No Mercy

Chapter 25

I gently push open the door to the forgotten house, the musty air that fills all of the rooms wrapping around my midsection and escorting me inside. I glide in willingly, my eyes closed as I feel my way around purely by memory. The worn down hardwood is forgiving under my feet, gently squeaking with each step I take. I turn down the hallway on my right and stop right before I reach the end of the hall, my hand automatically reaching out to grasp the freezing door handle and pushing it down to open the door the master bedroom.

I finally open my eyes, knowing exactly what I'll see. Cream-colored walls surround me, interrupted by the various paintings and pictures I have strewn across them. I walk further inside to the spacious area, my eyes falling onto the distressed wood of the Rustic bed that sits off to the side of the space. My feet drift onto the cream shag area rug and I'm grateful I took off my shoes before I came into the house.

I sink to my knees, a tsunami of emotions washing over me as I truly feel at home for the first time in the better part of a year. My chin trembles with the beginning of unshed tears as my fingers dig into the soft wool fibers. Then his voice pierces me like a knife, ripping me out of my oasis and back into reality.

"So this is your house?" Ezra asks from the doorway.

I clear my throat as I open my eyes once more, but I don't turn to look at him. I bob my head up and down, not trusting my voice, as I gradually roll back to my feet. Then I walk out the door to my room and push him out of the way so I can shut it firmly behind me; before walking a few feet down the hallway to another rustically distressed door identical to mine, similar to the scratched espresso of my headboard. I open the door with little fanfare and walk inside waving my hand as I clear my throat again.

"This is where you'll be staying," I say.

He nods as he follows me into the room. "You're letting me stay in your house?" He whistles loudly as he walks further into the room and drops his bag on top of the stark white comforter. "Well, this is a huge step up."

I frown at him, the anxiety I was feeling before we walked into the house creeping back up.

We shouldn't have brought him here. This is a mistake.

This is the right thing to do. Najee argues. He would have to come here eventually.

I disagree silently, allowing my eyes to lock on Ezra once more. The smell of pine trees and sugarcane is nearly overwhelming in this confined space; my better instincts urging me to escape the room as quickly as possible. I barely fight it, simply nodding at his statement while turning to leave. But his hand on my wrist stops me.

"You're leaving already?" He asks.

"I have things to take care of," I reply. "Now if you would please..."

I start to pull my arm away but his hole only tightens. I sigh before ripping it away with ease and continuing on my way out of the door.

"Well, aren't you going to give me a tour? Show me around the place or something?" He follows behind me automatically, retracing our steps back to the front door. Once we're in the front entry I stop and point out the various aspects of my tiny home.

"The kitchen is right there off the family room. I'm not sure if there is any food in the fridge. There isn't a television because we don't receive cable service out here," I hold my hand up to stop him from interrupting, continuing on with my speech with the same breath, "so there are bookcases spread throughout the house that should provide plenty of entertainment until I return. If you go into my room I will kill you."