FLEMING

3

"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in

the process he doesn't become a monster."

I didn't know anyone in the city, despite having lived my entire life among its streets. My parents, with their overprotective attitude, had taken extreme precautions to prevent me from forming any kind of relationship with others. They kept me imprisoned, creating an isolation that made me feel like a stranger in my own environment. But that night, I gathered courage and decided to break free from those restrictions, venturing out in search of human connections, if only for one night.

That's how I found myself in a lively bar, known for its influx of students. Strategically located a few kilometers from the prestigious Oregon State University Cascades, it was a meeting point for young people seeking fun and release. I took a seat at the bar, my eyes wandering over the impressive array of bottles displayed behind the counter, their enticing gleams promising an evening full of excitement.

The atmosphere was filled with laughter, music, and the vibrant energy of youth. The flickering lights and animated chatter created an electrifying ambiance, immersing me in an ocean of unfamiliar sensations. I looked around, noticing the different tables occupied by groups of friends, lovey-dovey couples, and university students seeking a break from their academic obligations. I felt like an intruder in this foreign world, but my determination overcame any feelings of insecurity.

A waiter behind the wide granite bar, smiling kindly, approached me to offer a drink. With the same courtesy, I requested a Bushmills on the rocks. The glass was delivered with precision, and as I brought the drink to my lips, I felt the cold contact of the glass against my fingers. A shiver ran down my spine, but it wasn't discomfort. It was a sense of anticipation, of excitement for what was to come.

That's when a man, casually leaning against the bar, decided to break the silence and test my defiant attitude. "Tough girl, huh?" he remarked.

I looked at him with a furrowed brow, silently questioning his intrusion. Who did he think he was to challenge me?

I quickly scrutinized his figure, capturing a masculine presence with a hint of innocence in his gaze. He wore a fitted shirt that accentuated his muscles and worn-out jeans that suggested a carefree personality. His blond hair fell disheveled over his forehead, giving him a rebellious and attractive air. He didn't seem to be older than twenty-three. I relaxed my expression, trying to appear friendly as I responded with a mix of defiance and curiosity, "Yeah, any problem with that?" I made a half-hearted attempt to soften my response, at least I had the decency to try.

To my surprise, his response was puzzled and sincere. "No, actually, I don't."

There were a few awkward minutes when silence reigned and tension filled the air. Aware of the uncomfortable situation, I decided to take the initiative and break the ice that had formed between us.

"What's your name?" I asked, making an effort to show genuine interest in getting to know him. It was an attempt to connect, a way to establish a bond, even if only for a brief moment.

"I'm Oliver, and you, miss?" he replied courteously and formally, as if we were in an elegant medieval court and he was a knight seeking my favor. Of course, we weren't in the 15th century, and I wasn't some damsel waiting to be courted.

"Hell," I replied curtly, making it clear that it hadn't been one of my best days.

"Hell? Like the inferno?" Oliver asked, surprised by the unusually peculiar name I carried. His tone carried a note of mockery, as if he believed I was playing with him.