Chapter 16

"Be quiet, bastard."

I open my eyes in the midst of darkness. The head of a masked man is just inches from my face, whispering those words again, "Be quiet, bastard." I want to scream, but my voice is stuck in my throat. One of his hands explores my leg, a few inches above my knee, making my stomach churn.

"Stop..." My tears flow along with my sobs. "Please, stop." His cold hand moves slowly upward; I shut my eyes and push his body, which is pinning me down, with all my strength.

Suddenly, he encircles both my wrists with his other hand, restraining me from squirming. "Eleanor, open your eyes." I squirm again, this time more forcefully. His hand tightens around my wrists, and I can almost smell the alcohol on his breath as he pants...

***

"Eleanor!"

I stare into a pair of deep blue eyes as my eyes open, and he's very close to me. But I still can't move my hands. "Mr—Mr. Shaw?" My voice trembles, just like my entire body right now. He looks a bit angry as he gazes at me, then I realize he's the one holding both my hands.

"Are you dreaming?"

I nod faintly, trying to control my irregular breathing. He examines me for a moment, then furrows his brow while checking one of the machines beside my bed.

Mr. Shaw is still standing in his clothes from last night.

After a while, a nurse enters my room, glancing between us before asking me, "Miss Heather? Are you okay?"

I nod slightly, attempting to regulate my erratic breaths. She checks me briefly and frowns as she inspects one of the machines next to the bed.

Mr. Shaw is still standing there, but his gaze remains fixed on me. And he looks genuinely angry this time.

"What time is it?" I ask the nurse beside me.

"7 in the morning," she answers without looking at me, still focused on the machine. "I'll be back in a moment. Are you still in a lot of pain?" she asks with a furrowed brow. I shake my head at her. She leaves my room again.

"Are you still here?" I mumble to Mr. Shaw while biting my lip.

"Of course, I'm still here." He runs his hand through his hair and sits on the nearby sofa. "You got seriously hurt, Eleanor. Some of your organs had internal bleeding, and your liver almost stopped working. He kicked you hard enough to cause injuries like these." His voice sounds a bit dangerous now, matching the expression on his face.

"The doctor said if my condition worsens in three days, I'll need surgery," I reply.

He grits his teeth in frustration. "If you were a bit later in getting medical help yesterday... just an hour, you might be in a coma right now. And I... I wasn't there when you needed me."

Now I realize he's not angry with me; he's angry with himself.

"It's not your fault. You don't have to take responsibility for anything... I'm not your responsibility."

"Eleanor, you don't understand..."

"No, Mr. Shaw. It's not your fault... at all." I emphasize, biting my lip again.

"NICHOLAS. Call me Nicholas," he interrupts me.

"Mr. Shaw—"

"Nicholas. I don't want you to call me Mr. Shaw." His tone is slightly frustrated.

I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out. What should I say to him? 'Okay, Nick, you need to stop blaming yourself?' Or 'What is our relationship, Nick?' Both sound awkward to me because, well, he's Nicholas Shaw.

He's in a world very different from mine.

"Mr. Shaw—"

"Nicholas. Call me Nicholas."

"What are you actually doing here?"

He looks a bit surprised by my question, his brows furrowing for a few moments before answering, "I don't know. I can't think clearly since last night." Both of his dark blue eyes gaze at me with a lost expression. "The only thing I know is I had to see you."

I bite my lip to ease the sudden tightness in my chest. "You're right; we need to talk." I've been avoiding him for too long. "I don't know where to start, though." I mumble to him.

"You can ask me anything."

I think for a moment before asking, "What's the full name of Nicholas E. Shaw?"

He looks a bit surprised by my question, as if he didn't expect me to ask about his name. "Elliot," he replies, and his deep blue eyes warm up a bit.

"Nicholas Elliot Shaw?" I repeat, smiling at him. "I like your name."

"I really like your name too, Miss Heather." He responds while looking at me intensely. "Any other questions?"

"Why did you pay off my debt?" Although I want to be angry because he did, my feelings are too mixed up for anger right now.

"Because I wanted to," he answers shortly. "Next question?"

I pull down the corners of my mouth, "I don't need your money."

He sighs with a bit of frustration, "I know. I just wanted... to help you."

"I don't need your help. I can pay it off myself."

"Eleanor, do you have no other important questions?" He looks at me impatiently. It takes me a moment to understand his question. He wants me to ask about 'that.'

I shake my head slightly, "I don't want to talk about it here." I hear Lana's voice in my head, warning me about privacy.

"I won't let you keep running away from me." Both of his eyes stare straight at me.

I close my eyes for a moment to gather my courage. "Are you... a vampire?" My question sounds stupid after coming out of my mouth.

He stares at me for a few seconds before shaking his head, "No."

"No? But you're not human?"

"No. I'm not human." His entire attention is on me. "Nature needs a balance to create harmony within it, you studied it in school. Lions and deer, plants and pests, predators and prey are needed to balance nature. This world also needs a balancer, and in it, humans have the position as prey." He pauses for a moment, giving me a chance to digest what he just said, then continues, "While the predators are..."

"You." I answer with a choked voice. The heartbeat monitor beside me speeds up, filling the silence between us. The fine hairs on my nape stand as I remember the shrieks from the night when I first met Greg. He was killing his prey. And I was almost the next one.

"But we don't do it anymore."

I suddenly feel uncomfortable. An irrational thought pops into my head: Did Nicholas kill him?

Aku headshake to Lana, but my mind is elsewhere, "No... I don't mind. What time did he die?" My heart beats loudly in my chest.

"This morning, around 4 a.m."

Suddenly, I feel uneasy. An unreasonable thought crosses my mind. What if Nicholas killed him?