BRIELLA

Rust walked towards me, and I scrambled back into the dusty corner, not caring that a spider was now crawling over my arm.

I bit back a scream, willing the giant spider to leave.

I watched as Rust picked up the edge of the wood that kept me hidden and I knew I was going to be found out. I closed my eyes tight as he reached out towards me.

This is it! I was going back to Scar's place.

"Rust, I think we've wasted enough time here," Hammer grumbled.

Rust's hand stopped coming towards me and he pulled it back.

I sagged in relief.

"She's probably still running through the woods and got another twenty minutes to her advantage. I looked into the other rooms too, didn't find anything there."

"Yeah, she's not stupid enough to take cover in the only house around here when she knows we're going to check here first."

"And what's with that dude?" Hammer asked this in a whisper, "He retarded or somethin? Why does he keep staring at the floor when we talk to em?"

"Let's leave him alone and get the hell off his property. We need to find the girl!" Rust said.

A few minutes later, I heard the footsteps ascending towards the top and then Rust's soft voice saying, "Thanks for your help, sir. The girl's name is Briella, she's about five foot three, long black hair, black eyes, and really pretty. I'd appreciate it if you could give us a call if you see her. Here's my number. She's...our sister you see, and she likes to run wild. We're worried. Anyway, you take care."

I waited for another twenty minutes before I cautiously made my way upstairs.

The coast was clear. The man stood in the center of the foyer looking at the door. I tiptoed towards the window and peeked outside through the bright yellow curtains. The SUV pulled out of the driveway, sped up, and vanished in the opposite direction, the tires casting dirt all over the place.

I turned around to look at the man who was staring at me. As soon as we made eye contact, he looked away.

Was he shy, perhaps?

His eyes were unique. In my haste for hiding, I hadn't paid much attention before. His right eye was a beautiful shade of gunmetal blue and the left one was a light brown. I remembered reading about it somewhere, the coloration was called Heterochromia.

I tried not to stare hard; something gave me the impression that he had probably experienced a lot of people staring at him and I didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

He was picking at a piece of thread on his jeans, continuously pulling it while avoiding eye-contact.

"Do you have a phone?" I asked.

After what felt like forever, he responded, "No."

"Well, thank you for letting me hide in there and for not telling them about me," I said sincerely.

He didn't respond.

I guess conversations weren't exactly his strong point.

* * *

SEBASTIAN

She was so beautiful.

I have never seen a woman like her before.

They told me her name was Briella, it had a nice ring to it. It suited her.

Briella Throne. That had a nice ring to it too.

She had long black hair, matching black eyes, a tiny nose, and plump rosy pink lips. She had two front teeth that seemed larger than the rest, and I was oddly attracted to it. I couldn't stop wanting to stare at her. If I were to compare her to an animal, I'd say she was a woman's equivalent of a rabbit. Quite, sweet, scared, she looked ready to dart into hiding as soon as she sensed danger; just like a rabbit.

Those men weren't lying. She was someone you wouldn't want to lose, and I almost understood why she was kidnapped.

She also seemed a little underweight but I was sure that if she stayed here for a while, and ate some healthy meals, she'd be fine.

She was looking at me, and like an idiot, I stood there staring at the floor. She'd seen the color of my eyes; she'd experienced my lack of communication.

Did Briella think I was a freak like everyone else too?

The thing is; I'm not a freak or a crazy person but I'm not normal either. To outsiders, I might look like a total nutcase but I'm a lot like everyone else. I like to follow certain patterns in my life and I hated it when something or someone messed it up.

I looked at the time on the old grandfather clock. It was eight thirty-six p.m, and that's past my dinner time which was not a good sign. I had dinner exactly at eight-five p.m every single day and then at eight-twenty, I was supposed to watch a rerun episode of The Twilight Zone.

I was going to be sixteen minutes late into the episode.

What was I going to do? I still hadn't even finished dinner yet.

I hyperventilated, my breathing labored. I had followed the same routine for the past one year.

This was fucked up, the fact that I couldn't go to bed by ten p.m!

She was saying something to me but I'd tuned her out because I was busy staring at the giant birthmark just below her neck.

"Are you okay?" She asked me, concerned lacing in her voice.

When was the last time anyone had ever used that soft tone with me? I couldn't remember.

Say something idiot!

She's starting to think you're crazy like the rest of the other folks!

I counted backward to ten and repeated it until I had calmed my nerves.

She was wearing a dress that came a little above her knees, the ends were torn and dirty. No shoes. Her arms and legs had red angry gashes all over them, and she looked tired and worn out. There was a wound on her wrist which was turning a bright shade of blue.

What kind of situation was she running from? Had those bastards touched her?

My hands balled into fists when I thought about it.

Her stomach growled aggressively.

I looked up and noticed that her face burning and she looked embarrassed for some reason.

"Are you hungry?" I asked.

She gave me a nod. "I haven't eaten anything since morning."

I nodded, and then my nose scrunched up. "You stink. Would you like to take a bath first?"

Her face now turned complete beet red.

That's when I knew I messed up.

I shouldn't have said that, it made me wish I had experience talking to women of my age before so I knew what I was supposed to say and what I wasn't. I was sometimes mistaken for a rude person only because I said the wrong things at the wrong time.

Would she think that I'd asked her that question because I was mean? Well, she did smell odd because of not having a bath for god knows how long, and I certainly didn't need her making my house filthy.

"Uh...yes please, if it's not too much to ask." She finally responded.

Great! So she wasn't offended.

I smiled to myself.

"Alright, follow me."

I led her into the spare bedroom which had an attached bath. She followed behind me, taking measured steps. She was a little reluctant but didn't look too scared now.

I turned on the faucets and made sure the tub was filled with warm water. I put a new bar of soap on the dish and placed a bottle of shampoo next to that. I didn't have a ladies' shampoo so she would have to make do with this one.

She stood behind me watching silently.

"Do you want a change of clothes?" I asked.

She shrugged, "I don't want to bother you."

"I can lend you my old t-shirt. It's big enough. You should be okay."

"Yes please." She said.

I liked how polite she was, and she didn't look at me like I was dumb or a complete weirdo.

"No problem at all," I told her, flicking my eyes towards her and then back towards the floor.

"What's your name?" she asked me curiously.

"Sebastian Lee Throne. Lee was my grandfather's name. They named me after him because he had the same eyes as mine. Heterochromia. My grandpa was a wonderful man, and I wish he was alive right now." I tried to stop the blabbering but just went on. "He smelled of peppermint and cigars. I miss his scent so I keep peppermints and cigar boxes in my drawer near my bed so it calms me down, even though I don't smoke cigars. I do like eating the peppermints occasionally though."

It's only when I heard her giggle that I stopped talking.

She'd only asked my name and here I'd recited an entire saga. I hadn't even thought through before giving her my real name.

I spoke very fast, especially when it was a topic of interest or something that I was passionate about. Sometimes I bored people to death. It's not like I could help it. It was part of my neurodevelopmental disorder, also the reason why I couldn't maintain eye-contact during a conversation, got distracted easily and loved my routines.

What if she heard my name on the news?

The asylum authorities were still on a lookout for me. 

* * *

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