I pass by everyone and enter the farmiliar safehouse. My first time here was when dad caught some political figure, after that big win he was put on more dangerous cases.
The last time I came he was my own doing. I had no idea counseling at risk kids for a living would nearly kill me. I'll never regret it, but the memories will never fade.
Without looking behind me, I climbed the stairs to my room. Every creak reminds me of a lost childhood. Lost to bullets, bombs, and hatred. My own house never had a chance to become home.
Second door to the right. Opening the door brought back everything. The smell was one I grew up with, the same yellow floral wallpaper. I walk to the same old beechwood dresser, slowly opening it to reveal clothes I forgot last time.
I lock the door and peal off my clothes, grabbing a tank top and soft shorts to shrug on. Exhaustion sets in while the sun rises. In spite of the brightening sky, I crawl into bed and breathe in deeply.
Without much fuss, I fall asleep.
A knock resounded on the door, greatly aggravating my brain. I'll have to ask for some motrin and get someone to pick up my seizure medication.
"Are you awake?" A male asked in a strained voice.
"EMT guy?" I groggily sit up.
"Uh, yeah. Breakfast is downstairs. Your dad and I are heading out soon."
I bolt up, running to the door to unlock it. My fingers fumble with the lock till I slam it open, scaring the shit outta him. We made eye contact for a second.
"Are you... okay?" He questions in confusion while also trying to catch his breath from the scare.
"Yes, I just want to tell dad goodbye." I stare at him urgently.
"You might want to change first." He clears his throat and looks away.
I glance down to see a strap fell from the worn out tank top. It was quite evident that I wasn't wearing a bra. Were these shorts always so short?
"I'm not naked, but yeah, I'll change." The attempt to downplay my clothing situation didn't work.
"I think I'd notice if you were naked." He struggles to respond.
Um, wow. I don't think his transition was very smooth either. We stand there for an awkward moment, until I step back and slam the door closed in his face.
I lean against the closed door, pressing my hands against my red cheeks. My legs go weak, causing me to slide onto the floor.
Just what is Mr. Nameless doing to me?
~*~
I quietly walk away from the door, at a loss from the conversation. What I didn't mention to Idia was that the stap dipped lower than she thought.
My hand presses against my mouth in embarrassment, trying to forget the image of her exposed breast. Remember, don't sexualize women... don't... shit, why does she have to be so sexy?