It was happening all over again.

My father was being stabbed repeatedly in the stomach, but this time, he wasn't screaming. He wasn't howling in pain. Instead, he was looking at me pointedly with anger and disappointment in his eyes.

I was curled up in the kitchen cabinet, but this time, the door was fully opened and I was my 25 years old self, big enough to hold back my tears. But here I was crying like my ten years old self had done, tears pouring down my face in vehement rivulets of shame, of pain, of dispair and desperation.

“Traitor! You don't deserve to be called my son.” My father growled.

“But I killed these four men who killed you.”

“You've not done anything to the man who sent them. You've decided not to avenge your mother and I because of a woman.”

“But I love her.” I said, desperately trying to justify myself.

“Obviously more than you do your own parents. Traitor.”

Beside him on the ground, my mother's throat was being slit over and over again. Every now and then she would look at me. She didn't say anything, but she would shake her head sadly. The disappointment in it every time made me cry harder.

“You are a traitor. TRAITOR! TRAITOR!” My father's voice became louder and louder and louder.

“Mikhail? Mikhail!” A voice like Montserrat's voice echoed through my father's screams.

I jolted awake from my nightmare to find Montserrat beside me looking at me worriedly. I was sweating and air rushed in and out of my lungs raggedly.

“It's okay. It's just a nightmare.” Montse cooed, stroking my sweaty cheek.

Her touch was soothing, and my heartrate returned to normal soon. She continued to say soothing things into my ear, sending me right back to sleep.

*****

“Good morning, Mikhail!”

Montserrat's voice was the first thing I heard when I woke up the next morning. She was standing beside the bed, looking down at me.

She wore a silky, sunflower dress that looked so good on her and she smelled like lavender. If I could wake up to this every morning, then I would gladly pretend to be asleep every morning just so she would wake me up.

“You know, I'm not about to die so you don't have to watch over me twenty-four-seven." I said, smiling as I sat up.

“Well, I'm glad you feel fine enough to rebuke me for being such a good nurse.” She said wryly.

I looked at her bright blue eyes and realized I hadn't even thanked her for taking care of me since yesterday. I got out of bed and stood in front of her. I felt better than I did yesterday and it was all thanks to her.

“You would have to forgive me because I'm a bit rusty when it comes to.showing my gratitude.”

“A bit?” She asked, arching her neck cockily.

“Okay, very.” I said, rolling my eyes when she chuckled. “You've been such a good nurse. I really appreciate...”

“Oh stop.” She waved me off. “I'm just glad you're okay.”

But for the sounds of birds chirping and the wind whistling, silence enveloped us as we stared into each other's eyes.

Montse was the one who broke the spell by clearing her throat. “Uh, so I'll just go downstairs and uhm, prepare breakfast for us.”

“Oh, and here I was thinking you were going to give me a bath.” I said, pouting.

“Haha, very funny.”

“But you're my nurse.”

“I never knew it was part of a nurses profession to bath patients. Besides, you're a long way from 80 years.” She shot back.

“Fine.” I smiled, deciding to mess with her some more.

I peeled off my T-Shirt before she knew it. She gasped, her mouth dropping open.

“Mikhail, what the...” She seemed just about to turn away when her eyes suddenly got fixated to my body.

She looked like she'd lost her breath at the sight of me shirtless. The last time she'd seen me like this, she'd been busy raving after seeing me with Helena.

“Mikhail...the scars.” She said.

It was all I could do not to let out a sigh of disappointment. And there I was thinking my naked torso had entranced her.

I had a dozen scares littered across the front part of my torso, mostly scars from knife wounds. My back housed some scars too, a few from knives and most from whips.

Montse reached out her hand and placed her fingertips on one of the scars. I nearly flinched when a shiver run through me.

She moved her fingers to another scar, then another, rounding me to inspect my back. Her fingertips drawling across my scars, across my skin, made me ache for so much more.

“These scars... How did you get them?” She asked, seeming hesitant.

“I got them during my training days. My trainer wasn't a very easy man to work with.” I answered.

I was glad that I didn't have to lie about that even though I was sure Montserrat would just assume it was my trainer from the nonexistent secret agency.

“What a wicked man!” She exclaimed, a deep scowl etched onto her face.

I chuckled lightly. Maybe he'd been wicked, but if it weren't for him I would've never become so good at what I used to do and would be dead by now.

He'd always been brutal during fighting practice with fists and knives, even at the risk of killing me. When I failed something, he would whip me on the back like crazy until I bled.

Most times I quit training but I found myself always going back for more even though he never tried to bring me back.

Suddenly, it wasn't Montse's fingertips any longer. It was her palm, pressed flat against my chest and sliding lower  to my abs.

I sucked in a breath. Hell, I don't have to talk about getting hard because I'm always hard whenever she's around, but this time it felt painful.

My heartbeat escalated even more when her hand got close to the waistband of the sweatpants I was wearing.

“You might want to stop doing that. I'm already having such a hard time controlling myself as it is.” I told her raggedly.

She met my eyes with her blue ones, and she suddenly gasped. I knew she saw desire burning in my eyes, hotter than she was used to.

Her eyes lowered to my groin, and I could see the fascination as much as the wariness. As much as I wanted to grab her and crash my lips to hers, I knew she wasn't ready.

She was too innocent to realize that all the deal with her hand on my body was going to elicit such a reaction.

J turned and bolted into the bathroom before I could go through with my instincts.

****

“Twenty to three!” Montse squealed excitedly like a child who'd just been promised candy. “I beat you again.”

Earlier, after our lunch, she'd found a checkered board along with black and white pebbles in her room. It was used to play a game called Gobang which I'd never even heard of.

She'd thought me the rules of the game and how to play. I'd thought I would he bored out of my mind but the game was proving addictive.

We were sitting on the floor on either side of the wooden centrepiece, and we'd been playing for about an hour now. I'd won only three times while she'd won twenty times.

That was totally because she'd had prior experience.

“Oh you poor, poor man. So good with guns and yeah unable to beat me on the brain level. ” She said, sticking her tongue out at me.

Even though she was teasing me, I couldn't help the smile that tugged at my lips.

“Hey, I'm gonna get some orange juice. Want anything?” She said, getting up.

“Beer.”

She smiled, as if she'd been expecting that and left for the kitchen. She returned with her bottle and my request. The lid of the beer bottle was already off.

“Isn't it too early to be drinking?” She asked casually as she sat down again on the other end of the Go board.

“Well, you're drinking too.” I mused, taking a swallow.

She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Keeps me refreshed.” I answered, then added on an afterthought. “I've never seen you drink alcohol.”

She suddenly burst out laughing as if she was remembering something. “The last time I drank was in High School and it was bad. Talia, one of my friends, purposely encouraged me to drink beacause she wanted to take revenge on Mr. Levok.”

I perked my ears, curious about what naughty the innocent Montserrat had done. “And?”

“Well, since I was the science geek, they had me prepare a reaction to produce a gas which causes itches when inhaled. We threw it into his bedroom through the window.”

”I didn't even remember what I did until I saw Mr. Levok the next day. He looked so bad with all these red spots. I was supposed to be his favourite student. I couldn't meet his eyes for the three days it took for the spots to disapper and he kept on asking me what the matter was.”

“That was very badass.” I said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, badass got me off alcohol forever. I can't help but fear I'll end up doing stupid things if I get drunk again.”

I rolled my eyes. Damn, I was becoming like her.

****

I lay fully awake in the dark of my room, my thoughts raging with the dream I'd just had.

It was the same dream from yesterday. My father's voice only seemed to get more intimidating yet melancholy as he accused me of being a traitor.

Were my parents trying to send me a message? Why now just when I thought I was experiencing some kind of calm in my life?

I was still so bothered that I didn't hear it when the door to my room opened or when the bed dipped. I only felt it as petite arms wrapped round my waist.

I stiffened, snapping out of my thoughts. From that alluring lavender smell, I knew it couldn't be anyone but Montse.

“What are you doing?” .

“I... I want to... spend the night here.”

My heart thumped. What she was saying implied too things, and I didn't want to get the wrong implication.

I slowly pulled her arm away from me and turned to face her. I could see her face dimly in the darkness, but her eyes stood out, and they well bright with emotions I dared hoped I wasn't mistaking.

“Oh Sweet Montse.” I said breathlessly. “You should leave now. I'm always having a hard time controlling myself around you as it is.”

“Who said I want you to control yourself?” She asked.

My breath hitched. Was she implying what I was thinking?

“Make love to me, Mikhail.”

_________________

Who expected that?