Made For You

Ch. 13: You're Nothing

Sofia

A faded, white ray of consciousness drags me out of the darkness. I hear the noises first. It sounds like a ferocious storm churning outside, the thunder so loud that I imagine it rocking the roof.

I struggle to open my eyes and when I do, I find myself facing a cedar ceiling instead of the one I have gotten used to in the last few weeks. I sit up with a jerk, my head swaying at the sudden movement. Fear clutches my chest in desperate claws, making me draw harsh breaths when I scan the room I am in with my aching eyes.

It is a small room with a cozy ambiance. There is the bed where I am lying, a wardrobe, a bathroom door, and a path through French doors that leads to a balcony where the rain is hitting the panes sharp enough to cause some serious damage.

Panic creeps into my mind as I struggle to recall how I wound up in this place. My last memory is of talking to Gabriel in the graveyard before everything went dark.

I glance downward, alarm bells going off in my head as I notice the change of my outfit. I am in a pale blue T-shirt and shorts. They are made of soft fabrics but the awareness that I didn't dress in them this morning has me crawling down the bed in a hurry.

My bare feet land on the hardwood floor, making light taps as I reach the only door in the room. On stepping outside, the same walls and minimal decor follow me as I climb down a row of stairs, rushing across rooms until I land on a carpeted floor.

I stop, first noticing the news playing on the huge TV where a reporter talks about the descending change in the Big Apple's weather. Below the TV, an electric fireplace is lit up with duplicate flames dancing wildly. Although it is cold outside, the place inside is heated adequately, making it comfortable. The room also serves a kitchen on the other side where a polished island sits with a stove atop it.

Across the TV is a couch where a man sits, spreading himself like a king with arms stretched and his feet crossed at the ankles on top of a coffee table. Gabriel has his shirt unbuttoned all the way, displaying his ripped torso proudly while he swirls a brownish liquid in a glass in one hand. His concentration is glued to the screen.

I walk a few steps, coming into the view of his periphery. He ignores me which makes me the first to speak to grab his attention.

"Where are we?" I ask, hugging myself awkwardly.

Gabriel swallows the drink in his glass, picking up the remote from the coffee table. He mutes the woman on the TV, places the empty glass down with a soft slick, and rises to his full height. He turns to me.

"Senorita," he says, feigning pleasure on seeing me awake. "Did you have a good sleep?"

This sarcastic asshole...

I keep the curses down, fighting the spasms in my jaw. "Where did you bring me?"

Gabriel raises his hands in a gesture of peace. "I'm just the savior, darling. Don't give me that look."

"What happened to me? And where are my clothes?"

He sighs, scratching the center of his forehead with his thumb like one would do if they were attempting discourse with a pest.

"Long version—" he starts, then shakes his head to himself. "Nope, way too much to tell and I'm not a very talkative person. Short version—you fainted, I carried you to the car like a hero on a battlefield, everybody cheered, we came here and I had a doctor check on you. She changed you."

When I remain unresponsive with an eyebrow arched in doubt, he laughs deeply.

"Sorry for shattering your dreams of painting me as the big, bad guy of your story who'd take advantage of you." He pretends to buff his nails on his shirt, avoiding meeting my eyes.