He Saved Me

by Whitney Barbetti

  “Green,” I replied flatly.

  “What color are Julian’s eyes?”

  I didn’t need to turn my head to look. “Brown.”

  “What color is your favorite?”

  “Red.”

  “What color is my shirt?”

  “Black.”

  “What color is your bedspread?”

  “White.”

  “What color is the candle in your bedroom?”

  I closed my eyes. “Purple.”

  “What color is your cell phone?”

  My eyes narrowed. “I don’t have one.”

  Six smiled. Or, he did what would be considered a lift of the lips from anyone else. “That’s right.” He let go of my hand. “How’s your pain now?”

  “It still hurts.” I looked at my hand, surprised for a second at how quickly I’d forgotten about it.

  “But you’ve calmed down. Use your colors, Andra. They’ve always helped distract you. Mira will train your body to be strong. But much of your training has to be mental, too. You need to mentally prepare yourself. I don’t know what the future holds for us. But I want you to be mentally and physically strong.” He backed away a foot.

  I cocked my head to the side. “Do you need a drink or a lozenge or something?”

  Six looked at me, the look of confusion clear on his face.

  I smirked. “I think that’s the most you’ve ever spoken in your entire life. It had to have made your throat pretty sore.”

  Six looked to the ceiling. I knew that look. It was his “God help me” look. He turned and walked out the back door to Mira.

  I watched them out the window over the sink. Mira sat in the chair almost exactly how I did. Feet propped up on the railing, the chair dipped back on two legs. Six was leaned against the pillar right in front of her. I watched him rub a hand on her shin and up to her knee.

  “Hungry?” Julian asked from behind me.

  I nodded, not turning around. Six was different with Mira. It was as if his reactions were wrapped in cotton when she was near. He was softer, not just in speech but in expressions too. It made me curious, wondering about their relationship.

  I felt Julian’s face at my neck as I felt his arms wrap around my waist. “Mmm,” he murmured into my neck, pressing scruffy kisses down the side of it. “You still manage to smell like clementines.”

  I leaned into his touch, brought a hand up to the side of his face, holding him to me. “And you still smell like cinnamon.” I turned my lips and pressed them to his temple. My hand lightly scratched his stubble. “But yeah, I am hungry. I’ll probably be less cranky once I get something in my belly.”

  “Go sit.” Julian motioned his hand towards the dining room. “I’ll bring you something good.”

  I gave him a smirk. “I sure hope so.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Later, when I laid in bed reading the new book Julian had given me, I kept peeking glances over at him. He wore his glasses, the ones that made him look like some hot, young professor. His hair was flopped over his forehead, hanging over his eyes in a way that made me squirm. His eyes were narrowed as he read his book. I loved watching him when he was like this.

  “You’re staring,” he said, not moving his eyes away from the pages.

  I shrugged, the movement rustling our blankets. “You look all smart and shit,” I explained.

  I watched his lips turn up in a smile before he tilted his head to look at me. My heart skipped a beat in the way he looked at me. It wasn’t merely lust. Though I had that in tenfold for Julian, seeing him look at me this way, with his feeling for me so completely present in his gaze…it was overwhelming. In the most wonderful way.

  “You’re a good man,” I blurted out. It was on the edge of my thoughts, but it was always there. Circling and spinning in my brain. Tell him, it said. Don’t waste time, the voice urged. I put the book on the nightstand and rolled on my side to look at him.

  “Where’d that come from?” he asked.

  “I don’t think I’ve told you how I really feel,” I said. I rubbed my lips together, tasting my nerves. “I haven’t felt this settled, not ever.”

  “Why does that make you frown?” he asked, closing his book and rolling on his side to face me.

  I hadn’t realized I was frowning. And now I had something else stirring up questions in my head. “I think I’m surprised,” I started. I licked my lip as I focused just beyond Julian, to the spot on the wall behind him. “You know everything about me.”

  “That’s not true,” Julian said. My eyes focused on him again. He pushed his glasses up so they pushed back the hair that hung over his head. “When it comes to the details, I know very little about you.”

  “Details?” I asked.

  Julian nodded and settled on the pillow. It hit me then that Julian was beside me in this bed. I sent up a quick thank you and let that wash over me.

  “Do you prefer I call you Andra?” Julian asked. He didn’t add “or Cora.” He didn’t need to. I knew.

  I nodded. “Cora died.” Julian’s expression didn’t change at all. He seemed to be waiting for me to continue. “Cora let a man ruin her life. Cora believed her mother committed suicide.” I took a breath. I felt that pain hit the other side of my ribs. Ouch. “You met me as Andra. Andra is who I am.”

  Julian sighed softly and lifted a hand to my face, brushing back my hair. “Cora was brave. And strong. Cora escaped a controlling, abusive man. Cora found her mother’s body.” I winced and Julian’s fingers rubbed soothingly over my cheek. “Don’t be so hard on Cora. Mourn her, but love her too.” His fingers moved down until his fingers were hovering over my pajama tee. Hesitantly, he pushed into the material, putting slight pressure on my skin. “Cora lives here.” His voice had lowered. I felt my breath catch. “And there’s not a single part about you I don’t love. Therefore, I love Cora too. So please be kind to her.” Keeping his eyes on mine, he brought his fingertips to his mouth and pressed them against his lips before he pushed them back on my chest and pushed slightly.

  I felt my entire body shiver. I sucked in a breath and released it. “You are such a writer.”

  Julian laughed. “You’ve read my books. There is no poetry in what I write.”

  “I disagree,” I said snuggling closer. “It’s just a different language. The way you talk to me is different yes, but I’d expect that. You write about blood and gore and serial killers.” I grabbed the hand he’d let fall from my chest to the bed. “You speak to me the way no one else ever has.”

  His hand squeezed mine. “That’s because the way I feel for you is unlike anything I’ve felt before. Romantic notions, remember? You inspired them.” He lifted my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the top of my hand while keeping the eye contact.

  “You’re good with words, Julian,” I said, keeping an eye on him. Despite the flood of love I felt, I couldn’t help but worry. And be afraid. Our relationship was still in its infancy. We’d known each other for such a little time, and the depth of feeling was almost crushing sometimes.

  “I’m not working from a script, Andra,” Julian said. He frowned. “Trust me when I say this is different. You’re different.”

  I nodded, and smiled what I hope was a reassuring smile. “I know. It’s different for me too. I just…” my thoughts wouldn’t fall off my tongue. How could I explain to Julian that an idea of a future beyond the four walls of this house was scary, intimidating? I smiled quickly, tucking the words into a safe place. “Goodnight.” I said.

  I turned off the lamp and rolled over on my side, feeling the wall I was starting to build form its foundation. I couldn’t explain it. I loved Julian. I was thrilled he was here. But I still felt unsure around him. I felt overwhelmed with my feelings for him as well as his for me. My hand fell to the tattoo on my chest. “Free.”

  It was all I’d longed for. And when I’d fallen in love with Julian, I’d tasted freedom. Freedom from the monsters in my past. But the moment I’d fallen, I’d
also surrendered. Julian felt some responsibility for me, for my freedom. I’d surrendered my secrets and my heart into his palm and while I didn’t doubt he wouldn’t take care of them, of me, I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. Was I exchanging the chains of my secrets for the chains of Julian?

  I worried my lip as I contemplated all of this.

  Julian followed through on his promise and kicked my ass out of bed the following morning to make him tea. As I let the tea steep, Mira entered the kitchen.

  She wore leopard-printed tights and a lime green shirt covered in unicorns. Her style was different to say the least.

  To her credit, she narrowed her eyes on me but didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by me, by the anger that lingered around me. Mira’s eyes weren’t narrowed in anger, more like contemplation. She seemed to be very observant, but in the loudest way possible.

  She swept past me and opened up the fridge, grabbing ginger ale and drinking straight from the bottle.

  “Good thing I didn’t want any,” I remarked with slight sarcasm.

  Mira tilted her head back as she swallowed, her dark hair a mess of tangles. She let her head fall back forward and then tilted it back to the side as she looked at me. “Your boyfriend bought me this. It’s mine.” She licked her lips as one side of them lifted up.

  I didn’t know what to think of that. I hadn’t seen Julian and Mira interact at all, not even once.

  “How far along are you?” I blurted out. I clamped my lips shut immediately after asking, feeling self-conscious.

  Mira took another swig of the ginger ale. She wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her unicorn shirt before addressing me. “Nearly four months.”

  “You don’t look pregnant.” I didn’t intend to say that either, but something about Mira made me word vomit.

  Mira rubbed a finger over her lips as she looked at me. “I don’t wear a lot of tight clothes,” she said. She turned to the side and pulled the shirt behind her, effectively tightening it over her front and showing a small rounding over her belly. “But he’s in there.”

  “He? You already know what it is?”

  “Sure I do,” she said, eyeing me as she took a sip. “’It is a baby.”

  I rolled my eyes, knowing she was just trying to trip me up. “I meant the gender.”

  “No. But I can’t see myself having a girl. And Six either.” Mira looked at me after saying that, as if the last two sentences she spoke were like baring her soul. She downed more ginger ale and hopped up on the counter behind her. “Are you ready to get more training done today?” She asked, letting her legs swing back and forth across the counter.

  She was distracting. It wasn’t just her clothing. Her presence was like this ball of energy that let loose a spark here and there. She was completely unexpected.

  “What exactly are you training me for?”

  “Well you’re pretty weak,” she said, an eyebrow raised. “But I’m training you because I won’t always be able to help Six while he figures out what he’s going to do about your uncle.”

  I tasted vinegar on my tongue. Uncle. He was a monster, he was Hawthorne. I didn’t want there to be any familiar connection with him. “Should you be training me?” I asked, gesturing towards her stomach. “In your condition?”

  She laughed, the sound loud and short. “My condition?” she repeated, laughter still bubbling in her voice. “I’m pregnant. Not diseased.”

  There she went again, digging under my skin. Pissing me off. “I meant, is it safe?”

  “Do you plan on kicking me in the stomach or pushing me down the stairs?” she asked, her head cocked to the side again, her voice full of fake concern.

  “Of course not.” It took all I had in me not to cross my arms over my chest and roll my eyes.

  “Then I suspect I’ll be fine,” she replied, speaking slowly, as if I couldn’t possibly understand her. She took another sip of her ginger ale as she looked at me. “And don’t be so put out,” she said before jumping down from the counter. She walked past me to the doorway before turning around. “I’m getting you riled up on purpose.” She looked me up and down. “You gave up too easily last night,” she called over her shoulder as she exited the kitchen. My fists clenched and unclenched and I realized Julian’s tea had already gone cold.

  Mira trained me again that afternoon, this time showing me where some pressure points were, even disabling me to fall to my knees in the sand again. But I didn’t walk away this time, even as my hand still ached.

  I don’t know how long we trained for, but Six had joined Julian on the porch at some point. I tried not to pay attention to them, but each time Mira knocked me down, face first in the sand, I’d glanced over at the porch. Occasionally they would say something to me, but the moment my eyes had lingered that way too long, Mira would hop onto my back and overpower me again.

  By the time dinner rolled around, Julian was cooking and I was washing the lunch dishes. Six sat in the dining room, the room itself lit only softly by the overhead fixture. Mira stood silently next to him as they looked at papers.

  “Are you okay?” Julian asked from behind me, snapping my attention back to the task in front of me.

  “Yeah,” I replied, shrugging. My fingernail picked a spot on the plate and a second later, my mind flew back in time.

  “Make sure you wash those dishes again,” Hawthorne said from behind me, his voice thick and his hands caging me to the sink. I clenched my jaw and swallowed as the scent of vodka surrounded me.

  He picked up a glass and put it in front of my face. “What’s that?” he asked. His voice took on a flat quality and I tried to concentrate on the glass and not his close proximity.

  “It’s dirty,” I breathed, grabbing it from his hand, avoiding touching his fingers. “I’ll wash it again.”

  “You’ll wash them all again.” It wasn’t a question. His face was still right to the side of mine. His breathing heavy. Bile rose up to my mouth as he started humming. I couldn’t hear someone humming without thinking of what he meant when he did it. What it meant to him.

  “Yes,” I agreed, praying for him to walk away.

  “You know, you look a lot like your mom,” he said before turning to walk away.

  I bit on my lip, feeling more alone than I ever had with his comment. “I am her daughter,” I said with only a slight trace of sarcasm in my voice. My eyes snapped wide open. Had I really said that?

  Hawthorne paused on the linoleum. I didn’t turn to look at him. I didn’t dare make eye contact. He walked back towards me and caged me again, reaching his arms around me. I felt my heart gallop in fear in my chest, but all he did was put his hands into the soapy water. He seemed to be looking for something with his hands and I could do nothing but watch, fearfully.

  Finally, his hands stilled under the water. A second later, he pulled up a steak knife. He held it up in front of me, making sure I saw what he was doing.

  “Knives and water don’t mix,” he whispered at my ear. “Be careful.” It was more of a threat than a warning and held a double connotation. He dropped the knife, letting the water splash my face, and then turned away again.

  “Andra,” a voice urged. I opened my eyes, knowledge from the memory flooding in. He was facing me and we were both standing at the sink. His eyes were concerned and his hands gripped my upper arms as if he’d just finished shaking me back to the present.

  “You’re right, Julian,” I breathed, my heart still racing. I exhaled and looked around, thankful it was only Julian and me in the kitchen. I swallowed and put a hand to his chest. “Hawthorne. I believe you.” I looked back towards the dining room before pulling Julian to the other side of the kitchen, away from the ears of Mira and Six. “I think you’re right, about Hawthorne murdering my mother.” I kept my eyes open, unwilling to revisit the memory.

  Julian’s hands moved to my shoulders and he squeezed. “Okay,” he said, his voice low. “Do you want to tell Six and Mira?”

  I shook my head. I wasn�
��t entirely sure why I didn’t want to tell them. But I knew we’d need more proof before I started grasping at reasons to go after Hawthorne. “Not yet.” I swallowed again. “Let’s figure this out some more before we bring it to the table.” I angled my head towards the dining room. “Six likes proof. That’s why he and Mira are going back to the apartment. He may be unflinching with his opinions, but he doesn’t act unless he believes one-hundred percent.”

  Julian nodded. “I’ll do some more digging. At least, what I can from here.”

  “Okay,” I replied. I looked down at the floor, seeing the worn linoleum and being reminded of the flashback.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Over the next couple of weeks, Mira trained me every single day. It was usually an hour in the morning and a few more in the afternoon until dinner. After that first week, my body was covered with more bruises than I’d ever seen, but I could feel the subtlety in my strength and noticed a huge improvement in my ability to react. By the second week, I started to figure it out. Mira even tried to trip me up a few times in the house. Literally. And while I’d fallen most of the time, I was getting better at being more aware of my surroundings.

  I wasn’t infallible, however, and I still often let my frustration cause me to walk away. Mira often pushed me further to anger than anyone had, but I still hadn’t learned to channel that anger in a productive way.

  “Come on,” she said, her forearms up and facing me. “Try to take me down.”

  “Mira,” Six called from the porch.

  She turned her head. “It’s fine, Six-” and then she was down, on her ass in the sand.

  “What the fuck?” she growled.

  I shrugged. “You’ve warned me all the time to stay ready, to be on my guard.” I waited for her reaction as I saw Six approaching from my peripheral vision. “You let your guard slip.”

  Her eyes narrowed on me. “That may well be, but you can guarantee Hawthorne or anyone else for that matter won’t drop their guard to tell their boyfriend they’re fine.”