Love from, Hell

Julie’s head hurt the second she opened her eyes. She closed them and groaned a bit. She opened them again and brought her hand up near her head and placed her palm down flat. She realized then that she had no idea where she was. Panicking, she tried to lift herself up but her brain and bones protested loudly. She looked down at herself.

She was still fully clothed, including her shoes. Her hair was still in a ponytail and she had her earrings. Julie calmed down a bit when she concluded that she hadn’t been raped or robbed. But then why was she here… wherever she was. She looked at the blank, impersonal walls. She looked over the side of the bed to the ground. There was an old plastic bucket there. Julie frowned and looked down at herself again. Someone had propped her body to stay on her side. She slowly sat up, leaning on her elbow.

At the other side of the room were sliding glass doors. And there was a dark figure sitting on one side of the plastic chairs, his back to her. Julie looked over her shoulder at the other bed. It was untouched. Julie looked back at the person. He was completely still. Julie sat up slowly, careful not to upset her body. She stood and was still ok. She shuffled quietly to the sliding door and opened it carefully.

“Um, hi," her voice was raspy and soft and Julie realized her throat hurt.

He turned his head to her. Julie stared. He looked… unreal. Like he’d stepped out of a perfect brooding James Dean-esque head shot. Julie had never seen anyone or anything so good looking or intimidating.

“You alright?” he asked, his tone indifferent. His voice was like a second blow. Stunningly attractive but with a definite coldness.

“Yes… thank you," she said, gesturing lamely to the bed. He turned away again. Julie saw a thin stream of smoke blow away from what she surmised to be a cigarette.

“No problem,” he said, already backing off.

Julie nodded to herself. Then her legs on their own accord stepped out onto the balcony and sat down in the other available chair. Again she stared. He was lifting his cigarette with long, perfectly shaped fingers to his mouth. His eyelashes moved a fraction. The smoke blew from his mouth, temporarily blurring his dark profile. He looked at Julie, clearly feeling her open gawk. Julie froze at those eyes for a moment, caught in his dark blue gaze. Then she lowered her head. She could feel him looking at her a moment longer then knew when he wasn’t looking because a slight pressure lifted.

“I’m Julie. By the way,” she said for some reason she couldn’t rationalize.

He looked at her and she looked up at him, trapped in those eyes again. “Malcolm,” he complied, and then looked away. J

ulie blinked. Malcolm? Malcolm. It was hard to absorb. He continued to smoke. Julie looked out. They were incredibly high up. Probably right near the top floor. And the town below was moving along routinely. Shops were open and cars rolled by regularly. Julie looked to her right. ‘St. David’s Motel’ read the large sign.

It felt strange to be looking at other mundane things when there was a large beautiful mystery sitting right next to her. But Julie was thoroughly intimidated so she tried to think of something else. And forced the startling events of last night to come back.

“What happened to Calvin?” her voice said and then she gasped.

“And those men you killed??” Julie panicked. Her heart beat dangerously. She was being held captive by a murderer and now he was probably going to kill her too because she witnessed his first two murders.

Malcolm looked at her; a slight frown of annoyance lined his brow. “I didn’t kill them," he informed her.

Although his voice was distant and unsoothing, Julie felt reassured.

“Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to suggest you would have. Killed them, I mean.” What was coming out of her mouth? Julie wondered. Serious word vomit.

“They would probably have… hurt me if you hadn’t shown up and… you know, with your car.” she said, keeping the projectile going. “I probably owe you my life.”

Malcolm’s face fell into a full out pained frown that startled Julie so much that she shut her uncontrollable mouth. “Don’t say that. It isn’t true.” he said in a disapproving, straight forward, completely immodest way.

Julie nodded, terrified and apologetic. Clearly this gorgeous Malcolm creature loathed her and she needed to save any dignity she could scrape together. And the only way to do this was to leave his presence. So she made herself stand and walk quietly back inside and straight to the washroom.

Malcolm bit down on his cigarette. He didn’t want to be tied to anything and he certainly didn’t want anyone tied to him. That little wisp of a girl was a strange creature and continued to do the opposite of what he expected her to do. Malcolm took his cigarette from his mouth and looked out over on to the street.

A prickle went down his spine and he glanced swiftly over at the rooftops of the nearby buildings. Paranoia was usually something people took as irrational. But to Malcolm, being cautious, being paranoid, meant that he could stay one step ahead. He was suspicious of his father and his minions, tracking him, watching his every move. He didn’t want them anywhere near him. Malcolm frowned in thought.