Last night, we ended up in my bed, holding each other all night. Her head rested on my chest. I was so amazed that she could sleep while listening to my heartbeat, which was drumming like crazy. Even though we slept under the same blanket, it still felt like a dream to me.
After hearing about Mrs. Serafinne from Zia's mouth, I felt my heart drop by her voice and her truth. I could feel her shake; she shivered inside my arms. It quaked against my soul. She was miserable. Everyone could see her presence but not her soul. She lost her mother, and I lost mine. We might have something similar, but not totally the same. We share some kind of pain—same but different. The second thoughts that popped up in my head were that I wanted to kill that fucker, and everyone who made her life uneasy. Even the strangers who dished about her. First of all, I have to find out who the owner of this knife is and what the real reason is. The second thing is to find the truth, reveal the secret, and open the misunderstanding of the tragedy of Zia's mother. She remembers the face of the killer, which is good, but I also wonder if she has sometimes seen him or met him accidentally in the town. It's a small town, a small group of people. It's been two years. That motherfucker might have fled since the next minute, he shot her mother.
It's time to get into business.
Only a few groups are nosy enough about stuff going on in this town, except the housewife neighbors: the thugs, homeless men, and garbage collectors. I can cross the homeless because there aren't any. The governor fixed the problem real good, chasing them out of the town, so zero cause, easy-peasy. Then, they create their own opportunity to create a more honorable, trustworthy government by establishing charities and organizations for the homeless and helpless children.
Thugs, there are two kinds of them in this town. The first one is to observe, learn, and plan. The second kind is to swim along with their guts. Either type, they have their own goals or obey someone higher. My plan is to meet the dustman first. They might know something that security cameras don't, a story that might support or oppose the lies that those thugs will tell me before I confront them.
In the middle of noon, dustmen get rest from the early dawn, and the dust works when people mind their own business. And me, walking to the alley is almost the dirtiest place compared to other areas in this town, but no, it's pretty clean to me—few of them are sitting and eating their sandwiches, which barely have the vegetarians in them. They shift their attention to me, but only their eyes and no other action. I keep walking inside. The huge, exposing space entrance has lots of tables, but few people are inside. The second I step on my foot without permission or care from others, they look at me, staring, but their mouth is still moving. Then, I spot someone who sits in the corner, reading books with his coffee on the table.
While I walk in his direction, my sight is more apparent than when I remember him. He used to work for Wellington, but now he is the dustman, older and grayer. His eyes shift back to me—fader. He halts the action for a second, decides to turn the page, and keeps reading.
"Are you going to keep standing there?" He asks while reading his book. "What do you want?" He asks,
Then, I sit across from him.
"So you are alive, after all, " he says, ignoring the surroundings, especially my face.
"You too, I guess," I say. Then I take out the pocket knife and put it on the table before him. He puts down his book, looks at the knife, and looks at me.
"You come here to kill me?" He says as if he asks. I watch him observing the knife while waiting for my answer. "It's too fancy for you, isn't it? This knife—even for me to die with," he says and picks up the knife, turns it around to see, and then looks at me with a question.
"I want to know who owns it?" I ask,
The old man in his late 50s glances at me quickly and admires the pattern on the iron sharpening part, then puts it down and pushes it toward me.
"I don't know who owns it," he says and then sips his coffee. I glare at him. But I know the creator, " he says, pretending he doesn't care.
I try not to show my frustration. "So you're not going to tell me." he turns to another page. "How long have you been here?" I ask,
"Since you killed all of my kids," He says,
"Your kids, you say?"
"Hmpt, I raised and trained them with my own hands, taught them everything they need to know in this world,"
"But did you teach them the consequences—being Wellington's slaves?" I ask,
He puts down the book, and the sound of the book against the table makes his co-workers turn to us. "Should I blame them? or should I blame you?" He asks, "Nah, boy, I blame no one…it's just like that's it." He pauses while glaring into my eyes, "but still, they are my family…that's why I retired." He says, and I lean my back to rest at the backrest. "And I suggest you to do the same," He says,
"How can I when those fucker are keep messing around?" I say,
"With you? Seriously, after all that—you left, and no one cared about you anymore—even you're back, boy," He keeps staring at me with the faded gray eyes matching his hair, "What did you do?" I say nothing, "or did they do…to someone else?" I lick my lips a little, "Hmpt," He makes a sound under his throat. "I bet," He says,
I touch the pocket knife and turn it around slowly, waiting patiently.
"I never thought you would come back after Jaqueline," He says with softened eyes while calling my mother's name. "Whoever it is—it must be very important to you."
I'm waiting, listening to what he says,
"Is it involved with the interesting girl who lives alone on the commander's street?" he asks, and then my eyes widen, and my heart pounds like crazy; he knows. "Hmpt, easy, I see things when no one does." He says with a little smirk. He notices my secret action but keeps his mouth shut. "Isn't the reason you came to me?" He asks,
"I exist—for her." I say without a blink, glare in his eyes, "She's the only one…she's my family." I say,
He says nothing, even though his breath slowly fades. "He's loyal to Wellington—the creator of the knife," He says, and uses his fingers to slightly touch the pattern on the iron part. "No one uses this kind of design unless the Wellington."
Or his own line.
I exhale a bit of frustration. "Thanks," Then, I get up and about to leave him,
"I'm sorry…" He halts so as me, "About your mother." He says. I slightly nod and walk away.
Fuck, is it because two years ago?
If it is, Zia will be more than just in danger.
They could kill her.
There's no time to waste; every second matters. If I make one second late, I might not be able to live on this earth with her—I don't even want to think about it. This time, I will not let the aftershock, quaking her afterward or following her like a demon wants the lights like last time.
Finally, I step into Wellington's underlings' Lare, which I never thought would be rebuilt in the same place I destroyed. Wearing black on black, a black cap, a black dust mask, and black leather gloves, I pull the right one to keep it perfect. I see three vintage bikes parked outside, and I sneak around to see inside. Only a few of them are here, which is nice. Too many can cause many problems.
Then, I decide to get into the front door before that,
I throw that knife in the middle of the coffee tables, where the cards lie around.
Thud!!
"WHAT THE FUCK!!?"
They get up immediately, shudder, and look at the entrance as I enter.
"Who the fuck are you!?" One in the middle asks,
Suddenly, a person on my left pulls out his gun. I quickly jump on him, snatch his gun, lock his throat with my arm, and point the gun to the other two.
"Argh!!" the man I lock his throat tries to scream, "Cough–Cough," I squeeze his neck with my bicep and forearm, and he coughs, panicking, as well as his friends. I notice they are about to pull some stuff behind their back, "Careful there. Don't ever think about it," I say, and they halt their movement. "I'll get what I want, and I leave you guys be,"
"You're crazy to do a stunt in our place." The one in my arm has the nerve to speak, so I squeeze him harder by grabbing his head with my hand. "ARG!!!"
"I can snatch your neck with just one move. Wanna try?" I say with my steady voice.
"Wait!" Another guy shouts, "What do you want?"
"Knife—" I say as I point the gun to the knife I have thrown stuck to the table. "Whose knife is it?"
"What?" the man on the right asks confusingly,
"I won't ask twice," I say, pulling the tricker to the nearest man so they walk closer to the table and shift his eyes on me; he shifts back to the knife and pulls it out. That man observes carelessly and looks at me, "How the fuck that I know."
I curl my mouth and snatch the man in my arm, and he falls down to the ground. Two of them are startled and quickly step back from their stand. I walk to them slowly,
"Wait–wait." the other guy steals the knife from his friend and observes it carefully this time. He turns it around, and both of them look at each other, squeezing their eyebrows. "Is it—" The guy who holds the knife shuts his mouth and sweating like a pig,
Oh, now they're thinking how to survive from me—or the owner of the knife.
I smirk under the black mask, "You might die here in one sec—or you might survive after I'm gone—you probably know how to survive, don't you? You can lie to whoever you are thinking right now, but—" I saunter to them, "but not to me." I pause and watch them scared because of me or someone else. I quickly grab the neck of whoever holds the knife.
"Hey!!" His mate jumps; he's shocked and scared.
"ARG!!" and the man I grab his throat cries for help,
"I told you I won't ask twice," I say as I squeeze the man's neck. Then, another guy punches me at my side rib, and I don't feel any pain from it. "Hmpt," I make a sound, and I drag the man's neck, throw him to the man who punched me, and push him down on top of each other to the ground, and I still grab that man's throat.
"FUCK!!!!!"
"It's Valcom!!" The man who is under screams out. "Valcom Mitcher…" he repeats.
The white building has beautiful vines and different kinds of flowers, roses, bells, and wilds. The green forest in front, surrounded with faded lights, makes the atmosphere seem to be in a fantasy, eternal castle; the beautiful princess in the tower waiting for a prince charming to rescue her, or the sly burglar, sneaky and climbing up to steal something. I'm no prince, and I'm no thief. I'm just a man who knows what I want and who knows who is the woman for me, and I'm a man who would do anything for her.
Anything.
"Hey," Letizia says lightly after jumping herself and hearing my heavy footsteps behind her.
I stand in front of her; her long black hair contrasts her pale skin so well, the little pink on her face and her neck. She's wearing black pants with a black tube and covers herself with a light blue almost silver cardigan. "I've been waiting for you," I say,
"You'd been waiting to come up here?" she asks,
"I wanted to use the front door," I pause and approach her closer, seeing her with little pinkish cheeks and seeing how flushing she is, making me want to hold her so bad, "but I don't want to scare your maid," as I whisper I hold her waist, pull her closer, and she allows me to do so. Fuck, or should I do something more. "I miss you," I say to her ear,
She gasps a little, and I can see her smirk. I want to lick and kiss her cherry lips at this moment. "It must be nice," She says and looks directly into my eyes, "to see you call out to me from downstairs…" she says lightly into my arms, touching my chest like trying to feel something inside, "calling out my name,"
"Do you really want that?" I ask lightly. I can't help but admire her eyes and her lips. Suddenly, my lips are about to kiss her. Then, she quickly pulls herself back away from me and sits at the edge of her bed, looking up and staring at me. I decided to tell you what I have been thinking, planning a near future about her and about us. I kneel before her and touch her lap, slide to her hips, and hold her waist whilst my sight hasn't been away from her sapphire. "I want to stand by your side…hold your hands…and kiss your lips," I gulp, then she uses her fingers slightly to touch my front neck, "Not just at this moment…or a minute later…" I say lightly and pull my body up to be closer to her. My nose almost touches hers, "Not just in the dark…but also the light," she opens her mouth a tiny bit, stunned by what I have said. Her hands hold my thick neck gently, touching mine like it is fragile. "When the sun comes, and even the moon rises," She gasps and curls the tiny corner of her mouth, "I know it sounds cheesy…but I want to escort you properly…as you are mine…" I say lightly as she moves her own lips slightly, touching mine. "and I want the world to know that I am fully and truly perfectly yours." right away we kiss without giving a sign to let the other person make a move. She kisses me for real as if she wants to kiss me so badly. "Ha…" I am the one who gasps; she startles me. I bite my lower lip. She's so unreal to do this to me. I get up, and I carry her up as she holds my beck so holy; her eyes lock to my lips intensely. I know this because my eyes are always on hers. "So?" I ask,
She looks at me, "What do you want me to do?" She asks me back,
"Be with me." I say lightly and kiss her neck, "You know what to do, my doll."
"Will you…really…" She says softly and pulls her head, avoiding my kiss and staring at me, concerned, "Be able to do that?" she finishes her question.
I look at her, "You doubt me?"
"Yes," she says directly, biting her lips. I know you can, but…are you ready to let others…" she says while touching my face gently, "See you?"
"I don't care about others, Zia; the reason I've been hiding is not because I was afraid of somebody else; I was afraid of you…" I say as I beg for her to understand. "I didn't want to lose you, and I don't want to lose you."
She smiles so brightly, and she grabs my face to kiss my lips and let her soft tongue inside mine,
"Ha…Is that a yes?" I ask under my breath, and then she nods. "I don't care even if you say no," I say and hold her to lie down on her silky bed. It feels like her silky skin.
I love my Zia so much.