Who He Is

six

He slept with his lips parted and hair sprawled down, covering his eyes. He had his right arm around one of my pillows that was now wet due to his hair that still hadn't dried from his shower. He seemed at peace, which seemed odd considering what had taken place today, but I envied it and wished I could sleep as well just to rid myself of the worry I had. The worry for what could happen to me for giving a murderer a place to stay, but more importantly worry for the man that saved my life. 

I hadn't realized that I had been watching him sleep until about 10 minutes in when he began to talk in his dreams. 

"No, No," he whispered, now squeezing my pillow tightly in his red fists. 

"No!" I jumped as he screamed the word, and my first instinct was to wake him up to get him out of his obvious nightmare. 

"J, wake up!" I yelled while shaking his shoulders, but came to regret this real quick as his hand collided with my left cheek. I stood back, stunned. 

J's eyes were now open, and they held fear; fear for whatever monster had just haunted him in his dreams. 

"Where am I?" he asked, his voice shaky and skin damp with sweat. 

I stood silent with my hand on my now red cheek, and watched as realization hit him hard as the dream finally rid itself from his head. He stood to his feet in a matter of seconds and grabbed my hand to remove it from my cheek, and I flinched as he touched the still stinging skin.

"I thought you were-" he started, his voice cracking. 

"It's okay, you were having a nightmare." I told him in an effort to comfort him. He didn't mean to hit me, I could tell by the look in his deep eyes that were full of sadness.

"I'm so sorry." he cupped my cheek and ran his thumb over the skin ever so gently. My stomach fluttered at the gesture until a few seconds later when he moved his hand away all too quickly and looked down after realizing what he was doing. 

"Hey," I said, grabbing his hand after noticing that it was shaking. "That wasn't you." 

He tore his hand away from my grasp and sat on the edge of my bed before putting his head in his hands. 

"I need to go." He told me after lifting his head up a few moments of silence later. "Thank you for what you're trying to do for me, seriously, but I'm too fucked up to be around someone like you." 

"What do you mean someone like me?" I asked, trying not to sound as offended as I actually was. 

He made eye contact with me for a split second before looking back to the floor again. Why did he always avoid looking at me? 

"You're too," he stopped to gather his thoughts, visibly contemplating what he was going to say. "You're too good. Someone like me will fuck up your life, I promise you. Especially in this situation. You'll end up arrested along with me if this ends badly do you realize that?"

I took a moment to gather what he had just told me. My brain was screaming at me to let him leave and to get on with my life, but my gut told me to let him stay and to help him. For after all, he helped me. 

"I'm not a charity case." He spat and stood up. "Just give me my clothes and I'll be gone."

"I don't think of you as a charity case, I just want to figure out a plan or something to get you housing somewhere away from downtown."  I said in hopes that he would sit down again, for if he actually wanted to leave I physically could not stop him.