BLACK

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Black Chapter 9

BLACK Chapter 9

My hand is still resting across his jaw while he stares at me with caution, but the look in his eyes says other words. I’m not sure if he wants me to remove it but regardless, I don’t. I can’t tell what he’s thinking right now, it’s not easy to read him but I get a glimpse of what he might have in mind. But not this time, his eyes are too dark to see past them. I’ve never seen a green in this kind of light. It’s as if he’s wearing the darkest shade of contacts; shielding himself from the word. He’s masking out his soul to the world by angering his mind. Which disturbs the light source in his eyes. The dark pupils stare back at me as I try to reconnect my fingers with the bottom of his hair. The loose curl wraps around my index finger and he sighs softly letting a small breath escape his mouth.

He looks at peace, like a child playing with his favorite toy; I’m afraid of speaking, disturbing him. But I do anyway. “You have very long hair for a man.” If our distance wasn’t as so I don’t believe he would have heard me. He smiles in response. I bring my left hand to his chest and he jerks away immediately. My wrists is captured harshly between his hand; he grips my skin tightly not letting go. I wince in pain but he doesn’t seem to hear me struggle from the pain. “Let go!”

When he finally releases my clutched wrists from in between his strong grip. My hand harshly hits my torso, the bruise around the skin is freshly marked. I rub my pained wrist, my fingers gliding across the wounded area as I try to relax the discomfort that has been brought to it.

“Why did you do that?” There’s a sort of confusion overlooking his features; he’s trying his hardest not to disturb the moment but his breathing is quick along with his pulse.

“Don’t ever touch me like that Amelia.” He sighs rubbing his eyes, “Ever.”

“Why? I didn’t eve-” I’m cut off when I see him stand to his feet at my words, the chair he was seated in, falls over slamming the tiled floor beneath us. His hands come in contact with the wall behind my head, he slams his palms either side of my face-pinning me to the space, the noise echoes through the room but he doesn’t to care the least. His angered scowl is inches away from me, his hair falls over his eyes and in between our noses; his body is farther away from mine but the mint to his breath is easily inhaled.

“I do not like to be touched in that way! Don’t make me hurt you.” He rubs his nose against mine, his hair tickles the side of my face but I don’t show an expression. My face is blank and he rolls his eyes. “I’m sorry,” He nods towards my hand, without breaking eye contact he quickly takes my throbbing wrists in his palms. His pink lips swiftly brush across the skin, kissing it lightly.

I don’t say anything, I just watch his corrupted mouth move along my flushed skin, the sound of his lips come in contact with the wound as there placed one after another, when he’s done apologizing he rests his forehead on mine; his hands come to rest at the sides of my hips. I try to push away but he refuses, his strength represses over mine. “Don’t fight me.” He says coldly, locking eyes.

“Why can’t I touch you?” I let my right hand come in between our bodies, my fingers run along his button shirt. He watches me closely but doesn’t answer me. “Do you have a phobia or something?” He shakes his head. “No, I do not.”

“Then what is it?”

He stops my wandering fingers from unbuttoning his button shirt. Instead he folds the renaming space between my hands with his, our fingers clutch against one another as he rests it on the wall besides my face. “You don’t have to know everything Amelia, it’s quite annoying actually.”

He notices the expression on my face and questions it. I don’t respond to him, this is the second time he’s done this. Get close to me, and then just vanish away. I don’t understand why he even considers opening up to me to only shut himself back down. It doesn’t make any sense why he’s such a closed person, he seems to have anything he desires. Yet, he so alone. This beautiful place is filled with everything but it’s not a home. It’s just a place where he rests his head at night.

“I know you want to say something, just say it already. Spare me the hospitality, I hate that shît.” He surprises me when he soaked in that tone, those words sound so bitter on his tongue. It’s not like him to use such vulgar language. But his words aren’t angry as he choose them to be, there more curious.

“It doesn’t make sense to me.” I finally say and he lets go of my hand, our fingers brush against each other as they slip away. He sits back down on the rotating chair and I take my place on the wall again, he offers me to sit but I refuse. I stand before him for the second time, and he urges me to continue.

“Why bother to even tell me things about you.”

His forehead creases, he’s confused. “I don’t follow.” He says.

“You’re so hidden, I can’t even call you by your name! Which I find rather ridiculous, what are you so afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid Amelia, I do not share personal information.”

“But why, I just don’t get it.”

“You don’t have to get it, you just have to deal with it.”

I roll my eyes right in his face and walk out the room; slamming the door behind me. He calls my name multiple times but I ignore his voice and stride calmly down the steps. His presence irritates me at the moment and I do not want to be engaged in the same room he breaths in. I can’t bare to be around someone who thinks in that way. He’s so unreasonable, it’s quite annoying in fact. I don’t even know why I let myself obsess over someone who doesn’t even care about himself.

I make it to the end of the staircase in one piece. I notice the glass cup he previously placed at the bottom of the first step, picking it up I walk to the kitchen on the the side of his home. It’s quite easy to get lost here but I find my way. I’m actually quite impressed with the technology he has, the modern painting and vintage photography he cares for. It’s not something I wold have imagined him taking an rather interest of.

When I reach the kitchen door, I search for a knob to open the doorway but there isn’t one, a plain white door stands bolted to the ground before me and I can’t get in. My right foot moves before me, tapping a metal square on the ground. I gasp in an unexpected manor as I watch the doors automatically slide open at the center. “wow.” I whisper to myself. Even his kitchen is quite extraordinary.

Marble flooring match the tilted walls as they fill the entire room. The small light fuses hanging from above my head is smaller than the one in the living room but resembles in the same pattern. I set the glass cup on the marbled counter top. I notice the shiny checkered coating covering his cabinets when I walk by the fridge, everything looks incredibly built, like it was brought out right from a magazine. I open one of the cabinets, searching for a tea cup. When I find the cabinet of silverware, I’m quite fascinated with the collection he has. For someone who lives alone-he has a lot of cooking utensils for just one person.

I turn the switch on the electric water boiler, when it’s done steaming I pour the hot water into the tea cup. Stirring the grains of ginger, I watch as the movement of the grains stop. I’m about to take a sip but I hear something from outside the kitchen doors. I’m tempted to go outside to see who it might be but I don’t stop myself. I leave the tea cup on the counter and wait for the doors to open-when they do a, tall woman comes into view.

She’s wearing a white apron across her waist and a plain black top. Her black hair is tied up into a bun and she smiles down towards me. “What are you doing in my kitchen young lady.” She chuckles faintly and walks past me to the fridge.

I’m confused at first, he said no one lives here-so what the hell is she doing in his kitchen.

“I need to make dinner soon, are you hungry?” She asks, taking items out of the fridge doors. The small heals covering her feet tap against the tilted floor. She looks quite young to be a maid, but the white hairs draw me other wise, her face is powdered up to the neckline of her black top and small pearled earrings rest loosely on her ears.

She smiles at me again and continues to knife the vegetables before placing them into a boiling pot. “What’s your name? If you don’t mind me asking?”

I clear my throat and respond to her, she seems kind enough. “Amelia,”

“What a pretty name, are you a friend of Mr. Bronwell?”

I give her a questioned look, but soon realize who she speaks of. Professor H. So that’s his last name. Bronwell. What is that? Where is he even from? There’s so many things I don’t know about him. Did she even mean to say his name? She doesn’t look nervous or scared like the poor woman who came in the lecture hall exposing his whereabouts a couple days ago, Heather was it? I don’t remember.

I just can’t believe I’m standing in someones kitchen who I’m just learning the last name of. I want to ask her for his first name but I feel guilty somehow. He’s made it very clear that he wants nothing to do with me knowing his personal information. I sigh to myself in annoyance. There’s so many things wrong with this moment. I stand here watching her as she cooks for someone who literally hates everything except for his precious course work.

“What’s your name?” I surprise myself by saying.

She stops cutting on the knife board and looks at me momentarily, the red color across her lips cracks as she speaks. “Lauren.”

“So..why are you here?”

She chuckles lightly, covering her mouth. “Oh dear, I should be asking you that.”

She’s right, what am I dong here? I’m just a student in her teachers house wandering around like a loose goose.

What the hell is wrong with me?

She stops cutting on the knife board, and turns the oven on; placing a foiled plate inside. “Are you staying for dinn-” Her voice is cut off when the doors behind me open.

The air between the door and myself thickens, I know it’s him unless he has other maids lurking around the house. The doors close quietly, but I don’t turn around to face him. Lauren stops and greets him. “Good evening Mr. Bronwell ” She says in a motherly tone and continues working as she’s told.

“Evening, something light today Miss Lauren,” He doesn’t seem as surprised as I was when she mentioned his name, I turn my face to look at him. His jaw is hard, his nostrils are flared and his brown hair falls over to the side of his face.

“Already on it, Sir.”

He grabs my elbow when he notices me looking at him, I shrug off his grip but he tightens his fingers around my skin for the second time. “See you later Amelia,” Lauren calls out as we both step away from the kitchen doors.

He swings me around from behind to face him letting go of my elbow. “What did I say about fighting me?”

“You have anger issues.” I say quietly and walk past him, the sides of our shoulders bump in contact; his height defeating mine in contact.

He stops walking behind me and steps around to look at me. For once he doesn’t pin me to a wall like he always does when I piss him off; instead he just stares into my eyes, sadly, the green is dull and drawn down.

He looks shattered and ashamed. His lips part to speak but his mouth is too dry to say anything. “I can have my driver take you home if you like, it’s late for you to be taking the bus at this hour.” He says softly breaking eye contact, I watch his body disappears up the staircase and onto the second floor.

I wait in the lobby for his driver to come as he says. I could have just token the damn bus, it’s not a big deal for me. I love public transportation, others might find it odd but I was raised in the city. I’ve gotten use to it dealing with different routes.

I shrug my leather jacket on my shoulders and await for the silver car to pull up. I feel like an outsider sitting on these chairs. The tall vases stand besides me decorating the space around the room, as other high-handed people scatter around the lobby as well. Everyone here seems so in place with this world. Their world.

They’re world of privilege. Designer bags, designer shoes, designer this and that is all I see as they walk past me. What was I thinking coming here? I obviously don’t belong. This isn’t my place. I’m just a student, and he’s much more than what I have expected to be. He’s demanding, challenging, not forgetting the way he can stimulate my brain. I shake my head at the thought, he’s not all like he puts out to be though. He’s sweet in a way. In a very dark way, he’s gentle, kind and caring. But he’s still him and I don’t want anything to do with him.

Not if he’s going to be a hard-cover book I can’t hold. He needs to find a way to open up, if it’s not to me then someone else.

Why is he like this? His words haunt me, he was never my problem to begin with so why am I so caught up on him? He’s just a teacher, I remind myself letting the words sink in as I rest my chin against my palm.

I realize that I hit a bad nerve, I didn’t mean to blab out the anger issues card. But it needed to be said. I groan to myself, I’ve never seen him act that way. He looked so lost when I said those words to him. His green eyes were as bright as I’ve ever seen them.

The way his lips parted from shock broke what’s ever left of my heart. I feel bad for saying that to him. I want to go back up there and erase those horrible words from his memory. He might have a anger issues but telling him he does probably didn’t help. I assume he’s well aware of his condition by the look on his face.

“Miss Amelia,” Someone wakes me from my thoughts. I look up and see the same guy from earlier who had token the silver and parked it in the garage. He stands talk before me as I’m still seated on the chair. “The cars outside ma’am.” He informs me and steps outside the glass doors.

I follow along collecting my bag and cellphone from the table and head towards the car. It’s not the silver one like H drives, it’s white.

“Where’s the silver car?” I ask curiously. I like the Audi, it’s beautiful.

“I don’t drive Mr. Bronwell's car, he gets escorted in this one.” The man opens the back door for me, taking my purse in his hands. I step inside and he closes the door for me. I thank him once he takes his place in the driver seat. The brown leather interior is just as amazing as the black in the silver Audi. Everything he owns seems to resemble the same taste. He’s quite simple in that way, there isn’t a great amount of detail but rather elegance.

The ride is quiet, his driver doesn’t speak to me for the most part unless I give him shortcuts which he thanks me multiple times for. His cellphone rings disturbing the silence. He’s quick to retrieve the call, I watch as he clicks a small button on his right ear. The Bluetooth lights indicating a voice on the other line. I can make out the worlds but it’s quite muffled.

“Yes, Sir. I understand.” The driver speaks.

I know it’s him calling, who else could it be. “I’ll make sure of it, not a problem.” A few words are spoken between them before he disconnects the call.

The car halts in front of my building. I’m surprised he knew where exactly it was located, but I’m sure he was given the perfidious instructions how to get here. “Thank you.” I say, as he opens the door for me, he hands me my purse and waits by the driver side of the car. His eyes watches as I walk across the campus, I assure him he may leave now but he insists and tells me he’s following strict orders. I roll my eyes without letting him take notice; I know he’s only doing his job. I thank him once again from across the street as he drives off.

When I enter my dorm, the living room is quiet and Kate’s dead asleep across the small coach. The light from her laptop is the only alive source of energy in the room. When I notice the receiver slowly blink against Kate’s head I check for the missed messages this week. There’s one but it’s not specific to whom. I press the green button and the automated voice speaks. “One missed call for Katherate Cage. Fourteen days ago.”

Ignoring Kate’s message that has been there for weeks now. I take the blanket from the end of the coach and lift it to her body. I cover her arms as well and let her rest. She squirms under the fabric but finally decides to stay in place.

I head to my room turning on the light. It’s still a haunted mess as I left it. I peel the clothes off my body and get into more comfortable ones.

I hear my cellphone vibrant on top of the dresser before heading to the bathroom. My fathers name appears again and I don’t know how long I can keep avoiding him. I finally deiced to answer the call instead of letting it go to voicemail. “Hello.” I say in a hushed tone.

“Mia! Oh my gosh my Mia! You had me worried.” My fathers nervous voice paces through the speaker. I hold my phone inches away from my face as he lectures me for not answering him all these hours. Once he’s calm enough I make forced conversation. “How are you?” I manage to say.

“I’m doing alright, I miss you terribly.” He says in between sniffles.

“I miss you too.” I roll my eyes. “Do you visit mom?” I ask, knowing he answer.

There’s a silence at the end of the line for a second. I think he disconnected the call but he’s steady breathing tells me he’s still there. “Sometimes, Mia.”

“Oh.” is all I can really say.

“How’s college? Are you liking your classes? I should come visit! We could have lunch.” He luges at me all at once, his tone changes at the sound of the conversation but I’m not eager to respond with the same. He’s sure moved on.

“It’s fine. I’m good.” My voice is dull and broken. I want him to know how I feel about what he did but he’s not getting it by now, he never does.

“Amelia, I know you’re upset with me. But I’m still your father.” He whispers.

“Not by choice.” I whisper back.

He doesn’t comment on this, instead he says. “your mother misses you.”

I didn’t want to hear those words, or any words for that matter. I shouldn’t have even answered his call it just pains me to hear his voice especially when he mentions my mom.

“I should go, I have an early class.”

“No Mia wait..” He urges. I don’t respond, I wait for him to speak again.

“For thanksgiving I was thinking you could maybe come home?”

That’s the last thing I want. That’s the last thing I’m thinking about is going home. Where ever that is. I hang up the phone quickly after declining my fathers thanksgiving invitation. He doesn’t say anything after this and shortly let’s me leave in peace.

After brushing my teeth and plugging my phone in the charger I’m finally in bed and under the covers. It’s been a long day and I really the rest.

When my eyes open to sunlight the first thing that burst through my ears is a screaming Kate outside my bedroom door. I check my time clock, it’s only seven in the morning why is she awake this early? I have my first chemistry lab in two hours and I need to be prepared.

She seems to be arguing with someone, as their voice comes to life. It’s much quieter than hers but I still can manage to hear it. It’s a man, his tone is angry but he’s simply trying to keep his voice down for the sake of others around the building.

I step outside my bedroom and a dramatic Kate is already bailing her fists at some man towards the door. I push aside her tall figure to see an angry father figure through the door way.

“Mia! Oh my god. This obnoxious girl would not let me in.” My father yells, rolling his eyes towards Kate’s direction.

“He was being very unreasonable Mia.” Kate mocks my fathers thick accent and walks away with a scowl on her face.

I shake my head at both of them and lead my father towards the living room. What is he even doing here. New York is hours away, why on earth would he drive all night just to argue with me in person. As if last nights phone call wasn’t enough he’s come for more. “Why are you here?” I ask, irritated.

He seats himself on the chair besides the TV, lifting his right leg over his knee. He folds his hands before him and speaks. “To see you of course, last nights conversation did not go well darling.”

I roll my eyes in his face, he can be...Quite controlling as a parent which marks my decision to not staying at home after my mother got ill. Looking at his face right now reminds me of her vegetable state and I can’t bare to feel the pain I left back home. “I’m not in the mood for family visits at the moment.” I stiffen my posture.

“Now why are you really here?” I ask again, if he doesn’t give me a reasonable answer; I’m going to leave him to fend for himself with Kate while I get ready for my classes. I don’t have the patience that I once had a year ago to be in my family equation of problems. I divided my self out of this fraction for a reason and I want it to stay this way.

He sighs, cupping his jaw line. “They moved your mother across state, New York was no use to us Mia, she needs to be around the people she feels close too.”

“She doesn’t even know who I am,” I scoff at his attempt of calming the situation he put us through.

His eyes flutter closed, when they open again I can see a hint of guilt. “Please,” he begs. “They’re moving her this afternoon to the local hospital across town. It’s only a couple of miles south of campus. Please come.”

“Dad I ca-”

“Mia!” his voice echoes through my small dorm. “I will not ask you again. Is that understood? Your brother is coming this evening as well, I do not want to disappoint your mother again.” I’m surprised with his tone. He doesn’t have a temper but at times he will raise his voice when we do not cooperate with certain plans.

I haven’t had my father yell at me in a very long time, I stand before him ashamed. I’m tempted to say something to piss him off but what good will that do? The bags under his eyes are much darker than usual-his drive here must have token all night and a great amount of the morning. I leave it be and nod, holding my tongue. “Fine. What time should I be there?”

“I will text you the information.” He stands to his feet.

I shift uncomfortably on the carpet-filling in the spaces between my toes. “What do I bring?” I ask uncomfortably, I haven’t seen my mother in over a year now how am I suppose to visit her and pretend everything is alright when it’s not.

“A positive attitude.” He pushes past me, annoyed and into the hallway. Without a word the door closes behind him and I’m left in the living room alone.

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