The Housekeeper [h.s.]

Zaran Marock

I didn't know how long I had stayed there. Hours, days, minutes. I knew nothing. It felt like years, sitting there alone in the dark. My stomach was hurting because it hadn't gotten any food in so long. I felt sick all the time, like I was going to throw up, but nothing would come up. I hated the void feeling, and I hated the feeling of not knowing, and I hated that place, and I hated Ron and his goddamn minions.

The night had gone with me only shutting my eyes to blink. I didn't know if there was anyone there, or what was happening. It seemed like the darkness became darker and darker, and I could hardly breathe. My whole body was shaking the entire time, not making any sound whatsoever in fear of missing something, missing the sound of the door opening or missing the sound of anything. I hadn't heard a single sound since Ron left me, cold, alone and scared to death. Why he stopped so sudden, I didn't know. It was confusing and strange that all of a sudden he would just leave. Without saying a word. He just left.

It felt like late on the day, considering the small yawns that escaped my mouth, when the door opened after so long. I held my breath and didn't dare to move a muscle. Footsteps and low voices came through the door, and I couldn't catch what they were saying until they came closer.

"So you want to be our new drug smugler?"

I froze at the familiar voice. It was Christoff. Although he didn't seem as scary as Ron, he was still intimidating.

"Yeah, I'd be honored. Heard a lot about you," another voice said, and I couldn't help but feel like I had heard it before. It sounded almost familiar, but they were still kind of far away from me, so it wasn't easy to hear.

Christoff snickered and the footsteps came closer to me. "Well, you seem like the guy for it. You have experience with smugling, I presume? Cause our last one was shit, and we don't need another one of those peasants."

The voice came closer, and became more familiar to me, but I couldn't figure out where I had heard it. It sounded somewhat American.

"Of course, yeah. Been smugling a lot for Allyans, and the Intoxicated Void and stuff like that."

Christoff sounded impressed. "Wow, not bad, Chicago boy. Well, in that case, you're hired. I'm sure Ron will be pleased when he meets you."

Christoff sounded satisfied with his choice, and were probably shaking the man's hand I figured because of the silence.

"So I'll write down a meeting time on my phone and tell Ron. Your name again?"

The mysterious man cleared his throat. "My name is Zaran. Zaran Marock."

"With a Z?"

"Yes."

I swallowed when I heard his voice again, because this time it sounded so familiar. So awfully familiar, and yet I couldn't seem to think of a person or name when I heard him speak. Although I didn't really know anyone who was American. And I had never heard the name before. It was a rather strange name, but I liked it. It sounded exotic and urban. And his voice sounded the same. Dark and quiet. Kind of mysterious.

"As you can see we have a little .. Bug in our way here," Christoff said and practically hissed at the words.

Zaran's steps approached me. I shifted nervously and swallowed, afraid of what he might do. A hand was felt on my shoulder. My breath hitched, and I tried to stay calm as he spoke.

"I can see that."

The sudden appearance. The dark yet kind voice. The name. Zaran Marock. The gentle touch. The timing. Everything. It all made sense now. The plan we had made. It all smashed back to me like a struck of lightning, all so sudden.

The mystery man was Zayn.

He rubbed my shoulders seductively in his role as Zaran, and bent down to my ear and whispered.

"I'll come back for you."

"Woah, woah, what are you doing?" Christoff asked with an angry voice, clearly taken aback.

Zayn went up again, and I really hoped he knew what he was doing, because these guys were clever.

"Just teasin' her a bit. Checking her out," he said mischivously, and chuckled with fuilth in his voice, a Zayn I used to know. That Zayn was no longer found luckily. Now he was one of the best boys I knew, and the fact that he would go that far for me was beyond what I could ever imagine Zayn could do.

Christoff chuckled. "I already like you, Marock. Consider yourself hired. There's no doubt in my mind that Ron will like you."

I wanted to smile at Zayn and hug him and thank him. But I couldn't do any of it. All I could do was sit there, silent with wrists tied and blindfolded. I still felt Zayn's hand on my shoulder, and it was comforting to know that there was a familiar hand in the room. The others' hands felt rough and dry. Zayn's felt warm and nice. He walked away from me.

"I'll give you a call," Christoff said in a light tone. And with that, the door was shut, and all that was left were me and Christoff. Quick steps came towards me, and my heart was beating rapidly when he was standing in front of me. He pulled out the cloth, and for the first time I could feel my own tongue against my palate.

"Tell me exactly what he told you."

I frowned. What he told me? Zayn had told him what he said. Didn't he believe him? Was it all just an act?

"He told you," I said quietly, almost whispering. My throat felt so sore and dry, I could hardly speak.

"He didn't tell me in words, now tell me or I'll stab you with this goddamn knife!" He screamed and by the sound of it, he stabbed the knife into the table with force.

My breath hitched and I shifted in my awfully uncomfortable chair.

"He said he would nail me good when he started working here," I said and swallowed.

A sudden ease came over him.

"Oh," he said and chuckled. "Well then it's alright."

I took the chance that I finally had, and spat harshly on the floor in despise. If I was going to die, at least I would've shown him how I really felt about him. He was a despicable person with an annoyingly attractive face and a fresh breath all the time. He was the opposite of Ron. On the outside.

"What the fuck?" Christoff hissed and grabbed my face, squeezing it hard. "Who do you think you are?"

"I'm not your goddamn slut, that's for sure."

A hard punch was felt on my cheek. Then it was black. More black than it had been before.