Unstable at Midnight

Chapter Four

People ask me why I colored my hair blue.

They ask me why I would want to cover up the natural honey blonde shade that so many women try to achieve with dyes.

My answer; I hate my hair color. It's as simple as that.

Why, you ask?

That's personal stuff dude, I'd rather not go into it with you right now.

All you need to know about me is that I'm not the kind of person that you mess with.

The light blue color may throw you off and bring the ridiculous notion to your mind that I'm some soft chick who was a cheerleader in high school and loved to giggle and fangirl over the hot boys in class with my girlfriends!

H to the E to the double hockey sticks!

I spent my high school time studying the French political and justice systems that fascinated me so.

Growing up in France, my father's native home, was a beautiful experience that I will forever be grateful for.

It showed me that peace and quite is something to enjoy while you can, but also to respect the balance of nature.

My Mom loved France.

That was the only reason we stayed there for so long.

After she died... I don't think Dad could handle the life they had shared together for so long... alone.

I don't blame him.

That's when we moved to London, and I started to learn all I could about the delicate balance between to political system and the world of journalism.

My Mom's death made me a hateful person, and it took me a long time to realize that's she would have been extremely disappointed with how her teenage daughter was dealing with her problems.

I was seventeen when I walked through the doors of the London offices of Essential News, my Mom's old stomping grounds.

Three years later, I was on a helicopter flying over a war torn village, preparing for my first big assignment as a foreign correspondent.

Now, as I look back on the horrible things I've seen, I can truly appreciate the French morning air even more.

After nearly nine years of seeing things that will forever scar my memories, I told my editors that I needed a new view.

They smiled and told me I was always welcome back; oh, and to take a vacation.

Instead, I moved to America (Baltimore, Maryland to be specific) and was hired by the Baltimore Daily Herald as their newest political journalist.

I moved into a quiet apartment building on a really nice street.

I made a few friends and started to relax.

But sometimes I would think of the excitement of being a correspondent, the thrill of experiencing new countries and cultures.

There was a certain beauty about traveling to different places with a few people you have grown close to, trying to stay out of danger while covering the wars that encroach upon the peace.

I mean, don't get me wrong, I don't miss the bombs and gunfire one bit.

But the action is addictive, that's what I miss.

That is until I saw a stranger leaning against his railing in the moonlight about a day and a half ago.

His body stiff from stress, and his mind obviously distracted.

Sleep had refused to come that night, so I figured that a little night air would help.

He didn't see me sitting on the steps leading up to my apartment.

I must admit I was intrigued.

The last neighbor was a cranky old woman who I had only met two times before she moved out.

And, I can't complain about the view.

A body like his is a beautiful sight.

The moonlight illuminated several scars on his torso and arms; causing curiosity to run rampant through my head.

I wanted to know who he was.

Suddenly he said something under his breath that I couldn't hear.

"Do you always stand in the dark muttering to yourself?" My voice came out in a hushed tone.

He turned and looked at me, a surprised look plastered on his face.

Something happened when his gaze met mine, it was like my heart stopped for several seconds, and then it exploded into a million pieces.

What the hell! That had never happened before!

What sealed the deal though... were those eyes.

God, I've never seen eyes so dark before.

Damn, what was this man doing to me!

I had no idea, but I decided right then, as a smirk threatened to surface on my lips, I wanted to figure this man out.

And trust me, I will. That's a promise.