All the beautiful colors of the world converged in her face, and she reminded me of spring -- the mix of green, blue and olive in her eyes, the changing hues of brown in her hair, the soft pink blush on her cheeks, and the smooth redness of her lips. She was leaning too close, and such an intimate space made me… uncomfortable, and for reasons even I cannot begin to understand.
She held her breath at the touch of my hand. Perhaps it was due to the coldness of my skin. The calming feel of her warmth made me realize I’m as cold as death.
I tried to utter words, but my throat was as dry as sandpaper. Despite my groggy consciousness, the alertness of panic remained, and there were a lot of things I needed to tell her. That she’s an angel. That I sincerely believed she was the miracle God sent me. That I needed to leave their premises as soon as possible because Spinner won’t be a gentleman if he finds me under the care of such a beautiful miss.
Her brows knitted in confusion as my voice came out in cracks, then she said really softly, “Sir, please calm down. You are dehydrated, and you are not fit to go out and go home yet.”
Without warning, a tall lean boy with dark hair appeared frantically from the door, carrying a bottle of water and a canister. And right then and there, she changed. Her face hardened, and she withdrew from all softness and delicateness, as if she’s afraid to show the boy this intimate side of hers.
He didn’t look anywhere near like a nurse, however, and now that I’ve noticed it, the girl was no doctor either. Where the hell am I?
The succeeding events went on like a blur. I couldn’t stay conscious for very long, but she keeps on talking to keep me awake. Not like how she did earlier, however. There was barely any trace of emotion in her tone now.
What I remembered was how she made me drink water (though I was not sure, because it was a bit sweet) and how she toweled the dirt off my face and body to, again, keep me awake. She was making me drink every now and then, and I do have to admit, every sip felt like a gulp from the Fountain of Youth -- if there ever was one.
My entire body was too sore that even if I had wanted to leave this place and run, my mind just couldn’t handle the stress of everything. What kept me awake was the rush she created, and that made me aware of certain things… until everything stopped. It felt like mere seconds, but at the same time, a lifetime -- like floating between the cracks of space and time, drifting in lostness and weightlessness. There was nothing but peace.
My eyes opened. The room was bright and homely -- wood paneled walls, flowing curtains, and white sheets. Where the hell am I now?
I couldn’t remember how I got here, or how long I was out. Everything passed by like a dream and the things that took place from the last two, or three, or only God knows how many days, seemed nothing but a bad nightmare -- except for the girl. In fact, I wished she wasn’t even a mere dream.
There was a pricking sensation on my head, but beyond that, I felt good -- really good. I got up from bed and was surprised at how strong and rejuvenated I am. To say I feel better was an understatement, because I feel brand new.
From the doorway, she watched, and I didn’t notice her until she said, “It seems you’re doing great.”
My whole body shot at her direction, and from the way her eyes widened, it seemed my reaction and expression weren’t too friendly. I felt my hands raise in both offense and defense, ready to put up a fight, but dropped them down upon the sight of her.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you…”
“Please don’t apologize. It’s my natural reaction to… surprises,” I cut her off. If you had spent most of your life with the brotherhood, especially with the specific job I had, surprises like that were the last thing you’d want. And when they do come, you’d better prepare to fight or die because it doesn’t come with a tray of breakfast.
“I see,” she replied, her face shifting to a guarded expression. I was looking for the angel, the girl who told me I’m gonna be alright, but I’m afraid I scared her away. “Well, anyway, I brought you something to eat. I thought you might be hungry.”
Without a word, I delicately took the tray, but I was not aware that I kept my stare on her. Everything about her was just fascinating. Perhaps it was because, to me, she was something new. All the girls I’ve seen and dated almost had the same essence and character -- promiscuous, a bit dark, heavy make-up, full breasts, killer high heels, and with long loose hair.
The one standing before me, however, was the complete opposite. Her hair was carelessly tied to a bun, her face had no trace of any cosmetic, she wore boots like a guy, and she was conservatively covered by a loose checkered blouse and loose blue jeans. Despite this effortless appearance, however, I can’t help but see how beautiful she was. And I find that odd. Was my perspective influenced by the fact that she saved my life?
Her face reddened, which I thought was cute, and I unknowingly smiled and snickered at the reaction. The gesture made her smile too, and it was just lovely. There she was again, the angel. Seeing all the worry and defensiveness melt away made her even more heavenly and welcoming -- like I could take a hug from her anytime I feel down or hopeless, and I was tempted to.
But now that I’ve thought about it, it’s been a long time since I last showed my teeth artlessly, and that brought me back to the reality that I cannot linger much longer wherever I was. That a group of someone wants me dead, and that I have another someone waiting for me.
I need to come home to her -- to Margaux.
IV: Maria