Perspective is a funny thing;
Stirling Thomas, those two words alone were enough to have anyone running in the opposite direction and cowering in fear.
The town has heard all of the rumours, they know he has just been released from prison and they...
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I was a zebra creeping around the lions den.
Okay fine, in this instance, I was creeping around the lions bathroom but the door to his den was fully ajar and he was in there, sleeping.
I wasn't joking, the guy was a predator. King of the jungle. Brutalist Hunter. A straight up satanic psychopath.
And he was sleeping three meters away.
I tried not to look.
I stood on my tip toes in front of that mirror braiding back rebellious tresses of auburn hair, determined not to let my eyes wander but it was like a compulsion I just couldn't fight.
So giving into temptation, I leaned back a little, sneaking a curious glance.
He was sleeping on his stomach, a grey sheet clung around his waist, exposing an ultra-toned, tattooed back to my prying eyes.
The threshold that separated his bedroom and our bathroom was a force field I never planned to cross. His room felt completely detached from the love and warmth the rest of the house had to offer, and instead emanated a dangerous vibe.
I snapped upright, olive eyes giving a cold, scolding glare through the mirror. I shouldn't entangle my thoughts with his web of messes.
