CHAPTER 24

I take a jacket from the closet, I don't even notice if it matches my clothes, by now, I am well served if I can think clearly. I slowly open the door and stick my head out, praying that no one is there. Luckily for me, that's right, I slide silently until I reach the stairs.

Unable to avoid it, I look up, there is no one, and nothing is heard. Maybe this is the only chance I have to take a look and find out how much Mikael hides there. I turn my head to both sides making sure I am alone, I place my right foot on the first step, I repeat the action with the next one, trying not to make any noise.

I reach the threshold of the third floor, everything is deserted and quiet, nothing seems strange or worrisome. What did you expect to find here? It is not like he has corpses sandwiched to the wall, or glass jars with dissected parts, if so, he will not have them with the naked eye.

I decide on the north wing to start exploring. The hallway is carpeted, some wooden tables support vases of different colored flowers. The occasional painting decorates the walls as I go.

The first door is glimpsed, two thick sheets of wood make it up, I approach taking the cheekbone and different from what I thought, this seat in my hand. A squeak emerges from it when I open it, I shrink into myself, I wait for something to happen, but no.

I am definitely alone.

The room is spacious at first glance, its gloomy hue is not too distinguishable. It smells dusty and damp alike, it hasn't had to be opened in years, I'd bet up to a decade.

A thick curtain covers the window panes, I carefully approach and slide it just a few centimeters, otherwise by stirring it too much the dust in it will end up drowning me. The dim light of a rainy day enters through the window, without warm glare reaching to improve my visibility. The silhouette of the light that enters is glimpsed on the shelf, exposing the great treasure that it holds.

Books, hundreds and hundreds of them, hidden in the gloom under thick layers of dust. How much waste, how much mistreatment of treasure so longed for by my eyes and my hands, source of knowledge. How many trips to worlds of incessant fantasies that have vanished under specks of dust, are adhering to their stories with the passage of ungrateful time.

I approach each one of them, delighting in their texture to the tart of my fingers for their thick loins. A lot more are found in boxes shelved everywhere without any qualms. On one of them, a greenish cover stands out, despite the layer of dirt that hides its splendor. Pink my fingers on it and gold letters are shown reading: Wuthering Heights.

I open its thick cover and on its first handwritten page there is a phrase:

Whatever substance our souls are made of. His and mine are the same, and the… is as different as the moonbeam from the lightning, or like the ice from the fire.

Eleonor De Angelis.

__ What are you doing here? __ A wing of the door hits the wall, I don't even want to move.

My heart compresses, skipping the odd beat, it carries with it my flow of oxygen in my blood, my gaze becomes blurry making me feel dizzy when I turn. His black eyes flashing in fury is what I find.

Fury directed at me makes me want to jump out the window. I would do it in order to escape those eyes, if it weren't for the fact that the damned one is closed and I doubt very much to be able to open it and launch myself before Mikael catches me.

With light movements I place the book in the belt of my pants, it is hidden thanks to the rather loose jacket. Blessed is the hour I took it.

__ I asked you a question __. He takes two long strides forward, sent straight to me. We are barely half a meter away and, even so, it is as if he drank all the air in the room, leaving me without anything to breathe __. Answer back.

__ I ... so ... it's just ... I was __. His gaze falls on me with greater intensity, as if his hands are struggling not to grasp my neck and rid themselves of my pathetic existence.

All I can think of to do is one thing.

It's stupid, I don't deny it. But continuing to endure those two blacknesses is inadmissible if I don't want to end up shaking and crawling on the floor until I get into a box and beg childishly so that he does not find me.

I start to run, I pass him with my gaze fixed on the exit as my refuge from him, just a few seconds from me, such a beautiful escape. His hand hooks my arm and with devastating force he throws me against the wood, leaving my back almost attached to it. The abrupt and suddenness of the gesture makes me close my eyes for a moment, I open them slowly and I immediately regret it.

His body appropriates all my personal space imposing its will, showing the completeness and efficiency that it knows how to use when exercising it. Only a few inches separate us, the heat that emanates from him engulfs me suffocatingly.

__ I was clear when giving the order that this plant is prohibited __. Every part of my body trembles struggling to shrink until it disappears __. Don't ever break my rules.

His hand tightens into the grip, sending currents of pain through my nervous system. But any sensation is ignored when that cloak of power and lethality that envelops him emerges from him. That feeling of cold that runs through your back, the impression of inert emptiness that drags you, makes you take the adrenaline in a non-complacent way to a state of alert, where your vision almost becomes a tunnel and the only thing that is concentrated it is in the threat imprinted in his dark gaze.

In an involuntary movement, my body for survival makes my hand move and thanks to everything divine, he allows it. My feet are even waiting for approval to start walking down the road at full speed in reflex. I get to the stairs and don't stop until I reach the top floor. I am not aware of when I started crying, I only know that the drops run down my cheeks without being able to stop them.

__ Suhaila __. My name resounds filling the silent space in a thunderous way. That causes my chest to jump heaving, my breathing faster.

His footsteps thundering as he walked, is the cause that I stop looking at the door and even knowing what is on the other side and what may happen to cross it, I do. I hit a muscular shoulder sending me to the ground almost to the point of making me eat dirt. Instantly I feel the burning in my hands and knee. I look at my palms stained with dirt, it begins to mix with the crimson of the blood.

__ Miss you must come in __. I listen behind my back.

__ Do it now, or we'll have to shoot __ another voice adds.

Followed by the second, a scream of horror accompanies them. I turn around remaining sitting on the ground, I catch a glimpse of Esteffan who seems on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

__ It is not necessary __ he assures with a shaking voice. He leaves in a hurry, interposing himself between his handguns and my body, which is soon pierced by __. She will come in, this is just a mistake. Come on Suhaila.

__ Not __. Between the pain and the ragged breathing, my voice comes out almost like a whisper.

__ Darling, stop playing games and enter __. Esteffan turns her gaze to me, opening her eyes in warning.

Only my decision is already made, there is no going back __. I will not do it __. Rafael squints in my direction, seems to assess my state of madness.

It should save you trouble by informing you that I have exceeded my one-year limits at this time.

A movement in the window on the second floor captures my attention, Mikael is in it, watching me from the imposing height that the structure gives him. As if he needed it. His gaze even at a distance continues to transmit the same sensation, the same feeling that the air leaves you under its power in its maximum display of splendor.

I stand up, put aside the complaints of my body asking for rest, alerting through the pain that it is hurt.

__ If you have to shoot, do it. I will not enter __. Each word emerges from my lips without taking my eyes off him, only him.

The anger after my challenge increases in his eyes, I renew my steps when I turn around, I start to walk away, starting to go anywhere. Each step is a breath that could be the last. I wait for the detonation with each one of them, but it does not come.

I force my body to continue standing, everything trembles and my muscles announce that they will soon faint, the adrenaline that has been sustaining me until now little by little leaves me. I look up at the sky and beg that he not allow me to fall before his gaze. Not far away you can see the silhouette of a simple building. I don't stop, I come to a little house just behind the stables. Slowly I let myself fall glued to some bars, I appreciate the support they offer me.

I close my eyes for a moment savoring the air that runs through my lungs. A hoarse growl snaps me out of my trance, I stand still without moving a hair. I just hope it's a product of my imagination, I turn a few inches in the direction where that aberrant sound re-emerges.

A cloak of black hair of a little more than a meter stalks me, its pointed ears pricked, its raised snout shows a row of lethal teeth, they could easily tear my flesh and dismember my body.