What A Head Rush

The clock ticks as I watch from my position on the couch. Hours tick by at an increasingly slower rate than originally thought possible. The cushions of the plush couch have formed around my corpse. My body remained in the same spot for hours without end. 

The only movement I make is to let Eveline inside, eat, or go to the restroom. Each dragging on like an untuned guitar strumming out loudly in the ticking. Time dragged on like a leaking faucet, constantly a reminder. A reminder of problems needing to be fixed, things needing to be done, expeditions yet to be taken. Over the course of what seemed like months but were merely days, the ache in my jaw faded. 

My leg where he stood on it still throbs each time I put pressure on it. Bruises blossomed on my side where a kick landed from his heeled shoes. My back where I landed on it aches and my muscles spasm in pain. Soon the time well wasted rotting away proved to be of use. Standing outside of the small gloomy house, without an aching reminder I set off.

Weeks had passed progressively onwards as my shoes slammed against the sidewalks once again. The ritual incited continued on, walking past the chiming church bell a small grin spread across my face. It felt utterly stupid, fucking grinning like an idiot over something that makes my ears scream. 

The damned bastard had ruined me, locked in that house, maybe it made me lose that last bit of sanity. An old couple walks past bickering with each other, the wife with a grin on her face and the husband sporting a small grimace. She seemed like a fox, up to no good as she poked at her husband's side. I covered my mouth as the grin I wore grew. I had a soft spot for older married couples. Most of them are very sweet, similar to my parents. My grin soon fades at the thought of my parents clear across the country. I have no clue how I'm going to visit them. With a huff, my eyes meet the sight of the warm and welcoming café. 

With a nervous glance around at my surroundings, I spot nothing out of character and walk in. The friendly cashier from before grins at me when she notices my approaching figure. After the immediate rush of breakfast being over the line only consists of one other. 

Filling the position of second-in-line I'm quick to finally order when it's my turn— the same hot chocolate as before. Before I make any move my change goes in the tip jar, clinking at the bottom. Turning around to find a table I spot the same one I've been sitting at completely empty. Just my luck! I grinned to myself, walking over and plopping down with a huff. Getting comfy in my wait my mind drifts to man. Anger washes over me in a searing hot rage. 

What right did that bastard have? I wasn't going to say shit, unlike some, I know when to keep my mouth shut. Just out of pettiness I want to blab to the police. Yet another thought dawned on me. In my time here I haven't seen a single cop, not even a police station.

Goosebumps cover my body as my neck tingles. Dread consumes me as a figure approaches the table from my side. The chair screeches when moved to make room for him to sit down. My jaw hangs open as the same damning man from the week before sits before me, a book in hand. 

He treated the situation as if simply going out to the café just to read. My brow twitches, yet as I turn to move and get away— as if expecting my departure the man grabbed my wrist in a firm grasp with warm calloused hands. Every fiber in my body stills as I turn back with a hard glare, a smirk warming his face. "Stay." He grunts out. His cold eyes glared daggers right back at me.

Alarm bells rang louder in my head than the church bell down the street. With irritated defiance, I quickly signed, with a hard look, "What do you want?" He furrowed his brow and before I could reach for a pad of paper he responded, "Drop the tone, I came here for a nice chat." 

Anger started to form deep within my chest. The searing hot feeling of it dripped from me. "Tone? I don't even talk— I didn't ask you to fucking join me." He chuckled, another thing accompanying the anger, yet unrecognizable. "Just by your expressions I can tell you're infuriated, I didn’t expect that from a person like you. To be so expressive when you've obviously been traumatized." A glint of malice glimmered in his eyes, the anger only rising as he hit the nail on the head. I catch a glimpse at his hands which he neatly rests on the table clasped together. The skin on his knuckles is red and irritated with bloody patches.

"Tell me, you keep shoving your nose into my business, don’t you, Noah?" The man talked in such a suave manner the depth of his voice expanding at the mention of my name. My heart was pounding in my chest, fear coursing through my veins. "You're very interesting. A Distinguished Service Cross? Pretty impressive." I flinched, how does he know I earned that? "A Prisoner of War Medal, that told me a lot about you. Now tell me, Noah, how long did you serve in that war, was it the full 10 years? Why even try to settle down, you know they'll drag you right back in." His words dripped with malicious intent.

"You seem to not have a job either... Maybe I could fix that? What do you think about taking up a job offer you most definitely can't resist." Anger boils within my chest once again, "Why would I take up a job from you? You're very obviously not the trustworthy type." The auburn-haired man chuckled, resting his arms on the table. "Don't act like you're not interested. It won't be hard, just do my bidding. You obviously know I'm not an innocent man let alone a good one."

My teeth ache as I clench them, hard, almost biting my cheek in the process. “You’re a fucking bastard, I don’t even know your name and you throw a threatening job offer at me. I never plotted to stick my fucking head in your goddamn business. I don’t own a man that beat me anything.” A Cheshire grin takes over his face as he lets out a gentle chuckle. “Let’s just say this offer is my admission of regret perhaps? Believe it as whatever makes you happy.” 

He flashes his pearly white teeth in a falsified innocent grin. “Just work as a bodyguard me, nothing too crude for you, yes? Wouldn’t want to put you directly in the frontlines again now would we?” I remain motionless, staring at the man with hatred in my eyes that most definitely shone through. “You’ll work beside me as a bodyguard when in public and at my company. Nothing out of the ordinary for you, nothing too serious either.” I run my right hand through my hair in a stressed motion, reaching out my other hand for him to shake. With a strong hand, he grasps my hand in his slightly larger one with a firm shake we both pull away. “Common courtesy would be you, telling me, your name.” He bobs his head and slightly arches it a bow, grinning, “My name is Lucio Mazza, it is pleasant to be of your acquaintance, Noah Fletcher.”

I sneer in disapproval shaking my head in anguish as I try to reason with myself. I need the money, it won’t kill me to deal with this bastard. My rambles pause as I stare at him, our eyes locking, a shield in front of his emotions, hiding them from view. “How does forty-five dollars an hour— ninety-three thousand six hundred a year sound?” He pulls out a small pad of paper from his pocket, grasping the expensively designed wood and resin pen from his button-up collar.

Finally slowing down to drink in the sight. He sits slightly slouched over the pad of paper. The shirt unbuttoned a fear spare buttons revealing the golden skin underneath. The flaming locks trickle down his shoulders, cascading in feverish falls. I watch as his fingers flex with each movement of the pen, scribbling things down in silence. When he finally looks up his long lashes flutter as his face contorts into a smirk. 

Heat spreads through the back of my neck and to my ears as I quickly glance away from his knowing stare. Bastard, how dare he act so cocky, is it wrong to know my future boss? My thoughts grumble. He tears the paper out of the pad of paper sliding it across the table. An address reads in blue fine cursive. Wish I could write that well. “We can meet at my office tomorrow if you’d like, talk it over, sign some papers.” 

With a firm nod in response he stands, “Then I’ll be taking my leave.” The man says with a firm affirmation as he walks over. Patting me on the shoulder, looking in the distance behind me, his back to me. “If you ever even plot of running off…” He leans down, his breath tickling the tiny hairs on my ears. “I will hunt you down and dice you into so many pieces nobody will ever know it was you.” 

Pulling away he pats my shoulder again, walking away seamlessly. I take a long deep breath in, releasing a shaky one in return. What a Bastardly Man.