Stranded With My Familiar Stranger

Prologue

The colourful blinking and streaming lights were blinding for some, energising for others. For me, it was the latter. Honestly...I think it got me high. 

I didn't really get around with alcohol much, and tonight was definitely not a night for it. I came with one of my petite brunette friends, Alyssa and today was her birthday...and well, I took it upon myself to stay sober to guide her home.

We were in a recently opened nightclub, Crimson Paradise and Alyssa was insistent on coming here. It would have been fun but, unfortunately for me, her boyfriend came too. Earlier Robbie  told her that he wasn't going to be able to come because he had to work late. They talked on the phone and she didn't seem mad at all. Then, apparently it was all a little prank to surprise her and he showed up. 

I hoped my smile didn't look too menacing toward him. 

I wasn't too disappointed but then I kinda was for a little while. Don't think I'm selfish for thinking that it was going to be one of those fancy girls night out but damn, there went the fun expectations I had for us. Not that she consciously give her attention to him, I mean, it was her night and they were probably blended in the crowd or in one of the rooms available for 'rent' upstairs for all I even knew. I really didn't mind.

After an hour, I gave up the sticking to the bar counters sipping on some bland champagne and trying to blend out of the crowd, away from all the wild and grinding bodies.

It only took an hour though, until I decided to loosen up a bit and blend in, have some fun because at this point, wherever Aly was, she wasn't going to come back anytime soon. I got up, smoothed dress, short and blue and divine, defying the innocence of the colour as I took a breath and stepped up my game. 

It felt so relieving. Amidst it all, I couldn't help myself. 

I couldn't control my thoughts from reaching this far. He would have loved to be here with me right now, pointing out all the boys I thought was attractive (when really they weren't) just to see him cringe at my taste. It's been four years since Michael, my best friend of 10 years, died. I loved him more than anything...and I still do. 

The music faded in my ears and I reflected on the fact that I didn't have my parents anymore, and that's quite a long story that I've heard from my aunts who 'raised' me when they were actually home to check up to make sure I wasn't dead for the weeks they left me alone. Michael was all I had but Michael left so soon...

I never attended the funeral because I knew I wouldn't be able to take it. 

From time to time, it really hit me. Besides all these friends I had were according to category if you really think about it, like the ones you know would go out with you, then there are the ones you call when you had an academic question..but honestly, there was nobody to really talk to. 

For a moment I realized I paused within the swarm of warm bodies, bumping on me occasionally. If he were here, it would have been less lonely, no doubts.

I needed to stop this before I started to get more emotional, and just as I could feel myself about to snap out of it and start tuning back into the flexing and dancing, just when I felt someone still before me, among the mass and I looked up to see him peering down at me.

He had some tattoos that I could faintly make out with the flickering lights.

From what I could've made out, he was wearing a button up shirt which I could make out was fitted nicely onto his upper body. Within the matter of seconds before I could break into a smile out of courtesy, he bent the inch (it would've been three if I hadn't been wearing heels) down toward me and you would have sworn it was for a kiss (I surprised myself when I didn't lean backward from his contact), but it wasn't. He spoke into my ear. I couldn't make out an accent or tone but I made out what he said.

'Would you like to have a drink?' He pointed toward the bar in case I didn't understand among the blaring EDM.

I thought about it for a split second. Maybe I did need one, just one. I smiled and nodded because I didn't want to lean into him now, not to give him any signals that I was the least bit interested in his slightly hidden, possibly sexy neck tattoos, his finely fitting clothes or his killer good looks, which again I couldn't quite point out yet with these blinding lights which made me intoxicated. He held me lightly by the elbow and lead me out the crowd.

I swore I glimpsed Aly at the end of the crowd and I turned, searching for her, but she wasn't there.

 I was actually considering the fact that I was letting a stranger buy me a drink...I always refused but I think I was just trying to numb my recently brought up pain...to have some company. Aly was my supposed company but the girl did have her priorities.

After the waiter served the cherry wine at the counter, Mr. Stranger and I took our drinks and he said something and obviously, I still couldn't hear. He could have spoken a bit louder but I took it that he was probably a gentleman who refused to talk louder.

We took a walk close to the entrance, away from the speakers. Then it happened.

I felt it.

I couldn't run.

I cursed Michael in my mind for dying, because if it wasn't for him on my mind, I never would have accepted the attractive stranger's offer for that drink. If he was alive and with me right now, I would have been on my guard, he would've been looking out for me. He said that he would always look out for me.

That drink lead me to a spiralling fate.

I walked ahead of the well-dressed stranger and it all happened a bit too quickly. It was in the middle of my back he pressed something cold. My first brief half a second thought was that he was trying to seduce me indirectly but nope. Before a word or sound of protest could leave my mouth, he offered his commands.

'Don't move.' He whispered, pressed up against me from behind. He shoved me forward with the cold metal, staying close to make it look like intimate contact, with what I assumed was a gun, into my skin. 

I guess that's what you get for not suspecting the 'too perfect for a man' type. 

My senses failed to register anything else but that haunting touch of the barrel lingering...

He said one word after that. Just one. 

'Walk.'

I obeyed. I had the choice to run, but I didn't.

 That's the thing. 

You always have choices, but you never know what's the right one.