Her Unforeseen Destiny

Learning The Truth

EMMELINE'S POV

It feels like I'm trying to escape from a huge vat of treacle as I try to surface into consciousness. The pounding in my head feels like a heavy metal drummer has moved in and my mouth feels dry and scratchy. Everything hurts.

I blink slowly, my vision gradually coming more into focus. 

Where am I?

Everything looks familiar and yet strange at the same time. I can smell something... it smells like bacon cooking. There's something else too, possibly fresh coffee and a hint of herbs. Maybe rosemary or thyme. I can't place the scent.

Finally, everything around me comes into focus fully. My limbs feel heavy and my head is still throbbing. My eyes feel like someone has sandpapered them. Looking around, I realise that I'm at home. I'm in my own apartment. In my own bed. Wearing my own pyjamas.

Wait. If I'm home... then who is cooking bacon and making coffee?

I sit up quickly and immediately regret the fast movement. My head spins and I feel like I'm about to be sick. Throwing off the covers, I dash into my bathroom and retch into the sink. I grab hold of the edge with both hands and lean forward to rest my forehead on the cool glass of the mirror. I try to breathe in and out slowly and finally my nausea starts to subside. 

"It happens to most people when they shift for the first time."

I turn around carefully, not wanting to get nauseous again. 

"Who are you, and what are you doing in my home?" I speak carefully, not wanting to make the stranger angry. Just in case. Although, I imagine most kidnappers wouldn't kidnap you to your own flat or cook bacon and make coffee in the morning. 

"Take a seat," the man says to me, gesticulating towards the sofa in the living area. "I can explain everything."

"I should bloody well hope so," I say, glaring at him. "I can't say I'm a fan of waking up with a stranger in my apartment."

He shrugs slightly, before grabbing a plate from the kitchen counter and handing it to me. 

"I expect you're hungry. Also, how do you take your coffee?" 

I raise my eyebrows at him. I want to be annoyed but the loud rumbling of my stomach gives away my hunger. He's right. I feel absolutely famished, like I could eat an entire pig's worth of bacon. The plate is home to a hot bacon sandwich and it smells divine. I don't think I've ever fallen in love with the smell of bacon so much. 

"Black, with one sugar." My voice is muffled by the fact that I now have a mouth full of bacon sandwich. I am swiftly handed a mug of coffee that has just had a spoonful of sugar dropped into it. Still with my mouth full of bacon, I glare at him. "Now, you owe me an explanation."

He walks around into the living area and sits down in the one armchair. Leaning forward, he rests his elbows on his thighs and steeples his fingers. His eyes search my face for a moment and I feel awkwardly observed as I munch on my breakfast. 

"You have to promise that you won't freak out," he begins slowly and I almost choke on my mouthful of food. 

"That isn't the most reassuring way to start when you're holding someone hostage!" I exclaim, glaring at him pointedly. He chuckles softly.

"Touché," he responds. "Although, I'm not holding you hostage. I simply brought you home."

"After kidnapping me off of the street," I point out, finally able to speak clearly now that I have demolished my food. Damn, it was good. This kidnapper sure knew how to make a decent bacon butty. 

"I didn't kidnap you." 

He looks slightly hurt at this suggestion and I purse my lips at him. 

"You grabbed me and threw me in the back of your car. What would you call that?" I reply heatedly, waiting for him to come up with a decent explanation. I'm waiting, buddy.

"I was protecting you. And anyone else around," he says, leaning back into the armchair and crossing his arms. This motion makes his arm muscles bulge out from beneath his t-shirt and I'm no longer surprised at how easily he seemed to lift me up. 

"Protecting me how? I don't understand!" I'm getting frustrated at this mystery man and his mysterious answers. I want to hear the truth and I want it quickly. "Just tell me what happened!"

He sighs and looks me straight in the eyes. I feel oddly... seen, as if he can read my mind or see right through my more bravado exterior. I don't know what happened, and the only memories I have scare me. I remember being on the bench and I remember seeing some things happen. Maybe someone drugged me and that's how he protected me? I can't think of an explanation that would make any logical sense whatsoever. 

I look down at the floor and fiddle with my pyjama trouser slightly. Part of me feels like I don't WANT to know what happened. 

"First things first," he begins, and I glance up to find him looking at me with an incredibly serious look on his face. "Emmeline, you aren't human."