The Mask of New Paris ✓

XI. The Truth

As soon as I have explained everything I can to Reed, he hangs up on me, promising he's on his way. I swallow hard as I put the hook back on the telephone, my heart still stammering in my chest. I fall on my knees, a loud sob filling the empty house around me.

I cry. The fear runs down my cheeks in steady streams. Tears are tumbling over each other, racing to get down first. I'm gasping for air, feeling a pain in my chest as panic finally takes over.

"It's all right." I whisper to myself, unable to hear how desparate it sounds. I hug my arms around my chest until they hurt.

"They're gone." I repeat and repeat until my voice is nothing more but a scratch.

I sit there until my legs ache. I stretch them, fall on my bottom and inspect my stiff limbs. The tears are no longer running down my cheeks and my breathing has evened. I let my head fall back against the faint flowered wallpaper. I take another shaky breath. I swallow, the lump in my throat threatening to be spilled out on the dark wooden floor.

I lift myself up and drag myself to the living room. At the sight of the shattered glass, I freeze into place. This mess needs to be cleaned up. Absentmindedly, I walk over to the provisions, fish a broom from between the stacks and start piling up bits and pieces of the clear sharp edges.

For a terrifying moment, the sound of the skiff reminds me of the men that had barged into our house but relief washes over me when Reed storms off the jetty, straight towards the house. I didn't even bother to close the door so he just rushes in, screaming my name.

I stand still watching him enter, the broom frozen in my hand.

"I'm 'ere." I creak. I didn't have to though, for Reed immediately walks up to me and his hands clasp around my upperarms. I flinch at his touch, the pain in my shoulder thumping from the moment he lets go. He squints, observing me. I let out a shaky breath, unsure if I can manage to pretend it didn't affect me as much as it did.

"Did they hurt you?" he asks, his warm eyes trying to make eyecontact. I can't look him in the eye for I know I will fall apart and then he won't believe me when I say I am more or less unharmed.

"Belle?" He softly reaches out for me, this time delicately taking my hand and pulling me a little closer. Defeated, I glance up to him. He looks nothing like the man that I kissed last night. There are no playful wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. Instead concern lingers around his lashes. His hair is disheveled, only not in a carefree way but in a way that he was too rushed to even be bothered by thinking about his appearace. He isn't even wearing a jacket over his vest and shirt. He must have stormed out of his office like this.

My lip trembles, a muscle is pulling the corner of my mouth down but there's no fighting it, I know. Instead I let my head drop against his chest, unaware of how his arms snake around me and hold me tight in place. Another round of sobs fills the room as I my hands crease the back of his vest, trying to force myself to stop shaking.

His warm breath hovers over my hair, whispers so slowly I am curious on how I even caught it. "They're gone now, Belle. They can't harm you. You're safe."

We stand like this until my arms start to ache and a hiccup sounds from my throat. I pull myself away, steadying myself again. I fall down on the couch, vacantly staring at the broken window in front of me. The cushion gives in a little as Reed sits closely next to me. The warmth of his presence calms my stammering heart.

"I might have hurt myself with that gun of yours." I mumble, slowly running a hand up to my shoulder. Reed smiles a little and takes my hand to turn my shoulder towards him.

"Where does it hurt, cowboy?" He asks, lightening the mood as I point at the parts that are feeling numb and torn apart at the same time.

"Would you take a look at it?" He asks. He casts his eyes down, a sudden shame coming over him. He turns his head away, but remains seated nonetheless.