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I glance behind me at the dark black car. My nerves spike up as they speed up. I speed walk as fast as I can down the street without actually running. I glance behind me again, sighing in relief when I see the car take a left turn the opposite way. I watch as it disappears behind the buildings and sigh again.
"Thank fucking god, I hate this city" I mutter to myself. I'm so dramatic, it's probably not even him. It's a popular car, anyways, they're everywhere. I'm just paranoid.
I start to turn the corner around the small building to my left, only to run into something hard. I fall to the ground, wincing at how hard I hit the concrete.
"Fuck" a voice curses lowly. My head snaps up and I freeze.
Shit, he's pretty. But he looks angry. Very angry. Angry with me? I hope not.
He smoothly leans down and grabs my wrists, pulling me to my feet. His hands are calloused but still soft. I take a step back. I'm already terrified of him, he could literally probably just blow on me and I'd fall over.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" I rush. He looks down at me and his eyes quickly scan my face. It feels like his hazel eyes are almost burning my skin. Why is he looking at me like that?
"Don't," he says simply. He takes a step to the side to walk around me. He gets a few steps away before I speak.
"Are you okay?" I blurt. He freezes before slowly turning to face me. His eyebrows are slightly furrowed and I can't see any emotion in his eyes. I can normally read people pretty well, but I get nothing but anger from him.
"What?" he questions after a few moments of silence. I open my mouth, stuttering to form a sentence.
"Are y- sorry" I close my mouth. He narrows his eyes and I regret speaking. He's mad at me. I don't even know him and he's already mad at me.
"Stop apologizing. Why are you asking me if I'm okay?" he interrogates. His tone makes me want to run away. It's quiet, but also very bold. And bland.
"You're bleeding" I point out quietly, looking to his cheek. He lifts his fingers to touch the wound, bringing his fingers back and wincing when he sees the blood. Did he not know? How would he not know he's bleeding? Can't he feel it?
"Yeah," he says simply. I shift on my feet anxiously. I regret not keeping my fucking mouth shut.
"Do you-, do you need help?" I ask slowly. His face shows shock, but only for a second. Like he doesn't want to show any emotion.
"What?" he questions again. Just like a minute ago, I shift on my feet. My hands are shaking so badly, I don't know if I could help him anyway.
"Uh, I'm a doctor," I say slowly. He looks at me for a moment. His eyes burn into mine and I can feel him trying to read me. I try my best not to show anything.
"I'm fine," he says smoothly. He turns and leaves before I can argue. I watch him walk away for a moment, his long stride making him quickly disappear.
I groan and run my hands over my face. Why do I have to act the way I do? Could I have not just apologized and walked away?
I quickly walk home, rushing into the small house before he can come out of his own and see me. I stopped driving as much so he couldn't come out when he heard my car or saw the headlights. I also bought a taser. Not because I'm walking in sketchy places, but in case he sends someone after me again.
I make sure to lock the door behind me and jog up the stairs to my room. I lock my bedroom door too and make sure to lock my windows, even though I'm on the second floor. I shut my curtains so I can pull my shirt off, tossing it into the dirty hamper.
Though I hate him more than anything in the world, I still pull on one of the only shirts he ever let me wear. He rarely let me wear his clothes. Told me he didn't like the way I looked in baggy clothing. It's all I wear now. I like to think he won't look at me the same, but I know he still will.
Yeah, I still miss him sometimes. But without him, I'm happier than I've been in years. Scared and anxious, but still happier without him.
