The Lore within Reality

Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Logen's features morph into shock. He looks at Elias who subtly shakes his head. Logen just stares back, his features stone but eyes seem to shift colors. They sit in silence for a moment, an unspoken conversation passing between the two. Anger pulses through every fiber of my being. Stepping further into the room, I stare daggers at each of them. Neither of them look my way.

I turn on a heel and move back to my room. I change into clean clothes, leaving the ruined ones on the floor, and grab a jacket. I'm stopped before I've even made it three steps from the hallway.

"What are you doing?" Elias stands from his seat at the bar. Ignoring him, I grab my keys from the bowl. I've barely touched the door handle before my wrist is grabbed. Without hesitation, I whirl, swiping my keys like a weapon. I feel the ends make contact and their resistance. The moment is short lived.

Elias brings his free arm up, swatting the makeshift weapon away and grabbing my other wrist. He twists and my back is now pressed against his chest, my arms crossed and pinned against mine. I stomp my heel as hard as I can into his foot, throwing my head back in the same motion. A surprised grunt follows and only a slight release in his grip. Just enough for me to break free.

I turn slowly, my nails digging into palms. Three red marks mar his features, blood beginning to bead on the surface. There's a wild look in his eyes mixed with something else I can't recognize. The silver shines just under the brown irises. He stands up straight, just watching me. Logen sits in the living room, still on the edge of his seat, but seeming much more relaxed, amused even.

I reach down and grab my keys again. Without a word, I turn and walk out of the door. I hear Logen protest, but he cuts off. Whatever is said next is silence by the closed door.

I don't know what I was expecting or wanting walking out, I just needed out. I had begun to feel claustrophobic in my own home and the testosterone levels were beginning to suffocate me. I pull my jacket tight around me against the cool air. There's not many people walking the streets, but I needed the cool air to bring a sense of clarity.

I find myself on a bench in a secluded part of the public garden a few blocks from home. I watch the few people wandering. Mostly gardeners pruning and stay at home moms letting their littles run off some energy. Everything seems so peaceful here, no one bothered by the insanity of my week. I'm jealous. There's a sort of bliss that comes with ignorance and I want that back.

I sit in silence for some time, people watching and pretending life isn't imploding around me. The nearly bare branches over my head continue to drop what few leaves remain while a gentle breeze carries them away. I take a deep breath as I close my eyes, attempting to do away with every ounce of stress and anxiety. My brain lingers on the worst parts: Leylah still missing and the increasing chances of her death, the monster that pretended to be her, nearly dying, random men saving me.

My skin begins to itch, then my stomach flips as everything in me begins to feel uncomfortable. I open my eyes, searching for any reason to be uneasy. The world still moves peacefully. Nothing has changed, but one person cuts through the still I'm living vicariously through. Elias stops a few feet from me, offering me one of the two cups he holds. I stare at the peace offering, eyes flitting from the cup to his. After a moment, his hand lowers and he sits on the bench next to me.

Neither of us speak for several minutes, making me uncomfortably aware of his presence. His shoulder brushes mine and I resist the urge to move away. My knee begins bouncing as my anxiety builds. I want to move, leave or find a new bench, but I realize how childish that sounds, so I sit. I begin to focus on anything but the man next to me. I can smell the vanilla mixed in one of the coffees, hear the child laughing again, the leaves still fall one by one.