The Pensive Gentleman

Angelica

*three months ago*

The sound of a car engine revs loudly in the distance.

I can already guess it's one of those fast cars I've come to associate with the residents of Brown Hill. My head whips toward my open window, trying to catch a glimpse.

I don't.

Instead, I notice how dark it is out. Dark enough that no one should be awake—late enough that I won't get caught.

I've been sitting here for over an hour now, waiting for my bodyguard, Joey, and as if hearing my thoughts, a knock on my door pierces through my ear.

I move immediately, grabbing my purse which has my portable charger, gum, some cash, and the old phone I've used since I was seventeen, in it. Before making my way to the door though, my open journal sitting atop my vanity with a list scribbled across the page, catches my attention.

Picking it up, I stare at the words again, at the list of things that have now become essential for me to do, with my heart hammering, hard enough to hurt.

"Maybe I shouldn't," I whisper to the small book. I don't get a response back, only my list staring back at me in crisp silence. I go over the list, from the first item, and when I get to the last one, the most important one out of everything I wrote down, I shut the book.

RUN AWAY AND START OVER.

I stare at my reflection, at my outfit for tonight. It's a red mid-length dress with rhinestones of the same color everywhere on it. It's pretty basic but it works, because tonight, I'm not trying to stand out. I want to go unnoticed.

A second knock on the door reverberates through my room, and I force out a; "One moment please," before I pull my curls forward, hiding as much of my face as I can, telling myself it's easier this way.

Peeling my eyes away from the full body mirror, I stare down at my little book, and with a deep breath, I move to my bed, raising the edge of my mattress to store the book underneath. And afterwards, I rush out of my room to see Joey waiting with a bored look on his face.

"How long do you plan to stay out?" He whispers.

"Not long," I whisper back.

"Well, you've just cut that time in half," comes his barely audible response as he turns around, walking away. A small smile creeps up my lips and I run after him in my flats, trying to be as quiet as possible even though we're most likely the only ones in the entire house right now.

"I don't think I can do this," I say, following behind my old Italian bodyguard, who used to be a chauffeur but has become more than just a bodyguard to me. He's the only one in this house who doesn't hurt me. All I lack, he makes up for even though he doesn't have to.

"I'm old, but my salary and bills are constantly being paid, might as well do some honest work for it," he'd always say whenever I was having a moment and asked him why he always helps me.

"Do you really think I can do this? Do you think I can stay out tonight?" I ask him as we approach the living room, where I see a black coat hung over the neck of one of the soft couches.

"You can and you will," Joey says quietly. "Before they return and you lose this chance," he adds, handing over the coat to me. I take it immediately, putting it on before we step out to the already ignited old Mercedes the family usually uses for errands.

However, instead of getting into the car, I stand frozen behind the closed double doors. Fear creeps in, slow and familiar, curling tight in my chest until my fingers twitch at my sides.

I've been home alone for three days now, and in those three days, I planned, strategized, and re-strategized how tonight is going to go, but what if something goes wrong? What if I get caught? What if the family comes back before I do and he finds out I went out? What will he do to me this time? Lock me in again? Or take it further than the last time?

What if I have an episode while I'm out with no one to pull me out of it?

What then?

"You don't plan to stand there all night, do you?" Joey asks in his stern voice mostly used for warning me against danger. I don't respond.

"What if there's a crowd and I can't get in?" I ask, my voice familiarly shaky, already feeling the panic build. Joey glances at me through the rear view mirror like he's seen this exact spiral before, and sucks in a breath.

"It's a Tuesday night, I doubt you'd meet a crowd," he starts, then shakes his head, "but in any case you do, that's why I'm here. I'll make sure to remove you from the space before anything happens."

His words are refreshing and assuring like they always are, and with that, I get into the car.

As the car begins to move, Joey and I fall into silence; the comfortable kind. Though my mind is anything but.

Tonight, I'll be marking two items off my list; drinking alcohol for the first time and going to a club, which are things I'm sure everyone my age has done at least more than once.

Oftentimes I feel like Rapunzel, a princess locked up in a tower, never allowed to go out; though in my case, I'm allowed to go out, but only with the family, only when I'm needed.

Tonight though, that changes.

My list sits at the back of my head and I smile down at my fingers in anticipation of ticking items off it.

I read a book at the start of the year, and in this book, the protagonist, like me, was shackled with no way out. She was to marry a man she didn't want to, and in an act of self-defense and a need for freedom, she wrote a list of things she wanted to do before she'd marry and did them. I remember crying hard and feeling so happy for her that I decided to write a list of my own that same night, while waiting for the right time to begin.

"You might want to take off your coat. We're here." Joey's voice cut through my thoughts. Though it does more than intended because almost instantly, my palms turn clammy, my heart kicks violently against my ribs, and my breath comes out uneven—too fast, too shallow.

"Breath. Just breathe."

'I'm trying!' I want to yell at Joey, but I know he's only looking out for me. So I nod instead, placing a hand on my chest, rubbing it down in a smoothing motion, repeatedly telling myself in my head that I'm alright and I'll be fine.

When I finally get a hold of myself, Joey has parked the car and is waiting for me to get out.

"You ready?" He asks, and I nod, although unsure of myself. I peel my eyes from the back of Joey's head, to the tall building that houses the club underneath. Or at least that's what the directions said.

Joey gets out of the car and opens my door with an arm stretched out. I take it, aiding my exit, but the moment my legs touch the ground, they almost give out, so I hold onto him tighter. Joey snickers.

"We're a long way from home, so focus on nothing but yourself. And be careful, okay?"

"Okay," my barely audible response comes, but it's accompanied by a hug. Two taps on my back and I step away from the embrace, taking a deep breath before walking into what I didn't know would be the start of my doom.