"It seems to me like you need to be more careful." He sits there, so arrogant, so full of himself. I just want to slap him.
"I need to be more careful? How about other people need to stop attacking me? How about that? Let's put the blame where it belongs, shall we?"
He sighs and stands. "You are exhausting, and I have stayed here longer than I should. I made you something to eat in the kitchen. If you start to feel nauseous or dizzy, see a doctor. And try not to get yourself killed."
He walks to the door and my heart rate spikes. Suddenly I'm terrified of being left alone. My bravado drains out of me like water from a leaky glass. "Wait."
He stops and turns to me, his hand on my doorknob.
"Don't go. Please. I'm..." I swallow, hating to admit this to anyone, let alone this man. "I'm scared." My voice cracks and a tear leaks out. "I don't know what's going on. I don't understand why anyone is trying to hurt me or my mom, and I... I don't want to be alone tonight. Will you stay?"
I can see he is battling with himself, and I'm honestly not even sure why I think this is a good idea at all. He's a stranger I know nothing about. He could rob me, kill me, rape me. But, he saved me. He took me home and looked after me until I woke up. If he was going to hurt me, he would have done it by now.
"Fine. I shall stay for a few hours, but I must leave before dawn. I have somewhere to be."
I smile and sink back into the couch, suddenly exhausted. "Thank you."
He sits down again and watches me in silence.
After a few moments, I feel entirely too self-conscious. "Want to watch a movie?"
"A movie?" he asks.
"Yes. Comedy? Romance? Drama? Action?" I reach for the remote and click the TV on, then pull out my case of DVDs. "What are you in the mood for?"
"Hunting," he says, under his breath.
"A movie about hunting?" I'm confused.
"Action," he clarifies. "Something with action."
"Of course. But you should try a good romance sometime. You might find you like it."
He scowls at me, and I just laugh and put in something with a lot of guns and fighting and car chases. He has to sit next to me to see the television, and so we are close, our legs and arms touching, as we watch the movie. I find it boring, and Fen honestly doesn't seem that interested either, so half way through the movie I start to ask him questions about himself. His answers are vague, and I realize he's a private man, hard to get to know.
I give up and focus back on the movie, but I'm still so tired and my eyelids become so very heavy.
When I wake up again, my head is on Fen's lap, and his large hand is on my head, fingers tangled in my hair. I can hear him breathing deeply. He's sleeping.
His leg is like a log under my head, all muscle. I smile and lay still, enjoying the sound of his breathing.
When he finally wakes, he moves me gently. "I must be off," he whispers in the dark, as he repositions a pillow under my head to take the place of his lap.
I'm still exhausted, and too tired to protest or get up, so I just watch him leave and wonder if I'll ever see this mysterious man again.
The next time I wake, I feel stronger, more rested. I stretch, use the bathroom, then head to the kitchen for food. True to his word, Fen cooked. Chicken stir fry with vegetables and rice. I heat a bowl in the microwave and sit to eat, my mind wandering to last night and everything that happened.
I take my time eating, because the next thing I have to do will be hard. I text Es and ask if she and Pete can come over. As much as I hate to admit it, I'll need a ride to the hospital later. I don't want to walk after what happened last night. Part of me thinks I should report the attack to the police, but I don't. Because as much as I don't want to admit it, this has to have something to do with vampires and demons. And how could I possibly explain that to the police?
Es and Pete arrive a few minutes later. They bring food, but I'm full and let them have at it. "Thanks for coming over. I'm going to pack a few of my mom's things to make her more comfortable at the hospital. Will you hang out?"
They agree, and I leave them downstairs as I head to my mom's room. This is the hard part.
There are clothes piled on a chair in the corner that she meant to put away. Her dresser drawer is still ajar. I walk over, running my hand over the faded faux wood until it lands on an 8x10 framed picture of my mom and dad smiling over me when I was just a baby. We all looked so happy. So free. I pick up the picture and study it, looking for hidden secrets. If what the man in the hospital said is true, how would my mom have even known how to make a bargain with a demon? None of it makes sense.
I put the picture down gently and move to her bed, which is still a slept-in mess. I can see the impressions of her body from where she was laying when I found her.
I sit on the bed and then lay my head on her pillow. It smells like her shampoo. When I close my eyes I can almost imagine she's still here, humming as she folds laundry or cleans the house.
The tears I've been fighting so hard to keep at bay finally unleash themselves, and once they start, I can't stop them. It's a tidal wave of emotion that demands its time. My heart breaks, my grief pouring out of me as I clutch her pillow and wish for a different outcome.
I'm drowning in the sea of my emotional waste when my cell phone rings. "Miss Spero, this is Tom, your mother's nurse. You need to come quickly. Your mother is showing signs of distress."