ABSOLUTELY MESS

Wilona's P.O.V

I sit down with a sigh of relief before looking towards the large knife that was on my nightstand and belonged to the man who lived in the apartment across from my own.

Damon.

I pick it up before I can change my mind. Holding my breath with the fear of somehow stabbing myself, I was clumsy enough to do that and end up bleeding out on my bed.

I spin it slowly in my grasp as I examine it. It was heavy which I didn't know if was normal or not for knives, but this one was. It was made of long, smooth steel which curved gently at the end with a large, wooden handle that was bumpy all over in contrast.

I hold it carefully in my grasp, my thumb rubbing across the intricate detailing that was placed into the wood, yet I couldn't make out what it was.

I feel around but my touch fails to translate anything into images. I don't stop touching it as I think of the owner.

Damon. I wondered if that was his real name. I couldn't imagine him lying about it after he grilled me to get my own out of me. My eyes narrow remembering how he'd somehow known with ease that I was lying.

I felt a little guilty about it now but it was always better to be safe. My attempts were in vain though, the guy somehow knew I was lying without breaking a sweat.

It was weird. Impressive, but still weird.

A shiver runs through me with the shadow of his hands on me still lingering. He hadn't even touched me, not really. True to his word, not once did he let his skin meet mine.

Still, I'd expected it to hurt more than it did, expected to fall into a state of panic, but I hadn't. Maybe it was because there was no direct contact, but even that in the past made me break down. Yet with him, last night, it was different. It wasn't fine by any means, but it was tolerable...

God I was such a fucking mess

I grip the knife tighter knowing I had to apologize to him and thank him as well, I could do that much if nothing else. I stand with the intent of doing so right now, but stop myself when I realize I was in the same clothes, dried blood present in some places.

I frown at myself, angry that I wanted to be presentable for someone I didn't even know. A piece of me wanted to say fuck it and just go to his door, yet I was back in the shower, sitting on the installed bench, before I could stop myself.

I wanted to overrun the image of me he'd seen last night. I wasn't that person, the one he'd found on the floor crying and screaming. I hadn't been that person for a long time and I was determined to let that be known.

So I scrub at my skin aggressively to clean myself despite the fact that my skin burned from doing so the night before.

It was a lot harder than I'd imagined to get ready with my stupid ankle, but I'd managed. I check my reflection, frowning when my natural vision mixes with the steamed mirror to produce a big blob of color.

"Fuck it." I sigh tiredly as I limp outside the bathroom and take hold of the knife that sat waiting to be returned to its owner.

I automatically go for Sassy leash but stop, my hand hovering over where it hung with a deep frown forming on my lips. My memories from the previous night told me that Sassy seriously didn't like Damon, which was strange seeing as her reaction to most people was indifference. It could've been protectiveness with the state I was in, but Damon had proved to not be a threat but she still barked away with new aggression.

I was going across the hall, I didn't need to take Sassy. But since getting Sassy, I hadn't parted from her side for an instant. She'd been with me every step of the way, and going somewhere without her, even just next door, scared the crap out of me.

I look down at her, she was lying peacefully in her bed, her eyes watching me curiously as her tail wagged a little.

"I'll be right back," I promise as I open the door, she immediately sits up, ears raising with confusion. "Promise, right back."

I manage to close the door as she comes running. My heart squeezing itself at the way she whines and scratches from the other side for me to return. I steel myself not to cave and get her, instead I take a step forward to the door and knock with my free hand.

Nothing.

I knock again after a moment but no one answers. Maybe, he wasn't home...

I glance down at the knife, I couldn't necessarily slide it underneath his door and there was no fucking mailbox. I could just wait for him to get home, but I'd probably be too lazy by that point to do it.

I knock one more time with the hopes of miraculously receiving an answer, but I don't.

I turn with a sigh, heading back to my room with the promise of trying again tomorrow or whenever I had energy again. I stop with my hand over my doorknob when the elevator dings, the doors parting to reveal the man of the hour... I think. I couldn't really tell from this far away.

Up until meeting Damon, I thought I was the only person living on this floor. Now, I wondered if there were others here that I hadn't taken notice too. As the man approaches, my blurred vision pulls together to distinguish many bags hanging from his arms and a strong jaw that I'd noticed when I saw Damon's blurred face in the light last night.

"Hey," He says sounding surprised and careful. His voice confirms his suspected identity and I relax the tension that had built from the fear that it hadn't been him.

"Hi," I reply as I look up at him.

It bothered me that I couldn't see much of his face beside the prominent outline of his jaw and cheekbones. I knew I'd be able to see more with good sunlight or if he stood in front of a bulb, but asking someone to do that much was always more trouble than it was worth. Especially when that meant telling them about my condition, I rather just see the blur.

My eyes dart away with sudden nerves building, I'd been confident until I was face-to-face with the guy and I hated it. Silence falls between us, neither of us moving from our spots. I look down to the knife in my hand and remember the reason I'd come out in the first place.

"I have your knife," I say lifting said knife, offering him an eager smile.

"I can see that." He replies with amusement. A small chuckle slipping pass his lips as he watches me still standing awkwardly with his knife raised in my hand.

I lower my hand and look away quickly as heat fills my cheeks. I bite at the inside of them, determined to stop myself from saying anything dumb again and waiting for him to try breaking the silence this time.

"Were you just holding it in the hallway or..." He begins waiting for me to fill in the rest, I bite back a snort at his words.

"Yeah, I was just standing here with the knife waiting for you to come outside so I could stab you with it," I reply sarcastically looking back at him.

When he stays still for a moment, I yell at myself for saying something so fucking weird. But suddenly, he begins laughing loudly. I watch as his entire body reverberates with the action and smile in response feeling a lit bit more at ease.

"I came to return it, but you weren't in," I say gesturing lazily at him. "And to apologize."

"Apologize for what?" He asks sounding genuinely confused. Almost as confused as I felt at the fact that he was still holding all the bags without a sign of exhaustion to be found.

My noodle arms could never.

"For last night." I fill in, my voice becoming quieter with remorse. I press the tip of the knife to my finger, twisting it to distract myself a little.

"Oh,"

"I was a mess." I deadpan. "An absolute mess after everything you did."

"You weren't a m-"

"I was a cunt." I declare cutting him off. "You were nothing but helpful and I slammed the door in your face without even thanking you. I even kept your knife." He laughs a little pushing a helpless chuckle from me too. "I wanted to say sorry for that and to thank you for everything you did last night, I could've been there all night if it wasn't for you. So, thank you."