The Mechanic

Chapter Six - "Lonely Eyes"

"The Mechanic"

Chapter Six

'Lonely Eyes'

Scene...

Later That Night

Demi's POV

I wiped away the condensation that had gathered upon the surface of my bathroom mirror and leaned in closely as I studied my own face. The mark upon it was noticeable, as the outline of his hand was fading, but still prominent. There was a small amount of bruising beneath my eye that I knew I could easily cover, but my cheek was clearly a hand-shaped welt that would certainly bring forth questions if seen. I gazed upon my own battered reflection, wondering when I'd chosen to become a voiceless victim. I didn't feel like myself. I didn't look like myself.

But it was only one time, right? He'd never do it again . . .  right? 

I slid my fingers across my new markings and took a breath.

It won't happen again, I told myself. I won't let it.

I crawled into my bed then, without Will at my side for the first night in a long time. He'd opted to stay longer at the event and had gotten me a car home. Most nights I'd miss him; wonder when he'd be coming home. But that night, I was glad to be alone. To take a breath. To let out some tears I'd been holding in since my car died.

As I pulled the sheets beneath my chin and the silent tears started to bead down my face, I shut my eyes. I forced in happier thoughts and for some reason, that mechanic came to mind. I thought about his smile, his kindness, the way he treated me like an equal. I thought about the fact that I'd arranged to see him about my car the next day, and I wasn't sure why, but that lifted my spirit more than anything. Maybe I was excited to get some good news about my car. Maybe I was excited to not have to pretend to like being around someone new.

Whatever the case, at the thought of him, my tears stopped, and my drowsiness consumed me.

The Next Morning

"Hey, stranger," Joe greeted me with a grin as I walked into the open garage.

"Hello," I said shyly, giving him a small wave.

"I like the sunglasses."

"Thanks," I replied, awkwardly. "It's really bright out because of the snow, you know?" 

"I imagined it would be," he chuckled. As I was speaking to him, Joe was tightening some bolts beneath the hood of a car that I didn't recognize. With each tug of his wrench, his biceps threatened the seams of his sleeves. "How are you this morning?"

"I'm fine," I replied simply. Joe stood straight up then, grabbed a rag, and began to wipe his hands.

"Glad to hear it," he said. "If you'd like, we can head inside the shop, sit down, and I can tell you what's going on with your car."

"Okay."

I followed Joe through the heavy metal door and into the lobby, where I met him across the large standing desk. He pulled out a few manuals and showed me what he found, what parts he'd need to replace to prevent the issue from happening again, etc. The conversation was strictly informational, and I didn't understand much of the terminology he was using, but I listened and nodded all the same.

Then, Joe caught me off guard; squinted at me quizzically.

"You sure you wanna keep those on?" He gestured at my glasses.