Melting his Heart

Chapter 1

“Honey, I’m home!”

I grin at my own funny self as I open the door to my new apartment and call out in a singsong voice. It has to be one of the smallest and ugliest apartments anyone can ever be forced to live in. But a small budget and crazy relatives force people to make incredible decisions. Like living here. Calling it a small studio apartment would be injustice. It’s tiny. Micro-tiny. So I described it as a very “cute” and “manageable” apartment to my parents on the phone last night. Close enough.

Struggling with the groceries, I walk in and close the door with my foot. Keeping the paper bags on the table, I immediately head over to the fluffy couch and sprawl down. There isn't much to look at. Excluding the couch, the only other pieces of furniture in the living room area, as I like to call it, are the table and a multipurpose shelf meant for the television I suppose. Too broke to get one, I've kept my laptop over it. This can work as a work desk as well then. There is a kitchen area too, with sturdy enough counters and an old refrigerator. The bedroom section is my favorite. It consists of an unnecessarily huge bed and a side table. I'm lucky to have a wardrobe with a mirror, according to the landlord.

But then, he also said I was lucky to be on the first floor as it is easier to escape. I decided to not think much about what he meant. But I am quite lucky. An apartment this close to my workplace? Yeah, I should feel lucky. Being the new girl in a city sucks. Being the new girl in a whole country sucks much more. Having flown in from India last Friday, this is my first time in this country. While I do have a few relatives nearby, who'd found the apartment for me and helped me with the  settling in, it was a scary prospect to get used to a new job, a new culture and living alone.

I stretch on the couch lazily and contemplate the next task on my To-Do list. Arranging my clothes in the wardrobe. I stretch some more. Maybe I could take a nap before that. Or I cou-

"Aaarggh!"

A high pitched shriek pulls me away from my reverie. I stare at the door. It stares back at me.

"Get away from me, murderer!"

I quickly head towards the door and open it a fraction, just enough to peek without being noticed.

There are spilled apples and oranges all over the floor, and an old lady, looking half furious and half terrified is yelling at the top of her voice. I wince, not bothering to make sense of the tirade. My eyes move to the right and freeze. For there, standing still is one of the scariest looking men I’ve ever seen. It’s not so much his appearance but his eyes that bring around that effect. Naturally dark, his eyes are empty, devoid of any emotion at all. Not that the appearance is all teddy bear-ish either. Clad in a black Guns ‘N Roses tee and cargo shorts, he’s a mixture of lean and every bit of mean. Tall, he must be at least 6’2, I assume. Dark messy hair and cold green eyes complete the package. If he wasn’t so intimidating, he’d classify as drop dead gorgeous. He silently kneels down, put all the fruits in a cloth bag I’d missed and keeps it near the screaming lady, all the while ignoring her. That done, he simply heads upstairs. I stare at his retreating back, unaware that I’ve let the door open wider. The woman gives out a loud hmph and picks up the bag. She seems to be in her sixties, her blonde hair streaked with silver. Angry wrinkles on her forehead only make her look older. She notices me staring. Crap.

I give her a weak smile.

“New aren’t you?” You must be that Asian girl Fanny’s been talking about. Living alone in an apartment, such a young girl.” She glares at me. I decide not to take offense.

“Umm. Hey.”

“Got the place at a discount did you? Old Mr. Brown dupe you too? Ha! We’re all going to die. That man’s going to murder us all.”

I frown at her. “What do you mean, ma’am?” I ask, trying to be polite. She must be kidding, right?

“Saw him, didn’t you? Murdered his brother and his brother’s fiancé. Probably had a thing for her. Arrested him, the police did. Removed him from his company. They let him off on a technical thing, but I know he’s done it. Those eyes speak for it. I’ve heard he’s got a thing for young girls like you. Better lock your door properly at night.”

A twinge of fear cramps my chest. I think of the laughing landlord, hurrying me to sign the apartment contract. Co-incidence, I tell myself.

She must have seen the apprehension on my face because she sighs loudly. “Don’t worry. Me and Fanny, we’ll alert the police immediately if something happens to you.” With that, she hobbles up the stairs, going up slower than a toddler would. Uh huh, they’ll alert the police fast enough, my ass.

However, I do know Fanny, or Mrs. Knowles. A sweet old lady with kind eyes, she’d welcomed me to the apartment yesterday with a lasagna casserole. Half of which remained to be my dinner tonight. However, she hadn’t mentioned anything about this. I try to go through our conversation yesterday. She’d talked about her sister, Margaret, which must be the shrieker. Hmm.

Suddenly, a flashback crosses my mind. I’d mentioned happily how I felt pleased to get this place at that price, and her expression had become stricken. She’d hastily changed the topic and hurried home soon after. Now I was really worried. It had become dark outside, my clock blinked out the digits 8.10 at me. I hadn’t had time yet to ask about WiFi, or get a data plan on my cell phone. So I had no way of checking this story out, not unless I went looking for a cyber café. Calling up my aunt and asking her was another option. But that would mean her worrying her head off and insisting I move. Or worse, calling up my mom. That would definitely mean being hauled off back home.

No, I was going to be a good girl and lock my doors and windows. I was going to eat the delicious lasagna, go to sleep early and go check it out tomorrow morning. That decided, I set off, accomplishing my mind’s to-do list.

A few hours later, I am snuggled on the couch watching Supernatural. Sam and Dean never fail to make me happy. As they cut and slash across all sorts of demons, my eyes grow heavy. Yawning, I check the time. 11.05. I should go sleep now. Switching off my laptop, I move onto my fluffy bed, feeling warm and full. The lasagna had been perfect, each cheesy bite a taste of heaven. But that would mean more calories. No, I was not going to think about that right now. Hmm, supernatural then. I smile and drift off to sleep thinking of hot demon hunters and demons.

Scratch, scratch. I open my eyes blearily. Huh?

Scratch, scratch and some more scratch. I get up on the bed, my heart beating rapidly. What in the world was that? Images of bleeding monsters and knife wielding strangers fill my head. Okay, it wasn’t a good idea to watch Supernatural before bed then. I squint at the watch and see that it is after 2 A.M. The noise comes again. Shit. What if it’s that guy from above? I feel cold all over. He wouldn’t want to murder me, I haven’t even met him. What if he doesn’t want to murder you? What if he wants to do something else? Shut up, shut up, I try to silence my mind but now that crazy thoughts had started popping up, I kept getting more frantic every second.

I could call up someone. Who? Who will you call? Just as I’m contemplating calling Mr. Wilkins, the landlord up, something comes at my face and I scream. A sharp object pierces my neck and I scream even more, falling to the ground. I close my eyes, ready for death.