Someone was breathing too close. The sound of their steady breath brushed across my cheeks like a whisper and I frowned in my sleep. Suddenly, I was awake enough to know that the sound of something didn't usually result in a physical feeling. I opened my eyes to stare up into Cliff's blue ones as he leaned over me from behind the couch, a concerned look on his face.

Startled, I sat up too fast and accidentally slammed our foreheads together with a deafening smack! As I leaned forward and held my head, he stepped back to press a hand over the quickly growing red mark on his temple.

"Ow..." I mutter, blinking away stars. Turning, I could see Cliff leaning on the wall with a grimace. 

"What was that for?" he grumbled.

"It's not like I did it on purpose," I snapped, wincing as the pitch of my own voice caused my head to throb worse. I rubbed my temple. "Don't sneak up on people."

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I was just a little surprised to see you sleeping on the couch."

"That doesn't mean be a creep," I said, leaving the couch to look for some ice.

I had my back to him as I rummaged through the kitchen cupboards for a plastic bag to fill with ice. I was just bending down to open a lower drawer when I heard him snort into his hand. I turned on him quickly, lips pursed in a frown. "What's so funny?" I demanded.

He held up his hands. "Sorry," he said. "It was just funny to see you act normal for once."

"What do you mean 'normal'?" I asked. The way he said it made me feel like I should be insulted.

Knowing he had probably not worded his sentence the best way he could have, he reiterated. "You're usually quiet," he said. "I was surprised to hear you raise your voice."

Now that he pointed it out, I became aware of the fact that I had raised my voice, almost enough for it to have been considered shouting. My stomach tied itself into knots. "Would you talk normally to a murderer?" I asked, getting quiet again. "It's not exactly unusual."

Thankfully, Cliff didn't have any hard feelings over my defiance. He merely shrugged. "Point taken."

He opened a cupboard and got down a cloth. After he filled it with ice and handed it to me, I walked back to the couch. "Where did you go?" I asked, pressing the ice to my forehead.

"Emergency call," Cliff said, sitting near me with an icepack of his own. "There was a bus accident, so the hospital needed all hands on deck."

I still didn't understand how he could be a hero and a villain all at the same time, but it was more pleasant to hear about him helping people rather than about him killing them. Rowen had been fond of telling me about all the times he had taken the lives of people he couldn't have cared less about. Some of his descriptions had been enough to make me sick.

Cliff left the living room a short while later. I watched him go into the bedroom, leaving me to my own devices. I was surprised he was okay with me being unchained and out, but I wasn't complaining and I wasn't about to give him a reason to care. It was nice to be able to walk farther than fifteen feet.

Suddenly, Cliff dropped a book in my lap. "I stopped by the bookstore and got you something to read. You seemed to like books, so I thought you might enjoy reading insteading of watching TV all the time."

I picked it up and read the cover: Pet Graveyard by Stephen Ping. It was some kind of young adult, horror parody. I set the book on the coffee table. "How did you know I like books?" I asked.

Cliff blinked at me. "You had a lot of books in your room," he said dumbly.

It was a simple answer, but I didn't like it. How much time had he spent in my room? I scowled at him and then at the book. It irked me, and I couldn't even say why, that he could be so considerate and conscious of my needs. He was a murderer; he wasn't supposed to understand that a bookshelf of books meant an avid reader.

Still frowning, I watched him pull out two plates and some silverware, and proceeded to set the table in the breakfast room. When he was done, he went into the kitchen to start dinner. Eyeing him closely, I found that my expectations for his attitude were very different from what he was really like. Rowen had fit right into the cookie-cutter version of a killer just by breathing, but Cliff... Cliff was painstakingly normal, even for an average person. If I didn't already know what he was capable of, I would never suspect him of anything more than swatting at a fly. He didn't look capable of murder.

Cliff must have notice me staring because he paused mid-cooking to look back at me. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

I flushed. "No," I said, snatching up the book and pretending to read. "I was just thinking."

Cliff raised an eyebrow but didn't pressure me. He turned back to making food and I exhaled slowly.

Dinner was done shortly thereafter, and Cliff actually let me sit at the table for once. I had half-expected him to corral me back into the bedroom as a prisoner. I wasn't sure if he was trying to say sorry for what I had gone through or thank you for not leaving the house while he was gone. I didn't know if a killer could honestly say either one without an ulterior motive, but he had to have had a reason.

It was horribly awkward for the first few minutes of dinner, and I think Cliff agreed because he eventually struck up a conversation. "So, what was your major in college?" he asked.

I picked at my spagetti, pushing a meatball to the far end of my plate. "English," I said. "I was studying literature."

Cliff ate a forkful of noodles. "That's interesting. Did you take any classes just for fun?"

I shook my head. "No, but I used to run a lot. My best friend, Kevin, and I would go on runs together all the time."

The mention of a best friend had Cliff frowning. "That sounds nice. I didn't have a lot of friends growing up. I don't know, people just seemed to steer clear of the quiet, homeschooled kid who lives with the overly-friendly neighbor."

My food was growing cold. "The neighbor I get. But you seem like a nice person to me, even if you are quiet."

Cliff's brow furrowed. "What?"

I looked up to see him blinking at me, fork half-full of food. I suddenly realized what I had said and I took a large bit of spagetti to keep myself from speaking coherently enough to say any more ebarrassing shit. "Not that you're nice," I said. "You're not. I just meant that you don't act very, um... unsociable." I tried to fix my mistake and ended up just making it worse.

But Cliff seemed to enjoy my floundering. He smiled. "They just didn't really understand me," he said, returning his attention to his food. "I didn't even understand me, so I hardly expected that much from others."

I kept my head down. "Oh..." I said, and didn't bring it up again.

We finished dinner, and Cliff took our plates to the sink while I went back to the living room. Without much else to do, I picked up my new book and started reading the first chapter, subconsciously listening to Cliff as he cleaned the dishes and tidied the kitchen. After a time, however, I zoned out and read my book with growing interest. I was so lost in the fictional world, I didn't notice Cliff watching me from the kitchen.

I finished the third chapter and was about to reluctantly put the book down to get a glass of water when I noticed how quiet it was. I came tumbling back to reality and looked around, finally noticing Cliff staring at me.

"What is it?" I asked.

He snapped out of his trance. "Oh, sorry. I'm just glad your enjoying the book," he said, drying his hands on a towel.

I glanced at the book. "It isn't one I normally would have picked up, but it is an interesting genre," I said. "I've always been open to knew kinds of books."

Cliff came to sit at the other end of the couch. "Really? Well, I have plenty of books you can read if you want. You're welcome to any of them," he offered.

I couldn't help the small smile that tugged at my lips. "Thanks," I said. "That's... considerate of you."

Cliff looked relieved to have my appreciation. "I always liked the idea of books, but I was never really a book person, so I have lots that I'm probably never going to read," he admitted. "Someone might as well get some use out of them."

We spent the remainder of the evening in relative silence. I read, and he worked on some things for the hospital. When we climbed into bed that night, I waited for Cliff to fall asleep before I slipped away to go into the bathroom.

Glancing in the mirror on my way to the toilet, I noticed that I looked better than before. My bruises were yellowing, indicating healing, and my cheeks had more color to them. As I stood there, an unwanted thought crossed my mind. I looked better because of Cliff. I felt better too. Just in the last day, I had stopped being so hateful towards Cliff and I could feel the stress lift from my shoulders. We had begun talking normally, and he had even brought me a gift. We were getting along.

That last thought had me clenching my jaw. We weren't supposed to get along. That man killed my parents and my brother. Every time we spoke civilly, I betrayed my family more and more. But... I couldn't deny, he was charming, somehow, and I felt myself being drawn to him with every passing minute.

*******

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