CHAPTER FIVE

The room hung heavy with silence, and the only anchor preventing me from fleeing was the realization that my current attire was less than suitable for venturing outside, coupled with the stark reality that I had nowhere else to go. Swallowing my anxiety, I continued staring at the mirror before me, confronting both myself and my fears. Yet again, I found myself examining my reflection. Suppressing an eye roll, I grabbed the sheet under me in such force, that I knew this wrinkle would not be easy to straighten even if it's ironed hundred or more times than that.

"I don't blame you for staring at yourself, but you need to talk at some point." His deep voice echoed within me, creating an unexpected impact. His face remained stoic, making it difficult to detect whether he was angered or not. A subtle movement beside me jolted me, prompting an immediate, albeit foolish reaction as I leaped in surprise, forgetting my seated position in the corner of the bed. The empty space next to me sent a wave of panic through me, and the thought of falling in front of him triggered a different kind of fear. I closed my eyes in embarrassment, expecting the inevitable disaster. Smart people would have shielded their faces with their hands or tried to grab onto something to prevent the fall. Smart people do that; however, I'm far from being smart. Instead, I emitted squeaky noises and engaged in hand movements resembling a baby's comical antics. To my surprise, nothing happened.

He had grabbed my waist and pulled me in the middle of the bed to prevent my falling and make sure I won't fall, again, I guess... However, his touch, though exploding a countless of sensations and almost burning my skin beneath the fabric, wasn't the reason for my involuntary moan. He had gripped me precisely where one of my wounds lay. Multiple wounds covered my body, a consequence of the night the girls had hit me with the car, causing me to fall onto the sidewalk and injure my back. Well of course, this wasn't the reason for all of my wounds.

When I opened my eyes, his brows were furrowed as he stared at me, seemingly trying to comprehend the reason behind my moan. I gulped, uttering, "I'm hurt there," my voice breaking. Even if he heard me, his expression remained unchanged. "Did a truck hit you? Why are there so many wounds and bruises on you?" His serious gaze pierced me, and I found myself staring at him like a fish gasping for air, or water I don't know. Unable to articulate an immediate response, I felt the weight of his unspoken judgment.

"Something like that," I mumbled, placing a strand of hair behind my ear. His expression grew more solemn, undoubtedly seeing me as trouble. I attempted to move towards the end of the bed, but his hand on my bare leg stopped me, signaling that I should stay put. "You have to give me an explanation. Now let's try it again—who are you?" I took a deep breath, trying not to reveal too much of the effect his touch had on my skin. Meeting his gaze, I didn't experience the typical fear that overcame me when facing unfamiliar people. Instead, curiosity and an unexpected trust settled within me.

"I..." I hesitated, realizing the pointlessness of extending the explanation. If I were to reveal my story, there was no point in delaying it further. But what was I going to say? What my family did to me and what a wild person I was? Even though I didn't think I needed to hide it too much, I was hesitant to say that all this was my fault. It was very difficult to explain, especially when there was something about this man standing in front of me that made my cheeks turn red. When I met his patient gaze again, shame and embarrassment dissipated, replaced by an unfamiliar sense of trust. What I felt for this stranger was absolute trust.

"Flora," I said gulping just after I got to say something else, "She said that you don't come here very often, so she thought I could stay here until I can arrange a place to stay."

My choice of words caused him to smile, but it was a smile that showed up only for two seconds and then he was as stoic as before. "Stella," hearing him call me by my name made me stay put and look at him with my wide eyes. My reaction however brought back his smile, and this time I got to see it more than two seconds. "That's the part of the story I don't really care. What I care though, is who you are and who hurt you like this."

I blinked as his voice took on a harsher tone towards the end. It seemed I was genuinely testing his patience. But what surprised me the most is that he wasn't interested with me staying at his house. I could be a killer or a mugger. Or worst, I could be a witch. He should've checked the apartment if I putted any voodoo's around. His eyes were checking my wounds now. A new fear entered, would he call the cops to report me or the ones who hurt me? It was possible. Taking a deep breath I made the decision to tell details I hadn't even shared with Flora. After all, this wasn't a secret or something I was ashamed of.

"I'll have to go back a long way, but," he nodded his head as if it was okay. I expected his face to soften, but apparently, he didn't have a very soft facial expression.

"My…My mother became weak and died while giving birth to me." Saying that, I didn't expect my tears to tingle and prick my eyes. I never knew my mother, so I didn't feel much closeness to her. The only thing that belonged to her was the emptiness created by her absence and my yellow eyes or yellow aventurine, as my dad used to call them. I blinked my eyes away from him and turned them to the wall so as not to bear the full burden of what I said. Maybe if I speak by heart, I won't feel the emotional side so much, and I can explain it more easily.

"Since my father knew that he would not be able to be a mother and a father at the same time, he decided to go back to his ex-wife. The woman he was first married to." I took a deep breath and tried to swallow what I said. Come to think of it, this was the first time I was telling all of this out loud. Both because no one has asked before and because I didn't have anyone around me besides my stepbrothers and stepmother.

Maybe he didn't want me to start so far back, but everything I said would raise a question. In order not to hear any questions and not to lose my courage, I continued, "My father had four sons from that marriage. He was a chemical engineer who worked a lot and came home very late, leaving me alone with them. And you can guess that they were not really happy to have me." Smiling bitterly, I sighed and continued.

"It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that they hated me." I let the silence fill the room before me. Since what was I going to say next hurt my heart more than any wound and bruise could.

"My father passed away when I was eleven." I pressed my nails on my skin to prevent the tears from falling. "He entrusted me to his best friend, Uncle Jack. Mostly because he was aware of what his family did to me and their hatred. But it was too late to break the marriage, at least, so he thought." Taking a deep breath, I continued my memorization from where I left off. I was talking so fast that when I thought about the things I had yet to say, I realized I was falling behind and speeded even more.

To end it as soon as possible I kept talking. "Uncle Jack made sure that I was home-schooled; I wasn't allowed to go to school or out anywhere, he had tried to talk her through it but it was vain. Other than that, he couldn't do anything else because on paper, I was registered as that woman's daughter. There was no way I could get rid of her until I turned eighteen, and there was no way he could get custody of me either, because he was neither married nor as strong as that woman." I stopped to take a breath. I must've look like a kid who sings with her eyes close so she won't forget the song.

"She is such a smart woman that she registered my birth date two years late than the real date," Smiling to this evil plan I shook my head in disappointment, "I turned 18 late, I was free two years late, and I still did not receive the inheritance my father left me because of that date. Originally I'm 20 years old now, but I just turned 18. My ID says so."

The fact that he didn't stop me or make any comments helped me so much that I continued without slowing down. I didn't have the courage to look at him just yet. And as it continued, I felt my heart tighten with excitement. Getting this out of my chest was like a therapy.

"I knew they were expecting me to escape on my birthday, but since I really wanted to escape, I was careful not to choose a day they predicted. After a month passed, I decided to do it and started waiting in ambush. I had prepared everything. They were also preparing the necessary documents to get the money my father left me. At that time, I realized that it was the ideal time for me to escape and took action."

Thinking about that day, a sarcastic smile appeared on my lips. "If one of their dogs had not given me away, I have no doubt that they wouldn't even realize it that sooner. Unless, of course they needed something to eat, drink or I don't know, scream at?"

"As soon as they saw me, they started running after me, but I guess I was faster with the power of fear and adrenaline. I was running so fast that after a while, I stopped feeling my legs and could only feel the wind touching my face. Just then, a car, which Flora was in too, hit me."

Not having any sound coming from him, I took my eyes off the wall and turned them to his face. He was looking at me with an expression I couldn't quite understand. I could tell he was angry and uncomfortable but I couldn't figure out exactly what I said that made him feel that way. Or was he mad because I talked this much?

The silence filled the room again, but this time it didn't make me feel good. I didn't know what I was waiting for him to do, but being silent wasn't really helping. A tear fell from my eye, and I managed to wipe it in time without him seeing. Looking at him again, I realized there was no way he didn't see it since his eyes were fixated on me, trying to capture everything I was doing.

"So those scars and wounds are—" I didn't wait for him to finish, and I nodded my head, saying, "They did it." But at that moment, he said, "Because of the car accident," leaving me shocked and panicked. However this must've shocked him too, his face got darker. I could see his eyes change the tone from emerald to black. "I mean, yes, that's a reason too." I managed to say. This wasn't helping. The fact that I was trying to calm him and say that they weren't all at fault is what shocked me the most. Why was I trying? Wasn't this the truth anyway?

My heartbeat was causing my throat to tighten. For some reason, I didn't want to appear weak or strong in front of this man. I reacted to this situation by frowning at myself and I received the same reaction from him. I swallowed and took a deep breath. Turning to him, now we were face to face, and the fact that there was not much distance between us was not good for my nerves and cheeks.

"I really don't mean to trouble you or anything. Can I just stay for tonight? I'll leave tomorrow, I promise." I couldn't help my voice from shaking. He grabbed his nose bridge and took a deep breath. For a minute I felt sorry because of the trouble I caused him. "I can't let you go like this." I had to wait for a couple of seconds to understand if he really said this or if my mind was just playing games with me. "I don't want to..." He raised his hand to stop me from talking. "Sleep. We'll talk tomorrow." And just like that, he stood up and walked to the door, leaving me looking all weird behind his back.

"You should cover yourself. It gets chilly in the morning." Still looking at his muscular back, I nodded my head, even though I knew he didn't see me or my head gesture.

"Goodnight," I murmured, he didn't say anything and closed the door while leaving. I kept looking at the door. Flora did mention that he was a good person, but I wasn't expecting him to actually welcome me into his house just like that. I mean, I could be lying, and I could be a real criminal. However, he really didn't seem to care. Laying back on the bed I started to think about our conversation, or mostly my part of the conversation. I was questioning him because he trusted me, but how did I tell him everything about me? Didn't I trusted him with my truth? I never told anyone about myself, mostly because of the known reasons but also because I had trust issues.

Biting my lip I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath. It's not like I know him or anything, but trusting him just feels right.