My Own Mess

Stay (the f*ck) away

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"Hey! Get off my niece, girl!" I heard someone scream amid the others telling the attacker to 'get' me a few feet away and felt the crazy woman, who had been sitting on top of me scratching and slapping me, being pulled and pushed away. I took the opportunity to get up. She charged at me again, but someone got on the way. "You're not going to lay another finger on my niece. You heard me? And you'd better start begging the lord she doesn't decide to press charges." He said and I could, for the first time, see the face of my attacker. She wasn't much taller than me, breasts that had to have their own gravity, dark-brown hair and green eyes. She could easily be Italian, but no, if she had anything to do with the Trabia's she wouldn't have been so scared by the idea of a silly accusation like assault. She would also never have run with her tail between her legs, being followed by the horde of people which now dispersed as if all of a sudden everyone had a very important place to be.

"Thanks" I said, dusting off my clothes, checking my arms for scratches from the crazy... assailant (I refuse calling another woman a bitch, whoever she may be) and avoiding facing the adult who'd lied to save my ass. I wasn't anybody's niece.

"What part of 'buy a cell phone as soon as you arrive' didn't you understand?" he asked, sounding angrier than when he was yelling at the girl to get off me. I lifted my eyes to find the arms crossed, the frown and the moustache that had kept watch on me for the past eight months.

"Gardner?" I asked, not believing what I was seeing. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to check if you were alive, as you apparently can't follow simple instruction" he complained, touching my shoulders and guiding me into the building I was going to live in, fishing my bag off the ground on the way. As soon as we walked through the doors, I snapped out of my shocked state and shook his hands off, pausing in the middle of the hallway and turning to face him. Only then to realize we couldn't talk there, where anyone could hear us. He was staring at me with his "Are you done?" look as if waiting for me to come to the conclusion that I had to find my room first, which he probably was. I rolled my eyes at his smug look, got my bag and started rummaging for the keys and the paper with the room number.

Room 402. Great, I was on the top floor of a building with no stairs.

I turned away and went back to moving through the halls and upstairs, my anger for getting beaten for no apparent reason was being suppressed by the fear of whatever had brought Gardner here. In my mind, every corner I turned I would find Bernardo's henchmen waiting for me. At least I wasn't alone. The hallways were crowded with people in various stages of moving, with suitcases and decorations halfway inside their rooms. Mine was down the hall, and on my way to the door, I could have sworn that every pair of eyes on the building were on me. This time I couldn't even consider it paranoia, since even Gardner seemed uncomfortable. It took some tries to get the key in place with my shaky hands. I didn't know if it was because of the stares, the fear or if it was still leftover adrenaline from the beating. I hurried inside, letting the agent through, and closing the door behind me.

The room wasn't big, but it had plenty of natural light and one of those windows that projected outwards, with a bench, that I'd only seen in movies before. It was also clearly split in half. On the inhabited half of the room, the carpet was covered with a colourful rug, and the walls were lined with plush pink wallpaper, there was also a slim closet behind the door, a single bed, and a garment rack with dancing costumes. Great, I was going to have to watch someone else's life as they did what I loved the most after it was taken from me. Simply Splendid. Gardner cleared his throat, drawing my attention to his presence. I tossed my bag onto the single bed on the unoccupied side of the room before turning to him.