3. No one, Except Me

Two months later...

 Erica

 

 

I sipped my wine and wondered if I would be able to finish my assignment and also be able to get at least four hours of sleep before I’d have to wake up and attend my early morning class. God, I hated Sunday nights because they lead to Monday and the burden it brings, but this Sunday was particularly awful and all the credit goes to the man sitting in front of me.

 

When I had swiped right, my decision was made on the basis of his deep brown eyes but now this close and when he opens his mouth I realise my decision was a total bust, just like this date. Drake was a senior manager in the bank he worked for, and he lived in an apartment building that his father and uncle owned. He was a nice guy, six feet tall and on the lean side with a clean shaven face. But still he didn't light any kind of spark inside me. For one, I didn't want to jump across the table and kiss him. All I felt was boredom and the urge to go to my dorm room, shed all my clothes so I could sit in the shower and forget about the outside world, to tune it out and listen to the rush of water in my ears. For some reason the last few days had felt oppressing, like the walls around me were closing, like the dark whispers and groans and filthy murmurs were just a breath away from crowding me and suffocating me.

 

“— it would be great. My mother would like you.”

 

I sputtered on my wine and put the glass down as his words registered. “Whoa...” I held up my hand. “Dude...” he blinked those brown eyes at me. I licked my lips and tried for a softer tone. “Drake, I don't think this is going to work out between us.”

 

“But you can't know this. We are only on our first date.”

 

“Well, I know.” Because I don't feel anything, even a fraction of what I felt for those yellow brown eyes that haunt me regularly. “Don’t take it personally, you are a nice guy. But this isn't going anywhere.” I stood up, finished my drink and then opened my clutch to pay the half of the bill. I put enough money on the table that I hoped would cover my half.

 

“But, Erica—” He called out after me but I was already walking away from him, my mind filled with the long list of things I have to do.

 

But unlike other times, I wasn’t so unfazed with another failed date. This time it filled me with a hollowness that I couldn’t shake. I should be accustomed to this, nothing ever made this emptiness inside me fill with something warm. I was more like a cold human shell, I don’t know why I even bother anymore. I should’ve learned it a long time ago that I was beyond broken. Not the type of broken that could ever be pieced together but the type of broken in which my parts were missing never to be found and the type of broken that I knew that something was wrong with me. So wrong that the only thing that gives me solace was tearing pain that makes me forget about how broken I am.

 

Walking alone in the cold night didn't help my raging thoughts and the need for pain blasted through me. I was only a block away from my dorm building as I slipped my hand in my purse and pulled my phone out. There was only one person who could pull me out of this funk I was in. So, I dialed my sister, only she didn't pick up. Her voicemail kicked in and she asked for the person to leave the message. I tried again but this time before it could’ve even rang, someone snatched it from my hand.

 

I whirled around my hand cocked back to hit the person but before I could, my hands were wrenched back and a man with a goatee and sharp grey eyes stood in front of me. “Now, now, pretty girl.” The man holding me captive said into my ear, his fingers tightening on my wrists. I opened my mouth ready to scream when his hand covered my mouth and said, “Don’t try anything stupid. We just want your money and maybe a little bit of fun.” He snaked his arm around me and gave my breàst a quick squeeze.

 

I bit down on his palm and slammed my heel on his toes. He let out a vicious growl as his hold loosened. I twisted to run but the man in front of me grabbed me by my hair and dragged me across the road, his destination was clear in front of me. A dark alley. I screamed as loud as I could and got punched in the face.

 

I grunted, seeing dark spots dancing in front of my eyes. The man with the goatee snatched my purse from me and said to his partner. “Hey man, let’s leave her alone. We have the money.”

 

“No.” The jackass replied and I blinked to get a better view, my cheek and temple throbbing from pain, and saw him. He was mean looking giant with a crooked smile and leering eyes. “I want to play with her.”

 

Fucking men. Thinking that women are their plaything. “Ever heard of consent, douchebag.” I snapped at him and as predicted he came toward me with rage on his face, I took the opportunity and slammed my elbow in his gut, just where I knew his kidney was. He doubled over and then I pulled my knee up and smashed his balls in.

 

He howled in pain. I didn’t wait to gloat over, I ran. My mind went to my purse and my phone, I paused just for a second but then said hell with it and stumbled out of the alley. I heard their pounding footsteps and made the mistake to look over my shoulder and that’s when I slammed into something solid and warm.

 

I turned around with a low growl. Not another douchebag. I swear I’d had enough for one night. I looked up and up and met the pair of eyes that I wasn’t prepared for. I never thought I’d see him again and here in these cold and dark streets of Chicago. I was content with him visiting my dreams and sometimes nightmares to change them into dreams but not in reality. Strong hands came to my arms to stabilize me, those yellow brown eyes looked down at me, and then lifted to look over my shoulder.

 

I watched as those yellow rings blazed in the depths of brown and then his gaze came back to me. He lifted his hand and I cringed back. His expression turned thunderous, but his touch was gentle as he swiped at my lower lip. I winced slightly, but didn’t say anything, maybe I was still in shock of what happened to me or what could’ve happened or for the simple fact that the man I was fantasizing about was here in front of me, all the way from Italy.

 

I watched with wide eyes as he looked down at his thumb which was now smeared with my blood. His voice was silk cold as he said, “No one gets to make you bleed.” He slipped his thumb into his mouth and I gasped as if he just stroked me between my legs. He turned me around and pulled me flush against his chest. I swallowed, my heart racing now for entirely different reasons. He surrounded me like a mountain, he was so big. His unique scent filled my nostrils. Smoky, with a hint of sage. My eyes had closed on their own accord because they snapped open at his command. “Open your eyes.” I watched as the two men in black uniform forced my two attackers on their knees.

 

And then my attention went to Antonio’s hand that he held out and I stared at in confusion, until he said, “Elijah.” I watched as another man stepped forward and placed a pistol in his open palm. “Watch what happens when someone makes me angry.”

 

I frowned but let out a soft scream when two shots rang out. He put a bullet directly between the eyes of the two men— my attackers, who then slumped sideways in the middle of the road. I knew violence. I have seen and experienced it, but I had never seen something like this.

 

The two uniformed men hefted the dead bodies and then went out of sight. I tried to turn around but Antonio tsked and I froze against my wish. “Remember, no one. Except me.”

 

And then he was gone.

 

It was late at night when I was back in my dorm room that I had realized what he had meant by his last words. No one gets to make you bleed. No one. Except him.

 

The meaning of his words should’ve made me cold and nervous, but it only excited me and made me warm and tingly. I realized that the first time we had met, I was the one who got the last word but this time it was him. The thought filled me with annoyance and I promised myself next time I meet him— whenever that would be, I’d be the one to leave him speechless.

 

 

A. Gupta