Chapter XII: Night After The Storm
"Alli!"
A sobbing Samantha ran to her friend when she finally saw her coming back into the club, clinging to the man for stability. It was a tearful moment when the older woman took her into her arms, and sobbed into shoulder out of fear and horror, seeing her as nothing more but a bloody, bruised mess. The other two men came over, as well, but their eyes were filled with disbelief and confusion when they looked from their younger brother to the indignant woman, and then back. Costa literally had to pull the man away, and it was then that he explained to them what he had seen and happened. By the time he was done, the younger woman was sitting in a chair against the wall, her friend gone to retrieve her some water to drink. The three Sarantakos brothers then gathered together to come up with an idea to solve this little matter, seeing as how the woman was refusing to get medical treatment or call the authorities.
"It's not a good idea right now. Besides, I'm fine," she tried to smile sincerely, but the man had acquired the same special vision that allowed him to see through her mask that Sam had, though unlike the woman, he didn't try to force the truth out of her. The mask had deeper cracks in it, now, and it was becoming difficult to wear it out in public anymore.
"I think it would be a bad idea if she went back to the apartment. Knowing the fucker that Julian is, he'll probably show up again and confront her about you," Sam informed Christopher when she came back with a tall glass of water. She handed it to her friend, and practically nursed it to her, knowing how frail she was at the moment.
"Does she have any family she can stay with?" Costa asked of Sam, who seemed to be Alli's voice for the moment—the woman seemed too stunned to speak at all. It was even highly believed that she wasn't even listening to what was going on around her, just dazing in and out of reality and that fantasy world that she had been clinging to since she had been saved in the alley.
"She has her mother, but I doubt if that will make anything better. Her mother and she are kind of…estranged," Sam informed them. Alli was starting to cough a little, and she leaned down to wipe the blood from her lips with a napkin.
"What about a motel?" JD suggested, and once again, Sam shook her head.
"That's not a good idea, either. Usually after all this happens—"
"'Usually'? You mean this bastard has done this to her before?!" Christopher blurted out from his long moment of stunned silence, and Sam—despite her promise to Alli in keeping silent about the on-going abuse—nodded submissively. The three men just paused, hesitant to say anything more out of shock and terror that something like this—things that they had only heard of in the news or on fictional television series—was actually possible of happening, and that the trauma was far worse than they had ever imagined.
"It's not a good idea to have her stay in a motel. I usually have to spend the whole night with her when something like this happens. If she's alone, chances are it'll do more damage than he did," Sam explained quickly, though she wasn't looking at them, but at her friend. She took her friend's face in her hands and looked into those eyes—the storm was still raging within—whispering softly to her as she stroked her face like a mother. "It's okay. It's okay. Everything's going to be okay, baby."
"What if she stayed with us?"
No one was expecting this question to come from the man who had rescued her, the man who had now bare witness to the troubling situation that had presented itself to him. Yet, it came from him, and it was the only solution that he could come up with, however depressing that may have sounded. His brothers turned to him, yet there was complete sincerity and seriousness that bore from within those dark eyes, and they knew that they only burned like that when he was absolutely sure of performing a dangerous stunt, a violent and life-threatening stunt that he was not afraid to take. This wasn't a stunt, though, this was reality, this was actually happening, yet it was just as dangerous as any stunt he had performed before, if not, more dangerous. Sam even turned to him, shocked and fearful, though the woman she was caring for seemed to be too far away mentally to have really heard anything.
"Criss, I don't know—"
"It's the only way, really. That bastard doesn't know where I am, he doesn't know me, and he'll never be able to find her. She won't be alone, we're going to be there, plus my mother and a few other people," Christopher explained, but his brothers were looking at him as if he had gone insane—it was a typical, common look they always gave him when he was about to do something stupid and deadly.
"Criss, that really isn't a good idea," JD spoke, but he wasn't listening. Apparently, he had said something that brought the poor victim out of her daze, and she looked up briefly, her body filling with terror and fear. Those gray eyes said everything that needed to be said—please, don't get involved, Criss—yet he paid no notice to this, knowing that both his heart and mind were in the right place, as the only thing he was concerned about for the moment was her safety and her sanity. That was all he cared about for the time being.
"Christopher, I'm telling you, I don't think it would be a good idea. Perhaps she doesn't want so many people to know about this! Maybe she just wants to forget this all happened!" Costa tried to explain to him, but once again, Criss was not hearing him. How could anyone forget what had just happened? And then…to suddenly be torn apart and realize that it had been happening for a long time? He knew he sure as hell wouldn't be able to forget it.
"It's the only way I can help her," it was all the man could say, his body suddenly feeling cold and numb, as if a tidal wave had swept over him from the arctic tundra, and took hold of him. He couldn't tell whether it was just his imagination or due to sweat, but his clothes suddenly felt limp and damp on his body, as if water really had been splashed on him.
"Sophia…" the woman muttered the name softly, yet, she wasn't speaking to anyone in particular. She did, however, bring a sudden sense of reality and remembrance to her friend, who suddenly realized she had forgotten about the young child that was in her care. However, this wasn't supposed to matter much, as the child was spending the night at her friend's house. As Sam thought about Criss' offer more and more, she began to realize that however much it may have sounded like a bad idea, the truth of the matter was, it was the only other option they had, and it seemed to be the only one that could assure both the victim's safety and her sanity.
"I still think this is a horrible idea, but…" Sam kneeled down and placed her hands on the side of the woman's face, stroking her cheek lovingly. She closed her eyes and put her forehead to the other woman's, whispering softly to her. "You're going to be safe, okay? You're going to alright."
She then pulled away, and faced the man like a parent would face the teenager that their child was about to take a steady and romantic relationship with. Her brown eyes bore into his dark ones, and he saw within them a look of complete seriousness, sternness, and above all…protection. These two women were quite intimate for being friends, but this could be explained due to their long and violent history that the two of have both witnessed and endured together. Samantha was practically a sister to Alli, whereas Alli was like a little sister to Sam. There was no way of tearing one from the other, and there certainly was no possible way of harming one without the other not only knowing, but unleashing unbelievable wrath that Hell had never seen before upon the one who harmed her beloved friend.
"Christopher, I am trusting you with her. If she gets hurt anymore, mentally, physically, or emotionally, I will go after you with a gat," she warned him, and he nodded, agreeing to the terms and conditions she had set for him, even agreeing to the threat of coming after him with a violent and gruesome gun should anything happen.
"I wouldn't have it any other way," he winked at the woman playfully, who reacted in a positive way, smiling warmly. She then turned back to the other friend sitting in the chair, and spoke softly to her.
"Alli? Alli, come on. You're going with Christopher," she spoke to her like as if she was a child, but according to the state of mind she was in, it was the only way to speak to her and not cause any more damage to her psyche.
Alli took her friend's hand and got to her feet—stumbling just slightly—and walking weakly, she clung to her friend's arm as Sam guided her out of the dance club, past the gawking and staring eyes—eyes painted forever frozen in time, watching like judges of Israel at the sinful, the guilty, the evil as they crossed through the darkness to their death sentence—and eventually outside into the cool, relaxing air of the night. The moment she stepped out into the night, it was as if the strain, the stress of what had happened to her, the pain of the moment as to why she was going back to a motel with the magician and his brothers suddenly drifted away. She tilted her head back and stared up at the sky, and yet, despite the spinning, blinding neon lights, the pounding, raging music, the flying of headlights down the black pavement, the window lights and streetlamps that seemed to fill the city with a never-resting life that seemed to go on forever, she could make out the sight of twinkling lights across the black canvas that was the sky, faint lights that filled the night with an innocence and delight that the laughter of children could fill a wife desiring children of her own. It was at the moment that her rain gray eyes saw the beauty of the stars that suddenly the pain, the sorrow, the misery that had filled her washed away into nothingness, and in its place was the incredible sensation of relaxation, comfort, warmth—despite the coolness of the night air—and a sensation she had never felt before, something that she could only faintly remember feeling something similar to it back when she was the same age as her naïve little cousin, an emotion that filled her when her father embraced her after such a long time of not being able to see her. It was a feeling so similar to that, but only this one was somehow stronger, more relaxing, yet she couldn't understand why, though.
"Alli?"
A voice called from in front of her, and she looked to suddenly see the man that had taken her to that fantasy world of peace and harmony standing before her, his dark eyes filled with a concern and remorse that made her heart break from within its own shell. He approached her, and within his eyes he examined hers, searching for any pain, any suffering that she might still be enduring. It was now that she suddenly realized that he had saved her, he had protected her, and it was thanks to him that she might still had the last strand of innocence that was still physically existing on her body, let alone her life. She owed him everything, yet…a part of her didn't want him involved. She didn't want to see him get hurt. She felt guilty and a burden of herself to him when she realized how far he had gone out of his way to ensure her safety. No matter how welcomed he made her feel, she only felt like something that added more weight and pressure to his already burdened lifestyle. I'm just merely another inconvenience to him, she thought bitterly of herself, and apparently this bitterness of inward emotion reflected within her eyes.
"Christopher, I'm okay now," she told him, but apparently he didn't care what she said.
"No, you're not okay," he told her coldly, yet she knew he was only speaking to her this way because she was making this difficult for him. Why didn't he just leave and keep me out of his life? Then I won't be such a nuisance to him! "Alli, you're hurt. You might not seem fine to yourself, but everyone else can see you're in pain. We're going to take you back to my hotel where you won't be bothered by anyone and you won't have to be alone, either."
"Criss—"
Before she could say anything, a taxi cab rolled up in front of them on the street, and Costa held the door open for her. He stood there, waiting for her, with JD at his side, and she looked from them to Sam, who stood beside her, encouraging her nonverbally or non-physically to get inside the yellow car. She then looked to the man's face, who was giving her a hard look, one that made her feel like a child. She finally realized there was no way in getting out of this. She was so caught up in this situation, if she tried to get out of it and escape, they would follow her, and then she would be causing even more problems. She didn't want to do that. She didn't want to make them suffer because of something she had been responsible for.
She said nothing in argument in anymore, but approached where the cab was, Sam and the provocateur following her. She turned to Sam, who gave her a simple nod, encouraging her once more to get into the cab, and as she obeyed and slipped towards the other side of the car, she heard Christopher mutter to his brothers quickly.
"We'll meet you back at the hotel."
After that, the man slipped in beside her and quickly leaned over the seat to give the driver directions. Costa and JD didn't get into the cab with them—a normal cab wasn't capable of fitting four people in the backseat, it was barely able to fit two. Yet, Alli seemed to be more uncomfortable than ever. She positioned herself against the window and refused to look at the man while the car rolled along the street, sitting in complete silence. She felt as if his eyes were glowering at her, angry, hateful. Did he hate her now? Was she just another inconvenience in his life? She didn't want to be. Half of her wanted to crawl under a rock and die quickly out of his sight, and then he could move on pretending he had never known her. The other half of her…well that was the problem. There was no other half. That half was missing, gone, or else numb and undetectable by the other side of her. So, that one half suddenly became all of her, and when he wasn't looking, she shed a soft tear from her gray eyes, which she quickly wiped away when he turned to look at her. She felt so ashamed of herself, so guilty….God, why can't you just kill me now?! Is this just another one of your sick twisted games of my life?! Do you take humor in torturing me, in using me to put someone else in misery?!
"Alli, we're here."
She looked up to suddenly realized that the cab had stopped, and she looked out the window to see that it had pulled up in front of the biggest hotel in the city, the lights of the valet and lobby streaming out into the parking lot and driveways. Christopher pulled out of the cab and held out his hand to escort her, and—although she was regretful and feeling ashamed—she took his hand and he pulled her towards the front entrance. He was practically holding her hand, and she felt herself blush, her face turning hot and her body trembling from not only nervousness, but fear. What if Julian sees us? What if he followed us? What if he finds out? These were only a couple of the millions of questions that went through her mind, and it was a horrible feeling that coursed through her. He noticed her shaking when they came up to the front double doors, and he turned to her.
"Are you cold?" he asked her, but she shook her head, yet her body continued to tremble and her jaw was actually clenching in the back of her mouth due to the shivers she was getting along her back.
"I'm fine," she barely spoke, but she couldn't say anything else for fear of her teeth clattering or if she actually starts to feel cold. She didn't want him to know, she didn't want him to see just how weak and vulnerable she really was. He obviously didn't care what he said, as he quickly shrugged off his jacket—his muscles were so magnificent as the light of the hotel streamed off of his bare arms in the night—and tossed it around her shoulders—she had somehow lost her own during the struggle that happened in the alley, and at the moment, she didn't care if she even had it on when he did this. She blushed red when he pulled it forward on her shoulders, and then she looked up to find her eyes suddenly instantly bond with his, feeling the strong warmth of the interior leather suddenly surround her, and the sweet, wonderfully intoxicating scent of his cologne entered her nostrils, giving her that high she had been craving for since that night she danced with him. Yet, he didn't say anything more to her as he brought her inside the hotel lobby—which was practically empty due to the late hour of the night—and then they walked quickly towards the hallway where the elevators were. The moment he pushed in the button on the wall, a set of doors opened up, and they both stepped into the moving chamber, alone within it, and the moment it closed, burning, embarrassing thoughts went through Alli's mind as she suddenly realized how many X-rated movies had been made in elevators.
She hadn't even realized that the elevator had closed or was starting to lift up, but when she finally did, the chamber stopped and the doors opened to the two of them into a dark hallway that immediately lit up when they stepped into it. Christopher—still wordless for the moment—dragged her through the entire hallway until they came to the end of it where another set of double doors waited for them. This one, however, was much fancier and artistically crafted than compared to the elevator's doors. She watched as he pulled out a card from his back pocket—a white security card—and swiped it across the black box on the side of the doors. A loud click rang from the box, and then he pushed the doors open, standing back to allow her into the dark hotel room before he came in, closed the door behind himself, and then turned on the light. If the situations had been different, if she had been here on more pleasant circumstances, Alli would have taken more time to look around and be stunned by the fact she had not just stepped into any just normal hotel room, but actually a presidential suite that had enough rooms and bathrooms to house seven people within it. If things had been different, she would've been stunned, surprised, and yet totally excited by the fact how lovely the expensive and glamorous suite seemed to be. Yet, she couldn't do that at the moment, and at the moment, her mind was blank and thoughtless when she watched the man walk into the main room—the living room—and looked around.
"Looks like everyone went to bed. That's alright. I'll explain everything to my Ma in the morning," he told her softly, yet at the words he spoke, her heart started pounding loud and violently in her chest.
"Wait. Criss, I can't stay the night here," she protested, but he turned to her with a cocky grin—God, that grin made her melt inside. He just stared at her, giving her a hard, scanning exam with his eyes, as if trying to see through that cracked mask she had been wearing for most of her life. That mask was starting to wear down, to crack and break, and people were actually being able to see through it.
"You don't really have much of a voice. You can't go home, because you're fucker of a boyfriend can easily find you there, and I think it's best that you have people around you that care about you for the moment. Tomorrow you can go back to the apartment, but not tonight. You have to stay tonight," he told her in a commanding voice, and it was just by merely speaking those words to her that he had made her choice for her, deciding for her just what she was going to do. She couldn't say anything more to him, she couldn't argue any longer, she just merely closed her mouth as disagreeing words escaped from her mind, silencing her into a state of mind of shock, fear, and suppression that could never be titled as anything more than being controlled of once again. Yet this control he had over her was not like the previous controllers that had stood in his place, having walked in his steps, and speaking in the same caring, concerned, yet dominant tone that he gave. The control he had over him was not filled the sense of personal gain and command, but more of warning, precautions, and trembling admonition that only someone who truly cared for her would hold within them.
Christopher moved towards the hallway closet and opened the door, pulling out a large white wool blanket, and then tossed it onto the couch—it landed softly against the soft dark emerald velvet material of the furniture, and just the sight of such a comforting place to rest her head filled her with a relaxation and amazement that just touched her from the core to the surface of her skin. Along with the blanket he tossed a fluffed white pillow, which landed just perfectly against the armrest. The man then turned to her, and a smile crossed his face, yet this one was more kind and sympathetic, giving and humane.
"You can take my room. I don't mind—" he quickly added when he saw her open her mouth again in protest. "This way, in the morning, no one will bother you while you rest, and no one will ask any questions. I have a habit of sleeping on couches, even when there's a warm bed available. I guess that's something you obtain after traveling on the road a lot."
"Criss, I don't know what to say…" her voice was soft, and gentle, barely able to be heard. Yet he smiled as he approached her, though the dreaming, love-addicted fan girl inside her was wondering—wishing—that he was going to embrace her and hold her, but the smile he gave was just as warm as any embrace he could ever give.
"Don't say anything, then. The room's down the hall, first door on your right," he told her, but he didn't touch her. He merely reached past her to turn the light off in the living room, and then he took her hand, and dragged her through the darkened living room, into the dark hallway, and then he stopped, just in front of what she could make out as the silhouette of a door. She could sense him smiling in the darkness—through the darkness of sin Eve always found her way back to the warmth Adam could give her, escaping somehow from the bonds sin had upon her, only to enjoy the rapid freedom that came to her by him away from her creator and the serpent that had grasped at her heel with its venomous fangs—and felt her face turn hot at the knowledge of this. He opened the door for her, and then released her hand, only for her to feel it drift up to her shoulder, caressing her in a soft, intimate way as the back of his fingers crossed against the side of her face, light, and his fingertips not even able to give life back to those new contusions on her face.
"Goodnight, Alli. Sleep well," he told her gently, and then stood back to allow her to walk past him into the room, only to have him close the room behind her.
As if that weight had been lifted off of her, that grief, that sense of guilt of being a burden to the man, she suddenly leaned back against the door that was closed behind her, and looked around the room just to absorb the comfort, the tenderness, the gentleness that the chamber held within it. Yet, that sense of guilt remained, and even despite the fact she had been given such a reassuring, soothing room to relax and clear her mind within, the chamber fell dead and eerie around her, as if it meant absolutely nothing, insignificant four walls that stood for nothing. Something was missing, and although she didn't want to admit it, although she didn't want to give in to those desires, wishes, and prolonged emotions that were rising like powerful urges of vomiting, she couldn't deny it. Everything about this room just seemed to feel completely lifeless and lonely without someone else beside her within it. After five minutes of internal, mental conflicts, she finally decided she would not be able to lie down on the bed and be able to close her eyes and drift off into that sleep that she so desperately needed unless she conquered her fear and pride and did the unthinkable.
Swallowing her fear and guilt—a cold lump of transparent ice slid down her throat and nearly choked her to death—she turned around to face the door and opened it as quietly as she could, finding herself back in the dark and deserted hallway. She stood in the hallway—partly because she was trying to think of which way to go to get to the living room—and then walked into the darkness until she found herself in a more open room, suddenly seeing the silhouette of the fireplace, the armchairs, and the large velvet couch. She approached the back of the couch, and her ears listened carefully to the soft sounds of lungs pulling in and giving out sweet night air from the cushions of the couch. She approached closer enough in order to look down upon the figure shrouded within the blankets—now blackened by the shadows of the night—and then she saw where his head rested, his baseball cap tossed aside to where his dark hair fell against his face. A sudden desire came over her, a desire that was too strong to restrain, too powerful and controlling to ignore and pretend it never was there in the first place. She realized that her body was suddenly no longer under her control, but under the control of the now freed, the now physically able fan girl that was inside of her darkest parts of her soul. Her hand reached over to where his head was, and her fingertips gently stroked against his dark locks, passing over them just barely, feeling the softness that his hair had. Her hand then came back up, and this time, she did more than just barely brush. Her fingers combed through his hair, but the moment they did, she heard his breathing grow rapid, and he stirred out of his traveling path to sleep, and she pulled her hand away as his head turned, and she felt his black eyes boring through the darkness at her, burning and glaring, but she doubted if it was out of annoyance or fear. It was more of curiosity and worry for her—as if he was wondering why she had come back out like a child sent into her room for time-out.
"I'm sorry, again, Christopher. It's just…" her voice was so soft, barely audible in the silence, but she knew he could hear her. His look softened against her, and she smiled a little inside. She might as well tell him what she was feeling while she could, and while she was off of his bad side. "I really don't want to be alone right now. I'm sorry."
"Oh, it's no problem, Alli," he spoke to her calmly from the darkness, and she saw his silhouette move in the pitch blackness, standing up from the couch—dragging the blankets and pillows with himself—and then he turned to face her. "Do you want me to stay in the room with you?"
Yes! Yes! Please, stay with me! Shut up! Alli told herself as the voice of the crazed fan girl started screaming in her mind. She was blushing, though she was grateful he couldn't see her. She nodded, but knew that he couldn't see her moving. Swallowing her nervousness and fear of looking and sounding like an idiot, she realized that despite her two halves fighting with each other, it was the best suggestion to ask for.
"Yes…yes, please. I'm really sorry," she felt her eyes burn with tears as the embarrassment suddenly rise up to her eyes—one even traveled down her cheek and fell—but she bit her lip to prevent herself from sobbing openly in the darkness of the night.
"It's okay. It's okay. Don't cry." How did he know she was crying? It was so dark, it was surprising she could even make out his silhouette from the shadows. She didn't say anything, but followed him back into the hallway, and then closed the door behind herself when they both walked into the room. However, she found herself speaking something she really wished she wouldn't have as she watched his figure lay the blanket down on the floor in front of the bed.
"Criss, stop!" she muttered through the silence, and she saw his figure hesitate, and then she felt his dark eyes turn onto her—the horrible, guilty sensation crawled over her once again as she saw how much of a burden she really was to him.
"What's wrong?" his voice sounded aggravated a little, but she believed that it was more from the fact he didn't know how to help her, mainly because he didn't know what she wanted. He approached her from the darkness, and she could literally feel the warmth of his body emanating onto herself—oh, such an amazing feeling!
"I can't…I can't keep doing this to you. I'm such a burden!" she couldn't restrain the tears in her eyes, she couldn't help what she was feeling escape her body and fall to the ground, but she bit her lip to prevent the whining sounds of her own sobs escape her throat, only allowing the tears to fall. What she didn't expect was his reaction to her.
His hands came up to her face, and forcefully tilted her head back, and her eyes widened from surprise and shock, yet she felt so incredible as he held her, warmth, comfort, affection, wanted, desired for, and…strength suddenly stream itself into her veins and took hold of her. She didn't physically react to him holding her, but she did react emotionally, suddenly feeling relaxed and cared for after in this abyss of pure numbness—it was Adam who always brought about a sense of safety to his beloved, even after all destruction had ended. She could feel him leaning down to her, and she knew her face was a canvass of red gushing paint splashed across her cheeks, but she didn't care. She felt the hotness in her face, the burning sensation of suddenly being welcomed and cared for by someone else.
"Listen to me, Alli," he whispered to her as he placed his forehead against hers. She could feel his breathing on her face, she could feel his body standing so close to her own, her entire reality just swimming away into the darkness, and once again, she was brought back into that other world that he had created for her. He always brought her there, ever since she walked onto the stage at his show and he lifted her into his arms. That world was suddenly created the moment he touched her, the moment her mind and soul suddenly became his objects to possess. It didn't matter what the situations were, what the reasons were for her being here, so long as she was here with him, she was immediately brought back into her deaf, numb, relaxing Eden of paradise.
"You are never a burden. Never to me. I care about you," he whispered to her, and that was all he had to say to relinquish from her heart the sudden grief, the guilt, the shame, and the embarrassment that was plaguing her the moment the both of them got into the cab and came here. He had that ability to make her forget, to make her clean and washed of any sin, of any pain, of any suffering. She didn't know why he had this power over her, but in the depth of it all, she really didn't care. Why should she, really? So long as the agony was gone and she was made whole by him, there was no reason to question how things were made possible by this man.
He pulled away, only to allow one hand to travel down from her face to her own hands, and he gently grabbed it and—almost suggestively—dragged her towards where the bed was. She didn't protest, she didn't argue, and she didn't pull away. She was in that state of mind where she didn't care what he did to her, what he did with her, so long as it was him only, and so long as she could remain within this fantasy world of peace. She followed by him, and then she could see him sitting down on the edge of the bed, dragging her hand with him. She approached where she was, feeling his dark eyes—black in the shadows—controlling her and manipulating her, and she didn't care. So long as it was him, she was ecstatic for whatever he decided to do to her. She followed his actions, sitting on the edge of the bed—her heart pounding out of natural instincts of embarrassment and anxiety—and then he released her hand, only to feel them both come back up to her face, caressing her softly, just as his voice did when he spoke to her.
"Lie down on the bed," he told her commandingly, "make sure your head in on the pillow."
She obeyed, lying back onto the large mattress and blankets—her face slipping out from between his hands—and she moved herself up closer to the head of it, resting her tireless and stressful head on the comfortable and warm pillows, feeling the soft blankets beneath her. She closed her eyes—though it didn't make much difference as the room was just as dark as it was behind her eyelids—and she felt the bed move, a weight falling onto it, and moving to where she was. Suddenly, fear started coursing through her, embarrassment, shame, and anxiety all at once, her head pounding, her face heating up and flowing red, and these feelings only doubled when she felt his arms wrap around her, bringing her body closer into his. She opened her eyes, hearing a steady heartbeat and breathing in front of her, and realized that her head was bowed into his chest, and her own was starting to ache from pain as her heart raced with anxiety and fear.
"Christopher—"
"It's okay. I don't want you to feel alone, so I'm going to stay here with you until you fall asleep, and I'll be here when you wake up in the morning," he told her softly, wrapping his arms closer around her. Oh, my God!
The scent of his cologne was like an everlasting high that filled her nostrils and gave her strength of nostalgia and wistfulness. He held her tighter, his hands slipping onto her shoulders and brushing off his own jacket. It fell limply from the bed to the floor below, leaving her to endure that wonderful, addicting scent of him, the amazing warmth he provided to her, and the enrapturing emotions that no one has ever been able to give her. This man provided so much to her, such an amazing presence….
"Christopher…."
Allowing these sensations, these feelings, to come over her and take control of her, she relaxed her body—her heart still pounding uncontrollably inside her chest—and she seemed to feel the world of illusion that he gave her take full form around her, giving her that great sense of peace, comfort, and distance that was placed between herself and reality. The strings loosened on her back, unable to pull her through that portable right now, as she was right where she needed to be, where she wanted to be, and she didn't care what other people were thinking or going to say about it—Sam with her constant teasing, Julian with his abusive, possessive personality, Sophia's confusion in the midst of why her older cousin was with another man other than with the man she believed to have been her true love—all she needed to know was that, despite the fact the storm had torn apart her world, he had somehow rebuilt it for her…just for her….
At last the storm had passed from within her, and the chaos had somehow been swept clean. She was no longer floating on the black lake of the abyss, drifting further and further away from her world and back into the troublesome world of her reality. She had washed ashore onto a beach of her paradise, along with her Adam, and together, their new world had been created—having been banished from their sacred garden, the two lovers banded together to give life to a new world, a world in which their descendents would populate and give this world life.
Christopher…I'm so sorry….
And with that, the last tear flowed from between her closed eyelashes and down her cheek as she fell into that slumber. It was the last raindrop of the storm….