“It’s me… Romeo,” he says, and my eyes squint trying to place him. I’ve met a couple of Romeos in my life.
“From the hospital, when we were kids,” he continues, and my hand drops the pen.
It’s the straitjacket kid. My… sunflower.
Chest rising and falling so fast my eyes fill with tears. I don’t know him, but I was drawn to him when we were kids. We had an unspoken bond, and when he was near me, I felt a little less sad. When he left. Nobody knew how much I cried that day. I sat in the corner of my room thinking about the night we talked to each other through the vents.
“Romeo?” I croak, my throat dry from not talking, it comes out a crackly word.
A smirk pulls on his lips, and I suddenly don’t know what to do.
“Do you remember me?” he asks, hair in his eyes.
I want to reach forward and sweep them to the side, but I resist. People change over time, he did take me. He’s involved with men who buy women. Just because we had something as kids, doesn’t mean he’s safe now.
I nod but keep my guard up.
His eyes drop to the sketching, and he silently scoffs. What is he thinking? Is he thinking about me? When we were kids?
“My sunflower,” he whispers. His eyes come to mine, and a tear slides down my cheek. “I never forgot you,” he says in an unreadable tone, one laced with a darkness and light.
I’m so confused. Do I trust him? I know he said I could leave but they never mean it, it’s a sick game of cat and mouse. Will knowing who I am now make my position here worse?
“What will you do with me?” I ask, the words coming out a little smoother than before.
Licking his lips, he stands. His hard chest coming into full view. He’s definitely not a little boy anymore. No wonder I didn’t recognize him. Back then he was small, scared, and meek looking. Now he looks like a… prisoner. One who escaped and is lost.
Great, two lost souls under one roof, what good could come of that. If he can’t save himself, how can he save me?
“What do you want me to do with you?” he replies, his question laced with promiscuous endeavors, but under-toned with a gentleman’s ease. He’s flirting with me and telling me he’ll stay back if I want him to at the same time. Would he have answered the same way an hour ago before he knew I was Luna? The breath is knocked from my chest with his question, for the first time I’m in charge of my own fate.
What the hell do I want?6Luna“How did you get… to this?” he asks, his palms up, gesturing to all of me. I don’t answer. I don’t want to. Look at him in his nice house and clothes, and look at me. We obviously had very different lives.
“What happened after you left the hospital?” he prods, and my cheeks fill with redness. I want to slip into the soft mattress and disappear. Why couldn’t his father have taken me instead. Shame and humiliation wash over me like a splash of acid. Sliding off the side of the bed opposite of him, I open the door, run across the room and quickly rush to his bathroom, I saw a lock on the door when I was in there last time.
“Luna?” he calls after me, fueling me to go faster. “Luna!” His voice commanding me to turn around.
I reach the bathroom door, slam it and lock it. The door handle jiggles from him attempting to open it and my feet backtrack to get farther away, my eyes glued to the door.
A loud thug has me jump when he hits the door.
“Open the door, Luna!” he demands, but I don’t, in fact, I move even farther away from it.
“No!” I shout, my voice hoarse. He stops knocking but I can see the shadow of his feet from under the door, he’s still there.
A noise as if he was leaning against the door and slid off, has my eyes widen, curious what his next move is.
“You can’t stay in there forever,” he growls, his shadow and hard breaths slipping away into silence. It’s like a beast prowling just outside the door, waiting for me to surrender.
“Watch me!” I sneer.
I climb into the tub, pull my knees to my chest and tuck my face into them. My eyes burn wanting to cry, but I refuse. God, I’m so scared. What if he decides to sell me back, or what if he’s lying and doesn’t want to help me? He’s obviously not a normal person, otherwise why would he have been there to buy women?
Trust is like a thin layer of skin, so easily broken and scarred.