I Can Be Your Hero
Chapter Six-A New Beginning
I did exactly what Patrick said to do and opened the door to his apartment. My jaw dropped. Everything was so…posh. He had a nice black suede couch, love seat, and lounge chair surrounding a huge HD television with a fantastic stereo system. The walls were white, but he had plenty of Blackhawks themed decorations everywhere to add some color. There were quite a few pictures of him and Jon, and of him and his sisters hanging on the walls in black and red picture frames, and one of the most prominent frames contained not a picture, but a silver Olympic medal. I dropped my shabby backpack full of clothes at the door and walked in a little further, flipping the light switch as I did so. I slowly walked across the dark hardwood floor and into the kitchen, which had black and silver flecked granite countertops and the latest stainless steel kitchen appliances. I accidentally tripped over the recycling bin however, and cringed. Bottles came rolling out everywhere and I scrambled to pick them up. I froze midway through the cleanup however. How many empty bottles of booze have I picked up? I thought, glancing into the now half full recycling bin. Jack Daniels, Grey Goose, and a million and a half other liquors stared up at me. I had an empty Guinness bottle in one hand and an empty Bacardi Raz in the other. I swallowed roughly. I knew that Patrick was known as a party boy, but it was suddenly very apparent that the party never ended for him.
What if he was drunk when he told me to come here? What if he gets like Damien and hurts me? I thought, and I suddenly regretted my decision to trust Patrick, who was, after all, a perfect stranger.
Patrick’s Point of View
I opened the door to my apartment and checked my watch. It was almost 3 AM, and I silently cursed the shitty Vancouver weather. Our flight had been delayed due to snow, and I hated having to wait to get home from road trips. I almost screamed in shock as I saw Elizabeth sleeping soundly on the couch, having forgotten that I told her to get to my apartment. Once I got over the initial shock, I walked over to the closet and pulled out the nice, warm Blackhawks blanket my mom had sent me for Christmas and put it over her. It was cold in my apartment, and I didn’t want her to get sick. Once I was sure that she was okay, I slipped into my bedroom quietly, downed half a bottle of Goose, and headed to bed.
The next morning I woke up to the smell of eggs and bacon. My stomach growled angrily, and I immediately rolled out of bed and trotted into the kitchen. Elizabeth was standing there, her long, curly red hair cascading down her back, humming quietly to herself.
“Hey there,” I said, and she jumped violently.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” I said, and she turned around, her cheeks pink but a smile on her face.
“It’s fine. I figured I’d make breakfast…I mean, it’s nothing big but I guess it’s the beginning of me repaying you for letting me stay here,” she said, and I smiled.
“Hey, not a problem. I know we don’t really know each other, but I felt like I had to do something. I mean…it’s not right what he did to you,” I said, and Elizabeth looked at the ground.
“Why are you embarrassed? It’s not your fault,” I said, realizing that she was ashamed. She muttered something before turning back to the stove and occupying herself with the food, and I bit back a sigh. She obviously wasn’t much of a talker.
What if he was drunk when he told me to come here? What if he gets like Damien and hurts me? I thought, and I suddenly regretted my decision to trust Patrick, who was, after all, a perfect stranger.
Patrick’s Point of View
I opened the door to my apartment and checked my watch. It was almost 3 AM, and I silently cursed the shitty Vancouver weather. Our flight had been delayed due to snow, and I hated having to wait to get home from road trips. I almost screamed in shock as I saw Elizabeth sleeping soundly on the couch, having forgotten that I told her to get to my apartment. Once I got over the initial shock, I walked over to the closet and pulled out the nice, warm Blackhawks blanket my mom had sent me for Christmas and put it over her. It was cold in my apartment, and I didn’t want her to get sick. Once I was sure that she was okay, I slipped into my bedroom quietly, downed half a bottle of Goose, and headed to bed.
The next morning I woke up to the smell of eggs and bacon. My stomach growled angrily, and I immediately rolled out of bed and trotted into the kitchen. Elizabeth was standing there, her long, curly red hair cascading down her back, humming quietly to herself.
“Hey there,” I said, and she jumped violently.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” I said, and she turned around, her cheeks pink but a smile on her face.
“It’s fine. I figured I’d make breakfast…I mean, it’s nothing big but I guess it’s the beginning of me repaying you for letting me stay here,” she said, and I smiled.
“Hey, not a problem. I know we don’t really know each other, but I felt like I had to do something. I mean…it’s not right what he did to you,” I said, and Elizabeth looked at the ground.
“Why are you embarrassed? It’s not your fault,” I said, realizing that she was ashamed. She muttered something before turning back to the stove and occupying herself with the food, and I bit back a sigh. She obviously wasn’t much of a talker.