Chapter 4: Self Defense

DANICA

My uniform bore a name tag, but Miles and I had a habit of using pseudonyms. Today, I was Anna.

He sighed heavily, lifting his gaze to meet mine. “Do you know who I am?” he asked, his words strained.

I met his stare evenly. “Should I?” I responded, a hint of worry creeping into my voice. I was certain I didn’t know him. His eyes, his aura, they were unforgettable.

Yet, my response seemed to fuel his anger. “Yes,” he retorted, rising abruptly from his seat.

“Is something wrong?” I asked, my confusion growing.

He glanced at me, his jaw set tight. He tossed a twenty-dollar bill onto the table. “I hate black tea,” he muttered before storming out, leaving me bewildered.

Back in the kitchen, Miles picked up on my unease. “You okay?” he asked.

I shrugged, trying to shake off the encounter. “Yeah, just a weirdo,” I replied, adjusting my apron. He was far from the first, and certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Most of the oddballs here were locals, but this man was different. He unsettled me. I couldn’t stop replaying our interaction.

I was on closing duty that night. By half-past eight, it seemed like I’d be heading home soon.

I was in the kitchen, about to take out the trash, when I heard the door chime. But I had locked it. I was sure of it. The windows were shut too, so it couldn’t have been the wind.

The silence was eerie. I grabbed the nearest knife and ventured out, scanning the room. There he was, the man from earlier, seated in his usual spot. “We’re closed!” I called out.

My gaze shifted to the front door. The sign had been flipped to ‘open’. The man didn’t react. I concealed the knife by my thigh and cautiously approached.

“We’re closed!” I repeated. He remained unmoved. “Leave, or I’ll call the police!” I threatened, my voice wavering slightly.

That got his attention. “Police,” he scoffed. “What makes you think I can’t handle them?”

“What do you want?” I demanded, my grip on the knife tightening. Few things scared me, but unhinged people did.

“Green tea, please,” he replied nonchalantly.

Earlier, I had served him black tea. This was about more than just tea.

“Get out!” I yelled, my heart pounding in my chest.

He chuckled, a sound that sent chills down my spine even with his back turned. “You might actually need me. Someday.”

I had no patience for his mind games. “Leave! The police are on their way!” They weren’t, but I was desperate to scare him off. I doubted anything I could do would faze him. He seemed like he’d seen it all.

He dropped the menu he’d been perusing and rose slowly. I tensed as he began to approach. I was frozen in place, unable to run or call for help. I could only watch as he drew nearer.

He towered over me, his eyes locked onto mine. He was the picture of calm. “How are your headaches?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “I bet they’ve started to hurt.” A cruel smile played on his lips. “Every night since you were twelve, once twilight sets in, your head feels like it’s about to burst. It started off mild, right?”

He continued to close the distance between us. “But now, it’s unbearable. You’ve tried everything to stop the pain. Painkillers, drugs… Even pricking yourself with a needle at the pain points.” How did he know? I’d never told anyone. Only Ms. Moore knew, but she never left the house, and she would never betray me.

“How do you know all that?” I demanded. “Leave!”

He leaned in closer, and I thrust the knife toward him, holding it with both hands against his jaw.

He didn’t even flinch. Instead, he smirked, his finger brushing the tip of the blade. “That’s sweet.”

I raised the knife higher, but he merely rolled his eyes. “Are you going to kill me?” he asked.

My body was trembling, like a leaf caught in a violent gust of wind. He tilted his head down, pressing the sharp tip of the blade into his own skin.

A smug grin played on his lips, but the cut was deep enough that a trail of blood trickled down to my hands. “You can’t kill me, Danica. You don’t have the guts,” he growled, seizing my hands and yanking the knife out with a force that made me wince.

Casually, he tossed the knife aside, not even bothering to look where it landed. He began to close the distance between us, and instinctively, I retreated with each step he took. “But I do. So no one gets to hold a knife to my throat. Because they will get the same in return, except I won’t stop until that knife meets the back of their throat.”

Suddenly, my back was against the wall. I was cornered. “I advise you not to try that again. I am here to protect you, but if you try to hurt me, you will only get burned twice as hard.”

Protect me? What was he even saying? “What do you want from me?” I managed to ask.

His jaw tightened. “For our deal to end, rather sooner.”

“What deal?”

His expression darkened. “For that exact reason. You don’t know my world.”

With that, he stepped back from me and left the room. I was left standing there, alone and confused. Who was he? What did he want? And why did he just leave?

My gaze fell on the discarded knife, now stained with his blood.

My legs felt like jelly as I slowly approached it, trying to find an angle where the light would hit it just right and the blood wouldn’t look so dark. But no matter how I turned it, the blood remained a deep, inky black.

Yet, when I had cut him, the blood that had dripped onto my hands was red, just as it should be.

I lifted my hands, now smeared with the strange black substance. Hastily, I wiped them on my apron.

Who was he?