WitchBite

Savior

 I never spoke to Victoria about it after that day. I wanted to, but I didn't want to make her any more uncomfortable than she already was about it all. No matter my opinions.

In the week that had passed since the party, I found Aramis everywhere. Or rather, he made it so he was found as often as possible. I'd see him at the edge of my periphery when sorting through the shelves at work. Like a secret that everyone knows, but is just waiting for someone to speak it aloud, so it can no longer be a secret any more.

I'd smile each time.

"Fancy meeting you here" he'd say, every time with a gentle grin as he met my eyes, taking it as a welcome to approach.

He would laugh, in a warming, fuzzy, manner, that caused goosebumps to ripple up my arms and along my back; and he would so at pretty much every remark I said even if it was at his own expense.

Then he would be waiting for me in the late afternoon, when my work was done, and the molten gold of the sun dyed the clouds orange. Insisting that he walk me at least some of the way, and we would chat and laugh, and I found myself not missing my solitude one bit. My yearn to be alone instead stood at the sidelines, smiling encouragingly, like a supportive parent or friend.

"Stalker, don't you have anything better to do than follow me around?" I'd jab on the fourth day. I'd meant it half-heartedly, but instead of a laugh, I received an awkward chuckle and a furrowed brow. This preceded the jab of guilt the following day when I did not see him at all. I'd pause from the shelves to try and spot the shapes in the corner of my eyes, expecting a warm greeting, only to find strangers and shadows.

I lingered, a minute or two longer after finishing work. Just in case he should be running late. I don't know what I expected. Surely he hadn't taken such a great offence to being called that? We'd been teasing each other every day. Did I imply too negatively that he was coming on too strong? Or maybe it touched a nerve I had no business exposing? Regardless I didn't meant it.

As a few minutes turned in to ten, I learned that instead of the walking companion I had grown accustomed to over the passed few days, I was met with guilt. Solitude's disapproving sibling.

I did my best to shake their dripping arm that lay heavily upon my shoulder, like a drunk frat boy, but I couldn't, and instead decided to trudge along home, waiting no longer for more physical company.

I usually love this time. Walking home in the late afternoon. The rustle of leaves beneath my boots, the crunch of twigs, and scurry of beasts all off set by the sleepy colours of the sky poking through the canopy.

But this time it felt daunting. The trees seemed to stretch and groan, intimidatingly challenging me to pass by them. Each snap of a fallen branch, was like a nip at the heels by a territorial dog. Their height was dizzying, the grey-white of the sky serving nothing but to accentuate the angry shapes of the leaves and arms before it. The brush became humanoid, smiling menacingly, the shaking of the woodlands creatures in its body working as toying gestures. It goaded me further into picking up my pace as I strode strongly onwards, my breathing becoming heavy.

I began muttering on instinct. Drawing. Calling, something to me. I felt unsafe. I needed safety and protection, or something to push me harder and faster to the comfort of my home.

"I'm not sure why, but he likes you." I stopped in my tracks. My heart pounding in my ears. I knew that voice, and it intimidated me even more so than the first time.

My eyes eventually fell upon the feminine figure of Bethany. I was aghast with confusion as she looked upon me, the ruby red of her heels planted firmly into a tree as she stood fifteen foot perpendicular with the ground, like gravity was where she placed it.