His Imprisoned Queen

It's a hot summer day, but I wear a turtleneck sweatshirt to cover the bruises on my neck. Thankfully, Carl didn't cut my face last night; otherwise, I would probably lose my job on the very first day. That won't be wise because I am really running out of money. It took me three months to find this job after I got my BA degree in May. I'm not going to mess it up. For the past three months, I did part-time in the library and tutored and just managed to get by on my wages which were enough to meet my living expenses. So, when I finally got this job at a small publishing company, I took it without hesitation. Not until last week did I find out the office is located in downtown Los Angeles, which is really close to my hometown and the person I don't ever want to meet in my life again, Carl. My parents divorced when I was only five, then my mother got married to Carl, a pure devil with no human heart. He is six feet five inches tall, a huge man, with his beer belly popped up from long-time drinking. He seldom shaves, which makes him look sloppy and… bestial. Yes, that's the word I have used to describe him since I was little. He was an alcoholic who beat my mom and me to death every time he got drunk. My mother got really sick under Carl's constant physical abuse and passed away four years ago, right before I graduated from high school. Carl took all her money away and did not leave me a penny. Thanks to my excellent academic performance in high school, I was admitted to a brilliant college on the east coast. The tuition fee was a burden but I figured it out by paying through grants and scholarships, also through a work-study program. I ran away from that monster and never went back home for the past four years, wishing secretly that the asshole has died of alcohol poisoning or some kind of accident. But last night, the first night I returned after four years, I saw him. It was late. I was on my way to the CVS not far from my motel (I haven't got a chance to rent yet), and saw a group of homeless people chatting on newspapers. One of them was sputtering something about "government subsidy" (couldn't hear), and several people murmured their agreement. When I passed by, they all turned to look at me. Under the street light, they all looked pretty similar, but one guy's face stood out particularly clearly. And to confirm my thoughts, he was holding a beer bottle. Do you know what they say about how PTSD can affect one's whole life? I mean, I hadn't seen Carl for four years, and he seemed like he had lost some weight, but I still recognized him the moment I saw him, under that f*****g dimmed street light. When our eyes met, I froze and found myself cannot breathe. From the way he looked at me, I could tell he recognized me too. I turned and ran towards the motel as fast as I could. Well, if you ever lived with an abusive stepfather, running becomes something in your blood. I could hear Carl getting up while his fellows were cheering. He let out a malicious laugh and shouted behind me, "HOORAY! Elina! You little b***h finally come back!" Shit. He was definitely drunk. I ran and ran, starting to get winded, but I told myself not to stop. I could not stop running. However, my feet were becoming heavier, and I was getting slower. I could hear Carl's footsteps getting closer and closer… No… Next second, he pulled the collar of my shirt, grabbed me from behind, and dragged me into an alley effortlessly. The smell of the food in the bins stank. I wrinkled my nose. Then I tried to yell for help, but the words came out of my mouth in only a whisper. "Get off me." He laughed and released me, I fell onto the ground and choked for breath, but he did not give me much time of freedom. Once again, he pulled me up, grabbed my neck in the crook of his arm, and pressed me against the dirty wall. "Don't move, or you will die without knowing how." I glared at him in silence, at the same time, tried to steady my breath. I could feel the burning pain in my neck. Carl opened his mouth again, and I wanted to throw up when I smelled booze on his breath. "I sold your mother's house." A gush of rage hit me. It was so strong that I almost wrenched myself free. Almost. He pressed me harder against the wall. This bastard! I looked at him with hatred, but he just smiled. "Now it's time for you to… support me, support your aging daddy." He said the last sentence in a playful tone. I sneered and looked at him coldly. "Don't you even think about it." In a second, his eyes were filled with murderous anger. He used his spare arm to pull a knife from his back pocket and pushed me onto the ground. It happened so fast. My head was buzzing. Seized with panic, I crawled a few inches, but next second, he was on me, with the knife pointing at my throat. "That's not how you speak to your father, little bitch." I closed my eyes desperately, still racking my brain for a way to escape. I couldn't just die like this. I still had a hell of a great life ahead of me… Calm yourself down and think, Elina! Suddenly, I heard the sound of "clink" and opened my eyes, shocked to see Carl sweating in panic. He had dropped the knife and fell on the ground himself. He looked so terrified. I stared at him and found he was staring at something behind my back. Whatever that thing was, it scared the s**t out of him. He shouted desperately, "stay over there! Don't you dare to come over!" My heart was beating really fast, and when I finally got the courage, I turned around. But there was nothing there except for the bins filled with food that was out of date. Carl started crawling backward with both hands on the ground, his butt rubbing the ground. "Don't come over! DON'T!" Tears were falling down his dirty cheeks. Before I knew it, he let out a terrible scream and ran away, like some kind of devil was chasing him (kind of funny though, because he himself was one.) I was so confused. Was he taking drugs? Was he… overdosed? Maybe. I sat up slowly and felt a gust of chilly wind behind me. I could feel goosebumps on my arm. I glanced around without moving my head, and then turned around swiftly. That's when I caught a glimpse of something that made my heart stop. A pair of golden eyes were staring straight at me in the darkness. And they didn't seem to belong to human beings but belonged to some animal. As I started into them, a strange familiarity hit me. Those eyes… Had I happened to see them in the past? I blinked, and those eyes were no longer there. They disappeared in seconds. The shock struck me, and I started looking around desperately. But there was nothing. Shit. This place was creepy as hell. I shouldn't stay here anymore. I took a deep breath and told myself not to be superstitious; after one final look at the empty alley, I got up and limped back to my motel room. When I went back to my room and looked in the mirror, I found a small cut on my neck, and it seemed like Carl had not just pointed the knife at me. He had actually used it to gash my neck. Fortunately, the blood was drying already. Around the cut, there were two long bruises that were turning purple. I sighed and touched them carefully. They did not hurt much but looked a bit horrific. What happened in the alley crossed my mind again. And that pair of golden eyes… I shook my head, trying to clear my head about the creepy scene. I climbed onto my bed and closed my eyes, wishing I could fall asleep as soon as possible so I would be able to wake up on time in the morning… *** A coolness on my tummy pulls me back to reality. I let out a terrified gasp. A man just bumped into me with his iced Americano splashing all over my sweatshirt. Seriously? It's my first day at work, and I must get there on time! I look at the man in disbelief, and before I can react, the man shrugs and murmurs, "Sorry." Well, he doesn't sound sorry at all! The coffee is dripping madly from my shirt. From how passing people look at me, I can totally imagine how messy I must look. I can't help but shout out furiously, "what the hell is wrong with you?" But he's gone. I blink a few times and look around. That's weird. The man literally just vanished! How could that be possible? Last second he was just right here… I sigh in frustration and get a napkin from my bag, but it is obvious that my sweatshirt is irreparable. I take out my cell phone to check if there is a shop where I can get a new shirt, but unfortunately, no shops nearby open this early. I can't believe my luck! My mind went back to the creepy alley last night and the pair of golden eyes. Is there a possibility that some sort of evil and dark power has targeted me since that moment? "Hey, seems like you need a T-shirt." I look up and see a street artist. He is over his fifties with his hair and beard all white. He wears a white tank top. His arms are covered with tattoos of a really complicated design. There is an opening black suitcase in front of him, some LP records are in it, and two t-shirts that look the same are hanging in the suitcase, both with a drawing of a watermelon and a rock n' roll salute. "It's the official merchandise of our band. You can wear it when you come to our concert." I give him an awkward smile. There's no way I am going to their concert, but I try my best to show some interest. "What's the name of your band?" "Isn't it obvious? It's called 'watermelon.'" The man looks very proud, and I have to resist my desire to laugh. Again, I try to sound genuine. "Watermelon… Band? Wow. Cool name. So, how much is the shirt?" "Eighty bucks." "Eight… Eighty?! Are you serious? I am not a tourist and don't try to cheat me." I spat out the last sentence in a menacing tone. The man shrugs and says in a carefree manner, "well, it's entirely up to you if you want it." Shit. What a cunning old man. No doubt this is like one of those selling tricks – to raise the price if the customer is in desperate need of the product. I bite my lips and take the cash out of my wallet, then add uselessly. "Can I have it cheaper?" "Nope." I roll my eyes inwardly and sigh. Phew, what was I expecting? "Fine." I hand the man eighty bucks and grab that stupid shirt. He shouts behind me, "Don't forget to come to our concert!" Ha. You bet. I find a nearby restaurant and get changed. I look at the time on my cell. Wow Elina, problem solved in twenty minutes, not bad. It seems like I will still be on time. I throw my hopeless sweatshirt into the trash can (thank god it's not an expensive one) and keep walking to the metro station. My jaw drops when I see the huge sign saying "STATION CLOSED." I can walk to the next station if there is enough time, but in case that station is closed too, I check with one of the workers. The worker shakes his head and says, "dunno know what's going on today. The whole line is breaking down. You might want to take a taxi instead. " I let out a frustrated yell. SERIOUSLY?! I get my phone out and call an uber. It's going to be expensive, and I am almost broke, but it seems like I do not have any other choice. Why does everything go wrong today? Such a black day for me. The uber gets here in ten minutes. As soon as I get in the car, the driver starts to make conversations. "I like your shirt." "Thanks." I look at my hilarious shirt and force a smile. I start to look at my cell phone screen though there is actually nothing to look at. I'm not in the mood to talk, but the driver continues. "So you are heading downtown, huh? "Yep." "The traffic is really heavy at this time of the day. You are not a local, are you?" "Nope." I take a deep breath. Yes, heavy traffic. That was exactly why I decided to take the metro! I start to scratch an email to my boss, explaining the situation. It seems like I am not going to make it on time. The driver seems to notice how deflated I am and says, "I will try to make it fast." After like half an hour, we finally get to downtown. After many turns and stops, the uber driver points at a tall blue building that is still two blocks away. "Is that your destination?" I look at the slow-moving traffic and sigh. "Yes. Can you please pull over here, I will just walk." I get off the uber and walk along very fast. My breath starts to get heavier, but I don't slow down. I must make it on time! Finally, I get to the building. I check the time as I pass through the gate. Yes! I'm just in time! As soon as I get inside, I hear a desperate shout from a man behind me. "Elina!" Before I have the chance to turn around, I see a bright flashlight that can only be a blast. After a fraction of a second, an extremely loud boom sound almost deafens me. As if everything is in slow-mo, I see burning debris falling apart and flying in all directions. In spite of myself, I close my eyes and let out a scream even though deep in my heart, I know those won't help. Next second, I feel myself flying, it must be the shock wave of the blast that has sent me to the sky. My breath starts to get difficult and I'm falling down at an incredible speed. No doubt. I'm about to shatter into pieces. My heart sinks. Right before I hit the ground, a pair of muscular arms catch me and wrap around me tightly. Using all my strength, I open my eyes. Among the fire, dust and smoke, I see the most beautiful man I've ever seen in my life. His dark brown hair is fluttering in the air. His imperious nose and half-dome cheekbones sit above a firm jaw. Under his arched eyebrows are a pair of blue eyes as clear as a summer brook, looking straight at me. His lips are of perfect shape and… fullness, sexy as hell. I know it sounds crazy, but I want to kiss those lips so madly. I want to kiss them right here, right now! I know I'm about to die, but I can feel my desire towards this man, so strong as if I'm enchanted. Well, if I am really dying, it won't matter if I actually kiss him, right? I smile at my thought and pout my lips. I want to move my lips to his face, but I am totally out of strength. He lets out an audible sigh, his eyes filled with guilt, then he uses his hand to close my eyes gently. Before I am drawn into pure darkness and lose my consciousness completely, I hear him saying, "Sorry, Elina." His voice is just as beautiful as his look.