Under his protection

Aria

Today is officially one of the worst days I’ve had in a long time.

My alarm didn’t go off, which means I woke up late, which means I started the day already drowning in panic. Yes, it’s my library and technically I can stroll in at whatever hour I feel like… but I like opening early. It just feels right. And with Lola on maternity leave, mornings are on me.

To make matters worse, the coffee shop where I usually get my fix went out of business last week. Without warning or notice.

Now almost running, as I make my way to the library and find Carlos already by the steps waiting for me. Which is terrifying, because Carlos is never early.

“Hello ma’am,” Carlos chimes with a knowing grin.

“Oh please,” I groan. “You’re early one time.”

He lifts his hands in mock innocence. “I didn’t say anything.”

I roll my eyes and unlock the door.

The library is like a second home. When I was a kid I lived for the quiet, the smell of old paper and afternoons lost in fiction. This is probably why I had no friends. learning to love silence instead of people, books were simply easier.

I started picking up shifts at sixteen and never left. Sadly the owner passed and I was shocked that he left the library to me. After college I knew this is where I wanted to be. My parents never argued. They seemed okay with it and maybe even proud.

I tug on the pendant of my necklace that had pictures of my parents in it as I catch myself thinking of them. They died in a drunk driver accident about a year ago. We had gone out for dinner to celebrate my birthday and a car ran straight past a red light and into us or at least that is what they said.

It is funny how my memory has a completely different version. I have pieces, voices and a flash of a tattoo that does not seem to add up. The doctors blamed the trauma of losing both parents in one night but something still did not feel right.

At night I find myself replaying the whole incident or at least the bits I can remember and I can still hear the words, “Make sure they are dead.” I just shrugged it off as my imagination because why would someone want my parents dead. My dad worked in the bank and my mom was a school teacher.

The bell above the door rings, snapping me back.

One of my recently regular customers walked in, a man I knew simply as Matt. He has been coming almost every day for the past three months, sitting at the same table and never speaking to anyone. At first I got a strange feeling from him but I guess I got used to him in a weird numb kind of way.

“Hello Matt.”

“Hello.”

“Good to see you again.”

“Yes, same here.”

He proceeds to his usual spot where he reads a book he picked from the shelves for the next three hours as usual.

As if on cue, he gets up and surprisingly walks toward my desk.

“Uhm Aria, right?”

“Yes,” I say with an uneasy smile. I am not good with people beyond the basic greetings.

He laughs softly.

“Sorry, I was just wondering if you would like to get coffee with me sometime.”

Was he actually asking me out? I never know what to do in these situations. It is not the first time I have been asked out. Usually I just come up with an excuse not to go, but I did promise myself to go out more…

“Yes, sure, no problem,” I say, trying to sound calm.

“Great. How about tomorrow at eight?”

“Yes, that works.”

He gives me a smile almost predatory, then turns around and leaves. Why on earth did I agree to this? This guy definitely runs me the wrong way.

The rest of the day is pretty slow until closing time arrives. Carlos has left for the day, so when the last patron drifts away with a polite thank you and the bell over the door chimes shut, I lock up and start my ten-minute walk home. It’s my daily exercise since I refuse to step into a gym.

At first, I noticed the street was unusually quiet. I am probably just being paranoid, so I hug my cardigan tight and hurry my steps.

But that is when I hear it.

Footsteps, soft and matching my pace.

I stopped walking.

The footsteps stopped too.

A cold rush zipped down my spine. I swallowed hard and forced myself not to turn around. But I couldn’t help myself.

I took a slow step forward.

The footsteps followed.

This time I spun around fast

No one. The street was empty, dimly lit by the flickering streetlight two houses down. My heartbeat thrummed in my ears.

Something moved at the corner of my eyes and I immediately broke out into a sprint.

The person runs too, catching up to me in seconds.

Before I can scream, a hand clamps over my mouth. I jerk my head back and hit him straight on the nose, probably breaking it.

“Fuck” he grunt loudly before pushing me straight onto the ground. I fall and scrape my hands and knees but I do not feel anything at the moment.

Before I can take off, another pair of hands grabs me. This time the person places a piece of damp cloth over my nose. My body immediately goes slack and the last thing I remember thinking before I pass out is how much of a crappy day this has been.