"Count the times your souls smiled together, reached out so invisibly yet tangibly, and touched."
In a world where they said, "none of us will leave this world alive" lingered like a shadow, Chloe harbored a passionate desire to leave behind an indelible, beautiful imprint.
However, this dream remained just that, a dream, for today marked her grandfather's funeral.
The revelation of his murder, that fateful night when the mysterious being had saved her life, had cast her adrift in a sea of confusion and turmoil. The weight of grief pressed upon her heart, and the void left by her grandfather's absence seemed insurmountable.
Her thoughts circled back relentlessly to the events of three nights ago.
As she had departed to assist at the bar, an ominous dread had clung to her like an oppressive shroud.
The memory of her grandfather's warm smile haunted her, it was like he was there a moment, and then in a blink, he was gone ... just like that.
After her encounter with the mysterious savior, she had been confined to a hospital room for two days.
The sterile scent of antiseptic still clung to her senses, a reminder of her vulnerability.
Now, as she journeyed to her neighbor's house under the protective watch of the police, she found herself engulfed in a maelstrom of emotions. Swallowing hard, she sank into her seat, her face paling with the realization that life had veered into the unknown.
The memories of that dreadful night began to flicker before her eyes like an unsettling slideshow, and her breathing quickened, as if reenacting the moment, HE: the one she could only describe as a 'beast' had descended to her rescue.
An officer's voice disrupted the cacophony of thoughts that swirled in her mind.
"Miss Sinclair, are you feeling all right?" he inquired, concern etching his features as he peered into her eyes in the back mirror.
With a hesitant nod, Chloe acknowledged the officer's presence, affirming her current status as a protected witness in the ongoing investigation.
She hoped her silence didn't betray the overwhelming emotions she felt, unsure of how to navigate this new haunted chapter in her life.
All Chloe wished for was to return home, slip beneath the comforting cocoon of her bed's covers, and will away the events of this harrowing day. Yet, she knew such thoughts were nothing more than wishful dreams, cruelly impossible to attain.
The clock neared 7:00 in the evening, the hour designated for Grandpa's funeral at St. Patrick's Cathedral in the heart of downtown. The setting sun cast a warm, golden glow on the magnificent facade of the cathedral, creating long shadows that stretched across the cobblestone square.
She vividly remembered the faint fragrance of lilies and roses lingered in the air, carried by the gentle breeze, and the distant chiming of the cathedral's bells resonated with a haunting beauty.
This cathedral had been a special place, where she and her grandfather celebrated her birthdays and other memorable occasions. Although her inner turmoil urged her to scream and vent her frustrations, Chloe understood that such outbursts would not bring her any closer to closure.
Instead, she felt a deep sense of responsibility to honor her grandfather's memory, just as he had honored her presence throughout her life.
Her emotions were in disarray, making her question the very definition of family and the essence of her feelings.
Meanwhile sitting in her living room, Mrs. Michaela Harriet, her immediate neighbor and a dear friend of Chloe's late mother, had her hands folded with an air of grace. Her slightly graying dark hair was elegantly coiled as always, and she wore one of her finely selected dresses suitable for any occasion.
The room itself exuded warmth, with soft light filtering through lace curtains and the faint hum of a grandfather clock.
The very thought of returning to the house she had called home for eighteen years felt like an unimaginable task for Chloe.
In her absence, Michaela had thoughtfully brought Chloe's clothes to her house, as Chloe herself was reluctant to set foot in her own home.
Chloe's reflection in the hallway mirror revealed dark circles under her eyes, her once-vibrant brown eyes now dulled by grief. Her skin had lost its glow, and her cheeks bore the traces of tear-streaked paths. Her brunette hair, once neatly styled, now resembled a tangled nest of birds, further emphasizing the disarray of her world.
She looked like a broken doll, not wanting to be fixed.
As Chloe followed the guidance of the security team, her eyes met with Michaela's form, her aging blues were hidden under her lids as she sat in her living room beside a table.
With a fragile voice that sounded like it might shatter, Chloe uttered, "Michaela?"
Immediately, Michaela, sensing the need for her presence, quickly rose from her seat, her heart filled with concern and care.
"Oh, Chloe, how are you doing, sweetie?" she asked, moving closer to embrace her.
Tears cascaded from Chloe's eyes as she leaned into Michaela's comforting hug, her cardigan's warmth reminding her of her grandpa, seeking solace amid her overwhelming grief. Michaela's soothing presence steadied Chloe, she constantly rubbed her back, and the sobs began to subside.
As they pulled away from each other, Michaela looked at Chloe's broken form, she winced inside looking at the huge band-aid surrounding her forehead, and how grief-stricken and weak she looked.
Chloe suddenly stumbled backward, her voice trembling as she repeated, "He... he... is dead. Jimmy is dead, Michaela, they killed him."
The world seemed to spin around Chloe as she repeated these words.
"Chloe... Chloe!"
Michaela called out in alarm as Chloe's eyes rolled.
"He... he's gone," she muttered, the words a mantra of her new reality.
Her legs wobbled beneath her, and darkness encroached on her vision.
"Jimmy is dead, Michaela, they killed him," she sobbed, her voice cracking with grief.
The world spun around her as a relentless tide of sorrow threatened to pull her under, and as Chloe's body was on the verge of hitting the floor, a security guard, whose agility far exceeded that of a regular human, sprang into action.
In an instant, she felt herself caught by strong, protective arms. His muscular build - a testament to his physical prowess.
His face concealed behind a mask, he didn't spare a glance for Michaela as he demanded, "Where?"
His voice bore the rough, hoarse quality of someone accustomed to few words.
Michaela swiftly pointed toward the door, her voice trembling slightly, "Down the hall, to your left." Before she could utter another word, the guard had already departed.
When Michaela prepared to follow him, but a deputy's voice halted her progress. "Mrs. Harriet?" he called.
Turning around, she confirmed, "Yes, that's me. What's happened?" Her concern was etched in her features.
The officer explained, "We have some questions regarding Miss Sinclair and her grandfather, James Sinclair. Would you be willing to answer our questions?"
Nodding, Michaela replied, "Of course."
She cast a final glance at the door through which the guard had led Chloe, her heart heavy with worry. With that, she left to provide the deputy with the information he sought.
Meanwhile, he carefully carried Chloe to the room indicated by Michaela.
The room felt inviting, as if it had been prepared with Chloe in mind. Despite the biting cold outside, warmth enveloped the room.
The curtains, a rich shade of deep burgundy, were fully drawn, blocking out the harsh world beyond. The soft, dim lighting cast a soothing golden glow.
With tenderness, the guard gently laid Chloe onto the bed, ensuring she was comfortable.
He cradled her head in his rough, gloved hands and placed it on a soft, velvety pillow. He tucked her in beneath a warm duvet, a comforting shade of beige, cocooning her in coziness.
Before he could step away, Chloe's fragile fingers circled his wrist, her touch sending a shiver through him.
Her voice trembled as she whispered, "Please... don't leave me...."
Tears welled up in Chloe's half-closed eyes, each drop reflecting her vulnerability and distress.
For the guard, being present with her at this moment felt like an overwhelming task.
He had stepped into her chaotic world and witnessing her in this fragile state was like enduring relentless torment, as if someone were breaking his bones repeatedly, without mercy.
He struggled to understand the connection that bound them.
He didn't know why he had risked his life to save this unknown girl or why her heartbeat seemed to resonate with his own, every time he had been close to her.
But deep down, he held the answers to his own questions.
He knew the significance of her presence in his life, and one thing was unmistakably clear- she held the key to his escape, a path back to where he belonged.
Reluctantly, he sat by her side, gently wiping away her tears.
Chloe leaned into his touch, and as she began to stir, she saw him dressed all in black, with dusty, disheveled brown hair. His face was concealed behind a mask. Her unfocused, dazed eyes met his curious golden gaze.
She mumbled softly, "It's... It's you...."
He understood that she recognized him, but before he could respond, the distant sound of approaching footsteps reached his ears.
Leaning down, "Rest." He whispered.
With those words, he silently slipped out of the room, executing a daring escape through the window, just as Michaela entered.
Michaela smiled sadly, her brow furrowing as she noticed the open windows, which she clearly remembered closing.
Shaking her head, she sighed, closing the windows to keep the room warm and secure. She left Chloe to rest, her heart heavy with worry for the traumatized girl.
Chloe eventually drifted into slumber, but her dreams were filled with haunting images of blood, lifeless bodies, and the enchanting golden eyes that had saved her life.
Unanswered questions loomed like shadows:
Would Chloe ever escape the clutches of this trauma?
What motivated him to believe she held the key to his escape?