on it in the hopes that she could make it fade faster.
Max had stopped by a few times to check up on her and so they could work on his projects. He had become a surrogate father to her since moving here. She felt that he was actually watching out for her and was genuinely concerned about her well-being. Maria was right. He was a really good person. He had driven her home from the hospital the evening after (he always seemed rather absent during the day) and he had a bouquet of flowers waiting for her on her doorstep. It eased the tension that mounted while in the car. She couldn't help but see oncoming headlights as ones being aimed at her. Eventually she gave up and finished the rides with her eyes closed. When he came over to work, he always brought with him enough food to feed a battalion and forced her to keep what was left. She tried to picture her editor doing the same but scoffed at the image. He would sooner be the one behind the wheel of the truck than help her recover.
But now Detta had the trouble of obtaining a mode of transportation. She would have settled on a bicycle but that might have proved exhausting trying to get to San Francisco and back. Max suggested renting a car. Since she didn't need to get up there that often, there wouldn't be any sense in her buying a car now. If she needed one, she should just rent. He even offered to take her grocery shopping so she didn't have to lug sacks of food on a bicycle. Detta thought it sounded like a good idea. She was thankful for being a city girl and being accustomed to walking. If she weren't, she figured she'd be rather cranky right about now.
Detta sat on her couch in her cut-off shorts and torn t-shirt wandering through stations, absentmindedly twirling a piece of hair around her finger; a habit she picked up after the accident, a mixture of anxiety and boredom. As she came upon a sitcom of some sort, a soft knock resonated from the door. Detta frowned, not expecting anyone, and pulled herself up from the couch. Keeping the chain on, she cracked the door and there stood Marko, fingertips in his pockets. She closed the door again so she could undo the chain. For the first time in a long while, she was worried about what she looked like. Aside from her bum outfit, her hair was thrown up all helter-skelter, she wore no make-up and the bruising on her face was very prominent. But she opened the door anyway, leaning her head against it.
He gave her a small smile and shrugged his shoulders. "Thought I'd stop by and see how you were doing."
She gave him a closed-mouth smile. "I suppose you expect to be invited in then, huh?"
"Should I mow your lawn? Would that be enough work?"
Smiling, she rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Wiseass." She stood aside, giving him room to walk by. "Come in."
Marko hesitated and walked in, looking around as he did, eying her living room. "Nice place."
Detta closed the door behind him. "Thanks. Sorry for the way I look. I wasn't expecting you."
He turned around and looked at her with awe, a laugh forming on his lips. "You were hit by a truck. Twice. I'm surprised you're still in one piece."
"I guess." The last thing she wanted to talk about was that night. "You want something to drink?" Marko shook his head. "Where are the rest of them?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "Somewhere. The Boardwalk, probably."
"You could sit if you want," she pointed to the couch but instead Marko walked out onto the deck. "Or not," she mumbled under her breath. She followed him outside and watched as he walked to the banister. "You want me to turn on the light?" she asked, reaching for the switch.
"No, don't. It's nicer in the dark."
Detta dropped her hand and joined him on the deck, standing just beside him. She could feel it. He had a million questions he wanted to ask her about that night but he was fighting it back. He knew she didn't want to talk about it.
"How are you liking Santa Carla?"
Detta could see him cringe when he was done speaking. "Well, aside from the maniacs trying to spin their tires on my face, it's pretty nice," she laughed.
"I'm sorry. It just came—"
"It's ok. I like it. I like living on the beach. My lungs are thanking me for moving someplace with fresh air."
"Is New York really that bad?"
"You've never been there?"
"Wouldn't of asked if I had."
"Thanks. Well, there's a very stark difference when you go out to Westchester than when you're in the city. Don't get me wrong. I loved it there but no one should have to get used to the smell of urine and garbage. It's not the cleanest of cities but it's one of the few places I can really call home."
"Sounds like you miss it."
"I do. The adjustment's been a little difficult but I've managed. What about you?"
"What about me?"
"You tell me."
"Well, I'm twenty-two. I've lived here for a few years. My parents died ages ago. A car accident. I've known the guys since I came here. We're all pretty close—"
Detta laughed.
"What's so funny?"
"There's a lot you're leaving out."
"You sound so sure."
"I am. You're an old soul. I can feel it. You have this depth that not many people our age have."
"I could say the same about you."
"You could but would you mean it?"
"Just like you can feel it on me, I can feel it on you. You're older than your years."
"But can you remember?" Detta looked over at him and could see his brow furrow in the dark.
"Remember?"
"Those lost years where that feeling comes from. Who you were in those lives."
"Sometimes."
She tried to find his eyes in the dark but it was difficult. Only the outline of his face was clear enough. "You were at the hospital that night." He looked over at her, finding her eyes with ease as if he could see in the dark. "With the others. But you didn't stay. Why were you there?"
"The same reason I'm here." Detta's face flushed and she was thankful it was hidden under the cover of darkness. He inched closer to her as he spoke. "Do I still frighten you?"
Detta's voice quivered, catching in her throat. "You never did."
"I should."
"Why?"
Her last word was a whisper, barely making it over her lips. Marko was close enough to her now that she could make out his features; finally see his eyes. They were staring directly into her's, reading, searching. Was this something she wanted? She gripped the banister as Marko leaned closer, Detta involuntarily moving in to greet his body. She felt his fingertips brush the top of her hand and, with feather-light ease, they moved up her arm, sending goosebumps ricocheting through her body. She looked down at his hand, watching it move and then looked back up at his face, her eyes magnets to his own. She tilted her head and leaned towards his lips, short quick breaths running out of her mouth.
They lingered there for a moment, lips just barely brushing each other's until they pressed together. His was a soft kiss but there was something animalistic lurking just beneath that tenderness, something that, if she allowed, she knew would come roaring out. They held steady in that kiss before Marko backed away slightly, teasing her, the corners of his mouth turning up ever so finitely into a smile. Her eyes shifted from his lips to his eyes. She wanted more of him. It was an attraction unparalleled to anyone she had ever met. Never had she craved someone. She returned that dubious smile of his and leaned back in, rejoining their lips. More passionate this time, Detta inhaling deeply through her nose, feeling her breath being sucked away by him. She instinctively moved her hand up to his neck, inching her fingers into his hair. She didn't want to let go. Didn't want this to end. One of his hands rested gently on her waist and she fought back a wince of pain, he having found one of her many bruises. Their kisses lightened, neither daring to go too far. He brought his other hand up, brushing lightly against her face but it was more than enough pressure to disrupt her pleasure.
"Ahhh…" Detta pulled away and bit her lip, fighting back tears of pain. "I'm sorry. It's still really painful." She wasn't sure what to do so she walked back inside, instinctively covering the right side of her face.
Marko walked in after her, grabbed onto her arm and spun her around to face him. He looked at her, looked at her bruises that snuck out from under her hand. Without shoes on, she had to look up to catch him in the eye. Only a couple of inches but it was enough for her to feel like he had the power. He gently grabbed her hand and removed it from her face, bringing it down to her side.
He was shaking his head. "Don't cover it up."
She let out a nervous laugh. "You're not going to go Shakespeare on me, are you?"
He smiled a reassuring smile and lightly touched his forehead to her's. "Only if you supply the collar."
They both laughed but Detta's smile faded quickly. "You need to leave." It wasn't a question and she wasn't commanding. She could just sense it on him. He was apprehensive.
"I do," and he gave her a sad smile. "Come with me tomorrow night. Let me show you where I live."
Detta could feel the panic rising in her body. It was bad enough getting in a car but on a motorcycle? You're so open and vulnerable on it. "I don't know."
He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. "You're safe with me." His breath sent a sensation down her spine, echoing a want and a need but her anxiety was eased by his voice. She didn't need to answer. He could read it on her face. "Meet us at the Boardwalk when you're out of work."
Their lips didn't lock before he left but their eyes did. It was a substantial farewell. He left without either of them speaking any more. He felt she could communicate with him on a different level. They could read each other without words. Their bodies emitted what they wanted to say to each other. She listened as he took off on his motorcycle and couldn't help but wonder why she didn't hear him drive up. And us? Did he live with those other boys? Why couldn't she get the taste of him out of her mouth? She didn't want to. She brought her fingers up to her lips, feeling the remnants of that kiss. His body felt so cold but she had never felt such heat. She needed to control herself. She mustn't let her emotions get the best of her. That's how a person gets hurt. But she desperately wanted to feel the pleasure of his pain.
Reviews are always appreciated.