Perfection (Red Wrists 1 REWRITTEN EDITION)

Part Twelve

(Emma)
The doorbell echoed throughout the building, the sound triggering some dark and foreboding memory of horror movies far and wide. The building itself was very well kept for such a bad neighborhood, much to your surprise. I looked at Tim, his face cold and expressionless as he stood in silence. He was clearly displeased with having to bring me here. I looked down at my throbbing feet, muttering, "Sorry for inconveniencing you."

"What?" was his reply. He glanced back at me, his head turned just enough to give me the side-eye over his shoulder. And when his head was turned, it brought our faces just inches from each other.

A blush formed on my cheeks as I leaned back from his face, continuing, "W-Well, you didn't have to bring me to whatever this place is. Or carry me here, for that matter." Tim shrugged, hiking me up and adjusting his grip on my legs. It couldn't have been comfortable for me to be riding on his back all this time. I started squirming in his grip, croaking out in a nervous voice, "I can walk, Tim. Thanks for carrying me but my legs are fine now."

As I squirmed, Tim lost his grip on me. I felt myself falling in slow motion, and watched as Tim turned around to grab me. I felt my feet hit solid ground, but at that point I had been tilted back to far to land safely. One of my feet teetered off the edge of the top stair as I continued to fall. Before I could fall the rest of the way down the stairs, Tim's hand shot out and grasped onto mine. "Damn it Emma, what the fuck were you thinking?" he grumbled. He pulled me back to my feet as the door opened.

A tall man stood in the doorway, his slender figure somehow managing to block most of the doorway. He brushed some thin silver hair out from his line of sight, tucking the strands behind his ears as he said, "Timothy, who is this child?"

Tim cleared his throat, yanking his hand out of mine and replying, "Emma-May, sir. We've spoken about her a couple months ago?"

The tall man tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes in consideration. "Ah, yes. You're little..... friend. Why is she here?" His eyes looked dull and bored, more emotionless than I've ever seen in a human before. In one swift moment, he raised an arm and leaned against the door frame. I glanced past his frame, seeing a large entry hall with a grand staircase on either side of the entryway. The inside of the building looked even nicer than the outside.

As I stared into the doorway, the tall man leaned in my field of vision, blocking my sight. "You're not welcomed here, kid. Beat it.'

"Now hold on a second," Tim said, trying to interrupt the tall man. "I think we can-"

"No matter how much Timothy is a trusted member of this establishment, I will not tolerate outsiders entering my home." I gasped a bit in dismay, taking a step away from the man.

"Sebastian," Tim muttered, sounding terribly defeated. "What will it take for you to let her stay? Even if it's only for the night." The tall man, Sebastian, looked skeptical about Tim's offer, but sighed and stepped out of the way anyways.

He held out a hand for the two of us to enter, and I slowly did. As Tim passed Sebastian, he leaned down to Tim's height and aggressively whispered, "You, my office, ten minutes." Tim nodded, a slight amount of color draining from his face. He walked over to me, grabbing my arm and dragging me behind him as he grumbled to himself.

As we got out of Sebastian's earshot, Tim looked at me and went, "I'll give you the tour tomorrow, it's getting pretty  late. You're probably tired."

"I'm actually fine," I retorted, yanking my arm away from him as he reached the bottom of a separate smaller staircase. "Tim, what does he need you in his office for?"

Tim growled, keeping his eyes on the stairs ahead of him as he grumbled, "Emma, just mind your own business. I'll be fine." He beckoned me to follow, slowly trudging up the staircase. His grip on the railing left his knuckles tight with every grasping step he made.

I blinked at him, my mind remembering the time he had those bandages on his head. He had seemed so dismissive about them before. I followed him upstairs, thinking back on that day. He didn't seem worried about the wound. I watched the hem of his shirt sway with each step he took. He was tense. Not scared, not annoyed, just tense. Nervous, maybe?

It didn't occur to me to ask him.

When we reached the top of the stairs after making the trek in silence, he made a swift sudden left turn. I followed him, watching his shoulders sag. He held out an arm to his right after a few steps, pointing to a closed door. "There's my room, you can sleep in there tonight. I'll take the couch," he grumbled below his breath. He then turned around and walked past me, not even looking me in the eyes as he did so.

I grabbed his arm before he got too far away, tugging a bit. "Hey, Tim?" I said softly. "Thank you. Seriously, thank you."

His head shifted to the side a bit, as if considering how to reply. "No problem," he finally growled, yanking his arm away from my grasp before making his way back downstairs. I watched him go, pausing as he reached the top of the stair case again. With a deep breath that I could hear from my spot, he made his way downstairs again. With Tim gone and me alone with my thoughts, I once again faced the door Tim had pointed to. 

He had left my suitcase next to the door, so I grabbed the handle and attempted to lift it. It didn't even budge. The fuck? I thought. This thing is heavier than me! Heavier than him! How the hell did he pick that up? I sighed, letting go of the handle and instead grasping the doorknob. I pulled the door open, and was immediately greeted by two screams in unison and a football-grade tackle as two teens about my age charged out at me and tackled me to the ground.