Chapter 4 – Home Sweet Home...Kinda
On a regular day, during rush hour, it takes me a whopping hour and some change to get from Downtown LA to my apartment in Torrance. This is due, in part, to the frequent traffic jams and accidents that turn the 110 South into a parking lot.
But now, those miles of concrete were all but empty, allowing me to stretch my car's engine to it's potential. So I took advantage and pushed the accelerator to the floor, watching the needle of the speedometer slowly climb past 80mph. The engine underneath the hood roared as I shifted gears; and smiled as my Java brown Kia Soul flew down the freeway.
Now I know that you were thinking that I was sporting a more “luxurious” car. But sadly, when you are into your second year of college, getting money from your kinda sorta rich family members, and you are still struggling to pay rent, you take what you get. There are sometimes when I despise my “little box car”, as my roommates so affectionately call it, but today was not one of those days. And to be honest, I was happy that I chose this car over the Mini Cooper I had been also looking at. Otherwise, Mr. Unconscious here, would be folded up in the trunk.
My mind was racing as the three questions, I asked myself earlier, echoed in my mind, up until I was about a block from my house. That was when a more pressing question made it's way to the front of my mind.
How the hell am I gonna get this guy from my car and into my unit??
Because you see, my apartment is five stories high. And it just so happens that I live on the top floor. On top of that my neighbors had to be the nosiest people this side of Los Angeles, on account of the smallest crash, they would come running. Now in some places that would be considered kind but to many people in my complex it was downright annoying. And now I'm all for helping people out but the last thing I needed, were my neighbors thinking that I took half naked, half conscious boys home so I could have my way with them.
So I needed a plan to get this guy into my apartment without looking suspicious. And by the time I had pulled into the parking structure under my building and turned off my car, I had one.
The car hadn't been turned off two seconds before I had jumped out of the driver's seat and power walked to open the trunk. It like everything I own was in a state of disarray, but thankfully the thing I was looking for was sitting right on top of my mess, the large black duffel bag I keep my gym clothes in. Thank God.
I grabbed it, threw the straps over my shoulder, slammed the truck shut, and made my way to the rear passenger side door. I pulled open the door and all but scrambled to catch my unconscious passenger as he dropped headfirst out of the seat.
“Jesus Christ you are heavy!” I cursed under my breath as I hoisted Mr. Unconscious back into the seat on the far side of the car. Before throwing the bag into the floor and climbing into the car myself.
I frantically unzipped the duffel and pulled out my tattered blue shirt. Then I reached forward, grabbed the ripped edges of Mr. Unconscious's shirt, and pulled. The fabric tore perfectly and in a few minutes his shirt was on the floor and I had pulled the mine onto his body.
I sat Mr. Unconscious back in the seat and pulled off my sweatshirt, quickly dusting it off before putting it on him and zipping it up. Finally I drew the hood over his head, draped his arm over my shoulder, and lifted him out of the car. I looked up at the blind spot mirror hanging from the nearby wall and couldn't help but smile. To the unsuspecting passerby it would look as if I was carrying my drunk boyfriend from my car to my house. I just hope that it would work on my nosy neighbors. So with a sign and a grunt (which I seriously needed to stop doing) I made my way towards the elevator all but dragging Senor Sleepyhead along with me.
It took me a few minutes to get myself and Senor Sleepyhead to the elevator. I pushed the button and, when the doors opened, stepped inside. I nudged the “3” button with my elbow and leaned back, propping myself and Senor Sleepyhead against the railing as the doors closed and the elevator hummed to life.
I couldn't help but smile as the elevator passed the first and second floor. I was almost home free and no nosy neighbors in sight. But the smile was quickly wiped off my face when the elevator stopped on the third floor and the doors opened to reveal my neighbor Ms. Flowers.
“Samantha,” she said with a smile as she stepped into the elevator, completely ignoring the boy I was holding up, as she pulled me into a hug. “It's so good to see you”.
Ms. Flowers is one of the nicest people in my apartment complex but also, she is one of the nosiest. She lives in the unit right next door to mine and will knock on our door several times during the night when she hears any sounds that she deems suspicious. She is 75 and may appear frail with her silvery hair and forest green dress but she is far from helpless. And I know for a fact, that she keeps a full charged taser in her purse right next to her peppermint candies.
“Hi Ms. Flowers,” I said putting on my best fake smile as the doors closed and the elevator hummed back to life. “How are you?”
“Oh I'm fine dear,” she said, her voice high pitched and a little scratchy. “Been visiting with my dear friend Ms. Matthews down in 310. She's been sick so I brought her some of my homemade soup. What about you sweetie. What have you been up to and who is your friend”?
“Oh,” I said smiling innocently as I pulled Senor Sleepyhead closer to me “this is my friend Pete. He's visiting me from out of town. Yeah, we went to a club downtown and he had a little too much to drink”.
The elevator stopped again but this time on my floor.
“Well do you need any help?” asked Ms. Flowers as the doors opened and I hoisted my 'friend' up off the rail.
“No I'm good,” I said trying not to let the strain show in my voice. “Thanks though”.
I moved quickly across the plush carpeted hallway towards my door, feeling Ms. Flowers' eyes boring holes in the back of my head. Now I don't know if it was the adrenaline or the fact that I could feel Ms. Flowers staring at me, but it took me about half the time it normally takes me to get from the elevator to my front door. Whatever the reason, by the time I was at my door I had my keys out and quickly let myself in, forgetting to wave goodbye to Ms. Flowers. Oh well.
I closed the door behind me and gave a sigh of relief, as I flipped on the lights which illuminated the interior of my super messy, super expensive three bedroom apartment unit. The interior was what you'd expect from three college students. Mismatched, secondhand furniture completely covered with dirty clothes, pots and pans littered the inside sink, dog-eared books scattered along the floor. And a half dozen other things that I'm sure would have given my landlord a stroke if he was to walk through the door this second.
“Johnny! Briana! Are you guys here!?” I yelled out, getting back exactly what I expected, silence.
“Great,” I groaned in my mind as I pulled Senor Sleepyhead from off the door and towards my room. “Of all the times when I want them to be home, low and behold, they are nowhere to be found”.
I nudged a pile of clothes across the room and away from my door, reminding myself to kill my roommates when they walked into the door, and walked into my room. It was small but with a queen sized bed, a small desk, and a short bookshelf it was the only thing in this unit that was clean.
I moved across the room to my bed, and lowered my new 'friend' down onto the gray comforter. I flicked on my bedside lamp and turned my attention back to the guy. The soft glow of the lamp allowed me to see what he really looked like. His hair was midnight black color and was cut long in both the front and back. That along with his light tan skin made him look older than he was back at The Studio. But he was still really good looking.
“Get your head into gear,” I said to myself as I shook my head. “He's hurt, so stop ogling and go get the First Aid kit”.
So after one more look (I'm only human) I got up and made a dash down the hall to the bathroom. The tiles scrapped under the heels of my Chucks as I walked to the sink and opened up the medicine cabinet. Within seconds I was out of the bathroom and walking back into my room first aid kit in hand.
I sat on the edge of my bed and opened up the First Aid kit, taking out the gauze and antibacterial spray. Then I set the kit down and rolled up the end of the shirt, it was only then did my 'patient' stir. His eyes fluttered open and soon enough I was staring into the most beautiful amber eyes I had ever seen.
“So you're finally awake,” I said with a snort. “Took you long enough”
“Where,” he groaned looking around my room.
“My place,” I said avoiding his eyes as I continued to roll up his shirt “now before I go any futher, take off your pants”.
“Huh” he said looking at me confused.
“They are covered in blood” I replied pointing at the now red denim. “And I don't want blood on my comforter so, take them off”.
It sighed began wiggle out of his pants. It took him a little bit but after a couple of minutes he handed them to me, and I set them on the floor next to the bed. Then I went back to his shirt.
Soon it was up to his neck and I could see the deep scratches.
He flinched as the cold air hit his wounds. “Sorry.”
“You had better be,” I said, grabbing the spray shaking the small can. “I dragged you all the way here from Downtown. Now stay still this going to burn”.
I leaned forward and pressed down on the nozzle spraying the smelly mist on his wounds. He groaned out. I quickly dropped the can and covered his mouth with my hands. His amber eyes watched me and flickered with some distant emotion that quickly disappeared before I could decipher it.
After a few seconds I removed my hands and retrieved the can from where it had fallen on the floor.
“Sorry about that” I said feeling bad for all but attacking this poor guy “my neighbors are pretty nosy and if they heard you groaning they might think I was doing something I shouldn't”.
My patient chuckled and just as quickly cringed obviously realizing that it was a bad idea.
“S' ok,” he groaned. “Understand”.
“Well then, guy can you sit up so can put some bandages on you”.
“Caleb,” he groaned as I unwrapped the bandages.
“Huh” I said confused.
He smiled. “My name. It's Caleb, not guy”.
“Well nice to meet you Caleb” I said with a smile finally happy knowing the name of the man I was saving. “Now can you sit up?”
He grunted and slowly sat up groaning in pain as he did so until he was upright. I went to work applying antibiotic ointment to my patient's wounds. My fingers touched the taunt muscles on his chest and he hissed loudly, causing me to quickly pull my hand back.
“Sorry” I said. “Did I hurt you?”
He shook his head. “It's just cold”
I sighed and rolled my eyes, getting back to the task at hand. It took me only a few minutes to apply the ointment to his wounds and wrap the gauze around his stomach and chest, but after all was said and done he looked much better.
“Here” I said handing him a bottle of water and a packet of aspirin from the First Aid kit. “Take these”.
He looked at them curiously before lobbing them into his mouth and downed some of the water.
“Now if you don't mind me asking Caleb,” I said when he sat the bottle on my bedside table. “What happened to you”.
My gaze went to Caleb in time for me to see the fire leave his amber eyes and for some reason that look sent chills down my spine. Why was it so familiar?
“It's nothing,” he grunted and slowly sank back into the bed.
“They hell it doesn't,” I growled angrily! “You have what looks like claw marks all over your chest, your jeans are caked in blood, and you can barely stand. I don't call that nothing.”
“Sammantha I...,” he started but that just added fuel to the already burning blaze.
“And another thing,” I said loudly leaning in close until we were only a few inches apart “how do you know my name. I never told you and I'm pretty sure we haven't met.”
“Look!” said Caleb firmly as he sat up again. “I'm tired as hell and my chest feels like it's on fire. So can the questions wait til the morning?”
I frowned and narrowed my eyes suspiciously. “Alright, but by then I want answers, understood?”
“You'll get them,” he said placing a hand over his chest. “Scout's honor.”
I huffed and packed the remains of the supplies I used back into the First Aid kit, before heading towards the door.
“Thank you,” he said as I was about to turn out the light.
“No problem,” I replied “now get some sleep”.
And with that I turned off the light and closed the door. A dozen more thoughts whizzed through my head as I walked into the living room and flopped down on the couch, tossing the first aid kit on the wooden coffee table.
What was this guys secret?
What attacked him?
And why was this man so familiar to me?
I laid back on the cool tattered leather and let these thoughts swirl through my mind. And strangely enough the though of this stranger laying in the other room put my mind at ease, and in a few seconds my eyes fluttered closed and I drifted into a dreamland. A dreamland filled with vast forests, soft breezes, and a lone stranger with amber eyes.
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