The Look in Those Eyes (Part 2)

This has nothing to do with the prompt!

Recap: “Quite the view? Is it not?”

I’m shaken out of my reverie. My heart speeds. Someone is standing directly behind me; I can sense it. What I previously thought to be the sun, is a person’s warm breath against my neck. I know this statement to be true without turning my head.

I can’t breathe. I dare not flinch or turn around, too fearful to know who is in my room and what they are to do with me.

I let loose a bloodcurdling scream to call for help. I act quickly and grab the nearest object to me, a thick and dusty magazine about the latest Hawaiian fashions, and whack the source of the voice as hard as I could.

The stranger, a man I conclude, staggers backward and clutches his already reddish-violet bruise forming across his right cheek.

“What are you doing here? This is my room so get out!” I command. When I was a girl scout our instructor told us to act tough when threatened, even if you’re scared out of your wits. The longer I wait for him to reply the more panicked and outrageous my thoughts become in the stillness.

What if this man is trying to rob me? Steal my belongings? Take Miss T away from me? Or even worse, murder me?

My heart races. Bu-bu-bump, bu-bu-bump, bu-bu-bump. He still doesn’t reply so I repeat my words but with less vigor in them. I try a different, and hopefully more successful, tactic.

“Are you ok?” I ask. My hand is still clutching the magazine in an overhand ready-to-fight position, still wary of the man. After what seems like an eon, he stands up and flashes me a fragile smile.

“Hello Rapunzel. Please lower that magazine, I had no idea the latest fashions had so much of a kick to them,” he chuckles at his own joke, “and let me explain everything.”

A flashy gold chain slides back and forth against his crisp and expensive looking suit. I’m a bit embarrassed to be in his extravagant presence with my awkward appearance: a goofy touristy young woman wearing funky orange sandals, a simple white t-shirt, jean shorts, a suitcase in one hand, and a cage with a rabbit in the other.

My shame begins to settle in, and I realize that I haven’t spoken a word to him other than rudely commanding him out of my room.

I reply before he thinks any worse of me, “Sorry about that,” I say, restoring my weapon to its rightful position, “but can you please explain?” I tap my foot against the carpet, my fiery attitude returning back to me.

“We got off on the wrong foot so let’s start fresh. My name’s Brian and what’s yours?”

“Yes, all that’s very nice Mr. Brian but please an explanation is past due.”

“Alright Rapunzel. But before---”

“I’m going to call the cops right now if you don’t start to explain.” I bring my phone out of my pocket, serious in my intentions.

The man’s countenance altogether transforms. In a split second, his face pales and he begins to explain. I keep the phone in my hand for extra safety measures.

The conversation that follows ends my previous suspicions. The stranger showed me sufficient evidence to plead his case: he exhibited his hotel card, his valet ticket for his car, and the same advertisement I received for the hotel room.

Turns out there was a small description I hadn’t read that says that I would be sharing the hotel suite with someone else which is probably why there was a discount. Seriously, who would spend a vacation in the same hotel room with a total stranger for full price?

“Thank you so much for clearing this up. Is there anything I can do to ever make up for my behavior?” I ask at the closing of our conversation.

“No need to apologize Rapunzel, I would have reacted the same if I was in your position. However, there is something I’d like from you.”

My nervous system begins to act up again at his request. Why would I ever tell a random stranger that I’d give or do anything for them? I’m so stupid, he’s probably going to tell me to give him all my jewelry or all my money and belongings. Just the thought speeds my heart.

“What is it?”

“Tonight there will be a luau that the hotel is putting on, and I was wondering if you would like to join me as my guest? And one more thing Rapunzel, if I may venture to ask, what’s your name?”

“It’s Amy, Amy Hill.” We shake hands.

I’m relieved that it’s only a dance offer; nothing too extreme so I reply in the affirmative. The details of the event are passed to me and together we spend the rest of the evening choosing the perfect outfit in the hotel’s clothing shop.

***

I close the door behind me and slide down the woody surface in despair. It’s dark and stormy outside and if I happened to find a genie lamp right now, all I’d wish for is to leave this messed up vacation and return home. The luau comes back to me like a vivid nightmare longing to be forgotten.

Brain and I had a blast dancing together and even though we improvised all our dance steps, at some point, the other luau dancers circled around us and cheered. The beating of the drum was all that we needed to dance like nobody was watching. I was so happy.

Someway or other, my eyes always returned to his clam hazel one’s and his to mine. After only an hour or so of dancing and gravitating toward the snack table, it began to rain. The musicians, our supporting fans, and my partner abandoned me and acted as if the water was acid.

When they retreated from the impending rain, I continued to dance to the beat of the storm until the lightning came, and I was forced to seek refuge in the hotel’s lobby like the others who had attended the luau.

I sigh and attempt to hold in the tempest that so yearns to fall from my eyes. I get up and blindly travel to the bathroom with hopes to spend the night weeping in the tub. As my fingertips graze the bathroom door handle, I sense a sudden change in the air.

Something’s not right; it’s too quiet even with the storm raging havoc outside my room, I feel as if something’s missing. In frozen horror, I feel a person’s warm breath against my neck and this time I know that it’s not the sun’s warmth.

I turn around, but before I can scream my mouth is gagged, my arms are pinned behind my back with rope, my body is slammed onto the dusty carpet, and a cold metal object pressed roughly into my back.

Muddy boots are planted on either side of my head, and I’m afraid that my skull will be smashed in two by them. I desperately gasp for breath but to no avail. Blood trickles from my forehead and a small pool of blood gathers on the carpet from being tossed onto the ground like a sack of flour. I turn my head the other direction and see a leather black and weatherbeaten briefcase filled to the brim with stacks of green bills.

A masked face peers into my eyes, and I know at once who is responsible for the theft merely by the look in their eyes. The black mask attempts to hide the person’s identity but those eyes are all the information I need to identify my capturer. I’m filled with horror and questions.

A scared but firm look in those eyes tells me the robber’s intentions to dispose of the evidence (me), take the goods, and flee the scene. The musty smelling gag is tied loosely around my mouth so I pull it off with my teeth.

“Listen, before you do anything to me I have an offer!”

The man presses the metal object, most likely the butt of some sort of switchblade, harder into my spine. One quick maneuver and it could be game over for me, but I know that he can’t be capable of using that thing. Right?

“Please, it’ll benefit us both!” I plead.

The blade stops pressing, and I know that I’ve hit a sweet spot.

“I’m listening,” a gruff voice replies.

The rope that binds my arms together continues to cut deeply into the tender flesh of my hands. Beads of perspiration and blood pour down my forehead and hands, but I manage to find a shaky voice to relate my offer.

“If you give me some of the money I promise I won’t tell anyone. I’m desperate for it because I need to pay off this debt, and I don’t have enough money; I never do. Plus, if you murder me all the evidence would point to you and you know it.”

Silence. The buzzing stillness pains my ears. The suspense is going to kill me, not the blade pressing into my back. I mentally begin making a list of objects that I hope will be given to people when I’m gone.

Natalie would inherit Miss T since she’s the Pet Express employee who first introduced me to Miss T and who always gave me discounts for her food, toys, and other necessities.

The UPS driver who always told me to have a great day no matter what day it was; he would get all my gift cards that I haven’t cashed in, which are basically all of them. I haven’t cashed in any because I like collecting them, and I find gift cards kind of sketchy.

That reminds me, I’d donate my rock collection to Mr. Green even though he’s the absolute worst neighbor in the world. I’m worried for him since all he does is go out with his friends to play golf; he really needs a new hobby. Maybe the rocks will encourage him to try something new and be kinder to the next person who next lives in my house and becomes his new neighbor.

I try to remember what other things I hold dear to me when my capturer does the exact opposite of what a thief should do. He begins to cry.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I can’t, I just can’t.” The blade pulls away. I didn’t notice it before, but now that he removed the weapon, my back is sore.

I really need to take a nice bubble bath when this is over, if I survive. That ‘if’ brings back all my horrors.

His voice breaks off into a fresh wave of deep sobs. From my position on the floor I can't tell where my capaturer is but it doesn’t take rocket science, just a bit of sensibility, to know that he’s upset. At least he’s away from me which buys me time to form a plan and try to save myself.

Those black boots thump its way over to my uncomfortable position on the floor and my attacker crouches down to my eye level for the second time. I need to make sure it’s him before I jump to conclusions.

Against my heart’s desire, I look into those sweet hazel eyes again and confirm my suspicions. It’s that sweet gentleman, my own dancing partner, my roommate---Brian.

To be continued…