𝓗𝓪𝓻𝓿𝓮𝓼𝓽 𝓜𝓸𝓸𝓷 (Joel Miller x Fem OC)

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐼

▷  Hejira - Joni Mitchell

I lay lifeless, staring blankly up at the ceiling, letting the heaviness of my duvet weigh down my body.

It's getting cold again, the leaves are finally changing from green to warm reds and oranges and yellows. I watch the shadows of the trees outside my window dance lightly across the ceiling. I do this every night until my eyes get too heavy and I'm unable to keep them open any longer. 

Closing my eyes has always been the most difficult part of drifting away to sleep. I spend all day keeping myself busy - gardening, minding the house, reading - but I'm left to be consumed by my thoughts at night. Only when I close my eyes do I remember how I'm the last person for miles. Only me. 

The coolness of the air dries my eyes as my arm twitches slightly, feeling the cold sting of the gun next to me. My eyes slowly fade to black as my lids fall over, hyper-aware of the sounds around me to help drift off - the wind... my breathing... a door lightly opening...

My eyes shoot back open. 

My breath hitches in my throat as I continue to lay motionless, listening with an even closer ear. I slide my hand gently up my gun, grabbing and pulling it closer. 

Footsteps.

My heart begins pumping faster as I slowly sit myself up and as lightly as possible, snake out from under my covers. The bed springs creak, causing me to freeze, hoping whoever - whatever- is downstairs didn't hear. My nightgown softly moves against my skin as I cautiously walk to the bedroom door, pressing my ear up against the cold wood.

Nothing.

I gently open the door, scanning the dark hallway for possible intruders. My heart beats faster as I quietly make my way down the old staircase, keeping my movements as light as possible as to not cause any disturbance. My gun pointed at the ready. Downstairs is silent, the silence being somehow more unnerving than the earlier footsteps. I make my way around the house, searching every corner, every nook and cranny, brows furrowed in confusion as I'm unable to locate the source of the noises. The lack of any evidence eases me, as I lower my gun and rub the tired from my eyes, sighing.

A gun clicks behind me.

"Put it down."

A stern and husky voice prompts me to snap my gun back into place, quickly spin around and point it directly at the tall man standing in the void.

"Put. It. Down."

I ignore his command, keeping my stance. The wind from the open front door blows past me, sending a shiver down my spine. I swallow my anxiety.

"You're on my property. You put yours down first." I try to be as direct as possible, doing my best to hide any fear I may have. The only thought on my mind is survival.

We stand there, guns pointed at one another, unable to see each other's faces from the darkness. After a moment, the man slowly retracts his gun, keeping it ready at his side. He attempts to step forward but I jolt my gun forward, warning him that if he gets any closer, I will shoot his face clean off. He cautiously steps back and puts his hands up, as to show me he won't harm me. I don't budge.

"Who..." My voice breaks slightly, I clear my throat and speak sternly. "Who are you?"

The man hesitates for a few moments, slowly putting his arms back to his sides, hand still on his gun. He speaks in a low, coarse voice.

"Joel..." He takes another step forward, prompting me to back up. "Joel Miller."

My teeth clench harder and I stiffen my finger around the trigger.

"Why are you here, Joel Miller?"

He ignores my question and instead begins inspecting the room. My gun follows him as he spots an old lamp and proceeds to pull its string. The dim orange light reveals an older man, roughly late 40s... maybe early 50s. His hair is peppered with streaks of brown and grey. His tan skin shows evidence of his past with light scarring. He's broad, much bigger than I, which causes me to swallow heavily. He could easily kill me. I stiffen my gun back into position.

"I asked you a ques-"

"I knew the men who lived here before. I'm here to grab some things. That's all you need to know." 

He opens a drawer, moves around its contents, closes the drawer, and looks back at me with his brows slightly raised. 

"Can you drop the gun?" 

I stare at him, shocked by how nonchalantly he's taking this interaction.

"Drop the gun? You realise you just broke into my home?"

The man scoffs. "Your home? Weren't here last time I came 'round."

I vaguely recall a memory of a man and a women being welcomed in a few years back, but I wasn't about to give him that satisfaction.

I watch intently as Joel sits himself down on the couch, the unsettled dust from the untouched cushions swirling around him in the light. He removes his gun from around his shoulder then proceeds to sigh and push his calloused hands through his unkempt hair. He looks tired. I must have been staring at him for a solid minute, my cloudy brain not able to remember how to interact with another human.

"Are you just gonna watch me or are you gonna tell me who you are and why you're here?" His brow raised slightly. I stay standing, slightly taken aback by his forwardness.

"You don't need my name..." I swallow, "...And the men you knew practically raised me." 

"Frank and Bill." He sighs under his breath, leaning back against the couch. I nod, my fear subsiding as he speaks the familiar names. I feel my tiredness creeping back up, and once again my eyes grow heavy. Joel must have noticed.

"Look, I didn't know anyone else lived here. After Frank and Bill died..." My heart sinks into my stomach. He must have noticed that too. He clears his throat and lowers his voice.

"I'll be outta your hair come dawn. You can go back to whatever you were doing, I won't bother you." He stares at me, the hint of truthfulness in his eyes making me ease up ever-so-slightly. I nod once more. 

"I sleep with my gun," His brow raises again, "So if you even think about pulling anything, I'll shoot you dead... Joel Miller." 

He lets out a dry scoff. 

I gesture my head in the direction of the spare bedroom downstairs, my eyes steadily locked with his. He nods in understanding, picking himself up from the couch, his hands placed on his dirty jeans for support. He lets out a small groan as he straightens out. 

"Night." His rough voice sends another shiver down my spine as he walks past me and into the dark room, firmly shutting the door behind him. 

I bite my lip anxiously, contemplating whether he'd actually try to hurt me when I was sleeping, though the thought of Bill's judgement quickly alleviates my worries. He would have never let anyone in that could hurt Frank or myself, and if Joel was telling the truth, I'm sure I'd be ok.

I make my way back up the stairs and into my room. It's much colder now, but once I pull the covers back over my body, the weight of the fabric warms me once again. It's strange, but it's nice feeling another human presence throughout the house, even one that would have shot a bullet through my chest just moments ago. Since Frank and Bill passed, I had become well acquainted with loneliness. I never did quite get over it, though, and had longed for even just one other person to be around. I just never could risk it. I protected not only myself, but this land fiercely. It was the last piece of Frank and Bill I had, and I wasn't going to let it go. I was almost thankful that this unknown man sleeping in the room below me, who I know absolutely nothing about, showed up when he did.

I cradle my gun tightly against my chest, images of the man downstairs flashing through my mind as my eyes fade to black once more.

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