Surface

Sweet morning filled with the scent of a field. I could see a meadow under the sunlight in my mind. I dreaded the idea of opening my eyes for it would ruin such perfect sleep. It had to happen sooner or later. And when he light hit my eyes my head began pounding. Honestly, was it fair that one glass of red wine had to have such consequences? Well, could have been worse...

I staggered to sit down and managed to find my glasses by tact. I was home. I didn't end up in some weird place or anything –most certainly a plus. Yet, upon closer inspection as my feet touched the floor I noticed how bare my legs and feet felt. I had slept so comfortably, but now I realized I was just wearing a t-shirt. It wasn't one of my sleeping gowns or anything. Wait... black... red spider-web on the shoulder... this was...Holy crap!

I was about to lay back from the shock, when I felt his shoulder poke my back. I managed to hold my scream by covering my mouth. Even in that fret, I could certainly appreciate the beauty of Allan as he slept. Because as he did, he looked...dare I say, innocent? More like a cat I would say. Yes, he had picked that habit of sleeping on my bed no matter how much I argue and kick him out. Just like a cat with a man's body...

His shirtless skin embraced by the cotton fabric of my sheets was too alluring, but the remnant of the night made my stomach queasy. I ended in the bathroom heaving until ten minutes later I realized it was pointless. Since it was early in the morning, I decided it was time to get ready for work. I locked the bathroom door and ditched his shirt. Underneath, I had been wearing just my panties. It was enough to make my heart race with speculations, but it wasn't enough to make me panic. Whatever had happened during the night had not gone far enough for me to break apart mentally.

So many things could be running through my mind as the shower warmed my body and awakened me. Yet, all I could see were his belongings next to mine. His shower gel and shampoo didn't seem like anything out of the ordinary. The scent was his sent; that tantalizing aroma that saturated my senses and made me overlook everything that could make me want to give up on him. I opened the container and took a breath of his scent. I could see him in my mind. Suds washing over his body and falling down in whirl down the drain. How I felt I envied them. Then suddenly, I realized... Just how long has he been showering here?

Maybe since the beginning and now, my wet underpants in the corner of the shower seemed like live creatures from swamp mocking me. He had seen that. No privacy!

I rushed to wash them by hand with the shower still running; and as I did, I though of something else. If it was true that with the arrival of Edwards our society had abandoned the need for women to compete with one another in terms of physical beauty, then we had no reason to worry about our physical appearance. Now, women of plus size are as valued and respected as women of size four or less. That is because we are assigned our partners. Edwards seem to care very little about women other than their partners. Because of that, the fashion world abandoned its clamor for zero size models. There is no need for competition in sizes. Still most doctors recommended that less than a size ten was best for health purposes. Up until now, I had been comfortable with my size six. I had aimed to be a size five or four, but it just never worked for me. Size didn't matter, until now.

Allan wasn't chosen specifically for me. I had taken him on a whim. Seeing Julie yesterday in her cute size four –or less dress– made realize that I know nothing of Allan's predilection of women. Standing there before the mirror of my bathroom I began to panic. What if he liked petite women? What if he... thought I was fat? I had been told that my size C cup was something men would like, but was it enough to get Allan's interest? He had a car, and if he got tired of me he could leave without explanation. Would he?

So many questions and only one person could answer them. But too many conflicting emotions diverted me from saying anything. That and when I got out of the shower, I almost dropped the towel from the shock. He was outside the bathroom just a step away from the door. He had a towel over his shoulder standing casually leaning a bit to the side. Besides the towel on his shoulder he was only wearing his brief-boxers. He was so calm and casual, while my face took on all shades of red. Yet, a model, a perfect statue, nothing could compare to the masterpiece of humanity before me.

I must have been gawking. Because his voice startled me, "Are you done in there?"

"Eh? Um, who? Me?" I pointed to myself and before he could answer, I stopped him from taking a step further, "Wait! I have to take something out!"

I rushed in to pick up my underpants. I picked them all and wrapped them in his shirt. I had to do the laundry anyway...

He snuck up behind me while I was bent down collecting the last pair and grunted, "I'm really going to be late if you keep this up?"

I spun my head slightly without straightening up. He was looking at me curiously, no longer angry. I remembered, just a towel on! I turned around, still red and defensive.

He seemed amused almost relieved, "Good to see you're back to normal."

"What are you saying?" I urged.

"Hm," he pondered, "You don't remember?"

"R-remember what?" I stammered.

He walked in and turned on the shower. It always took a while for the hot water to take; so, I waited. He sighed, "You should really thank me. You gave me plenty of trouble last night."

I pointed to myself, "Me? What did I do?"

He exhaled angrily, "Honestly... You don't recall wanting to go take a walk because you were hot?"

I shook my head, "Is that all?"

"When I didn't let you..." he grinned, "You began to whine that it was too hot. And you began to strip. I told you you'd regret it, but you know what they say about drunks."

I covered my mouth and muttered, "I-I'm so sorry..." I began walking out.

He caught my arm firmly. I froze. He held me like that for a second, and finally spoke through his teeth, "I wasn't finished with my report."

I turned to him, but he didn't face me.

"I hardly slept last night. It isn't easy to... Well, I just want to let you know that you were talking in your sleep."

"Huh? And... Did I say anything...?"

"It deflects what you wanted. You were dreaming. You whimpered and called out for 'Edward'."

"I, I..." I was at a loss for words.

He let go of me, "My name is Allan. Don't forget that." His solemn voice felt almost hurt.

I walked out and closed the door behind me. My body felt stiff. I was happy. I was certainly embarrassed and speechless; but nonetheless, very happy. Happy that he was jealous –or at least sounded like he was– and happy that he had gone through all the trouble of protecting me.

I made breakfast. Pancakes and eggs; nothing fancy, but quite edible. Must have been my mood elevation, but it all tasted great to me. When I called for breakfast, he walked into the kitchen. He was still drying his hair and drops of water glistened over his skin. My mouth fell open. He was out wearing nothing but brief-boxers again –blue this time.

My mood turned, "Y-you! Degenerate! If you don't put some clothes... you, you're not getting any breakfast!" I was yelling at him menacing with a spatula.

He looked at me with complete lack of interest. I could see the light gold of his eyes was becoming darker, and so was his attitude, "It's fine. I'm not hungry today."

"Hold it!" I stopped him before he walked out, but when he turned to me I froze, "I... uhm, thank you. I know I probably embarrassed you last night. I didn't mean to." Actually, I wasn't sure why I was saying that, "But still," I continued, "If we're stuck in this, the least we can do is try to get along. So, we... I mean, I propose that we start by getting to know one another." I exhaled after saying that mouthful. Who knows how I had been meaning to say that and how long ago I should have said it.

Perhaps I was too late. His mouth opened, perhaps to reject me completely, when I was saved by the bell –actually the phone rang. He picked it up inadvertently flashing his arm muscles, which seem to trace in a single line toward his abs. "Hello?" he asked in his soothing velvet voice. He offered me the phone. I took it and he left.

My heart had just dropped to my feet, when I asked, "Hello?"

"Lea dear," it was my mom, "I'm sorry I haven't called. I was just giving you some time to settle down. Is everything OK?"

"Mm, yes mom. We're just starting to... but how are you?"

"I'm fine. I admit I was worried, but he sounds so... nice, I suppose."

I realized my mother knew just about nothing about him so I introduced him, "His name is Allan, mom. He's taking good care of me, so don't worry."

"Good," she said, and I could hear the relief in her voice, "I wanted us to have a formal dinner to meet him, I mean, Allan and welcome him into the family. Would it be ok to get together when your sister returns?"

"Yes mom."

"Dear..." she began to say cautiously and I waited, "You... haven't had cake before the wedding, have you?"

It only took me a second to catch what she was really asking, "Mom! No of course I haven't! Why do you have to put it so...graphically?" I exaggerated. If anything, she wasn't being graphic, but still.

"Sorry honey," she pleaded.

I cut her off, "Listen, I'm kind of..."

"Late," she added, "I know. I was just, you know, being a mom and fretting too much over nothing. Call me when you have time honey."

"Bye mom."

It must have been less than two minutes, but in that time lapse I heard the front-door shut. I peeked out of the window. He was still buttoning up his white shirt, most certainly in a hurry. As he got into the car, I noticed the glimmer of his glasses. No goodbye, no 'have a good day', and no ride to work.

I felt like I had lost many days of my week. My time was out of sync as well. I was early for work by one hour. So, I ended sitting on the front stairs until the manager arrived. Without wasting a single minute, I immersed myself in work. Replacing returns by alphabetical order and call number was tedious enough to keep my mind buzzing. And still, when lunch time arrived I hoped he would show up and say something like, "I made you something" or "Let's go have something at that café."

Nothing, not even call arrived. I ended wasting all my lose change on a bending machine. My lunch consisted of three bags of chips, a chocolate, and some mints; that was it. Oh, wait, and an extra helping of loneliness to help me swallow it all.

I must have been sick, but truth is that as I ate those stale chips I wondered if he had had anything to eat yet. Then his words resounded in my mind, "I'm not hungry today." Did he mean just then or literally for the entire day?

Like most of my other questions, that one was sent to the dump where I visualized all my other questions were piled up with my broken dreams.

Life continued like that for the following week. I had given up on arguing about the bed and just migrated to the floor. He gave me a ride to work a couple of times and always picked me up punctually. I noticed as days progressed that his eyes began to turn more and more opaque until they became entire black. As that went on, his interest in food diminished. Eventually, he locked himself in his room to sleep. Needless to say, I was nearly non-existent to him. We both worked Saturdays, but by then we were more estranged than the first time we had met. He kept his glasses on, but he couldn't hide his eyes and the bruising below them. Was he ill? If he was, I'd be the last one to know.

Sunday was different altogether. I heard him walking around at 4 a.m. I hid under my blanket wondering if he was about to crawl into my bed at any time. Not the case. I heard him close the front door. I saw him leave in casual clothing. Black jeans and a dark army jacket was all I saw in that foggy morning. The engine revved up and he was gone, perhaps forever.

I wrote his name on the condensation of the window. And I found myself surprised to feel a single tear slide down my cheek. I wiped the tear away and erased his name. If I was to be alone, I would make the best of it.

On Sundays, all streets were plagued by lovers. At least, they seemed more obvious to lonely people like myself. Given the choice, I would have called a close friend to hang out with me, it had been routine when I was younger. But, now my closest friend was busy with her worshiping Adonis. I took the bus downtown to the shopping center. The first thing in order was to withdraw the limit of cash from an ATM machine.

With my handful of cash, I took to the many stores. I bought a few sets of lingerie and stockings for my emergency supply at work. Skirts for work were my next goal, but then I came across something unexpected. A dress that I had wanted for years now was standing on a display window. Not just any dress, but a black satin shirt-dress from the late fall collection. The old almost 50's look of it always gained my interest. Mother had bought me a similar dress when I was eight, and not until now had I been around anything similar. I rushed inside praying they had my size. Just finding it was such a rush, that I even lost my reservations with the Edward working as sales representative. Maybe it was because he had a mustache that made him look somewhat odd, which I do admit made me giggle. Size six didn't fit. Size five, however, did fit. The sleeves covered up to the middle of my forearms and its length was below my knees –about middle of my calves.

Nothing like a day of shopping to lift one's spirits. I was too happy for someone who had spent most of the remainder of her savings. Too content with my luck, I had to be careful, before my day was ruined by a foolish accident. I looked cautiously at the floor trying to memorize every crack on the ground that would make me trip. I didn't count on the source of my brief happiness as a vector of misfortune...

The bags became entangled on my leg and I began to see myself falling in slow motion. I closed my eyes at the startling inevitability. I heard a thud. Part of me had wished, and it was disappointing. Allan had not appeared to save me. I was on my knees just across the street from my empty house. The stinging pain on my scrapped knee was nothing in comparison to the growing ache in my chest.

The sound of the unlocking door echoed in my small house. It was a house, not a home. It felt as such, for I had just realized, painfully, that my heart had left very early that morning. The phone rang, and I answered eagerly, "Hello?"

"Lea," it was mom, and she immediately knew, "Honey, are you crying?"

I wiped my tears away, "No mom. I just tripped outside. The antiseptic burns, so I'm trying to suppress my screams. You know how I am."

"Yes, but try to be more careful, isn't Allan there with you?"

"No, uh, I think he's working. Did you need anything, mom?"

She sighed, "I needed to know that you're ok, and... Tomorrow, are you free at night? Your sister's back and we want to have dinner with you."

I had no excuses in my blank mind, "Eh... ok."

I could hear her take in a breath and smile. Then, her tone became stern, "Good, because depending on what I see tomorrow... I might have to step in."

Step in? What did she mean...? It clicked. Mom, the person that knows me best in the world had abandoned her innate optimism. She would step in if she saw misery in my eyes. Had she seen me then, she would have taken to that dark side of hers. She was a kind woman, but frightening when it came to protecting the ones she loved –I had gotten that from her.

I hung up the phone after saying good night.

The next morning, I woke up in my bed, alone, and fully dressed. However, my knee had been healed, no scrape, and no pain. Had I dreamed it all?

I rushed to dial Julie's phone number.

"Hello?" her groggy voice answered.

"Hey, what day is it?"

Took her a second to reply, "It's... Monday morning and it's 7:18 a.m. and I had to get up 'til 11. Thanks a lot, Lea."

"Uh... sorry. I was just..."

"You sound cheerful, or actually... weird. Is everything ok?"

"Yep, peachy and all. Bye, go back to sleep."

"Bye..." I could hear her calling me a nut in her mind, and she might be just right.

Changes had definitely taken place. For one, Allan's room door was open. He was gone, but it was obvious he had been in there. The bathroom was still damp with his scent and the dew of his hot morning shower. I showered too, and dressed in my new exquisite, money-spilling dress. I picked up some shoes I almost never wear –all black, light heels, and strap to the ankle– add the purse and the outfit was complete.

The dress had gotten me plenty of compliments and a scolding from the manager, "This is a workplace not a fashion show." She said.

I laughed nervously and retired to find more books to the relocated. The other positive compliments from library patrons had my head in the clouds they said they wished to look as good for their husbands and even without words, I could tell some of the guys agreed. Lunch time arrived. Bring-down. I had no food and hardly any change left. I was going to have to have lunch across the street and put it on my credit card. I closed my eyes and just as I opened them to see if the crossing was clear, the blue car was there. Allan opened the door and rushed to my side. His stride was flawless and at the same time gentle –unlike his angry steps from before.

"You're out to lunch?" he asked standing in front of me.

"Ye-yeah," I stammered, "D-did you need something?" The truth is that I was dying to know what he thought of my look.

His lips drew a smile.

I blushed and lifted a strand of hair over my ear.

He removed his glasses and offered me his hand, "Then, care to join me for lunch?"

It was automatic how my hand fell on his without thinking. I was in his grasp, and he gently led me to the car. I got in without questioning, by the time I realized I should be angry with him, he got on the driver's seat and all I could do was blush and ask, "Uhm, have you been ok?"

He nodded facing forward, "Yes, sorry if I worried you. I just... it doesn't matter. I'm actually glad I was gone. To find you looking so beautiful today makes up for it. Are you angry with me?"

My heart's thumping could be heard miles away, and he asked if I was angry? I could shed tears of joy just to hear him say that again. I shook my head slightly and realized we were on the freeway, "Uh, there's a café across the street. Just where are we going for lunch?"

He grinned, perfect teeth, sweet moist lips, and said, "Somewhere a little less pretentious. Is that ok with you? Or did you have something to see in that café?"

My cheeks became flushed yet again. My eyes were locked on my fisted hands as my head shook mechanically. I had all I wanted to see right next to me, his dirty blond hair, and perfect chiseled jaw, not to mention his... eyes were amber like honey again. If I stared too much it would be bad for me, so I looked away trying to ignore how much his eyes puzzled me. Why was I happy with so little?

We arrived in less than ten heart-pounding minutes. It was a small restaurant called Jackie's Kitchen. We were guided to our table by the owner herself, Jackie. The round blond lady with thick glasses made me think that if I was ever to meet Allan's mother, it would be just like her. As soon as she retired our waitress arrived. Everyone seemed to know Allan here; especially, our fifteen year-old waitress –straight black hair to the shoulder and cute face– who immediately ignored me and leaning over the table she asked, "You'll be having the usual today?"

Allan nodded, but his eyes were fixated on me, "My companion will have the house specialty. If you don't mind, please make it quick. We both have places to get to."

Although he sounded extremely polite, she seemed to take it against me. She snatched the menu from my hand and sulked, "OK, I'll tell pops to hurry." She rolled her eyes as she passed by me.

It was obvious no one here knew how dark Allan's attitude could be; but more importantly, did that skinny little high school girl think she had a shot with my Allan? I was busy thinking of ways of bringing her to her senses in a subtle, yet crushing blow. Unfortunately, any plan that I had formulated vanished as soon as I noticed Allan resting his chin on his hands and staring straight at me with a dreamy gaze.

I took a sip of water and wondered, "Are you thinking about anything in particular?"

He shook his head slightly. "How about you?"

"Well, I was thinking about your attitude. I don't loathe you for it, I just..."

"Yes," he interrupted, "I recall you wanted us to get to know one another a lot better. However, I'm trying to find the best approach."

I shrugged my shoulders, "What's there to approach? Just..."

I was interrupted yet again, this time by the malcontent waitress, "Here's yours Allan," her flirty smile made me want to gag, and apparently my presence did the same to her, "Veggie burger... with extra onions. If you need anything else, let me know." She winked at Allan.

He was oblivious to her. Completely enthralled in my words, he insisted "You were saying?"

I cleared my throat and as I began to pick out the onions in the 'veggie burger' I bluntly proposed, "Just answer my questions. There's nothing else to worry about."

"I get to ask questions too, right?"

"Mhm, but girls first," I declared and rushed before he had any objections or distractions, "OK, first of all, I... I heard you guys were grown in placed with surrogate families, brothers and moms. Do you have a mom, or brothers?"

He set his fork down. His eyes narrowed and after a long deep sigh he replied, "No such thing as a mother. I had four brothers, but that was long ago."

"How about...uhm, where did you live before we met?"

I noticed he grinned, "That's not very creative. But what would you say if I say I lived with another woman before you?"

The sole idea pained me like a needle to my chest. I smiled trying to hide my discomfort, "I don't know. But you still haven't answered."

He calmly picked up his fork and before taking a bite he guardedly said, "I lived in a small space in the offices. Now, eat before it gets cold."

I took a bite. For a vegetable burger, it was scrumptious. Regardless of what it was, it was superior to tofu. It tasted like meat, but it lacked the guilt I felt every time I abandoned my attempts at a vegan diet. I didn't realize I was chewing and smiling, or that I had a bit of the tomato sauce on my cheek. That is, until he reached over and wiped it away with his thumb. I could have choked. His expression was beautiful as his thumb was surrounded by sleek tongue and his lips pressing together savoring more than the sauce. I was beginning to wonder if he fed more on my expression than on the sauce. I could say nothing.

"What about your family?" he finally asked as he had stopped gloating on his mesmerizing skill of making me forget everything.

I chewed faster trying to answer faster, "Well, I have a mom and an older sister. My dad died when I was little."

"How old is your sister?"

"She's six years older than me."

"So, you don't get along with her?"

"Sort of. We... I never had many interests in common with her. She got married two years ago and travels non-stop. That's why we don't talk much, but I wouldn't say we hate each other or anything like that."

"Your mother?"

"Mom is a very sweet lady. She's very energetic and nice, but when she gets mad, she can be scary."

The questions continued coming at me like a series of bullets. Before I could ask anything, I was already answering another question. How could I deny him when he smiled at me every time I spoke?

It was as if everything around us ceased to be. I even missed when we paid the check and stepped out. Then as we were getting into the car he asked, "Why do you live alone? Wouldn't it be easier –and safer– to live with your mom?"

"Hold it," I finally told him, "This is supposed to be a mutual thing! It's my turn to ask questions!"

He got in the car, no longer smiling he admitted, "It's just that you're fascinating to me. All this time, I was numb. Better said, I didn't exist." Melancholy filled his eyes.

What to do? I wasn't valiant enough to reach over and hug him, so I said, "But... you don't feel like that anymore, do you?"

He shook his head and his soft grin returned, "Ever since I met you. Still, I'm beginning to wonder when you'll grow tired of me and finally quit."

"The hell I will!" I covered my mouth shocked by what I had just blurted.

He chuckled, "Thanks for the good faith."

We were silent for a while, but I wanted to know more about him, "So, what kind of books do you like?"

He turned away from the road. I couldn't read his expression, until he spoke, "I have no real preferences. I do read plenty, but there's something I hate."

"Eh? Is it... politics maybe?" stupid of me to ask.

"Just forget it."

"No! I want to know. Is it something in my collection maybe?"

He reluctantly nodded strengthening his grip on the wheel.

"Well, tell me what it is, and I'll burn it!"

He forced a smile, "I don't think you'd want to. After all, you... Never mind."

"Tell me!" I sounded like a child throwing a tantrum.

He gave in, "Twilight... I hate those books. If they didn't exist..."

I covered my lips with my index finger as I pondered and processed his answer. For starters, that series was aimed for most likely a female population, but I knew what it meant to him. To be created like that was... I couldn't comment. Instead, I asked, "That food was delicious. I bet you go there often, don't you?"

The car came to halt just when I was beginning to bask in another of his slight grins. It was cue to exit and leave things as they were –good for once. As my hand began grip the handle, he took me by the wrist and pulled me closer to him. I could feel the exiting air from his lungs pressing against my neck and in the same way he inhaled part of my essence. I trembled and waited.

"You're truly beautiful today, Lea." His lips pressed against my neck, "You're mine." He continued kissing his way up to my chin making every one of my cells quiver. Just as I thought he would finally kiss my lips, he pulled away and looking stern as before, he asked, "I'll be picking you up at six for dinner at your mother's. Don't go anywhere else, OK?"

I nodded, still deafened by my rapid heartbeat. I couldn't say anything else and hopped out of the car. I met the stares of my curious co-workers. They muttered among themselves about us making-out. I wish.

The flush in my face remained for another hour until the monotonous pace of work took my attention. I skipped into the break area for a drink of water when the phone rang. It was never for me, so I let it ring in hope someone else, like Michiko, might wonder in and answer. No one arrived, so I picked it up after the fifth ring.

"City Hall library, how can I help you?" I answered sounding unusually perky.

"Could you be...Miss Ileana Rivers?" the gentle voice of a young man in the phone asked.

It frightened me, but the voice sounded so familiar, "Eh... yes. It is I. H-how can I...?"

"Listen, there's no time for details." He explained, "My name is Michael. We met at the Placement Office. I know it might be too much to ask, but it is urgent that you come to this place immediately." This sweet voice that had rescued me from when I first blundered into that office was now urging me to go.

"Did something happen to Allan?" I panicked.

"It... concerns him... please, if we could speak in person..." the call was broken.

After that, it is all a blur. In less than an hour time, I was walking into the Placement Office. The entire place was renovated, but it still held an eerie sensation of a sacrificial zone from a horror film. The front desk was alone. Two women sat idly chatting about the characteristics they wanted in their men. I walked in cautiously looking in all directions –apparently, not cautiously enough. As I passed by the hallway to the restroom where I had first met Allan, I felt I grip in my wrist. A strong pull and deep darkness.

A heard a deep exhale, and a dim light was lit. It was a small dark room, a janitor's closet judging from the equipment. I spun around and met a broad chest. I took a step back. I could hardly see in the dark, but I could see the dark red glimmer in his eyes. After a second step back, I noticed him. The man in light blue scrubs was looking down on me, Michael. I could read pity in his eyes. He had called me, and was it really bad news?

I ignored the situation. It should have shaken me to see myself locked in a closet with a man, but all I could think about was Allan.

"Allan, where is he? Is he OK?" I urged him to answer by clinging to his shirt.

He softly took my hands with that same deep sorrow in his eyes, "He's fine. And I see that you are as well. I'm beginning to wonder if this was a mistake, but my conscience won't let me keep quiet anymore."

My arms suddenly lost all strength, "What are you talking about?"

He pressed my hands within his own, and then he let go. From his pocket, he took out an old piece of news paper and handed it to me, "I want you to please red this."

I took it. My hand was shaking. Directly under the dim light, I had enough visibility to read the article.

'Tragedy strikes. The nation's leading genetic expert was found dead early this morning. Doctor Jeanine Turmaine was found in her lab. Her cervical arteries were damaged resulting in severe blood loss. However, further investigation notes that the marks on her neck were made by what seemed to be animal fangs. Also, her body lacked blood which did not correspond to the amount found in the crime scene. It is speculated that she was victim to a wild animal that wondered into the lab. Rumors also claim that she was experimenting with animals. No evidence of that was found. Early reports say that the only possible witness was a blond, young teenage boy. He was taken into police custody before the media could question him. Other witnesses claim he had stains of blood on his face. This was not confirmed by the police.

Dr. Jeanine Turmaine was a beloved single mother. She leaves behind a son and a daughter. Her strides in the field of genetics will be remembered (in specific, her success on cloning young men capable of withstanding to the epidemic responsible for the loss of most of our male population). Her colleagues affirmed that they will continue her research.'

I read the same two sentences over a dozen of times, '...possible witness was a blond, young teenage boy... Other witnesses claim he had stains of blood on his face.'

It couldn't be. I tossed the paper back at him, "What are you telling me?"

"Do I really have to spell it for you?" he asked. He tried to embrace me, but I pushed him away.

"This isn't concrete! Even if that boy was Allan, there is no concrete evidence that he..." my voice broke.

"I know it's impossible to believe. After all, it was about one hundred years ago..." he took my shoulders.

My eyes snapped opened and within my tears, I found the news clipping again. I snatched the paper from him. The date read, 'April 17, 2008'. I laughed sarcastically, "OK, now I know this is a joke. Or was this kid a relative of Allan's? Is that why you guys place such a stigma on him?"

Michael's voice grew dark, "That woman was sickly obsessed with that book. She wanted to manipulate the human genome to create a 'real' Edward. Sadly for her, and him as well, she was successful. His real complete file is somewhere in a secured vault. I always wondered..."

"So, you saw this 'file' you're talking about?" I was frantic.

He took a step closer to me, and I backed away. He smiled looking down, "Our current manager was always cold and strict, but with him she was extreme. One day, I heard something break in the coffee room. Coffee and glass were spilled everywhere. By the looks of things, she had tried to strike him with a mug full of coffee. He stood there glaring down. I began to help, and I found what he was capable of. He shoved me against the wall with such force that my collar bone snapped. I could see nothing but oblivion in those deep dark eyes. I was sure he'd kill me, but she called his name. She calls him by his code, and I can understand now why she sees him as an object."

"He's not!" I yelled, infuriated by his words I evaded him and rushed for the door, "Stop making things up! If you hate him..."

"I don't, but... Just ask him. He won't deny you if you ask him straight forward. I know because he told me the truth when I asked him."

"Shut up!" I rejected anything else he said and left. I wanted to lock that door and seal it forever behind a thick concrete wall. Let him swallow that secret.

For about ten minutes, I hyperventilated on a corner outside the office. I wanted to find Allan, but how to do so in this new massive complex. Did I even want to see him? If I did, I wanted him to lie to me. After I finally calmed down, I promised to myself I would believe anything he told me. Like he said, I truly was his, and he was mine.

Author's comments: Seems a bit long, but it's ok because of the dialogs. I should be able to comment more often since this is my finals week. I'd like to thank the real Julie -a.k.a lose-your-voice- for her help with fashion advise. It was truly helpful in the past chapter and in even more in this one.

Next Chapter: Ravenous