Could someone please explain why a creepy drunk man was trying to wee on my flowers?!

I just couldn't understand what was going on anymore.

My brain had turned blank. Utterly blank.

I blinked, willing my eyes to prove that this wasn't real, but they betrayed me just as much.

Mr. Creepy was still on the ground, trying to nurse his injured buttocks.

I couldn't bear to imagine what would have happened to my beautiful flowers if I hadn't stopped him in time.

"You!" I raved, pointing an accusing finger at him. "What are you doing in my compound?"

"Bish," he slurred, attempting to stand up straight. "You will pay for what you jus' did. What if my butt got broken, huh?"

A bolt of anger struck me then.

I clenched my fists, another sudden urge to give him the beating of his life solidifying in my nerves.

"How dare you?! After trying to piss on my flowers, who cares about your butt?!"

"Butts are expensive nowadays." He took a stand on his wobbly feet, which seemed to give out any second. "D--do you have money to buy me a new one?"

What the hell was he saying?

Total rubbish.

"Listen to me, Mister! This is private property, so I suggest you leave now, before I'm forced to call the poli---"

That was the farthest I could reach before a gasp exploded from my mouth, cutting my words short. Mr. Creepy had grabbed me roughly and forced me to the ground, his large frame now hovering over mine.

What just happened?

I started to panic, only to be taken off guard by his surprisingly good looks. I'd never been in such proximity to a member of the opposite sex before—that's if you scrap my middle-aged stepfather—but he was intriguing. And I couldn't stop my eyes from roaming his features.

The first thing these organs of sight landed on was his nose. Yes, his nose.

Mr. Creepy had a perfectly straight and-dare I say—the most beautiful nose I'd ever seen. Or maybe I was wrong. Maybe all guys were meant to have such fascinating bone structure.

My crazy mind wouldn't stop wondering how they would feel under my fingertips.

Soft. They would definitely feel soft. I could just—

Hold on just a second... What the hell is wrong with me?!

This was definitely not me. Maybe I'd been possessed because normal Rachel certainly didn't gawk at an unknown guy's nose. Especially when this person was drunk out of his mind.

Reminding myself that I should be fighting this stranger, not thinking about his nose or any other part of his body. I raised my hands to reach his chest, trying to create distance between our bodies. But I was welcomed by a wall of muscle refusing to move an inch.

"Get off me!" I gritted, using my hands to push his chest which still remained in place as if my hands were as light as paper.

"This is what you get for stopping me from taking a piss and hurting my butt." His alcoholic breath slapped my nostrils and my face scrunched in disgust.

Panic had begun to grow inside me. So cold and slow that I didn't notice it creeping its way into my veins. My heart jolted with fear and it seemed like the air in my lungs was shrinking; when he locked two of my hands above my head, restraining any form of movement.

Within a flash, my brain had me transported into another world. Mr. Creepy had vanished from my eyes and suddenly, I was somewhere else.

" Stop, please..." I heard a weak female voice. It wasn't mine.

"Don't do this, I'm begging you!"

Darkness surrounded me but I could make out the silhouette of two people. A woman was writhing her body in terror as a man tore off her clothes. Her groans filling the air as hard fists collided with her naked skin.

Cold, undiluted fear spilled from her cries but no one heard. No one except me that is, but I was helpless with immobility.

A familiar pain formed in my chest, forcing my breaths out in spurts. There seemed to be no air left in my lungs.

"Hey, you butt-harming bish, wake up!"

I felt warm hands against my skin. A light tapping on my face which jerked me back to the present.

What just happened?

On reflex, my knee shot upright colliding with Mr. Creepy's groin.

"Ah! Fuck." He rolled off me, clutching his crotch in pain.

My feet found the ground in haste. Panic and fear still thudding against my chest. I suddenly wished I hadn't challenged an unknown drunk man in the first place.

My nightmares came only when I slept. So how was that even possible?

Because of this person, they found me. My nightmares had come out of my sleep to torment me.

Another range of fear gripped my chest the moment Mr. Creepy rose from the ground.

This fear hastened my calming heartbeat as soon as his feet began to move precisely in my direction.

"Wha---What are you doing? Don't you dare come any closer." I stumbled backwards while trying to put more space between us, but his long strides made that seem impossible.

Mr Creepy looked menacing with bright golden eyes frozen in anger and fists clenched tightly, waiting to attack.

Once again, I wished I just stayed inside the house. I should have just let him urinate on my precious flowers then maybe, this situation would have been averted.

Running was always an option because fear left me paralysed. I couldn't move. Also, the thought of endangering my sleeping, little sister further rooted my feet to the ground.

One way or another, I would have to protect myself. Mr. Creepy was probably too intoxicated to even throw a straight punch. Defeating him should be more than easy.

Rolling my fingers into tight fists, I took a stance ready to defend myself. My eyes searched for my opponent, but his attention was somewhere else.

Look at me if you want to fight, asshole!

I waited...

But then, nothing happened. Mr. Creepy walked straight past me.

My body remained still, while my eyes stared into the empty space where he should have been.

Turning around, I was astonished to find him in a fist fight with a light pole.

"Hey, stop that!" I tried restraining him, but he shoved me lightly, and resumed his aimless fight.

"I'm gonna beat you to a pulp today, then you'll know who's boss," he muttered to his non-living opponent, and despite the gravity of the scene, a bubble of laughter formed in my stomach. I stifled it, knowing that this was no joke and Mr. Creepy was actually hurting himself.

If this was how drunk people acted, then alcohol should be banned forever.

"Stop! You're hurting yourself." I made another attempt to separate him from the pole again, grabbing his hands. Luckily, he didn't struggle.

My gaze slid from his glowering face to his injured knuckles. Judging from the amount of blood spilling from his wounds, it could be concluded that the pole was winning with a lot of ease.

I lifted his bloody knuckles to his face, so he could see the damage. "Look, you're bleeding."

Mr. Creepy didn't seem to care about the state of his hands. It could be that he was too intoxicated and couldn't feel a thing, but come morning, the pain will be back with a full blast.

"Aww... Seems like someone cares a lot about me." His voice had turned baby-like.

"What?"

My eyes widened, expressing my disbelief on how this drunkard was able to change from "angry drunk" to "playful drunk" in the span of a few seconds.

"Tell me." His hands locked around my waist, pulling me into him and a small yelp burst from my lips.

Wriggling in his hold, I shoved at his chest with all my might in an attempt to regain my personal space, but his grip only tightened.

"Are you in love with me?" he asked without missing a beat, almost like he hadn't drunk even one drop of alcohol that night.

"What? Of course not! Are you on drugs? What kind of question is that? You're nothing but a drunk stranger who has decided to disturb my peace at this late hour. Drunk or not, it's against the law to trespass on someone else's property. Now, get your hands off of me unless you want to find your drunk ass behind bars!"

It was late and my first day at school would start tomorrow. I couldn't spend the whole night entertaining a drunk guy when I should be in bed getting good sleep.

"Let me go!" I pushed with more vigor, making his hold loosen slightly. "Let m—"

Mr. Creepy's groan cut my words short. But that wasn't the reason why I exploded with a shriek one moment later. There was no time to think. No time to act.

Before I could register what was about to happen, a downpour of liquid mass came rushing and my whole front was drenched in vomit. BEER VOMIT!

"Oh. My. God!" I screeched in utter horror as my hands pushed at his chest until Mr. Creepy fell to the ground. "These are my favourite pajamas!"

He rolled on the floor, howling while clutching his stomach in pain. But that did nothing to subside the anger igniting within me.

"Drunk Assed Monkey!" I shrieked while marching to my front door, my face steaming with anger.

I wrenched the door open but came to an abrupt halt. Swirling around until my eyes landed on Mr. Creepy once again.

Stating that he looked awful was an understatement. In that moment I felt a twinge of pity strike my heart at the sight of his dreadful form-turning helplessly on the ground while moaning in pain, a few incoherent words making their way out of his mouth.

"You better be gone before it's morning. My parents aren't as merciful as I am!" I screamed some words of advice.

Not pausing for a reply, I bolted into the house, making sure to lock the door behind me.

Hope he doesn't break in, I thought to myself while racing up the stairs to go check on Lilly.

I was relieved to find her still asleep, curled up on her bed and snoring peacefully.

Then I headed to my room.

After showering and changing from my soiled clothing, I dropped onto the bed in a fit of exhaustion. Its soft sheets welcomed me with open arms but unfortunately, I couldn't fall asleep.

I was baffled by the new development of things. Most especially because on normal nights, I would fall asleep once my head grazed the pillow.

Unfortunately, tonight was anything but normal. I even tried reading a book. Trust me, it always worked.

But not today.

Useless book!

I flung the mass of paper in my hands, not caring where it went. Flipping onto my side, I groaned into my pillow, releasing a few punches as an outlet for my frustration.

My brain refused to stop functioning as flashes of a certain Assed Monkey kept replaying in my mind.

I wondered if he was still outside, all alone and in pain. Or what if he had vomited once again? There would be no one to look after him.

My conscience wasted no time— judging my actions without any mercy. The riot which was slowly brewing in my head was louder than ever.

How could you leave him there, Rachel? Where's your sympathy for a helpless drunk man?!

Mr. Creepy wasn't in the right frame of mind and anything could happen to him out there. He just got beaten by a light pole for crying out loud!

Why am I even getting worried?

It wasn't like I knew the guy. It was possible he'd left already but here I was, judging myself like I took a human life.

We both know he hasn't left. By leaving him out there you would be assisting any bad person that tries to kill him. That is the same as killing someone with your own hands!

"Oh, God!" I groaned, cursing my overactive imagination at that moment.

Why would someone try to kill him? Was he a rich heir with loads of money? If that was the case, then he certainly wouldn't be drinking his life away.

I tried to reassure myself that everything was alright, but those bad thoughts will always return with full force.

It had begun raining cats and dogs. And there was a high probability that Mr. Creepy was still outside— somewhere.

He has probably left already.

But this man was totally drunk when I left him. How would he be able to get home in this weather?

An image flashed before my eyes. Mr. Creepy was still under this storm—wet, cold and alone.

Just then, a loud thunder vibrated through the walls and I sprang up from the bed without second thoughts.

I raced downstairs with worry filling my veins, not bothered by the rain. As soon as I pulled the front door open, my heart dropped heavy with immense guilt.

Mr. Creepy was still on the ground-where I left him, his clothes wet from the rain and his body shaking from cold.

What have I done?!

I ran to him, squatting beside his cold body. His eyes were closed and that caused the fear in me to skyrocket.

Frantically, I shook him as hard as my strength could permit. "Hey, wake up!" Mr. Creepy didn't move.

This was all my fault. I left a drunk man who was capable of hurting himself outside in the rain.

How could I be so cruel?

I moved closer, tapping his face with my hands. "Please, wake up. Open your eyes. I'm begging you!"

A breath of relief escaped my chest when his face moved slightly in my hands. My fingers brushed wet dark strands of hair away from his face.

"Are you okay?!" The heavy downpour thundered over my voice, my hair sticking against my skin as I blinked the rain out of my eyes.

Mr. Creepy's eyes opened slightly, but he didn't give a verbal response.

How could he say anything in this state?

I could hear his teeth clacking together and I, myself had started shivering under the freezing weather. He needed to get somewhere warm, or his cold would become much worse.

But where could I take him? Definitely not the house. Mum and Papa James could come home any time and there was no way to explain why there was a stranger in the house.

I needed to take him somewhere no one could find him. A place where he would be safe but hidden. A place—

Just like my workshop!

It was perfect!

"Get up. We need to get you out of the rain."

I dragged him up with great effort, placing his arm around my shoulder to steady his steps.

The journey to my workshop—metres away— felt like an endless hurdle. Especially given the fact that Mr. Creepy weighed heavier than a log.

We entered the shack, which was as dark as I had left it. My free hand found the switch and light flooded the small space. I let Mr. Creepy's half unconscious form drop to the couch, relieving my arms of his weight.

He slept like a corpse, his heavy breathing filling the empty space but his body deathly still.

Looking at his wet clothes, I knew that they had to come off or his cold would become worse.

No.

I shook my head vigorously, forcing myself not to think about undressing him. He was a stranger for crying out loud and worse—of the opposite sex!

A harsh sneeze met my ears. My eyes went back to his shivering body. His cold was getting worse, leaving me with no other choice.

At that moment, I wished I was brave enough to just leave him there. But no, my heart couldn't take it.

Even if he did deserve to get sick after almost urinating on my flowers and bathing me with his vomit.

He deserved to be left alone in the cold, but I couldn't do that.

I grasped the hem of his hood with my trembling hands, pulling it off his body with lots of effort.

There were tattoos from the right side of his chest all the way to his abdomen. I wasn't intrigued at all, only disgusted.

I hated tattoos and still hadn't been able to understand why would a person want to disfigure his clear skin with contrasting marks?

The trembling of my hands increased as I moved to his trousers. After removing his belt, I shut my eyes as tight as I could before pulling it down, just in case.

It was the beginning of my third week in Hampstead, and I was undressing a man. A freaking man!

What would Mum think of me if she found out?

My cheeks were hot with color as I opened one of my eyes to find him in only boxers. At least his drunk ass remembered to wear underwear. What would I have done if he was naked?

Don't think about it, Rachel. Do not think about it.

I swirled around to protect my decent mind but it was already too late. Images of Mr. Creepy's half naked body were stuck to my brain, flashing before my dark orbs although they were short.

He had successfully disvirgined my innocent eyes.

Moving to his trousers, I searched his pockets and found only a phone and wallet. It was switched off, so I placed it on a stool besides the couch and hung his clothes in hopes they would dry before morning.

Another heavy sneeze filled the air, mine and his simultaneously. It was that jolt of reminder that made me cover his cold body with the blanket, I found draped the arm of over the couch.

While performing this simple action, I couldn't stop gawking at his sleeping form. Mr. Creepy had rolled into a ball, lips parted slightly with heavy crease in his brows. He looked... disturbed as he slept. Scared maybe? But why?

Did he have nightmares too?

My eyes drifted to his nose again, and it seemed like my hands were controlled by some invisible remote when they reached out.

It felt soft and squishy.

Stupid bodily organ! What are you doing?!

I jerked my hands back in realisation, immediately sprinting out of the workshop.

I had to change my clothes once again before diving into my bed. It was shocking to realise that the time was already 12:40pm, making me even more eager to be visited by sleep.

But sleep didn't come.

I tossed and turned, not being able to stop Mr. Creepy from taking over my thoughts.

I just hope he'll be okay by morning...

***

I know most of us might be surprised by Rachel's fascination with Mr. Creepy's nose but you can say she's weird like that.

How many of you think Rachel's being stupid for allowing a drunk stranger take shelter in her workshop?

How many of you think she's just been kind and compassionate?

Incase anyone's annoyed by Mr.Creepy's actions today please let's give him benefit of doubt since he's drunk.

I am very excited so I will be updating very soon.

What do you think is going to happen next?