Out in Blind Sight

Chapter Three: Meeting You

"What is she doing here Trey? You shouldn't have brought her here! Of all the places in this city, why did you bring her here?"

"She was attacked! Some guy had her all tied up and was about to violate her. She looked so helpless and scared. What he was doing wasn’t right but, what I did what I know was right."

"Sometimes what you think is right isn't always the right answer! You don't think! You’re all action Trey. Think man, THINK for once! If you soon don’t start to, you’re going to get yourself in a world of trouble that not even me or Bryden can get you out of."

Voices, where are they coming from? Where am I? My eyes flutter open. I blink a few times to adjust to the darkness of the room. Man its dark. Why are the lights off? I reach over and turned on the bedside lamp. The room is small-scaled with red painted walls.  The trimmings were white and had an elegant pattern done out in the wood. There was a closet that had furnished wood doors with old fashioned brass handles. There was a dark wood framed mirror in the corner. The bed was a fair size. Two people could sleep in it fairly easy. At the end of the bed was a brass frame which gave the bed a more antique look. The room was beautifully laid out. There are books, everywhere. Mountains of books, old and new. It was nothing but a dust collection, yet absolutely fascinating. Where am I?

Flash backs of the alley came flooding back into my head, hoping my brain would reject the thoughts and give me peace. “Don’t be scared love. I’ll take very good care of you, you know, once I take care of myself.” His voice was so harsh and disturbing. My mind made me aware of all the violent actions that had taken place. I reached down to rub my wrists. They were stained with dried up blood and sore from scraping of the rope. I tried to stand on shaking legs. I made my way over to the mirror to face the horror that I may find there.  Looking into the mirror, I didn’t know who I was looking at. This girl wasn’t me. My brunette hair was tossed in a tangled mess. My face looked pale and sunk in. There were dark shadows underneath my eyes which made me look twice my age. My make-up had run down my cheeks from my excessive weeping and pleading into a massive darkened bruise that had already fully formed. "I said shut up... SHUT UP!" He raised his hand. I winced at the memory. Letting my gaze travel further down, I noticed my t-shirt was tarnished with mud and ripped exposing the side of my bra. My jeans were still open leaving the band of my panties on display. The blood on my left leg which now soaked the front of my jeans was living proof of his attack. How he violently forced his hand between my legs. Taking the one soul decision I had control of as a woman. Gone just like that. ”We're having such fun here. Time for the finale baby. I promise this won't hurt; much."  I reached down to button and zip up my jeans carefully trying not to hurt myself further then the damage that has been done. I was repelled at the sight of myself. Every muscle in my body ached from the violation and abuse it had encountered.

I turned around and focused all my attention back to the books. Looking at myself was harder than I thought it would be. I started to look through the titles I seen before me. Shiver, the Hallow, Immortal. I found it very weird that I’ve read every single one of these books. The Calling, Silence, Halo. One book caught my eye out of all the pile. I picked up the book and mumbled the title to myself.  Catch Me Once, Catch Me Twice. I let my hands run down the cover letting my facial expression change from one full of sadness to one full of excitement. My favorite book, one I could never find a copy of, was in my hands. I smiled to myself and set the book back down on top of the pile.

“It’s pretty fascinating huh?” Startled I turned around finding myself looking into the most stunning brown eyes I have ever seen. I swallowed hard. The stranger stared letting a Cheshire smile grow on his lips. I backed away a little and sat firmly on the bed, not moving a muscle. He was leaning against the frame of the door. His arms laid by his sides with his hands in his pockets. His face seemed like it was sculpted perfectly with nice high cheekbones. His teeth were white and gleaming. He had untidy brunette hair that looked like it was just messed up by some girl’s fingers from an extremely wild make-out session.  He had nicely shaped lips that looked soft and moist. God, they looked tempting. He had broad shoulders which gave him shape. He was more on the taller side and was lean. His definition was all natural with well-defined chest that showed through his grey t-shirt and his jeans hung dangerously low on his hips. He looked like a God. If I had died right here, I would have been happy with saying my last moments to life were looking at him.