Chapter V

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Don left abruptly, telling me he was going to go catch fish for breakfast. I didn't ask him any more questions, just watched him leave with a spear to the shore to hunt. I watched his back muscles flex as he walked, the realization that this dress was actually his shirt came to mind. Butterflies swarmed my stomach thinking about him stripping this off his body to give to me.

I watched as he plucked a cod off of the spearhead and dropped it by his feet. He looked like he knew exactly what he was doing and it made me wonder why he lived like this. He has no electricity in this home, only gas lamps and no television or radio, just a simple analogue clock hanging by the front door. My body felt calm enough to stand up, so I did. I roamed around the shack, looking at the shells on the walls and floor. He had little model boats made from sticks and white fabric sitting on a desk that sat in a corner. The desk was much neater in contrast to the table across the room which was still is disarray. I went to the small table and picked up the blank papers, stacking them together neatly. I did the same with the pencils, placing them in a cup carved from driftwood that had been toppled over. My eyes found a small opening in the a floorboard as I was looking down at the papers.

Only the corner of my eye caught it, but I knew it was there. Putting down the pencil cup, I bent down and gripped the board to pull it up. I know I shouldn't be snooping in Don's things. It's very kind of him to let me be here and I'm completely disregarding his personal space by doing this, but I felt like I had to. The board came up with ease and under it laid a bunch of papers tied together with twine. I picked the stack up, my interest piqued and my pulse quickening. I untied the twine and upon closer examination I realized it was dried seaweed. I flipped over the first page, my heart hammering in my chest and my blood freezing.

I sat atop the cliff. My hand was occupied with a brush as I overlooked my favorite scene. I looked so concentrated and my hair was tied back. My hoodie that I always wear to paint in was gone and I was wearing the same shirt I was in now. I looked so...elegant and beautiful. Part of me felt like I was just imagining this to be myself in vain, but I noticed a scar on the girl's forehead- the exact same scar I got when I fell on a rock when I was running along the South Beach one day. Subconsciously I rubbed the slightly elevated rubbery skin just above my right brow. Grabbing another paper, it was the same image only I was standing, overlooking the water with my arms over my chest. I was wearing the shirt instead of my painting hoodie once again and as I looked at all the other drawings I noticed I was wearing this shirt in all of them.

Each drawing was signed by Don. He drew these all. My heart hammered against my chest so hard I thought it'd burst out. My hand covered my mouth as realization kicked in. I felt a rush of adrenaline course through me but again I couldn't hang onto the panic because it drifted out of me. Being here apparently means I can't feel anything but peace! And every bit of common sense inside me is telling me to leave, but I can't! I can't move. I can't force myself to leave because the contentment I feel is overweighing my logical thoughts.

I heard the door open behind me and the smell of fish drifted into my nose. Don's heavy steps filled the room and I froze, the pictures in my hands. "Nyx," his deep voice called to me and the tingles and warmth increased in me. He sounded like he knew what I was doing and he wasn't upset. Well maybe he was and I just can't tell. I don't know what to think other than the fact that my legs felt like jello again. I lifted the papers above my head, not even turning around.

"I need an explanation."

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