I opened my eyes after what seemed like an eternity--following the tremors--my body was quivering from the sudden shock. There was no time to discern whether it was an earthquake or a bomb that went off, but it didn't quite matter to me at this point in time.

My ears were still ringing and the taste of something metallic coated my tongue. I knew that is was probably blood and that my head had probably hit the ground with too much force.

I managed to get myself into a sitting position, but my eyes were seemingly foggy. Here I thought vision was only important in seeing what is invisible to others whether monochrome or tricolored.

However, there was one thing that my eyes could not lie about; Dante was upright, leaning against a large piece of rubble about half a foot away with his eyes glued closed. He probably had been knocked out just as I had, but had not been awoken yet.

This was my chance to go. My chance to escape from the underground. But, worried thoughts began to emerge and cloud my judgement. He was very still and there was blood running down a quarter of his face. I feared that he might have been injured more severely than I had anticipated.

I was telling myself not to believe every worried thought, because they tend to be notoriously inaccurate. Besides, fear is not real and can only be considered a choice. However, I felt the need to at least check his pulse before running away yet again.

Maybe I am not that far gone yet.

Half- crawling and dragging my sluggish body over there was a task in itself and I felt the sensation of pins and needles in my left leg. By the time I got over there I had cursed myself several times for ever following him here.

Why should I even check if he's alive? He just about killed you moments prior! But as every idiot knows, an idiot refuses to change their mind once set on something. So, I grabbed his wrist.

The radial pulse is checked on the wrist, right under the thumb I thought to myself. The usual resting pulse should be 60-100 beats per minute. So, I only needed to check his for thirty seconds and multiply it by two and run off afterwards. Thinking all the while that it was just his pulse I was checking.

Ba-dum, ba-dam, ba-dam

His heart was beating at 85 beats per minute. He was functioning well enough in the small fraction of his capacity.

Now I could leave this place behind. As I was trying to get up, though, I felt a large hand grab onto my wrist and tug me back down to the hard floor. My legs hit the ground with a hard thud upon impact. "I caught you," Dante said as he opened his grey eyes. That was when I realized that I was in fact a fool.

"You were awake this entire time, weren't you?" I interrogated him as he snaked his fingers tighter around my wrist like a grapevine. "Every eye that is closed does not have to be sleeping," Dante iterated his doctrine of how to bemuse me.

I was stupid for not realizing it; always getting caught between a strong mind and a fragile heart. But, my interpretation was that I could learn from such mistakes if I kept denying them. So, I did just that.

"Don't think that I wanted to help you," I retorted. Being sympathetic had never gotten me anywhere but closer to my own funeral.

"You could have fled, but you did not." What does it matter that I made a decision based off of my current situation and not on where I needed to be?

"That does not prove anything," yanking my wrist from his large hand. "I am not concerned whether you believe me or not," I blatantly lied.

The world was never just black and white.

"Prove yourself to yourself, and not others," Dante contended as I stood up from my uncomfortable sitting position. Restless I was to get away from here. It was like a procedural knock at my front door that was continuous and never going to cease.

"I do not need your half-baked philosophy." I turned to leave, but before I could even break into a run a hand firmly grabbed my forearm. I was caught between two evils.

"Amelia." His voice was insistent as a lawyer pleading his client's case, "I need you to come with me." I pulled away from his grasp yet again, thinking all the while that I was somewhere between hitting him or kicking him again.

Dante merely responded to my rebuff by taking a hold of both my shoulders. "Listen to me," he asserted himself, "Someone just tried to kill you right now." His steel gray eyes were like daggers on mine – they seemed to be able to threaten anybody. But, there was no time for these games and I wasn't a fool enough to fear his gaze.

"What does that have to do with anything. You almost killed me a few..."

"That was a mistake," He interjected my running thought. I couldn't help but find this matter extremely laughable; acting like he cares when all he has been is a thorn in my side.

"Psssh." I pushed him him off yet again and his hands fell down in resignation, but he persisted further.

"They knew you were going to be here too...and the bomb that just went off..." I grabbed a fistful of his collared shirt and pulled him towards me, close enough that I could see my tainted reflection in his eyes.

"I don't know where you came from or who you are associated with, but I am warning you right now to leave me be." Dante knew too much about me. There is no way he should have all this data on me, because there is no paper trail to follow. He is too suspicious.

Dante raised a question, "Is that a threat or a promise."

He doubted me.

His eyes spoke more volumes.

"That is for you to decide." I let go of his shirt that had been wrinkled in my hands. Now I could toss him away like a crumpled scrap of paper. I turned away and began trudging toward in the opposite direction with a plague of thoughts; He shouldn't have anything incriminating on me.

Why doe he try to haunt my guilty mind?

"Amelia!" Footsteps hastened behind me in pursuit. Like a light in the dark he reached for me once more, "If you want to play it that way then I will just have to do the same."

"What are you..." I looked down in time for his fist to collide with my upper right abdomen; knocking every last bit of oxygen out of me in a single motion. "I almost forgot to mention the rest of my name," he whispered right over my shoulder.

"You..." I hacked out. My legs cracked right from under me like pencil lead.

There was more written on his paper than I realized.

"It's Dante Sapienti."

My world turned into a puddle of black ink.

Author's Notes:

Wow! I don't know about you, but this guy doesn't seem like a bartender to me. Hmmm...comment below who you think he actually is. Is Dante a friend or foe? Can he be trusted? What will happen to Amelia?

Fun Fact:

When writing this story I listen to the same music track: Vivaldi - Cello sonatas RV40/42/46 by Roel Dieltiens. It's linked above for those of you who are interested  :)