Chapter 30

There is a knock on the door, Jack is sitting on the sofa, eating a snack, and he turns around to look at the door, removes his gun from his waist, he then switches off the TV, stands up, slowly walks over to the door as he peaks out of the curtain.

It's 9 pm. Who could this be at the door in this weather?

Whoever is at the door, their back is facing Jack. All he can see is a yellow raincoat.

He then wipes the mist off the window and walks to the door looking through the peek hole.

It's Claire. He opens the door. She is soaked from the rain, standing there as the water drips on the tiles, "Claire, what are you doing here at this hour?"

Her eyes are red. It looked like she had been crying.

"Claire, talk to me. Are you okay?" He walks behind her and removes her raincoat. He notices blood dripping from her arm onto the tiles, but Jack can't see any injuries on her.

He places his hands on her cheeks, "Claire, talk to me. I am here for you."

Claire is in total shock; she is not responding, "Claire!" Jack screams, and she becomes aware of her surroundings. She looks Jack in the eyes as she closes her hand.

Jack took her hand and covered his palm over her fist, "hey, it's me. You will be okay."

Claire looks at the door and pushes it closed, leaning against it with her back.

"Claire, you have to understand for me to help you, you have to tell me what happened."

"Please lock the door."

Jack walks over to the door and locks the doors as she walks through the living room to the kitchen, taking a cup from the sink opening the fridge, and pouring herself milk.

She leaned against the kitchen table with her blue jeans and navel-cut long-sleeve wool jersey; she was wearing a necklace. Jack noticed it had a blue diamond shape pendant. Her collarbone was visible, with a date tattooed on her collarbone.

And beneath her navel, she had a butterfly tattoo, the top of the plant was visible, but her pants covered the rest. Her blonde hair hung loose. She was wearing white sneakers and jeans that reached her ankles.

"Claire, talk to me. Where is this blood coming from?" Claire looked at the ground and saw the trail of blood from the living room to the kitchen. She looked confused.

She looked at her wrist, and there were no marks. Claire had then removed her jersey and wore a black silk bra. Claire turned her arm, trying to see where the blood was coming from, but there were no scratches or wounds.

She had a flat stomach well built, except for the tattoo beneath her navel; her skin was clear. Jack gulped and took a deep breath. "Claire, what are you doing?"

Claire looked around, "oh my gosh, Jack, what are you doing here?" Jack frowned, "what am I doing here?" He looked around; this must be some crazy prank.

"You are in my house, Claire." Jack grinned, making her feel at ease, " she looked at him, then sighed, "how did I get here, and why didn't you stop me from removing my top?"

"Claire, everything happened so fast. I am still trying to figure out why you are here." Claire went quiet, then looked around, "parents not here, sorry, I mean, is your dad not here?"

Jack shook his head, "he is never home."

"So you are in this big house all by yourself?"

"Yes, pretty much."

"Where is your sister?"

"Not around." Claire nodded, "lovely house you have."

"Thanks. You still haven't told me what you are doing here?"

"Nothing, I just dropped by to say hello."

Jack smiled, nodding, "you seemed like you were running from something."

Claire's laughter was sweet and honest, a rare gem that only a few people can call forwards. It's full of her spirit- quiet yet honest, filled with a tender joy.

She has two laughs. She had this deep, genuine laugh pouring out of her with a smile that split her mask and showed her true self. It shows you a glimpse of who she is behind the frozen beauty, and when Claire laughs, if you look hard enough, you can see pain lacing her blue eyes.

She could hide fear and pain behind her smile, but Jack could see through her, emotionally he was more attached to her as a person than the mask she wore all the time to impress friends

"I was not running from anything. Do you see any wounds on my back?" Jack walked around to the back and examined her for wounds as he shook his head, "No, but there are scratch marks."

She turned her head around. Her lips were inches from his, and her sweet soft, gentle voice said softly, "would you mind tracing the scratch with your index finger, so I can feel if it burns." her bright blue ocean-like eyes lightened up as she closed her eyes letting the words barely escape from her lips as her heart raced, "Jack you don't mind, do you?"

It feels like soft rain on a summer evening. It feels like an explosion of the best flavors in the universe, mingling together and creating the best taste and sensation you've ever felt, even though their lips never touched.

The positioning of the hands to trace her would create a sensuality of temptation. The soft sounds that escape from her lips can be a sign of more profound love or passion. It felt like he was no longer in his own body or another floating universe. He felt lost in her eyes.

Resisting giving in to his temptation, he walked back and traced his finger gently over her wound as her head floated backward effortlessly, breathing softly as her heart raced.

"Do you feel this?" He whispered, her eyes now opened up, starting at him, letting out a smile, "I feel it." She took her right hand, placing it over his fingers, it was pouring outside, and the air was cold. Nothing could be better than this moment. At least, that's what he thought.

She turned to him as her lips brushed his, softly, delicately, like butterfly wings, just long enough that he could inhale her breath, feel the warmth of her skin, and the taste of her lipstick lingered far after she had gone.

His lips mashed against hers as if he was trying to flatten and destroy her mouth. She hungrily pushed back, her mouth open, her tongue pushing past his clenched teeth to the moist space. The bristles of his beard scratched against her soft cheeks as she gripped his head firmly as if to keep him from escaping. She worked her mouth against his, their tongues battling back and forth like wrestlers, each trying to pin the other. He kissed her like she wanted to be kissed as no boy had ever kissed her, soft and moist and hot and breathy, not trying to win a battle but seeking union and closeness and the sharing of one breath, one sensation, one timeless and passionate moment.

The heat rose in her cheeks as her tongue touched the other girl's tongue, quick and electric and delicious, then firmer, more determined, more curious about the heat that lay within, seeking to chase down that elusive liquid lightning that reached through both of them.

She started at him as she ran her hand over his back, her nails cut into his skin. She then stopped as they caught their breath. Their hearts were pounding. To Jack, it felt like a dream come true.

Claire suddenly pushed him away, "what are you doing?" Jack was surprised until she grinned, "I am Joking. You remind me of Marcus in the old days."

Jack paused, "excuse me? "

"Why did you stop? Come on, baby." Claire pushed her body against his. As he pushed her away, "you just compared me to Marcus?"

"Yes and? We all like to have fun, don't we? It's our dirty little secret." She whispered.

Jack shook his head. This is not what he had expected from Claire. "I think you have to leave."

Claire saw herself in the mirror and put on her Jersey, "I am sorry, this is not how I usually behave." Jack narrowed his eyes, not sure what to say. He nodded, "I think you should leave." Claire stopped and turned, facing him, staring into his eyes, "I am sorry. I do hope you forgive me." What angered him was not how she behaved but who she thought of that moment.

"Claire," Jack paused, he had a million thoughts racing through his mind, but all words that could escape was, " Your beautiful." He ran the back of his index finger over her cheek, looking down at her. "Any guy to win your heart is the luckiest guy."

He kissed her on her forehead, "it's been a long day for us both." He walked her to the door when he noticed red lights shining through the window. He grabbed her and pushed her down as he lay over her. It was nothing but just kids messing around with toy guns.

"Claire, I am sorry, I thought... Claire? Claire... Wake up, Claire..." Blood flowed down between the grooves of the tile.