Page 11 of Cut Me Down

Chapter five

Damien

‘The Dark of You’ – Breaking Benjamin

Six Days Later

Carter gave me her first name. Ashia.Fuck, just imagining groaning out her name makes my cock hard. I was able to find her last name and address that evening last week, and just my luck, she lives directly over where she works in a small apartment. Across the side alley way from the barber shop is another building with shops at the bottom and apartments on the top. I called the property manager and demanded that I rent out the open unit directly across from hers. Unknown to him, so I can watch her as intensely as I want to. The property manager, Jeff, refused. Said he had other offers to consider, even though I offered twice the monthly rent.

So, I bought the whole fucking building instead. Nothing is going to keep me from my girl. Definitely not some plain, money hungry, garbage named Jeff. I was finally able to get into the apartment after getting the keys from the realtor an hour ago. Right before I fired Jeff for not accepting my rental offer.

Melanie called me this morning after my payment went through and gave me a good hour-long bitch session about giving up my house, and blah, blah, blah. After that hour, and she shut up long enough, I was able to tell her that I wasn’t giving up my house, and that I actually bought the building to be close to a girl I met. She stopped bitching quickly after that, but only to start back up about how ridiculous it is to spend that kind of money just to be near a girl I don’t know.

I would’ve paid twice the amount, but I didn’t tell Mel that.

The fact that the small coffee shop on the bottom floor of the building brings in good money settled her nerves slightly, since now the owner of the coffee shop has to pay me rent every month, not to mention the three other tenants in the apartments. Not that I’m near hurting for money, but as my financial advisor and accountant, Mel likes to judge my spending habits.

She’s about to see a lot of questionable shit. I’m surprised she hasn’t questioned the florist purchases, wondering if it was fraud.

I can see where she’s coming from. I know my actions and feelings are strange, and over the top, but I can’t help it. Shoving these impulses down is not an option for me. This girl is different. One look is all it took, and it was like I’d known her my whole life. I’ve come by and stolen every look I could get since then, and each time I see her it’s like the first. She stalls my breath, stealing it from me, and makes my heart race; I have to see her more. She’s my addiction, and if I go too long without looking into her bronze eyes I might start shaking uncontrollably.

I’ve watched her every night and left her a flower the following morning. I figured black flowers would be her favorite, since they look so rough on the outside, but smell so sweet on the inside. And every morning I watch her interest in the ‘admirer’ grow. That's not all I am, but I'll definitely be admiring her when I'm watching my cock fuck her again and again.

The last tenant left their furniture behind, so all I had to bring over was a change of clothes, a few towels, bathroom essentials, and my laptop. I’ll stay here as long as it takes. I plan on finding out every detail of this girl and I’ll do what needs to be done to find it.

I’m not above invasion of privacy. Obviously. There is no stone that I will leave unturned when it comes to my woman. Medical history? I’ll hack it. Debts? Consider it paid. Hell, she has a splinter in her finger? I’ll fucking find out and burn the piece of wood that gave it to her. I’m going to examine her under a microscope. It’s essential that I’m fully prepared for her. Anything she could throw at me? I’ll be ready to catch it.

She got off work about thirty minutes ago, and she immediately started her normal routine of making dinner and eating alone, or so she thought alone. I went ahead and took the opportunity to eat the food I packed with her. I’ll give her the illusion that nothing has changed for her. For now, because when I finally introduce myself, her life will never be the same again.

Looking up from my laptop to see her, she looks like she’s leaving. Grabbing her keys and sliding her black Vans on. Fuck. Where is she going? I spring up from the desk chair, grab my keys and my hoodie, and walk out the door. Almost tripping and tumbling down the stairs in the effort to catch up to her. That’d be something, wouldn’t it? Meeting her for the first time with a damn cast on my arm or something.

I make it down to the street just in time to see her walk out onto the sidewalk and start making her way down the street. She isn’t necessarily walking with a purpose, but she looks so fucking beautiful when she thinks no one is watching. Her long, straight black hair sways in the same rhythm of her ass as she walks, and in between her paranoid glances of her surroundings, she looks to the sky. Breezes of comfort wash over her face as she takes in every sense nature has to offer. The colors of the sun starting to set, the scent of flowers blooming and cut grass, the sound of the breeze grazing past her ears. I watch her lungs inflate intimately with these senses. She’s desperate to find some comfort tonight, and she’s gone out seeking it. What does a girl like her search for in solace?

I follow behind her, maybe twenty or thirty feet, to avoid detection as she walks into Elmwood Park. A large, open park on the edge of downtown filled with playgrounds and open fields. It’s all connected to small walkways and a large walking trail paved by the city called the Greenway.

She stops for a moment and overlooks the park. Watching kids play on the large green lawn. These kids couldn’t be more than seven years old and are clearly a part of a field trip or day care outing, though there are not nearly enough teachers for all of these children. Maybe three adults for about thirty kids? Is that what she noticed? The lack of supervision?

No. She wouldn’t grin at the children’s laughter like she is if she was upset. Her adoring eyes are beaming looking at them, almost as if she wants to reach out and play alongside them. She’s focusing on one group of kids in particular, five of them, two boys and three girls. Skipping around each other, and one looks like she’s waving a stick around.

The wind picks up, and I watch as Ashia jumps to catch something flying in the wind. What is that? Construction paper? One of the little girls in the group runs up to her and starts talking to her before Ashia reaches to the top of the girl’s head with the paper and places it around. I see, it’s a princess crown the girl was wearing. Must have flown away in the breeze.

Ashia then grazes the girl’s hair with her hands, pats her on the shoulder, and watches her run off. The tenseness in her body almost completely evaporating as I see the corners of her mouth shift upward into a grin. Mental note: she really likes kids.

When I stopped by two nights ago to watch her through the window at the shop, she had a little boy in her chair. Probably about four or five, and she was making this big show while she cut his hair. He was just giggling away while she cut a piece of his hair, and then she made the hair rain down around him by wiggling her fingers between the cut strands. She’s so sweet. So caring. How could someone have such a hardened exterior, but be so soft on the inside? I plan to chisel my way in piece by piece.

Before I can finish that thought she takes off walking again, and it’s not long before she makes it to the Greenway. I expected her to walk either left or right and walk down the pathway, but to my surprise, she doesn’t. She climbs over the short fencing perfectly, as if she’s had to do those motions a hundred times, and begins making her way into the trees. I follow her still, keeping enough distance to still see her, but to help her if she gets hurt. There’s nothing but untamed brush, weeds, poison oak, and overgrown trees past the Greenway, what is she doing out here?

I’m sure to keep my steps methodical and quiet. My feet bracing each step for a twig or rock that could possibly make noise. The brush is thick, and the branches on the trees are no different. She glides through them with an ease and gentleness I can’t place. It’s as if she’s afraid of hurting the trees, or perhaps she’s more in her natural element out here in the vast foliage.

As I duck under a low hanging branch, I lose sight of her, and my heart plummets to my feet.Where did she go? Did she fall? Is she hurt?I run ahead and off to the left, thinking maybe she just went another direction, but I don’t see her. My senses are now sharpened, hoping to pick up any sign of her. Any noise, smell, image, but nothing.

I keep going further into the trees, and I almost resort to calling out to her when my ears pick up soft music. Following the sound, keeping my steps light but my mind sharp, she slowly comes back into view. She’s sitting on the ledge of a small cliff, looking down over the river. Her feet are dangling over the edge, and she’s leaning back on her hands. Swift yet fluid movements from her legs sway her body slightly, and the long sleek strands of her hair fall backward with her head as she rolls her head from side to side.

I walk around to the left, the opposite way on how she must have gotten there, so I can get a better view of her. She’s watching the sky again, taking deep breaths, slowly moving her head to the slow beat of the music. and her eyebrows are scrunched like she’s thinking about something.

‘The Dark of You’ by Breaking Benjamin plays from the speaker in her phone, and that’s the second rock song I’ve heard her play. That’s one thing we have in common, and I’m sure there will be more. She clearly feels music intensely, taking in every lyric as a life story. Her breaths even out to match the flow of the music, and just before the song picks up, it pauses. I scrunch my brows in confusion, and slight irritation. Please don’t tell me my girl came out here with a dying cellphone.

My worry dissolves as she sighs heavily and picks up the phone from the ledge beside her, holding it in front of her face to reveal a phone call coming through. That sweet grin returns to her mouth before she answers the call, and that both has me relieved and jealous. Who is she smiling at like that? All I need is a name, and I’ll find that mother fucker.

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