SHE SUCKED IN A SHARP BREATH, GETTING UP TO LEAVE. That would be the last time they would ever speak, she'd decided, because there was no reason for her to want to speak to him again, he was absolutely heartless and possibly a murderer, it's disgusting to think about the sins he'd committed with those hands of his.

"I'll be leaving now. Goodnight, sir." What shocked her was that she waited. She actually fucking waited for the man to reply, to say 'goodnight' back. And nothing. Natasia was a fool.

"Alright then. I hope your wound gets better. And I hope that man-," she gestured uselessly to the dead corpse in front of her, "rests in peace. I don't even know if you saw that. Whatever."

She dusted off her coat, her dress, and walked away. Or tried to, at least. His voice stopped her.

"It's 2 in the morning," he said. "I'll drop you off."

"No need, thank you though." She muttered it.

"Do you even know your way from here?"

Pause.

She didn't. Obviously.

"Clearly not," the man muttered, referring to the silence, Natasia assumed. But going home at two in the morning with a stranger didn't sit right with her either. Not because of safety reasons (although that had a part), but more because of her uncle. What would he think? That she was whoring around?

She hesitated. "I have strict parents. If they see me with a guy—,"

Parents. Natasia lied through her teeth.

"They won't."

"But—,"

"You dressed my wound," he said. "Let me do this much for you."

Natasia stepped up and away, face still towards him (or where she assumed he was), and look quiet, short steps back. "But you don't have a car or anything it's-,"

She felt a strong tug on her arm and let out a scream right then. Her heart started beating more violently than it had previously, and that'd startled her even more. Five minutes had passed before her breathing evened out.

"Stupid girl," she heard the man whisper in her ear, and then she jerked up, realizing that it was him who'd tugged her away— she looked to her side— from a car.

Red and white headlights blinded her, and she held her free hand against her face, shielding her eyes, when she realized that man had saved her life, his arm locked around her waist. She took a moment to focus on her own breaths. Ragged, short, and of course uneven.

Her hands were shaking violently, and she felt the tips freeze. It was like all the blood in her body went up and started heating her face, instead of her other body parts where she needed it most.

She held them to her chest, hoping the heat would warm them up. And while she waited, she also shivered, with her heart still pounding painfully against her ribs. "I've troubled you."

It was a whisper. A delicate one, and Natasia wasn't sure if he caught it. And after a minute of swallowing her fear, she managed to get on her feet and look at him directly in the face, where the light of the moon hit.

She spoke again. "I've troubled you, sir. And I think it's time for me to go. I hope your wound heals quickly and I- sorry for everything. I shouldn't have come here. It's stupid what I did. But anyways I just-,"

"You just..?" he asked, eyes boring into hers. They were blue. And hooded. They looked down at her like she was inferior. She searched his gaze with her own- studying every inch of his face, his voice, his jaw, his lips, and deep blue eyes she hadn't ever seen before.

His voice was hushed, laced with some type of dominance she couldn't make out. She was compelled to finish her sentence, but she couldn't open her mouth without feeling like she'd melt into a puddle of pure anxiety. Her stomach was in knots, while her eyes shamelessly stared back into the man. "I really need to go."

His eyes stare through souls, she felt. Maybe in a moment, he will figure out all her sins, her vices, everything she had ever done wrong. Perhaps she doesn't know, but her eyes were the most telling of her flaws.

Natasia breaks out of his grasp, and she hurried for a moment to leave his sight, but a sense of guilt began to brew inside of her when she heard his shouting, which had then become so distant she was no longer able to hear it. She felt worse knowing she knew he wasn't just shouting, he'd asked her a question, and it was harmless, and she could've answered.

He'd asked for her name, but there was no way they would ever cross paths again. What would he have done with it?

Strangely enough, after all the adrenaline had passed, when she'd sat down on her bed, curled up with a book, she found herself wanting to repeat the night all over again.

*

NATASIA'S LIFE WAS VERY SIMPLE TO UNDERSTAND, AND IT ALSO WASN'T. It was a common thing for her to do, sit for hours in her room, contemplating about her life and its happenings, staring at her wall. She'd lost sleep over these things. It was a simple live she lived, with simple conditions she thought was easy to grasp. It did not seem like much, but if it really wasn't much, why does she always feel so dead inside?

Her eyes fell on the fresh cigarette packet on the dining table. She would've ignored it, but for some reason, she decided she would pocket it because her uncle was going to die of lung cancer and liver issues if he continued living his lifestyle, and taking one packet of cigarettes away would help it, even if it was by a very small amount.

That's what he preferred wasting money on, she thought to herself bitterly. Cigarettes and alcohol, instead of paying for the rent, paying bills, or paying for food to survive. That's what he lived on, cigarettes and alcohol.

She ran her fingers through her hair, sighing as she threw her head back. The night was chilly, and the moon seemed to look different than it had done two months ago when she'd run into that man in that alley. It had been two months.

And his eyes are still vivid in her mind, even in the dark. It was pathetic.

Natasia quietly opened the doors to the backyard, the wind immediately hitting her face and she sighed again, of relief, it felt like a release after years of oppression and she smiled harder as the wind blew in between the roots of her hair.

She steps into the grass, and it's moist, dewy still from the rain and a tear slipped down her cheek, because she felt like a little girl again, running in the night, grass tickling the soles of her feet and breathing in sweet, musky air after the rain. She loved nature. Those were the days when it felt like it loved her back.

In a quiet corner, she pulled out a lighter, and a cigarette from the pack she'd stolen from her uncle, and she lit it, and she did not hold it to her lips, she watched the fire burn it away instead.

Even a cigarette could not distract her from her thoughts, so she thought again, about going inside and scarfing down a bunch of melatonin because it might help her situation- but that plan was put aside when she heard banging on the main door from the other side.

Rushing to the door, Natasia quickly threw her hair up into a ponytail, and when she opened it, Mateo was standing on the other side, with a stack of papers in hand. He looked beaten up, disappointed, tired, everything in between and Natasia couldn't help but wonder what'd happened to him- although she was 90% sure what papers he was holding in his hands.

She locked the door behind her, hoping not to disturb her uncle upstairs, who was probably passed out like always. Natasia didn't like thinking about him when he was sober. "Mateo?"

"I need to talk to you," he'd glanced at the papers in his hands. He seemed disgusted to even hold them in his hands. Natasia took a deep breath, and she was sure both of them knew what was to come next. Mateo stood in silence for a moment, as Natasia composed herself.

She nodded. "What's happened?"

Mateo passed the stack of papers to Natasia, nervously scratching his neck as she continued scanning through them, and her heart began to pound, harder and harder, as she flipped through each one, in absolute horror.

For one, she was only eighteen, and two, her jobs weren't paying enough. She knew this, and she knew bills kept adding up, and no matter what she does, it seems like it will always stay that way.

"Look I've tried," Mateo began. "I've been telling him about everything but he wouldn't listen, it's- you know it's difficult- that's a year's worth of rent, Natasia. He lost it completely today."

"You did not have to, Mateo," Natasia says. "But I really appreciate that you did it anyway. I'm really trying my best with all that I have, and I promise I will pay you all as soon as I can."

It felt like she was struggling to breathe, choking out her words, as she struggled to blink away her tears in time. It hurt to speak and it was embarrassing, to see herself cry in front of Mateo because he had been so kind.

"Natasia I love you," Mateo says, and he stepped in to hug her but she backed away, she hit the door. "I have loved you, and I would never want this to happen."

These interactions were beginning to bother her. He was getting too close to what she was comfortable with, and she did not have the guts to tell him to stop, so she kept backing away, away from the door, and with every step she takes, he takes two, and he was getting closer and she couldn't get him to leave.

"Mateo, I'm going to be okay. Please just-" Natasia's eyes were stuck on his hands, how near they were to her skin and the thought made her flinch. "Please leave, I wouldn't want any more trouble."

She hurried to the door before he got the chance to react, and shut the door immediately behind her, and she held the papers to her chest, wiping away her tears, and she hoped the feeling of doom and tragedy she was feeling at that very moment would pass eventually.

"What are those papers?" Her uncle's speech was slurred. "Y-You were talkin' to Mattas I- ah- saw you-,"

Natasia knew where this was going to go and she stayed frozen in place. Her feet, ice blocks, and she. couldn't. move.

Not again.