Sang's Freedom (Original And Rewritten)

21

-Chapter 21-

Sang Sorenson's POV:

We drove for a long while, mostly in silence, but it was a comfortable silence that was easy to lose one's self in. Eventually we came up to a house. His house, he said, and still I felt no fear.

Though I did wonder how a man as young as Mr. Blackbourne had managed to already have a house...especially one as large as the one before me. It could basically be qualified as a mansion.

It had at least three floors and the stonework was classic. It had elegant arches and finishes that emanated the perfection that was Mr. Blackbourne. A garden was to the right of the house, fenced off with black rot iron to keep the bunnies at bay.

"Come in, Miss Sorenson," Mr. Blackbourne said, leading me in. I probably should have said no. Mr. Blackbourne was my teacher, after all, which made it terribly confusing when my danger radar didn't go off.

I liked Mr. Blackbourne. He was hard to get a read on, but he was a good person. The walls in his home were all neutral colors. There were some lovely paintings; abstract, yet balanced.

"Your home is beautiful," I told him.

From the front door, his home opened into a large living room with a room to the right that worked as the dining room, and then the kitchen could be seen beyond. There was a staircase leading up to a large number of bedrooms, and beside the staircase a hall that led off to a different section of the house.

"It's my own for now. Gabriel has tried to bully me into letting him redecorate in every way he knows how. I'll let him soon enough." Mr. Blackbourne slipped off his shoes at the door before going for the kitchen. "Do you want some tea? It will likely help with your throat."

I nodded, taking off my shoes by the door as well. It was more of a mid-western thing, I had noticed over my various moves, but I rather enjoyed running around sock-footed.

I passed by the living room and realized his flat screen was bigger than me. If Mr. Blackbourne had one thing, it was money, though I noticed his coffee table was a bit run down in the sea of leather sofas and lazy boy chairs.

"Honey?" Mr. Blackbourne asked from the kitchen.

"Yes, please." I took a seat at the kitchen table and he joined me a moment later.

"How have you been feeling?" he asked, taking a sip of his tea.

"You mean after my hangover this morning or..." How much did Mr. Blackbourne know?

"Or," Mr. Blackbourne answered, motioning with one hand.

"How much do you know, Mr. Blackbourne?"

"Regarding what, Miss Sorenson?"

We held each other's gazes a long moment; my green eyed glare rivaling his steel glower. It was a challenge that I respectfully withdrew from. "You probably know all of it. At least, as much as Dr. Green."

"You are probably right."

"That isn't the only reason you're being nice to me, is it? I can handle it on my own. I've always handled it on my own." I grew quiet, not wanting to give away too much.