“No, it’s fine. I’ve never had anyone tell me my eyes look like gemstones,” he said, wrapping his knuckles tighter around the gear knob.
My crazy thoughts were immediately regretted as I noticed his demeanor change. I wasn’t sure why this surprised me. Obviously, he just realized he was in the presence of a lunatic.
“It’s just me and my defense mechanism. I should’ve never said anything,” I apologized nervously.
My mind must be working overtime. I was truly shocked at this ability to conjure up these hallucinations to avoid moving on with my life. I sighed heavily.
“Don’t apologize. I’d rather you tell me than to keep all of those thoughts bottled up inside,” he said, relaxing his shoulders.
His kindness was not deserved. “I’m not sure speaking of these hallucinations is a good idea.”
“I don’t think you are hallucinating.” His voice was soft and understanding.
“Umm, I am, because no one else can see it, but me,” I disagreed.
“Maybe it’s just how you see my eyes.”
I appreciated his suggestion, but he was obviously trying hard to be nice for some odd reason. The hottest man in Boulder, maybe the entire world, was trying to comfort me, the town wreck.
“Maybe,” I agreed, sighing heavily, wishing to end this humiliating conversation.
“Haley, you’re not crazy,” he reassured, smiling.
“No just broken,” I murmured.
“You aren’t broken either. You’re the only one that thinks that—no one else does. Everyone else sees a beautiful woman trying desperately to heal from many wounds,” he explained. “I find you very intriguing.”
“Intriguing is not the appropriate word,” I paused. “More like crazy.” I rolled my eyes.
“You’re ridiculous,” he grinned.
“I’m surprised you haven’t pulled over and thrown me out, but you seem too polite for that.”
“Me, throw you out of the car? Now that is crazy talk,” he teased playfully.
I still noticed his sparkling, emerald eyes as he gazed tenderly back at me. I was truly beginning to believe there was something wrong with me—all this to avoid heartbreak.
The car slowed. I shifted my gaze from his face to the windshield.
“I assume this is the place?” He motioned toward a metal building with white, red and blue stripes painted underneath the large windows and a bright red neon sign with the letter ‘r’ unlit.
“Your assumption is correct,” I smiled.
We pulled into the gravel drive, and I unlocked my seat belt—I noticed he hadn’t been wearing his.
“You should really be more concerned about your safety,” I mentioned, smiling.
“Were you scared by my driving?” he asked amused.
“No, but you weren’t wearing your seat belt.”
“It’s never been a habit of mine.”
“I’d hate for anything bad to happen to you,” I admitted nervously.
“If it makes you feel better, I promise to wear my seat belt in the future.”
“It would.”
The sound of gravel crunching below my feet reminded me of the other night at Woody’s as we strolled across the parking lot. I was hopeful that tonight would end differently than that evening.
He opened the glass door motioning for me to enter first. The scent of fresh baked apple pie filled the restaurant. There were two other cars parked outside besides ours, so I suspected the place would be fairly empty—my suspicion was correct.
Three husky men wearing camouflage overalls were seated near the door. They must have been on an extended hunting trip the way they appeared. I could smell the cigarette smoke and musty odor coming from their muddy clothing. All of their heads turned simultaneously, glaring at us as we passed by.
All three were large, but varied in degree. I shuttered slightly as I remembered back to the other day and the two men at the park trying to get my attention. These men appeared even more menacing.
An older, pale-faced woman with gray hair pulled up in a bun gave us a quick smile, leisurely walking in our direction “Just the two of ya?” she asked while smacking loudly on a piece of gum.
Andrew nodded and we followed her lead. She sat us in a small booth near the back. I slid onto the old, tattered brown vinyl covered seat. She pushed the menu across the table, which landed right smack in front of me. Nothing looked appetizing, but I never came here for the food, just the solitude. It took a while to decide. “I think I figured out what I want,” I smiled.
Andrew waved for the waitress. “What can I get you both?”
Andrew nodded for me to go first, and I ordered. “I’ll take the strawberry pancakes with a side of hash browns and an iced tea with two lemons,” I said, slowly closing my menu and pushing it in her direction.
She turned to Andrew. “I’ll take a water and slice of cherry pie.”
The waitress nodded and left.
“Dessert?”
“Nothing appealed to me.”
“I know, but I didn’t choose this place for the food, just the atmosphere.”
“We should find a better place next time,” he suggested.
I was elated to hear those words. My delusions had not scared him away, and he planned on us being together another time in the future. “I agree,” I smiled.
Andrew was focused on the three large men seated at the front. “Do you know them?” I whispered, leaning in to ensure they didn’t hear me.
“No,” he whispered back still keeping his eyes locked on them.
Before I could take another look, the waitress returned. She slid our drinks and plates in front of us. I slowly drizzled syrup over my pancakes, but Andrew didn’t touch his piece of pie as he continued glaring in the direction of the camouflaged men.
“What’s going on?” I asked nervously. They really didn’t look like the type anyone would want to stare at for too long.
“It’s nothing, but as soon as you get done eating, we should immediately leave,” he replied, running his finger along his glass of water.
His eyes locked with one of men, and they both stared at one another. The other two turned in our direction. Andrew continued to glare.
A feeling of unease spread throughout my body—I watched Andrew’s face tense up. But I was more worried as to why he felt the need to look in their direction. Those men seemed like the type who would take someone out back, shoot them, and come right back in and finish their meal with no remorse. “Is something wrong?” I asked.
“We should leave,” he said stiffly. His eyes never met mine as he spoke.
I set down my fork and scooted the plate aside. Andrew dropped a twenty on the table. He clutched my arm, practically dragging me behind.
A loud, voice shouted out “Where you both off to tonight?”
Andrew continued to usher me toward the door. I heard the sound of chairs scooting across the floor and realized the three men now blocked us from the door.
“You got such a pretty girl there—you wouldn’t mind sharing, would you?” The largest of the three men suggested as he ran his bright orange suspenders through his hands. The smallest of the three started to reach in my direction.
Andrew snatched him by the wrist. “I don’t want any trouble. You boys just return to your seats, and I’ll pretend none of this happened.” His voice never cracked as he threatened them.
Laughter filled the room. “You gonna pretend none of this happened regardless, but first we wanna have a little fun with her,” the large man demanded with a dark menacing look.
I instantly felt sick to my stomach. The waitress stared in our direction. “You boys let them go, and stop causing trouble.” Her warning was casual, as if this was a regular occurrence.
“Shut up, Betty. This ain’t none of your concern.” The large one’s eyes flickered in her direction.
Andrew angled himself between the men and my body. Instinctively, I lightly touched his arm, as I feared th
e outcome of this altercation. Andrew’s muscles tightened. I was definitely aware that he had spent many hours in the gym, but I feared it was not enough to ward off these three brawny men.
As I gripped tighter on Andrew’s arm, which now seemed to have an eerie orange glow, I could feel an immense heat radiating from his body, scorching my hand. I immediately withdrew it, feeling the slight sensation of my flesh burning—similar to placing my hand onto a hot oven rack. I shook my hand slightly as the pain throbbed. “Ouch,” I muttered, trying not to whine as there were bigger problems than just my burnt hand. A large, pink circle formed in the palm of my hand.
Andrew glanced down at my wound. His eyes shot back up at my face with a look of distress. But his focus was quickly interrupted with the slow advance of the three men in our direction.
My attention returned to the three men that still appeared interested in continuing what they had started. I prepared for an ugly battle where, inevitably, I would be victimized. It was difficult to imagine these three men having their way with me, but even more difficult to stomach what they might do to Andrew in the meantime.
My body froze as I watched smoke rise from the man’s arm in which Andrew was still gripping.
The man began screaming as he desperately tried to pull his arm from Andrew’s tight grip. “Please let go of it!” the smaller man screamed as he quickly fell to his knees.
But Andrew did not let go; he continued to glare down at the man. A devilish smile spread across Andrew’s face. It was impossible to fathom what I was witnessing. My hand was still throbbing from the pain, and now an even darker circle had formed.
“I’ll let go as soon as your friends move out of the way,” Andrew snarled.
The larger man with orange overalls stepped forward as he balled up his fists.
“Stay back,” Andrew warned.
But the man continued to come closer, even after observing his friend’s arm searing. The smell of burning flesh stung my nostrils as I pulled my arm up to cover my nose. The other men began choking as they, too, were overcome by the smell.
“Let go of our friend, you freak!” the man with the camouflage baseball cap yelled out.
Andrew disregarded his plea. “Move out of our way,” he growled.
But the men ignored his demand and both moved forward in a striking motion. My breathing became uneven as I fearfully watched this whole scenario play out right before my eyes like something out of a horror movie.
Andrew’s eyes returned to the pleading man on the floor and twisted his arm backward creating a large snapping sound as the bone poked through his skin and splintered into tiny pieces. The man screeched in pain as he fell back onto the floor gripping his shattered arm.
The largest of the three men reached back with his fists balled and struck toward Andrew’s face. A loud growl rumbled from Andrew’s chest as he grabbed the man’s fist and pushed him straight back. The man’s body lifted off the ground and was airborne crashing atop several smaller gray laminate tables. Blood splattered all over the floor and every object within in ten feet. I watched in horror. The tables beneath him folded in, as his body smashed through them creating a shower of laminate and particleboard pieces.
The man with the camouflaged cap stepped forward. Instinct should have told him to run long ago, but he foolishly joined in the fight. Andrew clutched his throat and viciously slammed his body onto the floor displacing the white tile beneath him, which broke into large chunks.
The smaller man was still holding his shattered arm, but he unwisely leaped toward Andrew. Andrew grabbed him and he swung him into midair, splattering his body against the glass window. The window eventually bowed out and spewed small pieces of glass all over the floor. I fell to the ground, covering my head to avoid any contact with the flying glass.
There was a brief moment of silence. I cautiously lifted my head and horrifyingly scanned the room. The waitress stood behind the counter with a frightened look upon her face, probably similar to mine.
All three men lay motionless. No sound was uttered from their battered bodies. Blood was splattered all over—not only their bodies, but the walls, floors and tables of the diner. It looked as if someone had taken an automatic weapon and fired randomly inside the diner.
Andrew’s movement caught the corner of my eye, forcing me to turn away from the carnage. The sound of crunching glass quickly caught my attention, as my eyes returned to the blood-spattered bodies.
The largest of three men with blood soaked suspenders unsteadily stood up, attempting to run at full speed. Andrew reached his arm out and grabbed him by the throat, slamming his badly beaten body against the adjacent wall. Andrew was facing the man, but I could hear a loud growl roaring from his direction. The man’s expression coincided with the sound, as he looked rightfully frightened. Andrew squeezed the man’s throat until his body went limp.
A short, black haired man, I assumed to be the cook by his hairnet and greasy apron, stood beside the waitress, as they, too, watched the carnage unfold. All of our faces displayed the horror we had just observed. Not one single person in this diner would have ever bet against those three men, including myself.
Andrew rushed to my side. He touched my arm as he attempted to scoop my body from the floor. But his hot skin began singeing my arm hairs. I yanked my arm back and painfully looked in to his bright, red crystal eyes that stared back at me.
“Get up,” he commanded stiffly.
My body shook violently as I quickly stood up, obeying his commands. His blood-red eyes watched my every move carefully.
“Please don’t hurt me,” I croaked with tears welling in the corners of my eyes—lips quivering.
He closed his eyes and sighed heavily. The orange glow of his skin began to fade. His normal skin tone reappeared as his eyes opened, revealing two dark, faintly sparkling black diamonds. The overwhelming sensation to start hyperventilating came over me, as I watched his dark eyes painfully gaze down.
“I’d never hurt you,” he said breathlessly. “Never.”
He lightly placed his hand over my wrist. I cringed expecting to get scorched, but I felt no burning sensation this time as he scooped me up into his arms. His skin was warm, but no longer hot. Our bodies seemed to float out of the diner. We reached his car in an amazingly short amount of time, but I was more concerned with his eyes than our speed.
He feverishly opened the passenger side door of his car and gently placed my body down on the cold leather seat. I attempted to brace myself, but put too much pressure on my injured hand. “Ouch,” I whimpered.
His black eyes flickered down at my wound and then painfully looked up at me. “Sorry,” he said softly.
“I’m fine,” I assured, still frightened.
His eyes desperately searched mine to see if I was truly fine, but he could tell instantly that I was still in pain. “Oh, Haley,” he breathed heavily, as he closed his eyes.
Loud screams bellowed from inside the diner. We both hastily looked at one another.
“Oh, no!” I gasped.
He quickly stood up. “Wait here, and don’t get out,” he demanded sternly.
I nodded. He swiftly re-entered the diner. My gaze never left the diner doors as I fearfully watched. A bright, white light radiated from the windows of the diner almost blinding me momentarily. I squinted as I tried to block out the light, but I could still feel the heat from it warming my face.
A loud, shrieking sound blared from inside the diner, similar to a train breaking hastily to avoid hitting an object. I covered my ears, but the sound was deafening. Both the light and sound were very similar to what I had witnessed at Chautauqua park right before Andrew had appeared.
The heat seemed to fade, so I pried one eye open trying to discern whether the light was truly gone. To my astonishment the diner was now completely dark. Even the lights on the sign atop the building were off.
The glass doors swung open, and Andrew appeared. The lights of the diner flickered back on, and t
he neon sign on the roof began humming loudly as it warmed up. Andrew’s skin appeared to have the same orange glow as it did moments ago.
He slid into the driver’s seat of the car avoiding any eye contact. The tires squealed as he peeled out of the parking lot. The gravel rocks bounced off the side of the car creating tiny little dinging sounds against the metal.
“Put your seat belt on,” he commanded, while buckling his own.
My hand quickly reached for the belt as I obeyed. I tried to calm my breathing. I closed my eyes as the last fifteen minutes of my life played over in my mind. Understanding what had just taken place was impossible—there were too many questions—and I wasn’t sure I wanted any of them answered.
“How’s your hand?” His voice was calm and collected as he eyed my injury.
My hand was still throbbing with intense pain, but fear had overridden the pain. “It’s fine,” I lied softly. I inspected the large, circular red wound on my palm.
“It doesn’t appear to be fine,” he scoffed.
He steered the car off the road as we came to a screeching halt. My eyes shifted to his face to gain a sense of what was about to take place. He was intensely staring down at my wound.
He cautiously reached for my hand. The glow from his skin no longer existed, so I did not resist his touch. His skin was warm, but I felt no pain, just intense sparks tingling throughout my body.
“Close your eyes,” he instructed.
I hesitated, but again I obeyed—slowly closing my eyes. He gently ran his fingers along my hand causing momentary pain. A cold, icy sensation spread across my hand and into my fingers. I naturally attempted to pull away, but his grip was impossibly tight. I shivered as he gently set my hand back on top of my thigh.
“You can open your eyes now.” His voice was soft.
The cool sensation faded as his hands withdrew. I studied my hand, astonished that the red, painful circle had vanished.
He gauged my reaction as he cautiously shifted the car in drive. I painfully swallowed as I collected my thoughts. The tires spun out as he gunned the gas. My head jolted back slightly as all four tires roughly climbed the pavement back onto the road.
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