when they call my name | ✔ [𝑼𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹 𝑬𝑫𝑰𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟖

alexandria 

-

When I was younger, I had this nightmare. It occurred every few weeks for months, dragging me into the depths of fear each time. I'd cry myself back to sleep, hoping my cries would make it stop.

Eventually, I had to find a way to face it on my own.

The devil's eyes haunted me through thick forests, across endless oceans, and into the flames that molded him.

What began as a childish paranoia has evolved into something far worse.

By the time I reach my apartment complex, the sky has shifted darker, and the rain starts to fall.

I glance over at Christian's black car pulling in next to mine. I didn't really want him to follow me home, but as always, he seems to show up like a shadow that refuses to let go.

I try to break the tension with some light sarcasm. "Didn't know I was racing against a snail."

A half-smirk tugs at his lips. "Now's not the time to joke around, angel. If you want me to chase you, all you have to do is ask nicely."

My stomach flips at his words. The thought of running from him fascinates and terrifies me at the same time.

He falls silent after that, watching me make my way to the entrance. He gestures to the stairs, wanting me to walk up first.

I stand still. "Don't do that."

His eyebrows lift. "Do what?"

"Act all chivalrous. Like you didn't almost get us fired for turning the bar into a softcore film set."

His smirk deepens. "You mean you getting turned on? I was perfectly composed."

"You had me nearly bent over the bar counter, Christian." I scoff.

He shrugs. "In my defense, you looked like you belonged there."

I blink. "What does that even mean?"

He pretends not to hear me as we walk up the stairs to my front door. I push it open and step inside, the warmth washing over me in a wave of relief.

Christian's silence lingers, an unspoken warning I can't shake.

I roll my eyes, trying to compose the part of me that is ready to freak out. "So, what do you think you're going to do? Watch me fall asleep?"

Christian chuckles. "Maybe. Make sure you're not stupid enough to get yourself killed tonight."

I move toward the kitchen, hoping that the mundane movements will make everything normal. "You're not going to let this whole thing go, are you?"

"Nope."

I take in my surroundings to settle the anxiety. The air freshener I set out this morning has evaporated into the air, and the plants I bought a month ago are near the glass doors that lead to the balcony. The paper plates Eddie left on the coffee table are still sitting on top of last semester's textbooks.

"Hm, you've got mail from UCLA," Christian picks up the mail from the island counter.

"Probably something stupid I got in an email," I reply.

Christian takes his time studying the apartment. The majority of my life was spent here, and he's taking his time looking at every piece of it.

"Did you grow up here?" He asks.

"No," I respond. "We lived closer to Oregon for a few years when I was little."

He folds his arms across his chest. "So, why L.A.?"

I shrug my shoulders. "I'm not sure. I guess no other place felt like home."

His eyes follow me as I hurry to straighten the living room, moving a little faster than usual to avoid his gaze.

Out of all the things on my priority list, having Christian here stalking in the background was not one of them.

I catch him staring at the portraits of Eddie and me throughout the years, his grin creeping at some private thought.

He points toward one picture. "How old were you in this?"

"I think seven," I answer. "I remember not having my two front teeth for a good portion of second grade, and the other kids made fun of me. This one kid would tug on my hair and call me a 'toothless baby' because I was so small."

Christian tilts his head. "Was it a boy or a girl?"

"It was a long time ago. Does it matter?"

"Yes," he says. "Girls can be jealous brats, but if it were a boy, don't be surprised if you see his face on a missing person's flyer." He stares at the rings on his hands, the light catching on the metal.

I laugh. "You're bluffing."

"Do I look like I'm bluffing?" His voice drops.

He moves toward me, the distance shrinking with every step. There's nothing to shield me this time.

He studies my face like it's the first time he's seen it. "I've got no shame going to jail for what's mine," he lowers his voice.

The pit in my stomach tightens again. "I don't belong to you, remember?"

My head is telling me to run, but my heart wants nothing more than to be closer to him. It's a war within me, two forces pulling in opposite directions. Yet, my soul remains still.

"You know, I've become quite jealous of your God," he says.

I struggle to catch my breath. "Why is that?"

"Cause you get on your knees and worship Him but not me."