Just Him&I: In a Universe of Cruelty

Part • 3

I hear someone open the door and enter the apartment with heavy steps. Startled, I jerk and slam the notebook shut. He remains silent, the apartment still filled with silence. I can feel my heartbeat pounding, as if it's about to leap out of my chest, and I'm about to faint.

I'm still standing with my back to him, searching for something I can use to defend myself. I spot a glass bottle of water.
If I break it, it would make a good weapon, though I'm not sure I could overpower my possible opponent. I quickly grab it but hold off on breaking it, turning to face him. I first glance at his feet, ensuring I don't lose track of him. I place the notebook on the first shelf I come across. I grip the cabinet with my hand and crouch slightly as I feel unbearable pain. Maybe it's too soon for me to be up.

But I'll bite his throat out, even on the brink of death, if he tries anything with me. My vision blurs, and I start breathing faster, drawing air into my lungs. He rushes toward me.

— "Stai pe loc"— I shout, trying to get up. Realizing that won't work, I convince myself that trusting someone for once in my life might be the better option. I stop resisting, reassuring myself that this is for the best. Finally, I raise my eyes to him.
"Is that James? Or am I imagining things?"

The thought races through my mind as he lifts me into his arms and carries me to the bedroom. He does it with such ease, as if he's barely lifting me at all. The bottle slips from my hands, and I no longer have anything to defend myself with, not that I could in my condition.
His cap covers his long, brown hair. Over it, he's wearing a jacket and what seems to be a brownish, more reddish sweater with buttons near the collar.
He's hiding from him too. But there's nothing to fear, he's dead, and we're in another country.
James spreads out the bedding and gently lays me down, covering me with a blanket.

— "Opreste-te acum!"— I shout at him when he's almost out of the room. One phrase, yet it holds so much meaning in different situations.
He stops a few steps away from the bed and turns back to me.
He looks at me with sky-blue eyes, gazing right through me. I freeze for a few seconds; he looks so exhausted, almost drained. I see myself in him when I looked in the mirror.

— "Trebuie sa te odihnești..." — he mutters in Romanian, rubbing his hand before leaving. He didn't recognize me. After I begged them to let him go, I never saw him again, ever. I grew up and changed; maybe he just doesn't remember me.
I'll have to remind him eventually, but not now. I need to figure out why I'm here.
I lie there for maybe forty minutes, no longer; time seems to drag on unbearably long. He hasn't come to check on me since he brought me here. I can't sleep, just shifting around since my body is going numb.
I say to hell with it and finally get up. The only room I haven't checked is the bathroom. I see no point in going there.
It seems he's in there now. I can hear the water running. My mouth is dry, so I walk over to the sink with a glass and pour myself some water. I drink the whole thing. I haven't had anything to drink for several days, exactly how long I don't remember, and I haven't eaten either. I rinse the glass and put it back on the shelf. I shake off my hands and unceremoniously wipe them on the shirt I'm still wearing.
He steps out of the shower in just gray sweatpants. His wet hair falls over his shoulders, and water droplets fall to the floor. He doesn't notice me; I clear my throat to get his attention.
He turns toward me, looking as though I've come to kill him. Honestly, his eyes nearly pop out of his head.
My gaze is fixed on his hand; I've only seen it a few times in my life. He kept it hidden from people. Only when he went out to kill did he seem to forget about it and show it to everyone.
It was a brilliant decision to come up with and bring such a hand to life, but how many lives has it taken?
No! I don't blame him at all; we all know who's really behind it. Though I wish I didn't. Maybe my life would've been more peaceful without knowing about this filthy world. Who knows?