Ahead of the Darkness (2 page)

The final door was the bedroom. The room was mostly white, with splashes of red. The deep red feature wall accentuated the huge white patchwork-quilted queen bed. It looked so striking up against the wall with a few cushions scattered of the same colour. Fresh roses cut from the garden placed in a long white vase sat on a little whitewashed wicker desk on the opposite wall. The matching single-drawer bedside tables and old wood-panelled wardrobe completed the little room.

“What do you think dear? Will this do?”

All I could manage was a weak smile and nod. The bubbly little persona was crumbling, I felt a little ... off.

“Good, good. Now I won’t keep you long dear, just a few house rules. Nothing too major, I assure you.

“You are free to come and go as you please, I just ask that you use the back door through the kitchen late at night. I don’t need to know where you are going or if, and when, you are coming home. I’m not your mother, so I won’t treat you like a child.

“I only expect you to clean up after yourself. Your room and bathroom cleaning supplies are under the sink in the bathroom, and the kitchen dishes can go straight into the dishwasher. All the spare linen for your room and bathroom are kept in the cupboard right under the stairs, but it’s your responsibility to keep them clean.” She added with a wink. “That’s about it, really. I’ll leave you to it. If you need anything, just give me a shout. Oh, I almost forgot. The upstairs is my part of the house. So that is off-limits dear, I hope you understand.”

“Yes, of course.”

Placing a set of keys on the desk Anne nodded, smiled, then walked out, pulling the door closed behind her. I collapsed on my new, ridiculously comfortable bed with a heavy sigh. Anne had a no-nonsense air about her that I liked. All I wanted was to be left to my own devices, and Anne appeared to want the exact same thing. It seemed I might just survive the next few months without too much hardship—I hoped, at least. I needed to remind myself to be more diligent and not slip up when I was around Anne. The strange feeling of being at ease around her made me uncomfortable and forgetful. Mia Green’s parents were not supposed to be dead. I had a role to play, and sleep deprivation was never a good enough excuse.

~~~~~~

I
t took no time at all to unpack the few things I owned from my duffel bag into the wardrobe, put up the one worn photograph of my mother and relocate my toiletries to the bathroom. I decided now was as good a time as any to dye my hair. I’d had enough of being Lia the blond bimbo. It had been years since I’d been black, and I thought for a few months I could be natural. What harm could it really do? Thirty minutes later I was myself again, if only externally. I spent a good fifteen minutes just staring at my reflection. I had forgotten how much like my mother I looked. It was unnerving, but at the same time, comforting.

I was at a loss with what to do with myself next. I should have napped, but I have the most vivid dreams during the day, so I just sat on the bed and looked at the room, lost in thought.

It was by far the nicest room I had stayed in. The white didn't feel sterile as some places would, but warm and light. I loved the red detail. It made the room feel vibrant and alive.

The last time I’d let myself feel any kind of attachment to a place was before I turned sixteen. I still felt a pang of regret when I thought back to that time. My foster mother had been so sweet and kind. She never pushed, like the others, but gave me time. I had just started to feel normal, almost, happy. Since then, I have never known how to be comfortable in a new place. Being detached from my surroundings made it easier to move often, but it also meant I could never let my guard down. You would think after countless new towns, new rooms, new people, and new selves I would have been accustomed to it, but I don't think I was ever meant to be a gypsy. It wasn’t an option for me, to stay in one place, make friends, and live. I had to keep moving.

I finally broke the reverie I was in and glanced at the digital clock on the bedside. The dial read 4:22pm. I was restless, and had been for months I had worked seven days a week for the last four months, and desperately needed a night off to let off some steam. Four months of nonstop waiting tables, constantly having to smile, can make a person go mad.

I picked up my smart phone and searched for clubs in the local area. Two came up: a fitness club, and one called Cascade. Cascade was a local bar turned nightclub. Every night was a different theme, and apparently, it was the place to be on a Friday. Too early for the club, I decided to check out the local gym. I dressed quickly into yoga pants and put a hoodie over my sports bra, but thought better of it, and added a singlet to the mix. I found the small tote bag I'd stashed at the bottom of the wardrobe and filled it with a few essentials, then headed for the kitchen. I was about to pinch an apple when Anne walked in.

“Oh Mia, that looks much more natural. You look lovely with darker hair; it really brings out your features.”

“Ah, thank you.”

“Would you like a ride to the supermarket?”

“Oh, no. I was just going to check out the local gym. I can bring some things on the way back.”

“Suit yourself dear. Have fun.”

I smiled stiffly and headed the front door, but Anne stopped me just before I left the kitchen. I turned just in time to catch an apple flying at my head.

“We can’t have you falling off the treadmill now, can we?” I buffed the apple and took a huge bite.

“Thanks,” I mumbled with a mouthful of apple. She laughed, and shooed me off.

A brisk twenty-minute walk was all it took to get to the gym. I used my fake student ID to sign-up, and was stowing my bag in a locker in no time. It was a rather big gym for such a small town. Huge change rooms with steamers, even a separate weight room for women. I was rather excited, as there wasn’t a gym near the last place I’d lived, and I’d been dying to burn on the treadmills. Jogging didn’t have the same appeal. I found I couldn’t run nearly as fast, maybe it had something to do with too many people on pavements, and having to avoid them. You stand out a lot more running too fast in public, but on a treadmill, no one is watching you, just themselves.

I skipped my routine stretch, too eager to start, and headed straight for the empty corner spot near the mirrors at the back of the club. I was thirty-five minutes into my run, sweating my buttocks off, when something caught my eye in the mirrors. A pair of muscular calves were on the move behind me. My gaze was glued to the reflection in the mirror as the man came closer. My eyes started to roam upward of their own accord. The well-built calves met dark-grey sweat shorts that hung low. A very tight black tank top barely hid some dangerously defined pecks. Somewhere between the sweat shorts and collar of his tank, my legs stopped working. I was staring, and then I was falling ...
BANG
! I should have laughed at Anne's fortuitous comment about falling on treadmills. I was reasonably sure I slipped on drool.

Crumpled on the floor, I prayed no one noticed my less-than-elegant departure off the treadmill. Surely everyone was minding his or her own business.

No such luck. With my headphones ripped out mid fall, I heard the unmistakable sound of muffled laughter behind me. I swallowed my pride and turned my head, and found a big hand in my face. I stupidly figured it was safe enough for my gaze to follow the hand up. Seriously, what more could have gone wrong already humiliated on the floor, if only I’d known. The smooth looking hand was connected to a lethal arm, and belonged to a ridiculously sexy face with piercing blue-green eyes.

“Aye, ‘ere let me help ye up. That was quite somethin'. I've nae seen anything like it.”
Ah, damn, he's Scottish.

I stared, slightly open—mouthed for a second too long until my brain cleared itself, and I rushed to my feet. Mid rush, I made the mistake of looking at the sexy stranger, who happened to be smirking at me with the wink of a dimple poking out, and that was it. I fell over my feet again.

His strong hands went around my middle to steady me, but didn’t let go when I was up-right, presumably because he thought I’d fall again.

“I’m fine, I. Um... must have tripped on my laces.” Ah,
merde.
Shit
. Your shoes didn’t have laces, dumbarse. Don’t look down, don’t look down
. To my relief he didn’t, but I think he knew as much, if the cocky grin said anything.

––––––––

T
he sexy stranger’s hands were still on me and I was breathing all too fast, for the wrong reasons. I needed to move out of his grip and possibly shoot myself, but his hands were so strong and warm. I was anchored to the spot.

“Did ye need a spotter for the treadmill? I cannae guaranty ye willnae fall like, but I’ll do me best to catch ye.”

Once I grasped exactly what he was implying, I realised he was making fun of me.
Yeah, no.
I removed his hands from around my waist and tried to fight the frown that threatened to break across my face, but he caught the mood shift.

“Aye, I meant no harm, like.”

“Thank you for the assistance and the ... generous offer, but I’m done for the day.” I smiled all too sweetly and headed for the change rooms, ignoring his attempt to stop me.

I was so mad and humiliated, all at the same time, which were two very foreign feelings. I couldn’t believe the asshat had the nerve to be so, so ... sexy. It drove me completely bonkers. I showered fast and furiously, and was out of the change room in record time. Refusing to search him out and kept my head up and eyes forward, walking out the doors, a little faster than normal. I muttered to myself the whole way home, which in turn resulted in a few wrong turns. I've never been one to get lost, and I didn't like it.

My only saving grace at that point was the bath that awaited me when I finally reached Anne's house. I headed straight for the bathroom, turned the taps on full, and stripped off my gym gear, and that’s when I saw it. A little gift basket sitting on the vanity. It was full of bath salts, fizzing bombs and soaps, and attached to it was a note.

––––––––

M
ia,

I couldn't help but notice how your lovely little face lit up when you saw the bath. Here is a little something to welcome you to your new home. I hope you enjoy your stay, as I am sure you will enjoy the bath after a long day’s travel.

Anne

––––––––

H
ome
. I knew the word, could spell the word, possibly define it, but have never known it. The letter left me uneasy for unknown reasons. Its sweet sentiment I didn't know how to process but the gift, it was perfect.

I filled the bath as deep as it would allow, then scattered some of the salts and added a rose-scented bath bomb for good measure. The deep warmth soaked into my bones, making me feel whole again, for a little while at least. The world never seemed so small and suffocating when I could stop and breathe.

I had finally relaxed into the warm suds when my thoughts wander back to a certain stranger. It was the only thing that stopped the bath being pure bliss. His eyes were what kept popping in and out of my head. Beautiful and big, so intense, they made me shiver when I thought back on them. The way they pierced me the instant I looked up and locked eyes with him.

––––––––

S
plash!

I gasp and cough at what I vaguely understand to be liquid rolling down my face. My heart begins to beat fast, and I can’t seem to shake the disorientation. I’m so confused. I have no idea where I am, and it’s too dark to see. Before I have time to call out there’s a bright light shining in my face, making me cower up against the wall behind me.

“What . . .” I cough painfully, my throat a burning mess, and my jaw aching.

“It’s not nearly as much fun when you’re not here with me, mon chérié.”

Oh God. That voice.

––––––––

I
gasped for breath as my head emerged from the freezing bath water. I must have dozed off at some point because I have no idea how long I had been in the bath; time seemed to have escaped me. I dragged my shivering, pruny body out of the bath and headed for the comfort of bed.

I was just about to climb in when I’d caught sight of my black ballet flats that I’d left out on purpose.
Cascade’s!

I looked at the small digital clock on the side table. It read 9:18pm. I quickly dried and rummaged through my closet, pulling out the only dress I owned. I’d bought it on a whim more than three years ago. The simple black lines were what had caught my attention. Cut just above the knee, it slightly hugged my figure to under the bust and then flowed up to the neckline where it sat straight across the collarbones to hang just on the edge of the shoulders with long billowy sleeves to finish it. The dress wasn't overly sexual, but it had gotten me into and out of trouble a few times. I still had trouble wearing it. My mother had lived in dresses; she always looked feminine and beautiful wherever she went. I was never comfortable with standing out but it was the only thing I could wear and
not
stand out going by the pictures I’d seen online.

I towel-dried my thick black hair and left it down around my shoulders. I applied the two essentials— lip-gloss and mascara— then slipped on my ballet flats, and I was ready enough to go. I brought up the address on my phone map and was delightedly surprised that it would only take twenty minutes to walk there.

––––––––

I
was greeted at the door by a large, burly man dressed all in black, with a shaved head. The loud bass vibrated through the door. How cliché, I thought.

“ID Miss.”

I handed over my carefully-crafted student ID, with a forced bored expression, hoping he wouldn't make too much fuss.

“Miss, we can't accept this. Don't you have a license on you?”

“I don't drive, you see, but, umm...” I trailed off and looked back the way I came. “I could go home and get my passport, if I have to.”

The man looked at me long and hard before he sighed and opened the door. The raging roar of the club came blasting out at us.