Unnamed

FOUR – something good always reminds me of something bad

I wiped back my silent tears but they continued to form and fall. Dylan noticed because, still laughing with everyone else, he pulled me toward him, so that my face was buried in his chest and my front was flushed against his. My hands hung limply by my side. Even in my anger, I could not help but notice how warm he was and how much that comforted me.

Everyone stopped laughing and I was sure they were watching us.

"No one is laughing at you, darling. They are laughing about my mother's fetish with perfection." He comforted me with his whispered words while running his hand through my tangled hair.

All I could think was that he was a bipolar jerk. Just a few minutes back he had dragged me like an animal, now he cared as if I meant something to him.

"I hate you." I contradicted my words by clinging to him tighter and crying harder.

"Is everything alright, Dylan?" Someone asked.

I recognized Jean's voice answering, "Why do not we guys leave them alone?"

Next thing I heard was retreating footsteps and then pin-drop silence. I took back a step and crossed my arms over my chest.

"What are you going to do to me?" I asked not meeting his gaze.

He covered the small distance I had managed to put between us and took my face in his hand. He raised it so that I had no other option than to focus only on him. "You won't believe it," he whispered leaning in.

I mentally prepared myself for his answer. I was a big girl; I could take whatever he'd push my way. Taking a shuddering breath, I mimicked his whisper, "W-what?"

"I just want to keep you here, safe, with me."

"Safe from what?"

"That, I cannot tell."

"But I do not want to be here. My dad must be worried about me." And angry also.

"That's not your choice, Fay. You'd never leave this place. If you try to escape or pull anything funny, I'll know and then I'd not be this good." Though I had nodded, I had no such plan as not trying to escape. He was just bluffing. This place was so big. He could not possibly know everything. "Come, I'll show you my home, that's where we'd be living."

I thought he was going to show me his room or something but he led me outside in the garden. Was he going to keep me out here? That was not his plan either.

"Are you going to take me there?" I warily eyed the cobble-paved path into the forest. He nodded. Nothing against nature, but this forest was giving me bad vibes. It was so thick and dark, like something out of a horror movie. Was not he afraid of any wild animal or snake lurking deep in there? I hesitantly dragged my feet back. He was not going to listen if I'd protest.

"Shall we go?" he asked as if he wouldn't if I said no.

He put his hand on the small of my back, took a step, and then paused. I followed his afflict gaze that took notice of my feet. Without commenting, he picked me up and I did not fight. It was better than walking in this scary forest, plus, my feet hurt. I wrapped my arms around his neck and rested my head on his broad shoulders.

The air was a heavy mixture of the smell of the wet earth, moss, and uncertainty. I couldn't help but jump a little or tighten my grip on Dylan whenever twigs snapped under his feet. The sunlight was blocked by thick leaves, leaving the surrounding partially dark. I was confused why he would want to live here when he had a freaking big mansion.

Was he seeking kick of life? Or what if there is no house here? What if it was just a trick to bring me here and kill me? But-but...

A loud howl pierced the sky and I let out a scream on instinct.

“Where are you taking me? There are dangerous animals out there. Is this how you’re going to kill me?” I tried to climb out of his arm but he didn't budge, "Let me go! I do not want to be eaten by a wolf." I screeched, thrashing in his arms.

"Fay! Fay-"

"No! You are going to kill me-"

"I will bite you if you didn't shut up!" He snapped. I bit my tongue and looked at him fearfully, "There is no animal-No, shut up! Listen to me first. I won't be living here if animals were here. And I am not going to kill you. Do not always think the worst. So, stop screaming and crying like a child." He chastised.

I shrunk back from his glare and didn't speak until we were standing in front of a small wooden cabin.

I hadn't realized I was gawking at it open-mouthed until Dylan tapped his finger under my chin. It was so beautiful that I couldn't help it. It was a small cabin with two steps to deck and, then, to the main door. There was two sitting stool pushed in corner of the deck. Dylan unlocked the door and opened it with a small push. I fingered the small 'D' craved on it.

"This is my home," Dylan claimed proudly while urging me inside "Not like one of your daddy's mansion but this is all you'd be getting with me." He added later.

A weird feeling churned in my stomach. Why did he think I would not like it? Or why did he always think worst of me? Only if he knew I rather have these things than the glitter and gold my dad provided.

The door opened to a living room attached to a kitchen by an arch door. The place was clean like someone had done it recently. There was a rustic couch with a wooden table in front of the fireplace. Above a quaint fireplace, a large white square was painted in contrast to the dark walls. Then a noticed a projector resting on a high stool beside the table. The rest of the wall was covered with different family photos and silly painting, probably painted by his friends. Some of them were so perfect that looked professional. The corner of those paintings were signed by the initials d.c.

Sheer white curtains with golden thread flowers covered the small square windows. Everything here was so homey and rustic that I fell in love at first sight. In a trance, I admired the small decorative things such as wind chimes on the archway to the kitchen. The small colorful glass tubs holding daisies on a dining table, a large glass bowl filled with colorful stones and crystals resting on the kitchen shelf, lanterns painted in different shades of brown like- sienna, rufous, auburn, bronze, ochre, maroon, cordovan et cetera, et cetera.

"This is so beautiful," I whispered in awe. Maybe this was not what I had imagined when I dreamt of my house but I sure had hoped for this homey feeling. There was not a thing flashy and overdone. Everything was so ordinary and simple like delight. You could just see them and in the next instance, you are a part of it. There was no silk, no heavy furniture, no chandelier, no scented wood furniture, nothing shiny or sparkling. Everything was so natural. Never would have I thought that Dylan had an artistic streak in him. And weirdly, I liked it.

"Thanks!" He rubbed the back of his neck.

We further moved inside. Dylan showed me the only bathroom, two bedrooms, and a studio that was always locked and I was not allowed to enter. I had to share a room with him for a few days until the other room was prepared for me.

The bedroom was of medium size. On each corner of the room, he had put tendrils of fairy lights and there was a lone lantern hanging beside the bed. Besides those and a picturesque window, there was no other source of light. The iron post bed was slightly bigger than a twin bed and I wondered who would get the small sofa pushed against the window. On a wall, hung an oval mirror and below he had nailed a wooden plank where some scented candled were set. There was a glass door leading out to another deck. This was smaller than the front one. A Cheshire cat smile stretched across my face when I saw the swing hanging from a sturdy branch of a tree. Would he let me swing? I would ask that later.

"Come with me," Dylan spoke suddenly.

"Where?" I asked, fearfully.

Had he decided to kill me? I knew he had said that he was not going to hurt me but he had broken his promise once and how could I believe him? He had kidnapped me. He didn't answer but took me toward the bathroom.

"I do not want to take a bath." At least, not with him.

"That you have to do but right now, let me look at your feet," he picked me up from the waist and put me on the counter.

"It's okay. I will do it later." I tried to pull out my foot from his grasp but he held.

"Let me, Fay." He gave me a hard glare that meant no further discussion. I gripped the edge of the counter while watching him clean my feet with a wet cloth.

"Do not treat me like a child," I said after a while. He pulled out a bottle of disinfectant and dabbed a good amount on a cotton ball. I yelped and almost kicked him in the face when he put that on my cut.

He raised his amused eyes to me, "How when you still act like a child?"

"I do not. It stings." I bit my lips, putting all blame on the cotton ball in his hand.

"Try not to hurt me this time," he warned before returning to his work. I hissed, moaned, cursed but let him finish without hitting him again.

"All good now," he smiled. Throwing the cotton in a dustbin and putting the stuff back in First-aid box. "Wait here. I'd be back in two." he disappeared before I could ask where he was going.

I jumped down from the counter and turned. My reflection stared back at me from the mirror. The first thing anyone would notice about me was my waist-length, wavy hair. It was red. Not ginger, chestnut, copper, auburn, amber or anything. They were red like blood. Often people had asked me if I had dyed it but they were naturally like that. Neither mom nor dad (not that he had any hair but it'd be blonde if he had) had hair in this shade. Sometimes, I wondered if I was adopted. And in contrast was my pale complexion. To be honest, you could either look at me or stare at a skeleton with freckles, wearing a red wig. The only difference was that I had flesh. My green eyes were blood shot and puffy. I sighed and tried to tame the tousled and tangled mess of my hair when Dylan returned with some clothes in his hands.

"You can change into these," he said, handing me the clothes. The clothes consisted of his red flannel shirt, a vest, new boxer briefs, everything too large for me. Beggars don't get to choose, I reminded myself.

"You can shower first."

I nodded and he left me again. I wasted no time in stripping off my PJ and jumping in the shower. The water was cold but then the weather was hotter here as compared to back at home. I washed my hair with his shampoo, wishing that my hair would be soft like his. After I was done, I wrapped myself in a towel. When I started dressing up, I purposefully avoided looking in the mirror. I put on the briefs first, then his shirt, discarding the tank. The shirt came up to my knees and I had to fold sleeves several times before I was able to see my hands again. I hoped no one would notice I was not wearing a bra. Not that there was anything to notice.

Then, I towel dried my hair and slowly walked out. Dylan was leaning against the wall, staring at his shoes. When he noticed me, he walked toward me. I shivered when I noticed his expression. He was neither smiling nor relaxed. Even his eyes were not their rich blue shades like when he was nursing my feet. Now they were midnight blue- dark and cold. A muscle in his jaw was ticking. I wondered what I had done. I shifted back not wanting to see him now. Dylan was fast to hold me. His gaze roamed over my body before meeting my eyes.

"You smell like me," he smirked darkly. A hand softly tugged on a wet tendril of my hair.

"I u-used your shampoo and body-body wash," I confessed, scared that he might not approve that. "Are you angry about that?"

He tipped back my head so that my neck was exposed to him. I gulped. His smirk widened. Very slowly, he planted a kiss on a throbbing vein. I almost fainted. He exhaled in bliss. I didn't move an inch voluntary, rest, I was shaking like a leaf. "I am not angry but I will be if you tried to step out of the door," he warned, finally, diverting his attention from my neck.

"Not even to swing?" I asked stupidly.

He tucked back the tendrils of hair behind my ears and kissed my forehead, "After I've showered." When he looked at me again, the color of his eyes was back to their normal self. I was about to ask how he did that but he wasn't there. I heard the shower turn on behind the bathroom door.

---

I was sitting on Dylan's bed when someone knocked on the front door. Should I open it? Dylan was still in the bathroom. When the person knocked again, I ran out and waited holding the knob.

"Who's there?" I asked.

"It's me, Luke." he answered from the other side.

Without further thought, I opened and closed it as soon. I heard collective groans and even a comment of 'me being just like my mate'. What did that mean? There was not only Luke. There was the platoon of his friends and I was still not over my embarrassment of crying in front of them. Dylan walked in and raised an eyebrow at my red face.

"Who's there?"

"I do not know." I lied, shuffling from one foot to another.

"Then open it," he urged.

Instead, I ran away from the door. "You open. I am going in your room." And I dashed in that direction.

A few moments later, I heard him opening the door and people swarming in.

"What's this s**t, bro?" I heard Xavier complain while laughing, "How did you manage to find a mate just like yourself. You both shut the door so fast when see us on another side."

Mate? What’s mate? I was kidnapped but some buddy.

"Where's she?" a feminine voice asked.

"Hiding in the bedroom." Dylan answered.

I groaned, hitting a pillow on my face. When I removed it, eight pairs of eyes were staring at me. Kind of mortified, I covered half of my face with the pillow. Only if it was large enough to cover me.

Vanish, vanish, vanish, vanish, vanish... I chanted. Thankfully, Dylan came to my rescue.

Sliding an arm around me, he tucked me to his side, "Everyone, meet Fay Madison." And he snatched the pillow from me. "Fay, they are my friends."

A girl of my height stepped forward. She had her bubblegum pink hair braided in two plaits that came up to her knees and had violet eyes, "Hi, Fay. I am Hailey. It's nice to meet you," she greeted. I noticed that she was pronouncing her 's' as 'sh' and it sounded like bells.

"Your eyes." I blurted before I could stop myself.

Her elf like features lit up with a smile. "Chris says they are pretty." She pointed toward the boy with shaggy hair. Chris blew her a kiss. A small blush crept on her creamy cheeks.

Next came a girl, who looked like the female version of Chris, only she had shoulder length curly hair. Comparing their futures, I realized they are twins. "I am Beth."

"I'm Xavier." And he winked, earning a glare from Dylan and Beth.

"You, lovely, can call me Chris." He said, wrapping an arm around Hailey.

"And I am Basil," a small boy, no more than five or six, jumped on the bed, smiling from ears to ears. His soft mane of blonde hair was in bowl-cut. "I am five.” He told me shyly. I wondered what was this kid doing with them. Was he like me? Kidnapped?

"He’s Jean’s baby brother," Xavier commented while snickering that soon was joined by Chris.

Hearing that, Basil sharply turned toward him, then toward Beth, "Beth, they’re laughing at me.”

"Do not worry handsome, I will take care of that," Beth assured and smacked Xavier when he started making faces at Basil.

"They’re my friends, more like a family," Dylan whispered in my ears. I was so lost in their silly bantering that I had forgotten where I was. I had never experienced something like that, maybe many lives back. I was somewhat happy seeing them, sad, jealous... all at the same time.

Was that how a family acted like? That had never happened between dad and me. We both were so closed up that we barely showed our affection to each other. That is, unless, dad was drunk.

Then he would make me sit beside him, talk to him, read to him while he'd caress me. He once had told me that I looked just like my mom. I had the same hair, same laughter, same body, same mouth, then he had...

My dad was so drunk that he could not even recall his name let alone remember that mom had brown hair, not red and she was tall, not short like me. Anyway, other than that and interviews or social gatherings, he never displayed any love for me. Not even as small thank you for dinner or sorry after forgetting my birthday.

With a shattering heart, I realized not only Dylan had lied to me, but, dad had too. Families laughed, teased, talked, argued playfully, shared, helped, and celebrated together. Families do not threat, hit another member.

And most importantly, a father does not try to kiss his daughter.