What's Said in Silence

Sera- VI

He's not here.

That almost makes it feel even more wrong.

You're not snooping.

But that's what it feels like.

It's part of your damn job.

I ceased the argument within myself and lifted an unsteady hand to the door knob. He'd put it in the list that I was supposed to upkeep his room as well, but only when he wasn't home or, at the very least, not occupying it. He left for a week-long trip yesterday, mentioning something about a show. 

With one more shaky breath, I turned the knob and pushed the door open. Part of me expected this room to give me the same rush of cold that my room had when I got here. Maybe it wanted it to because it would have given me a reason to back away. This felt... invasive.

Standing outside the bathroom door was a tad invasive, too.

I shuddered at the reminder. I had felt something was off but couldn't quite put my finger on what it was. That is, until I saw the hand print on the door. A large, black hand print. I wasn't sure what it meant, how long he'd been standing there, or even if the hand print was intentional. It rattled me. I had told myself it was because I hadn't expected it, but I had felt something else that made me consider checking into a mental institute. Comfort. My twisted mind had found solace that single hand print as if it meant I was protected. That it could keep all the monsters of my past away. Wishful thinking.  

I entered the room languidly, waiting for the uneasy feeling to subside and the logical part of my brain to kick in and remind my body that this is my job and nothing more. There actually wasn't much of a mess- just some papers strewn about on an unmade bed and some laundry on the floor.  

I picked up the pieces of clothing, which was mostly just different variations of black pants, and put them into the basket before working on the bed. I picked up the papers with were filled with handwritten scribbles. I tried not to read anything because that would definitely be considered snooping, but my eyes caught onto rather beautiful cursive handwriting- then an even more beautiful string of words.

My, my those eyes like fire.

I'm a winged insect,

 you're a funeral pyre.

Come now bite through these wires, 

I'm a waking hell and the gods grow tired.

I thought back to the first day I arrived and remembered him sitting with a keyboard in his lap, tapping away at the keys then scribbling away on his note pad. That same keyboard sat in the corner of the room on a stand. I could assume that the show he was talking about was a concert of some kind. If these were the lyrics he writes, then the man was more lethal with his words than he was letting on. 

Using what little self control I possessed, I stacked the papers neatly and placed them on the keyboard so I could make the bed. I gave the floor a quick sweep and mop  before calling it good enough. I didn't want there to be evidence that I may have taken a peek at his work, so I didn't make the room overly clean. Just enough to show that I put in some effort and did my job. 

Vessel's room was the last thing I had to do for the day so I decided some food and a movie sounded good. I walked into the kitchen and looked through the cabinets hoping to find something easy with minimal mess so I wouldn't have to do dishes again. After a few minutes of searching I finally decided to settle on a bag of chips. It might not be cuisine, but it was sustenance.

My phone chimed on the coffee table just as I sat down. I picked it up to see a text from Vessel- he had put his number into my phone before he left in case anything happened.

Vessel: Is everything alright?

I sent a thumbs up back as a response. Within seconds a second text came in.

Vessel: Silent through text as well? 

Vessel: Consistency is truly a virtue.

I set my phone down and started flipping through the T.V. channels until I found something mildly interesting to watch. A sitcom about a girl who pretends to marry her brother's best friend seemed more appealing than the weather station. At this point I'll take anything to occupy my mind from a certain masked man. Whom of which didn't even realize how much he was saving me from disaster by offering me a position with this amount of privacy. Something I hoped to never need to explain to him.

About an hour into the show my phone chimed again. Thinking it might be Vessel, I picked it up without taking my eyes off the T.V and unlocked it. I waited till there was a lull in the action before looking down, but when I did my stomach plummeted through the floor. 

UNKNOWN: I've missed you, Seraphine.

This can't be. He couldn't have figured it out that fast. I had covered my tracks so well. I had left as soon as I found out he was back. Part of me had hoped he wouldn't bother looking for me at all, hoping that I was as forgettable to him as I had been to the others, but I knew my luck wouldn't be that good. I just have to pray that he won't find me here.