4. VANYA

“I think you should come home while you heal.”

“I’m fine.”

As long as I don’t move too fast or try to tie my hair or bend down to pick something up. Every sudden movement pulled at the stitches, which made me feel sick. I didn’t have a high pain tolerance, but I knew I should be thankful that I was still alive and survived with only a few stitches.

“Would you like some coffee?” I asked my father.

He lowered my bag to the floor and slowly straightened. I watched his face twist in dismay as he glanced around my apartment. He wasn’t very happy with what he was seeing—that was clear by his expression. My father was used to wealth and even though I had grown up around it too, my apartment didn’t show it.

When I moved out of my parent’s house, I had left all the luxuries behind, except for some of my clothes and very few other necessities. Every single piece of furniture was bought with my own money which I had earned from my job at the library.

My eyes darted around my one bedroom apartment. I tried to see it through his eyes, but failed. There was nothing wrong with it; it was a lot better than our cold and mostly empty family house.

“Another time,” he said. “I have a meeting with—”

“Of course you do,” I interrupted him. “Another time then.”

With a kiss to my forehead and a promise to call him if something happened, he was gone. I stared at the door for a few seconds before I turned around and slowly trudged into the kitchen.

I switched on the kettle and made myself a cup of coffee, then I carried it over to the window seat in the living room, making sure that I moved slowly. The doctor had told me to take it easy, along with a whole list of care instructions.  

After finishing my coffee, I carefully leaned back against the pillows and sighed.

For a few minutes, the dark thunderclouds caught my attention. Rain would break the heat wave, but I hoped it wouldn’t cause too many landslides.

With a sigh, I dialed Betsy’s number. Like usual, she answered on the first ring.  

“I’ll be there tomorrow, Betsy,” I told her.

“No, no dear,” she exclaimed. “I’ll be fine. You take a few days off to get some rest and heal. I’ll find a volunteer to help me out.”

“There’s really no need to do that,” I argued, but I got distracted when a movement across the road caught my attention. I sat up, frowning. “I’m cleared to go back to work,” I lied and added to end the phone call. “I’ll be there tomorrow. Betsy, I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay, dear. Have a good night’s rest.”

I hung up and threw the phone aside. Sitting up on my knees, I pushed the window open and leaned forward to get a better look at the alley behind the building. Whatever I had seen moments ago was already gone.

Ever since the attack a few nights ago, I’ve been paranoid, but it had worsened when I learned that the man who stabbed me had gotten away. My father hadn’t told me much, but thanks to the gossiping nurses, I was up to date on everything that had happened since that night.

The man got scared when I just showed up where he had dumped the body. If it wasn’t for Ezra, I was sure that I would’ve been another body added to the long list of unsolved crimes on the island that nobody seemed to really care about.

I shook the troubling thoughts away and closed the window.

Picking up the bag my father had placed on the floor proved to be a challenge. Just bending forward a little made me hiss in pain.

“Stupid bag,” I sneered down at it.

My pain meds were inside it and I needed to take them before I climbed into bed otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to sleep.

With my hands on my hips, I glared down at the bag as I tried to think of a way to pick it up without bending forward. The only way I could think of was to squat like a pregnant woman.

“Only one way to find out,” I muttered.

Shit! It hurt way more than bending. My thigh pressed right against the stitches.

“Son of a—”

“A foul mouth on a lady isn’t very becoming,” someone said from behind me.

I screamed and lost my balance. On my hands and knees, I crawled forward, away from the intruder, until I reached one of the couches. I spun around and dropped to my ass. My mouth dropped open and then slammed closed again.

“Jesus,” I breathed, pressing a hand to my chest. “You scared me.”

“What did I just say about cursing?”

My eyes narrowed on him as he moved around my apartment. He picked up one of the ornaments on the shelf and inspected it silently before placing it back in place.

The man made no sound when he moved which confused me because he was big, a lot bigger and more muscular than Ezra and Devrim.

“W-what are you doing in here?” I questioned when he said nothing else.

His eyes shot over to me, but immediately darted away again. “Why are you sitting on the floor?” he asked instead of answering my question.

I bit my lip as I debated my answer.  “Well, some bastard scared the shit out of me and since every movement I make hurts, I can’t get up.”

Is it my imagination, or did his lips twitch? Is he laughing at me?

He walked back and stopped in front of me. Dark eyes silently watched me. It felt like he was staring right through me instead of at me.  

He took a step closer, making my eyes drop to his crotch that was almost eye level. I’ve never cared about a guy’s dick before, but I was curious to find out if his dick looked the same as a human’s dick.

“Keep staring, darling,” he rasped. “I might let you have a little taste.”

Colour flooded my cheeks and my eyes quickly darted away.

“Are you in pain?”

“Y-yes.”

“Pain is good. It makes you remember that you’re alive.”

He moved too fast for me to comprehend. One second, I was sitting on the floor, and the next, I found myself on my feet and glued to his front. I blinked up at him as I tried to catch my breath.

There was something about him that felt so familiar. It wasn’t until he tilted his head slightly to the left that that I remembered where I had seen him before.

At the main house, when I had been asked to deliver some books for them. He had been watching me from the trees.

“Your name is O-Obsidian, right?” I asked him, remembering someone mentioning it. 

He gave me a stiff nod, but his eyes narrowed.

My eyes darted away from his to the scar on the left side of his face that ran over his eye.  

How had he gotten that scar?

Without meaning to, I reached up and traced the ragged line with my fingertip. His lips parted and his eyes fluttered closed, but his reaction didn’t last long.

He suddenly growled and pushed me away, making me stumble backwards. I almost tripped, but managed to regain my balance before I could fall.

For the first time since he entered my apartment, fear filled me.

His fists were clenched at his sides and his lips parted slightly. I took note of his erratic breathing. Is he about to have a panic attack? Can they even have panic attacks?

“O-Obsidian?”

I took a step towards him with one shaky hand outstretched. Just before I touched him, he flashed sharp teeth at me and stormed out of my apartment.

What did I do?