fade to black | james hetfield [1]

five

chapter five: stalker

A couple of days passed before James decided to visit the bar again. He hoped that Iris would be there like she said. Still reeling from the nightmare, he couldn't get her desolate face out of his head. 

Iris was sitting in a booth by herself in the corner, barely noticeable to anyone who walked in. It was like any other night, trying to forget about her loneliness for a bit with a drink.

However, when she took a sip from the bottle and looked ahead, her heart dropped into her stomach. James happened to walk into the bar at that second, possibly looking for her.

Now she started to regret telling him that this was her hangout. It was the one place where she could be by herself other than her own home. No one bothered her and no one invaded her personal space. It felt like she was losing that.

Iris didn't understand what his deal was. He needed to run away, and he needed to run fast, at least in her mind. Nothing was redeeming about her for him to keep coming around.  

Before she could try and hide, James had found her in an instant. She walks over, sliding into the booth and sitting across from Iris.

He was happy to see her again, relieved to see that she wasn't surrounded by darkness. He couldn't get the eerie image of her in his nightmare out of his head. It was too real. 

"I can't believe I have my own personal stalker now." She said with a hint of sarcasm, letting out a fake laugh. If James wasn't going to leave, she was going to have to make him leave. 

He laughed a bit at her comment, shrugging. "I wouldn't say 'stalker.' Think of me as your friend." He took a sip from his beer.

"Friend," She repeated, laughing dryly. "I don't even have friends." She replied, a certain edge to her voice as she looked at James with an emotionless expression.

"Well now you have me, I'm your friend." James tried to smile and lighten the mood. 

"No, I don't." She didn't hesitate with her response, the seriousness in her answer evident. 

There was a silence after she said that. Maybe this wasn't the right time to come, she didn't look to be in the talking mood. He could tell she was going through something and trying to battle it on her own.

"You know Iris, you don't have to be so rude all of the time." James said with a slight hint of sadness in his voice.

"Do not tell me what to do, okay? You don't know anything about me." Iris snapped at him, only looking at him to say that before turning away. 

The silence fell between them again and Iris debated getting up and leaving. That way, this would be the last time she would see or even speak to James and he would leave her alone for good.

But he had been nothing but kind to her for this long and she suddenly felt guilty. "I'm...I'm sorry." She said quietly, refusing to look at him as she said it.

"It's okay." Iris almost got mad at him again. How could he forgive her so easily? Why wasn't he fighting back? 

James had been in her position before, plenty of times. It was so easy to feel alienated. He knew what it was like to be misunderstood. 

James kept looking at Iris, who was avoiding his gaze. "I think you're actually a beautiful person on the inside, Iris." James spoke, looking at her. It wasn't hard to see the sadness she held inside when looking at her face.

He wasn't going to give up on her. He wanted to show her that not everyone was out to get her. She was a better person than the cold exterior she was trying to put up, and she didn't need to be suffering alone. 

She didn't know how to handle that. She had been begging for someone like him to come along, but now that it happened, it felt wrong.

James looked at her one last time, sighing deeply. "I'm going to leave you alone now, okay?" He stood up from the booth. "See you later." He says before turning around and heading out.

Iris buried her face in her hands once he was gone, mad at herself. She felt the tears threatening to spill, wondering why she had to let her emotions get the best of her every time. 

She thought over what James said, thinking that maybe she judged him too fast. That's all he wanted to be, her friend. Someone to trust. Someone to love.

But it never was that easy. It always felt like someone was playing a sick prank on her. She was waiting for the moment when they would finally reveal the joke to her, and in the end, it always hurt. 

She took a deep breath, trying not to end up crying in the bar and have someone come by and ask if she was okay with a pitying look. She downed the last of her beer, deciding to head home. 

As Iris was cleaning up the table and gathering her things, her eyes fell on the napkin that was under his glass. She groaned once she looked closer and realized what the numbers meant. 

"I'm never going to call him." She muttered to herself, wanting to rip up the napkin.