Bijou

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Redd didn't ask me any more questions. He stewed.

Pacing the trailer, he walked up and down the hall, stepping through the living room and into the kitchen. He'd circle the table, then follow the same path back, all while he scratched his head, mumbling to himself, and moving his hands through the air.

I let him stalk by me, moving my feet out of the way and lifting them up onto the couch. I didn't dare say another word about Diablo or the danger we were both in. I had said enough, obviously from the stark expression on his face, I made my point.

Finishing my sandwich, I folded up the napkin and wiped my lips. Redd made his third pass by me and I took the opportunity to ask for something to drink. “Can I have some water?”

“Yeah,” he said, waving his hand towards the kitchen. “Help yourself.” His response was short, barely a conscious thought as he spoke. I felt like I could have asked for anything right then and he would have agreed.

He's going to drive himself crazy tying to figure this out.

Stepping over a fallen picture, I glanced down, and was met by the colored kitten smiling up at me. Bending, I picked it up, shaking off small bits of glass. In the very bottom corner, hidden when it was behind the frame, was a blocky signature.

Victoria.

I shouldn't have said anything about his sister being targeted too. I freaked him out.

No. He wanted to know, I told him the truth. Not saying it would have been worse.

Placing it on the end table by the door, I softly dragged my hand over the messy wax strokes. I felt bad about what I had done to his home. I had torn it apart, not thinking about what it was or who it belonged to.

But I had panicked, completely losing myself in a flurry of agitation. It was like a tsunami had hit me full force, turning my head upside down and pulling the rug out from beneath my feet.

I didn't think about anything but my father.

Walking into the kitchen, my heel stung and ached. Holding the counter, I lifted a foot off the floor and looked at the bottom. Small slits in the skin were slightly swollen and red, surrounded by dried blood.

Using my finger, I ran it gingerly over the cuts, checking for broken glass. They seemed clear of any shards, no sudden surge of pain or sharp edge was felt.

Picking up a cup off the counter, I filled it with cold water from the sink. The liquid quenched my dry throat, and all I wanted to do was stick my face under the faucet and let it fill my stomach.

I couldn't remember the last time I had a full glass of water or the freedom to use a sink. Drinking two tall glasses, I looked around at the mess I had caused. In my moment of hysteria, I only had one thing on my mind—find the phone.

At the time, it seemed like the right choice, to tear the place apart and find a way to contact the outside world. But now, I felt ashamed for my reaction.

Diablo was still out there and Redd was right, I didn't know if my father was alive or dead. I couldn't let myself fall prey to fucking my own mind. I had to be strong, I had to stay focused until this was all over.

Will this ever really be over?

I wasn't sure if my brain could ever let it go. There would be nightmares, there would be moments of regression and trepidation. Nothing would change, I would never be able to heal. . . Unless he was gone completely.

I have to end it.

I have to finish him.

Picking up a box of cereal and a few packages of noodles, I started cleaning up the kitchen. His sister would be coming home from school at some point and I couldn't let her walk in and see this mess.

I was a guest in their home, and I wanted to stay that way—I needed to stay that way. Because right then, I had no place else to go.

“What are you doing?” he asked, startling me, and causing me to drop the noodles from my hand.

I hadn't heard him walk over, lost inside my own mind and thoughts. “I'm cleaning up, what does it look like?”

“Yeah, I see that, but why? I can take care of it after.”

“I don't want your little sister coming home to this. And it's my mess, my responsibility—not yours. You've already done more than I could ever ask.”

His mouth folded as he leaned against the doorway and looked around. “Do you even remember where it all goes?”

“No, but I can figure it out.”

Chuckling, he walked over and stood by my side, piling up the loose silverware on the counter. “She gets out at three, and I'm taking you with me to get her. I don't want you here alone, I shouldn't have left you this morning.”

I stayed quiet, unsure of what to say. Flicking my eyes up, I smiled softly, then pulled them away. He was probably right, I shouldn't be left alone for a number of reasons.

There was this constant state of turmoil that held me hostage. I was afraid of my own fucking shadow, I was afraid of all the dark corners and noises that sent my head in a tailspin.

What would trigger me to lose it again? What would be that final push to send me clear off the edge?

I didn't have a damn clue what would send me spiraling down the rabbit hole, but when Redd was with me, I didn't feel that anxiety. I felt more grounded, more alive, more human than I could remember.

There was a sense of comfort that settled over my body and my chest pitter pattered for a different reason. His strong muscles, his firm back and sharp jaw; it did something to me. The black fog that settled inside my heart thinned, allowing it to beat unhinged.

Pulling open a cupboard beside the stove, I crouched down and stacked the pots and pans inside where I had torn them from before.

Standing back up, I turned around, ready to start on the other side of the room. A wall of gray blinded my vision, causing me to sway on my heels. Redd was right behind me, leaning over me to put the knives back in place.

Gasping, I tried to take a step back, but I hit the edge of the counter. His eyes fell onto my face, holding me still. The heat off his body kept me pinned in place, his gaze full as his eyes sparked with small bursts of light.

We were so close, chest to chest, toe to toe. Inhaling a sharp breath, I reached up and plucked at my lips. His energy was electric, causing goosebumps to jump off my skin and the hair on my arms to prickle.

“Sorry, I should have warned you that I was right here. I guess I didn't think about it.” Taking a big step back, he created a void between us.

And while the nervous side of me was grateful, the needy side didn't want him to move. I could still feel his hands as he held me that night, keeping me protected. I could still sense his touch on my wrist as he pulled me from my prison.

The way he held me when I needed comfort, and soothed my mind when I was ready to just give up on it all; it was right there, reminding me that not everyone was bad. He let me cry, he stroked my head and calmed me down. I didn't try to fight him off, I accepted his arms and words.

“That's alright, I'm okay.”

His eyes bore a hole into my chest, leaving my wounded heart open and exposed. After everything Diablo had put me through, I shouldn't want a man anywhere near me.

But I did. I wanted Redd, and I wasn't sure what to do with it. I didn't know if I liked it or hated it. All I knew was something brewed deep in my belly and it warmed me from the inside out.

“You're not okay, I saw where you came from.” Dragging his hand through his hair, he ruffled the edges. “I just, I just don't know how the hell you're still alive.” Looking me up and down, he pinched his chin.

“That makes two of us.” I tried to force a laugh, but it didn't work. Redd glared at me, not finding any humor in my remark.

“I can see how strong you are, Bijou. I hope you can see it too.” Taking a step in, he licked his lips as his lids hovered dangerously low.

My cheeks flushed, and I turned my head so I wouldn't be looking him right in the eyes. He looked like he wanted to kiss me, and the thought of that took my breath away.

Clearing my throat, I glanced up at him from the corner of my eye. “Is it strength or just plain luck?” Stepping to the side, I curled my hands around my waist. “Some people get lucky, they hit the lottery, they find treasure. . .” Pausing, I looked over myself. “Maybe I just got lucky and stayed alive.”

“I know all about luck, and I don't think it works that way at all.” Sighing, he shook his head, running his fingers through his hair. “Come with me.”

“Where?” I asked, gripping the hard stone of the counter. My heart fluttered inside my chest as he reached his hand out for me take.

“Just come with me.” Wriggling his fingers, he stretched further.

Slowly, I gave my hand to him, dropping the other to my side. Redd walked me through the living room and down the hall, stopping outside his door.

“I'd give you the tour, but you already know this place.” A tight smirk teased his lips as he stepped through the threshold and into his room. “Maybe if we get you out of those clothes, it'll help you feel a little better.”

Stopping short, I yanked my hand free. “What the hell are you doing? Do you think that I'm just going to strip for you?”

His smile perched higher, and I watched him hold in a chuckle. “You need something else to wear.”

Looking down at my tattered shirt, I touched the thin fabric with my free hand. It had been a bright green shirt, but not anymore. The green had faded, turning the color of burnt grass, the fibers had started to separate, creating worn patches.

Snagging my hand again, he pulled me into his room. His skin was warm, heating my palm and sending tingles up my arm. The feeling worked through my chest, coalescing into a knot in my stomach.

What is going on?

What the hell is that feeling?

It was foreign to me, a weird sensation that didn't make any sense. The tingles, the heat, the prickles and goosebumps; it was nothing like I had ever felt before.

Releasing my hand, he stalked to his dresser. “You might be able to find something in here.” Pulling open the bottom drawer, he fumbled through the top layer and tugged out a few items from deep underneath. “I don't know if they'll fit, but they'll be better than that.”

Laying them down on the bed, he placed some items out for me to see. One was a navy blue floral teacup dress, the second was a bright yellow ankle-length dress, and the third was a thick lavender sweater, with small white flowers embroidered onto the fabric and a pair of black yoga pants.

“Whose are these?” I asked, stepping to the clothes and running my hands over each one. All the fabric felt different, but the feeling of real cloth on my skin; thick and soft, fuzzy and thermal—it inebriated my senses.

“They were my Mom's.”

“Your mom's?” Nodding, he kept his gaze on the bed, eyes reminiscing with old memories. “Where is she now?”

His head stayed still, face burning with a flood of emotions. “She's dead.” There was so much anger and hatred, love and loss in his voice, I could feel the shadow of pain in his words.

“Oh.” That was all I could say. I thought about apologizing for her death, telling him I was sorry that she was gone.

But what good would that do?

You hear people say it all the time. You tell someone a loved one is gone and they tell you they're sorry.

I never understood that. It's not their fault, they had no hand in their death. An apology was meant for something you did, it was meant for a feeling or sadness, an action that you took that caused someone else's pain. How did apologizing for death help the person in mourning?

It didn't.

Brushing my fingers over the sweater, I traced one of the flowers, thumbing the tiny petal. “Why did you keep these?”

Redd stayed quiet for a long second, his eyes glazing over. “I don't really know.” Straightening his back, he shook his head, driving out everything that was just going through his mind. The look of sadness was gone, swept from his face as if he hadn't just shown me a moment of weakness. “Take your pick.”

“You don't mind me wearing her clothes?”

“You can use it. And unless you'd rather wear something of mine or try to squeeze into something of Vicki's, these will do the job.” Folding his arms over his chest, his confidence was bold and unwavering. “Go on, pick one. I know they're not fancy or anything, but they're better than that rag you have on.”

Rolling my lips against the sharp edge of my teeth, I looked over the clothes, wondering what his mother was doing the last time she wore one of these outfits.

The teacup dress made me think of church, I could picture someone wearing it as they gave praise to a higher power. The yellow dress reminded me of a family gathering, maybe a birthday party or anniversary celebration. It wasn't super fancy, but casual dressy. The sweater and yoga pants I saw as a relaxing Saturday afternoon outfit on a cold winter day just like this.

Stepping back and forth between them, a curiosity brewed in my stomach, making me wonder about Redd, about his family and what had torn it apart. It was just him and his younger sister. Why?

“Can I ask you something?” I asked, flicking my eyes up to him.

Nodding, Redd's lips thinned into a smile. “Go on, ask.”

“What happened?”

Glancing up at the ceiling, it looked like he was asking permission to tell her story. His eyes searched the white canvas, mouth pursing, chin crooking to the side. The silence was eating me alive. I hated the quiet, I hated not knowing what someone was thinking.

Too many surprises came in the silence, too many that left me wounded and raw.

His eyes fell back on mine, swallowing me whole. His pupils were huge, a vast expanse of black that ate away at the mahogany ring.“She died protecting us.”

He said it with passion, tinted with an anger that I tried to figure out. Was he angry that she had given her life for her children? Was he upset that she hadn't done something differently? Had hindsight come to haunt him in his dreams?

“That's a noble thing she did, I'd like to think I'd do the same if I had a child.”

“It's not about being noble or being a hero or any shit like that. There are some things you just do. Like protecting your family. You don't think about it, you just do it.”

His words rang in my head, making me wonder where I fell in a statement like that. He was protecting his family now, and I could tell by his tone that he wouldn't think twice about giving his life for Vicki.

I had only thought about my family when I tore his home apart, completely irate over the idea that Diablo would get to them first.

What did that say about my father?

Was he protecting his family by giving me away. . . Or was he protecting himself?

In what way had he protected me?

Redd's mother had given her life for them. And my father had given me to a man that was going to end mine.

Diablo beat me, he tortured me, treated me like I was a a fucking object.

Did he even try to protect me?

Not once, not one single time had he come to rescue me. He left me there to die and I wasn't sure how to digest that.

“Are you alright?” Redd asked, stepping to my side and cupping my elbow.

I had gone off into my own head again, thinking way too hard about the differences between my father and his mother. I had no right to compare the two, it was wrong on so many levels to try and build a bridge between the actions of our parents.

But how was I supposed to feel?

I can't judge yet, I don't have all the pieces.

“Yeah, I'm good.” Picking up the sweater and yoga pants, I gave him a tender smile. “These will be great, thank you.”

“Okay, I'll be right out here if you need anything.” His thumb drew small circles over my elbow, while his fingertips feathered against my forearm.

Our eyes met, his surveying my face as he continued to sweep his thumb up and down, left and right.

Gliding like silk over the skin, his touch forced a chill to rake up my arm, and shoot down my spine.

Inhaling a sharp breath, I shook my head, acknowledging what he had said. I couldn't speak, the words lost to this new onslaught of feelings that came over me.

I felt hot and cold, I felt tingles and butterflies. My nipples went stiff, and my sex had started to melt, growing wet and warm as he continued to stroke my flesh.

Blinking with feigned innocence, his eyes traced a path down my throat and onto the hardened peaks beneath my thin shirt. A luminous glow escaped his gaze as he smiled, sending my heart into my throat.

Taking a quick step back, I curled my arms around my chest and looked down at my toes. My lungs tightened between anxious breaths, heart pounding in my ears. There was something about the way he looked at me that made my knees weak and my nerves tumble into overdrive.

What the hell is going on with me?

Redd uncomfortably ran his hand over the back of his neck, rubbing it vigorously. I could tell from the way he shifted on his heels that he could sense the discomfort that had suddenly taken me hostage.

But he was reading me wrong. I wasn't uncomfortable; I was surprised and shocked by the response my body was giving his touch. I was afraid of how much I liked it, I was battling lost feelings as they exploded from the depths and took me without warning.

“Why don't you take that stuff and go take a hot shower. Take all the time you need.” Backing out into the hall, he slapped his hands together, cracking his knuckles. “I'll be out here when you're done.” I watched him turn and walk away, leaving me alone.

Pulling the clothes to my chest, I hugged them as I swallowed my heart and let out the breath I had been holding on to.

It took only a split second for me to know what it was I experiencing. And I had to deny myself the reality instantly.

No, it's not real.

My body was confused, reaching for high notes when all it knew was rejection. I was rejected as a woman, rejected as human, rejected by my father. . .

Kindness hadn't existed in my world, until now. All of my being wanted to embrace what it felt like to be valued again, cared for again—loved again.

I can't do this, I can't fall into some false love for a man I don't know.

What would it do to me when he threw me away too?

Redd had made it clear, I wasn't going to be here for long. It was unfair for my brain to try and reveal emotions I couldn't handle. I couldn't take being rejected again, no matter what shape it came in.

I couldn't feel anything for this man and Redd couldn't feel anything for me.

What I felt was wrong, it was too unhinged and ragged to be authentic. I was living in a dream, where those feelings came alive and took over my body.

But none of it was real, none of it was true.

Redd had shown me a kindness and compassion I had been denied; my confused body, the mess of hurt and carnage, it was mistaking any touch that wasn't pain for something that didn't exist between us.

He didn't want anything to do with me. And if he knew the truth, if he had any idea how dangerous I really was for him. . .

He would run the other way.

He should run from me, because I'm going to get him killed.