Lake's Reign

by A. E. D

  “What do you think?” I follow the voice to my right, Jordan stands with his arms crossed against his chest, a genuine smile graces his face, clearly enjoying watching me assess his place. I notice his denim hoodie/jacket has been taken off. Looking behind him I see a coat rack which now sports a new denim hoodie.

  “It’s good.” Not a bad place he has, although I prefer my more spacious one.

  I guess that’s what happens when you grow up trapped in a cage.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “If you’re a doctor, why do you live here in a little studio apartment and not some fancy mansion?” I couldn’t figure it out. Why would someone who earns so much money, live in a place that doesn’t even have a bedroom.

  He smiles walking into the kitchen as he opens up one of the overhead cupboards and pulls out a small red bag, probably his doctor bag.

  “I don’t need something big. Nor do I want something big. I do what I love. There’s no need to splurge my hard-earned money on trivial things such as over the top apartments or even an apartment in the rich suburbs with the other doctors.” He says, quoting his irritation. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t shocked by his response. It was humbler than what I was expecting him to say. I would’ve thought he would have said something along the lines of paying off student debts or something, not that.

  “Admirable.” I compliment. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone like him. Again, he gives me a wide genuine smile, scratching the back of his head as he tries to push away the blush I see creeping up his neck.

  “So, you live alone?” I ask. There’s no presence of another person living here besides him. No extra pair of shoes near the front door, not even an extra pillow on the bed.

  “Yeah, there was someone else for a while but they didn’t understand that my work comes first. So, we went our separate ways. It was for the best really.” I understand that, if I couldn’t put my job first above everything else then I would go insane. My demons would become uncontrollable from the lack of bloodlust, but he doesn’t seem bothered by that one bit. He seems perfectly happy by himself. He’s quite content with his life. I nod, respecting his privacy, not wanting to dive into something he doesn’t want to talk about. Something Mason knows nothing about. Just the mere thought of Mason invading my privacy has me clenching my fists in anger. I should have killed him when I had the chance! Then I wouldn’t be killing people I had no intention of killing.

  “Please, have a seat. Doctor James to the rescue.” Jordan gestures to the lounge laughing. I follow behind him, sitting down while he squats in front of me and pulls his bag up, opening it and pulling out a little flashlight. First, he gets me to follow his finger side to side until he’s satisfied. Turning the little light on, he shines it in my eyes, one after the other until he nods his head, smiling shyly.

  “All good. Sorry, I just wanted to be sure. It was quite the fall. I mean, I heard it from down the street.” He says as he grabs disinfectant, a needle and a type of thread that I know all too well.

  After cleaning my face free of blood that’s now clotted and crusted, he disinfects it after putting on surgical gloves and getting the needle ready.

  “Sorry I don’t have any strong antiseptic, so this might hurt after a few seconds.”

  “It’s fine.” He looks slightly confused but says nothing. He looks even more intrigued as he stitches my forehead up, watching as I don’t even flinch from the pain that I’m sure he was expecting.

  I fight the rising panic attack that I feel edging its way out of me as I remember time after time of my father stitching me up after he had tortured me. I was doing well until Jordan tilted my head in a way that my father used to do. My closed eyes snapped open, immediately looking straight at Jordan with fear in my eyes. I don’t know what he saw within them but he instantly backed up, hands shooting up in the air as he held the needle in one hand and scissors in the other. I continue to watch him as my panic attack comes in at full swing. My breathing struggles out as we lock into a staring contest. He stays as still as possible as I watch him and fight to control my breathing.

  After a while I’m able to calm myself down with the thoughts of the knife sticking into my father's heart. The only thought that calms me down knowing that he’s dead and will never hurt me again.

  As he continues to watch me, I give a slight nod, allowing him to move. He doesn’t speak about what just happens which I am grateful for. Stepping forward to continue the stitching I stop him. If he were to touch me again and another attack happens, I won’t be able to stop myself next time. Which means he might die if that happens again.

  “It’s done.” He looks confused for a second before looking down at the needle and coming to the conclusion.

  “Oh, well I uh actually studied plastic surgery suturing for a while. If you let me finish up, I can make that scar nearly nonexistent.”

  “What’s one more.” He looks perplexed at my answer as he collects everything before zipping up the bag and tucking it under his arm before standing up.

  “Uhm, would you like something to eat? I just finished a split shift, so I haven’t had dinner yet.” I shake my head, telling him I’m not hungry but my stomach has other ideas, grumbling loud enough for him to hear from a few feet away. Rolling my eyes, I watch him laugh.

  “I will take that as a yes.” He laughs walking away to the kitchen. I walk over to the arched window near the table, viewing the city lights from his third-floor view.

  “So, Jordan James. What type of doctor are you?” I ask looking out the window. It’s funny how he has two first names for a name, but that just makes him all the more unique.

  The more I get to know him, the more of an anomaly he becomes. He is very intriguing. Intriguing enough for my demons to not want to kill him. I think they are just as interested in him as I am.

  “Ha, yeah, I know how my name sounds. I’ve heard it all my life. Aren’t parents great.” I don’t reply. I can’t comment of how great parents are. I’m old and cultured enough to know mine were never normal, even from the start. Maybe my mum was, but my father never had a normal bone in his body. He was born without it, born with something missing. Born without a soul. He takes in my silence, choosing to overlook the joke he told and continues to answer the question while he pulls out a package of raw chicken breasts from the fridge.

  “I studied Cardiology to become a Cardiac Surgeon, but I found more enjoyment in the emergency department of the hospital. So usually I’m on call and will drop anything to work. I enjoy doing emergency surgeries. I find I can focus more when I’m in a hectic environment than a controlled one. I know that sounds really strange but that’s just me.” He says, the sizzling sound of the chicken breast he just placed in the heated pan fills the room. I understand him completely. My life was anything but calm growing up. My life was the definition of chaotic, so I get how he can focus more in an uncontrolled environment than one that is.

  “I understand.” He looks at me, studying my face before he smiles and turns away. With the lights from the lamps in the living room and the ones that hang over the kitchen island, I can see his features more clearly now. Dark sandy blonde hair, maybe even a light brown colour, medium length wavy hair that’s trimmed short on the sides and just long enough to be styled back flat with some mousse or even just left the way it is. His long wavy hair up top give him a nice laid-back vibe. It looks long enough to be put into a tiny bun, like what you see kids these days trying to do, but he doesn’t seem the type of person to do that. Deep ocean blue eyes give a nice elegant touch to his clean shaven face with a strong jawline that seems to tie his face up all together nicely. He’s an extremely handsome man, but not the one that has my body lit on fire. Not the way the dark stormy eyed man in my subconscious seems to do.

  Quit it! I mentally scream. I need to stop thinking about Mason. He does me no good to think about him.

  After watching Jordan flip the peppered chicken breast over, he cuts up avocado, tomatoes, lettuce bef
ore frying some strips of bacon in another pan and slices some Turkish bread in half, under the grill. The alluring smells start to come together nicely, making me extremely hungry at this point. I haven’t had anything in my stomach tonight except alcohol. My little encounter with Xavier sobered me up a bit, but the greatly smelling food that's wafting my way seems to have my stomach yearning for it. I watch him pull the tray containing the bread out, placing them on two separate plates. He spreads what I can see as garlic aioli, generously all over the bottom half of the two pieces before spreading one half of the avocado across the other side of the bread. Pulling the chicken off the heat, he places it onto a cutting board before slicing the chicken breast on an angle and sliding the knife underneath the chicken and the fanning it out on the aioli spreaded bread. Next up is two slices of cheddar cheese each, then crispy bacon followed by lettuce. He sticks the tomato slices on the bread that had the avocado spread on it. Sticking the tomato slices to the avocado, he places the lid of the bread on top before grabbing a knife and cutting on an angle again. Walking over to the table with two plates in hand, I pull out a chair quickly sitting down with my back facing the window. Usually I would never put myself in a such a vulnerable situation like I am now with my back to the window, but tonight I can’t be bothered. I feel weirdly safe here, which is strange because I only ever feel safe at my own home, nowhere else.

  “Here are my chicken turkey burgers.” He says smiling brightly. He pulls out a chair and sits opposite me, while I stare at the burger which looks more like a sub.

  Where the hell is the turkey? He cooked chicken, not turkey.

  He laughs, seeing the confused look on my face.

  “Turkish bread. That’s where the turkey comes from. Sorry, I like to name my specialty meals with cute names it seems.” He laughs again, such a cheery guy. I manage a half smile, liking the vibes he gives off. I pick up one half of the burger, taking a large bite. Flavors instantly assault my mouth, eliciting a moan. My god, I didn’t think something so simple like this could taste so good. We continue to eat in silence while enjoying each others company.

  “So, Lake. You got a last name?” He asks after a while.

  “Just Lake.” I say. I never give my last name out. Even when I bought my apartment, I only gave my first name. I paid extra in cash for just my first name to be placed on all the documents. It’s not like the old bastard who owned the building would care. As soon as he saw me offering extra for my request, he couldn’t care less if I wanted an elephant in the apartment.

  “Well, just Lake, what do you do for a living?” I smirk, liking his playful behavior. Again, reminding me of Keenan. It’s easy to trust this guy. Just by looking into his eyes I can see genuine interest. No malicious intent anywhere.

  “Let’s say, Data Collection.” Even my demons laugh at that.

  “That sounds interesting.” If only he knew just how interesting it really is. He finishes his burger before me. He sits there quietly waiting for me to finish but he looks deep in thought. His brows are pulled together, troubled by something. I’ve seen this look plenty of times before, especially from Keenan. So, I know it’s only a matter of time before he asks what’s on his mind.

  Finally, I finish my delicious burger, even going as far as licking my fingers clean from the juices. He looks up, staring intently at me before he breathes in deep and asks the question that’s been troubling him all night.

  “I uh, I didn’t know how to say this and I’m sorry if it seems intrusive, but the man you had trouble with tonight, is he the one that did that to your back?” He asks seriously. I turn my head, looking down at my shoulder seeing the tops of my scars showing. I never worry about people seeing my scars at night because it’s usually too dark for anyone to see them. Especially when I have my hair down and I’m in the clubs. The lights are so dark and people are often too drunk to take in any details like that.

  “No.” I stand up, grabbing our plates and placing them in the sink for him. I head to the door, hearing him follow behind.

  “If you need any help, don’t hesitate to ask.” I nod, leaving his apartment knowing that I will never ask.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Walking through the cool city streets in the early hours of the morning, I finally get to clear my head. Every time I think of Mason I feel myself slowly rip apart at the seams. I’ve never been affected this way before. Never been so torn between what I was brought up to do and what my body wants to do. I wish Mason had never entered my life. It feels like ever since that moment I’ve gotten on a roller coaster ride that’s slowly moving up towards the peak of the ride that will soon drop straight back down. I feel like there will come a time when the emotions he elicits from me will boil over, damaging me further.

  I pass a homeless man sleeping under a blanket made of newspaper in the alcove of a closed shop. I remember being in his position and knowing what it’s like to be so cold you’d rather sleep in a dumpster than the street because at least then you’ll have some sort of comfort or using anything you can find just to have some warmth. When they say the streets are a dangerous place, they mean it. It really is a kill or be killed situation. I took my fair share of money, clothes, even weapons off of dead corpses of homeless people in the darkest parts of New York. Living on these streets taught me of the underworld. Taught me that there are people out there who were just like me. Dark to the core, not caring about morals or laws. In the underworld there are no laws, only the ones you make. Everyone has their own laws, laws in which you learn from either time or experience. Like my clients for example. They either experienced my pain first hand or they’ve watched me use my skill set and feared me.

  Sometimes I feel completely dead inside. Like a robot living from functioning gears instead of a heart. Sometimes I look at people on the street living there, fighting for their lives to stay alive. I look at them and wish I could feel something. Sympathy, guilt, anything, but I don’t. I see couples walking down the street holding hands, kissing, hugging, laughing together. I look at them and wish that I could feel jealousy, longing and want, but I don’t. They make me feel nothing. The only feelings I ever feel that aren’t the ones I was taught to have, are when I’m with Keenan. He makes me feel somewhat normal but it doesn’t stop me from feeling this bottomless pit inside of me like something’s missing. I always say I have a black hole in my chest where my heart should be. Maybe I do have a heart because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t care about Keenan and I wouldn’t care about Mason’s determination to find me. But my father made sure that I would never be my own person. I would never feel the things he taught me not to feel. He beat every feeling and emotion out of me if they weren’t something that he approved of. He taught me my love for bloodlust, for killing, torture, even for seduction. He taught me how to be the best killing machine that I could be. Sometimes I wonder how I would be if my father was never in my life.

  Would I be normal?

  Or would I still be fucked up? I’m still half of him. Half of his DNA is still inside my body and he made absolutely sure that no part of my mother was left. Only my looks but even then, I still looked like him. Still had his bright, nearly white eyes, dark raven midnight hair, even his skin tone. Everything about me was my father. The only thing I had from my mother were her plump lips and generous figure. Jaw as sharp as my fathers and the darkness even more so.

  I can never escape my demons because they will always be a part of me. But the one thing I wish I could escape from is my monster. My personal monster from Hell that I see every damn day when I look in the mirror because his eyes stare back at me. I can never escape my father because he will always be a part of me. No matter how hard I try to forget him, he will never leave me, my DNA wouldn’t allow it.

  “Miss Lake.” hearing my name being called I look up to see I’ve arrived at my apartment building. The door man, whose name I don’t know, stands there with a big smile on his face. He always greets me but I never return it. Just a simple nod of my head is al
l he gets which he seems to be okay with. As usual, I nod and go to walk past him but stop when he gets ready to speak.

  “A delivery came for you.” Ah, that would be my supply of antidotes. I did waste a few on that job I did for Joe.

  “Thank you.” I say. I watch the shock on his face when I speak to him. I guess he was expecting me to nod like I usually do.

  ✧✧✧

  After what felt like days since I’ve last been home, I step out of the elevator just as the morning sun started to rise. Feeling like a zombie, I walk slowly to my front door stumbling from exhaustion. The events of tonight have finally caught up to me. Exhaustion is quickly taking over and I can’t help but sigh in relief when my front door opened before I could unlock it. Keenan instantly grabs the box from my hand, already knowing what it contains. He disappears into my snake room without saying another word. Knowing he’s putting the antidotes away, I proceed to take my heels off. It’s only just now that I see a few dried spots of blood on my knees from where the blood splattered from Xavier's head shot. Walking to the sink in the kitchen, I grab the cloth that’s hanging across the neck of the tap and wet it, wringing out excess water before wiping the blood off my knees. I know Keenan might suspect what I do for a living but I don’t want him to actually see the evidence of it. I want to keep him as innocent as possible.

  Walking back into the room, Keenan makes his way over to me as he eyes my body up and down before he zeros in on my stitched head. He doesn’t say anything as he stops in front of me but it’s only now that I notice just how tired he looks. His eyes are slightly bloodshot from the lack of sleep and black bags have started appearing beneath his usually bright eyes.

  “Keenan, have you slept yet?” I ask looking over the rest of his body to make sure he’s not seriously hurt or injured.

  “No. I was waiting for you to come home. I, uh..” He clears his throat, looking down at the floor while he takes a deep breath, slowly exhaling before looking back up at me with tears starting to fill his big vulnerable eyes.