The Guru: Shadow (Dark Triad #1)

3. Emma

3

EMMA

PLAYLIST: TRADE IT FOR THE NIGHT - HAEVN

I nstant regret overcame her as she stepped out of the elevator leading into the entrance to Stone’s Bar. Not only was she half an hour late, as always, but the bar was packed with more than double the people usually frequenting, and just seeing all those people made her shoulders tense.

Stone’s was a rooftop bar in the Waterstones Tower in the Financial District. People with large bank accounts met here to either brag about their latest deals and acquisitions or to hear the latest gossip. It had thirty-foot-high ceilings, designed in a gold-matte black concept, including almost fifty different-sized golden chandeliers hanging from the ceiling.

Overall, it screamed of money and was exactly what she hated. However, it had one of the most amazing views of the city, which was undeniably awesome.

The people here all looked as if they belonged. All the latest dresses and tailored suits from all the brand names she could not remember, while she, so indecisive she sometimes starved instead of choosing a meal, couldn’t find a dress she felt good in. So, she went for something very simple, which now made her look extraordinarily out of place. No fancy brand names, no custom fit. Nothing to catch any onlookers’ eyes. Just something that didn’t add up to her feeling of discomfort. Now, she regretted the last-minute decision she had made to prevent an emotional breakdown.

So, she wore a simple black blouse with see-through long sleeves, tucked into high-waist wide-leg black pants softly cascading around her legs. Alongside, she had decided on a pair of black loafers and a clutch, as high heels weren’t her thing at all because they made her taller than she’d like.

She kept her long, currently dark brown hair open, styled with beach waves and parted in the middle. It was the best she could do today to tame the mane of annoyingly thick hair and keep it in check. The makeup she chose kind of plastered her skin, but it was a protective mask between her and the rest of the world, although she kept it light and simple. The black-rimmed, round glasses she usually wore out of the same reasons resided in her pocket, just to not add to the overall uptight impression her outfit must give.

The sole reason she was so late was the time she needed to conceal the fresh scars on her arms. It took her four layers and a lot of fixing powder until the traces of her loss of control were securely hidden.

Between all the colorful dresses, she looked like a widow coming from a funeral; she sure felt as much. The alien in the room. It always pinched her in her stomach – the everlasting feeling of being different, somehow even disconnected. Never really fitting in. Always having to put on a mask. Like now. To survive this evening, she had to put on a mask, something just as exhausting as existing these days.

Just go home. Get a book, escape into a different world, her inner voice told her.

And without further thinking, she followed it. So, she turned around and hit the button for the elevator a couple times. As if that would speed it up.

“Em!”

Fuck.

She groaned. So much about escapism.

As she turned around, she was blinded by a yellow canary flying at her. After her eyes recovered from the first impression, she saw it was none other than Julie Regan, wearing a yellow cocktail dress so bright it made her eyes burn only from looking at it for two seconds. Brightness aside, it was the perfect fit for her beautiful curves and luscious shape she so envied. She wore her long blonde hair in soft waves to one side, which bounced with each of her steps. A big yellow flower with a just-as-yellow feather pinned in it. Her whole appearance was totally over the top, but that was exactly what Julie loved.

A big, wide smile, as usual, on her face – impossible to overlook, as she had chosen a strong, bright red for her full lips. On the whole, Julie was the personification of bright, shiny, and sexy.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you!” And with it, Julie’s arms slung around her in a tight hug. She was no hugger, but she had learned the world she resided in was a hugging world, so she had to learn to adapt eventually. In her mind, she observed them from an onlooker’s perspective, and it made her laugh internally. The black widow and the bright canary hugging.

“Good to see you, too, J,” she said, while patting her a bit on the back in the hopes Julie would finally let go of her.

“You won’t believe what happened!” she said, beaming at her with sparkling eyes, finally releasing her from her arms.

“Care to enlighten me now?”

She was curious. Absolutely. Although she suspected it to be either the announcement of her engagement, expecting a baby, or a promotion. All of it pinched her stomach.

She hadn’t told Julie about Chris, but she’d sure seen the photo on Insta too. Julie was generally always online. And as she didn’t ask where Chris was, it gave her confirmation enough. Julie would inevitably come around later, asking for all the smutty details.

“Come,” said Julie, taking her arm.

The good thing about walking with Julie was that everyone made room for her as if she were walking on an imaginary red carpet. Fabulous as she was.

The bad thing, however, everyone stared. It gave her a feeling of being surrounded by paparazzi, and it made her wish to become invisible. But Julie loved it. Her personality filled the room, and it did not matter if the people were deep into a conversation; when Julie passed they interrupted whatever they were doing and looked up.

They made their way through the guests, straight for one of the huge round golden tables at the window front with a north view towards the Empire State Building. There were more than a dozen people around it seated, which made her groan internally, as it would require small talk.

She could see Julie’s boyfriend, Carl Pearson. At least she would have one person to talk to. He was an alien, too. Although he was eloquent, well-mannered, and held a PHD in Physics. He was a bit nerdy at first impression, and while he tended to blend in with the surroundings, there was a lot more to him than he let on – overall, he was a perfect fit for Julie.

With him sat Caleb. Caleb Harris, a big fish in the NBA, who only possessed two outfit styles: sportswear or suits. Both he rocked like no one else. Today, he had chosen a light blue, definitely tailor-made suit that looked absolutely fabulous with his dark skin. But, aside from the optics, Caleb dedicated his life to fighting the injustice in this country, which was almost the only reason why he relentlessly pursued a basketball career. To use his celeb-status for changing the status quo. It was something she admired so much, as she lacked a purpose as much as discipline in all areas of life.

Glancing further over the table, she saw Kai sitting with Cat and Sienna, two of Julie’s best friends. Sienna was six foot one of perfection, originally from Italy, notoriously single, but regularly dating two or more guys, mostly men at least twice her age. Sienna always wore her soul and heart on her sleeve, something she valued, but somehow, she couldn’t stand being around her too much, as she usually left her with a feeling of being the ugliest and most irrelevant person on the entire planet.

Then there was Cat. Her family immigrated from South Korea in the 1960s, and although she put much effort into showing how different she was to her family, she chose the same career as her father: neuroscience. Her whole body was plastered with tattoos, while her rose hair suited her and her overall appearance a lot.

Today, Cat wore a loose black dress with a huge neon pink number 333 on it. Cat rocked it, but she herself could never wear anything like it. Her first rule of clothing was to never draw attention to her. In her nature, Cat was very closed up and let no one look into her cards, unless she had a gin and tonic too much, but even then, she let no one entirely in. Except Kai. They had some sort of relationship; the exact details, no one knew, but it was, from the looks of it, quite consuming, figuratively, not literally.

Kai was thirty-seven and roughly ten years older than all of them, non-binary, and one of the best attending neurosurgeons in the entire country. They were the wonder child, graduated high school at thirteen, best in class in med school and became the youngest attending neurosurgeon in whole US at the sweet age of twenty-nine, while also completing a PHD in neuroscience.

Why and for what Kai enjoyed hanging with a bunch of twenty-something's, she didn’t know. But, once warmed up, they were quite engaging to talk to. At least they usually skipped the small talk and went straight for the deep, life-questioning topics. She loved it. Although it always left her with a bitter taste of not being enough. She, among all those utterly successful people, ate cold, left-over pizza for breakfast, sat on the floor in lack of a table and was absolutely lost as to what to do with her life. She had dreams, of course. So many. But somehow, nothing ever worked out. So eventually, she had given up following them.

“Soooooo,” beamed Julie next to her, radiating an uncomfortable, vibrant energy all over her. “As you are all here now, I can finally tell you the big news!”

Everyone turned towards them, staring. It made her so uncomfortable, she wanted nothing more than to disappear into a black hole. Without drawing too much attention, she slipped from Julie’s side and aimed for a spot at the glass front, where she tried to blend in with the scenery. From here, she had the whole bar in view, and the sheer amount of people she looked at overwhelmed her. Too much noise. Too many

Remember why you’re doing this. But even channeling her rage did not work.

Julie worked as an aspiring partner in a huge PR agency, actually one of Manhattan’s best. With her character, nothing was out of the ordinary. And, well, not to mention, the CEO was her father’s best buddy.

“As you all know, I’ve been with Bloom PR for quite some time now, and not only did I manage to acquire our biggest client ever today, but I was also made managing partner!” she said, while beaming at them with her huge smile, her bold, glowing red lips showing off her white teeth. Everyone clapped, and Sienna even cheered. Julie enjoyed every last bit of being in the middle of attention.

“Soooo, let’s celebrate.” She lifted her glass. “Evening’s on me, guys.”

Carl stood up and slung his arm around Julie.

I was right. Promotion. Wonderful. Julie is now managing partner in a big firm and I got fired from the bar last week.

Distracting herself from the stinging thought of being worthless in comparison to all the others around her, she let her eyes sweep around the bar, and everyone looked at Julie.

Every-fucking-one.

Except for an icy chill prickled down her back as she met his eyes for a fraction of a second. There he stood, leaning lenient at the bar, staring at her with piercing eyes and a slightly tilted head.

She glanced behind her as she thought he was staring at someone behind her, only to be reminded there was nothing but the massive window front behind her.

She looked back at him with his very expensive and yet casual-looking linen suit, shouting money all over it.

He is definitely staring at me. With the middle finger of his right hand he traced the rim of the whiskey glass on the bar’s counter. Her eyes wandered from his big and strong-looking hand over to his chest. His shirt opened almost a button too much, and it left nothing to guess how muscular his chest was. His face strong, the jawline absolute perfection, and the eyes framed by thick, trimmed eyebrows. And then, the hair.

The hair!

Naturally blonde, curly, and so full, probably every man on the planet envied him. He wasn’t the tallest, but it suited his whole appearance, with his muscular touch and tanned skin. It gave him an Italian-surfer-boy vibe, only one coming from really old money. And instead of looking at Julie like everybody else, his ice-blue eyes pierced her.

His gaze, so intense, it stripped her of everything down to her bare, raw soul. It was uncomfortable, and yet something in his gaze made her core flatter. His gaze had hooked her on, as if he somehow pulled her towards him by an imaginary rope. There was neither a smile on his face nor softness in his eyes. The energy he radiated was consuming and just as strong as his facial features.

Everything about him shouted danger – someone to stay far away from. But his offensive stare and radiating presence mesmerized her. She stared back into his eyes, and while their eyes locked, the entire room disappeared.

The buzzing noise vanished from her ears, while the mingled scents of all kinds of perfume bedazzling her senses evaporated. All the people – gone. It was only him and her. The intensity of their connection made her chest heave up and down from her fastening breaths. And somewhere, deep down in her core, an electrified heat spread in prickling waves through it.

Holy. Crap. Shit.

Suddenly, she heard everyone cheering and clapping. It ripped her from their gaze, and as her eyes flashed over to Julie, noise streamed back into her ears. Voices, music, clapping, cheering. She hadn’t even heard what happened. But, as she saw Julie and Carl hugging, and an enormous diamond ring on Julie’s finger jumping at her, she knew exactly what had happened. Carl used the special day to propose.

They are getting married.

Married.

Ignoring the sinking feeling in her stomach, her eyes flashed back to the bar, but the mysterious guy was nowhere to be seen. She let her eyes sweep through the room, but he was gone.

Or did she imagine it? All the pain in her life might have fried her brain to the point where she imagined people staring at her.

Julie is getting married. Like Chris and Sami.

Everyone hugged Julie. Celebrated Julie. Laughed with Julie. While everything in her clenched watching it. The image of Chris and Sami getting married replayed again in her mind while she just stood here, all alone. A coldness slowly crawled up in her, overtaking her insides as if the temperature in the room had dropped to way below zero. Her fingers began to tingle, bringing the foreboding of fear with it.

Fuck.

A heavy rock of broken dreams and lost time appeared in her chest, bringing with it the awful feeling of not being able to breathe properly.

Everyone else always got everything they wanted. Perfect lives paraded in front of her, rubbing her under the nose how incapable she was.

Her pulse raced.

Faster.

And faster.

Until her heart pounded against her throat to the point of feeling like jumping out of it. It raced for survival against the thoughts haunting her mind. Her chest heaved up and down ever so fast as all the surrounding noises zoomed in heavily on her.

People talking .

You’re such a loser.

So many voices.

You’ll never be like them and belong.

Glasses clinked against each other.

You can’t even handle an evening out.

Laughter so loud it almost made her ears burst.

You are incapable of having fun.

It was too much.

People only like fun people.

Her stomach revolted.

Look, how you don’t belong here.

She had to get out of there.

Without a glance back, she rushed for the elevators. The walk was half a run towards it and seemed like a million years.

Arms brushing against her.

More voices.

So many different scents.

Her breathing flattered.

Her vision blurring into a tunnel.

Elevators. Get to the fucking elevators.

When she finally reached them, her heart pounded heavy against her ribcage as if she had just run a marathon. Sweat pearls searched their paths down from her forehead and between her breasts, trailing over her skin with their cold and yet heated sensation.

Button. Press the damn button.

It took her three tries until she managed to push it with her now completely blurry and distorted vision. Everything was so far away.

Why is it taking so long!

Fuck!

Everything’s spinning.

So far away.

The floor.

Spinning so far away.

I can’t feel my feet anymore.

Grounding .

I need to stay…to stay.

And just when the world disappeared around her a shudder rushed through her entire body. So uprooting, she had to close her eyes for a second. The presence behind her engulfed her before she even heard him.

“Are you leaving already, ma belle?” he asked with a deep, calm voice while his breath trailed against the back of her head.

Fuck.

Not right now.

She couldn’t be seen like this.

Especially not by some random guy.

Despair added to the cocktail of self-loathing, panic, and fear, intoxicating her entirely.

Her heart hammered against her chest.

Faster.

And faster.

And faster.

Skipping beats, her mind became fuzzy.

There it was, the all-consuming fear of dying.

Not getting enough air.

She sure would collapse any second now.

I need…I can’t – fuck.

Stretching out her arm, she tried to find the wall and tried to keep herself steady while she was being whirled through the universe.

And that very moment, she believed the world to collapse around her, he stepped around her. His hands wandered around her waist to her back as he pulled her strong into his grip.

Physical touch.

She tried to push herself away from him. Being hugged or, more like, pressed against the body of a total stranger was certainly not something she would do. And yet, she could not deny the sensation of calming warmth radiating through her chest from it.

C onsuming physical touch.

It can’t be.

So she tried to push herself off him, but he did not let go. His hand even wandered further up behind her head and pressed it forcefully against his chest, right where the opening of his shirt was.

Everything in her revolted for a moment.

But the second she rested the side of her face on his chest, the slow and steady sound of his pounding heart resounding in her ear while his calm breathing lifted his chest up and down in a slow rhythm of relaxation, something in her gave in.

“Deep breaths, in and out,” he whispered at her. “Follow mine.”

It was so easy to follow his command.

She breathed in ever so deeply, allowing air to flood her compressed lungs as she focused on syncing with his breathing. And eventually, all her body tension fell from her like water rushing down an opened drain. Her muscles loosened, and she almost let herself collapse into the arms of the dangerous stranger.

Was it weird? Oh yes. But right now, she didn’t care. It simply did not matter. Nothing mattered. Because he knew how to calm the waves that threatened to drown her.

“Good girl,” he said softly while stroking with his palm over her hair.

Maybe it was owed to her state, but normally she would’ve never ever let anyone call her good girl, nor stroke her hair, but the way he did it, the sound of his voice purring from his chest, how he held her – it all made her feel so grounded. There was no judgement in it, just being.

While they stood there, time wasn’t a thing anymore. It could’ve been hours, days, or minutes. The surroundings didn’t exist anymore; she didn’t even hear the loud bing of the elevator until he spoke.

“Let’s get you home,” came his whisper, brushing a strand of her hair back. And she just let herself be pulled into the elevator with him.

The entire ride down, he leaned slightly against the wall of the elevator, holding her tight in his arms. It was a weirdly satisfying feeling. He did not let go of her, nor did he loosen his grip, not even for a tiniest bit.

Waves of shudder trembled through her body by now, all the stress falling from her. And he was just there. The stranger, who felt like she’d knew him forever.

They arrived on the ground floor, and he pushed himself off the wall with her. His arm wandered around her back. He still did not let go of her. And as they stepped into the lobby of Waterstones Tower, he took out his phone with his free hand to send a quick text.

“My driver will be here in five,” he told her while he read the response. “Where do you live?”

His driver.

Of course he has a driver, she thought, rolling her eyes.

“Normally, I don’t allow anyone to roll their eyes at me,” he said quietly to her, “but I might make an exception with you today.” And with it, he brushed the reluctant strand of hair falling into her face out of it, and just for a single brief moment, the back of his hand brushed over her cheek.

A shudder rushed through her, shattering her ground while her inner world was on the verge of bursting. Heat from his words shot through her core like the Arizona sun burning down at noon. Meanwhile, the panic attack still clenched her bones.

“I–” she stammered, lost for words as she stared flabbergasted into these x-raying ice-blue eyes, unable to break the gaze. His eyes from this close proximity were unbelievable. The endless depth of an ocean reflected in them, which made them unreadable, while saying everything.

“Tell me where you live, so we can get you home.”

A part of her didn’t want to let him know where she lived. He was dangerous; all of him shouted it. The strong build, the eyes full of darkness, the words he spoke, the way he moved and acted. Not to forget the mess she lived in.

“How about we start with names?” he asked her casually. “Deis.” He held out his hand to her. “And you are?”

“Em–Emma,” she stuttered from all her trembling and considered his hands for a moment. They were big, with visible knuckles, a big golden ring on the middle finger of his left hand. It did not look like a wedding ring, more like one of those old seal rings. She made a mental note to investigate the ring further and took his outstretched hand.

His hands are so fucking soft! And in an unhinged fraction of a second, she felt his hand glide over her naked form in her mind.

Fuck. I need to get a grip on myself! He’s dangerous!

His expression was unreadable while so intense, almost as if he stripped her of all her masks and clothes.

It seemed like hours were passing as they just stood there, him not letting go of her hand, not that she minded. Instead, he caressed with his thumb over the back of her hand.

Holy crap shit. So he is feeling it too. Or maybe he has even worse images playing in front of his inner eye.

“Emma is a beautiful name,” he said. “Last name?”

“Richardson.”

“Related to the famous Dan Richardson?” he asked her with his deep voice. It was so deep it went right to her core, humming a beautiful song of calmness in her.

“No. I’m not one of those famous, successful people like the others at Stone’s.”

Gods, keep your mouth shut, she cursed at herself.

“Mhm,” he said with a soft huff. “Figured as much.”

“If that’s supposed to make me feel better, not working.”

“It was not. See it as a compliment.”

“A compliment?”

“I just felt you didn’t want to be one of those people,” came his answer, and for the first time, she saw the hint of a smile run over his face.

Those people.

Does he mean Julie and friends?

Or the famous, successful ones in general?

Although it doesn’t matter in the end, I don’t want to be any of them.

Only I do.

Part of me.

I just want to have a place somewhere.

But his words, it’s so weird .

How is he able to read me just like that?

Maybe because you’re dressed like death in a cage of colorful canaries, answered her inner voice.

His eyes flashed over her head.

“That’s us,” he said, pointing at a black Mercedes G-Class outside.

G-Class. Black. Of course.

When they stepped outside, she saw it was definitely custom-made, much longer and somehow larger than a G-Class usually would be. The whole of it screamed mafia all over it.

Should I refuse and get myself a cab? Would be the wise choice. But then it’s only a car ride , she told herself. My life is such a mess anyway, it can’t get any worse.

So, she sent all the warnings, all the wise decisions into the wind and let herself be guided to the car by him.

The totally impassive driver opened the door for her without looking her in the eyes, and Deis almost lifted her onto the back seat. She was still shaky and trembling, so she didn’t mind, and he did so with no effort.

Whatever .

It was immediately clear this was anything but a normal G-Class. She knew quite a bit about cars, as it had been one of her obsessions as a teenager. The doors were much heavier and thicker than they were supposed to be, same went for the windows. She knocked against it. The sound was deep and saturated.

Yep, definitely armored.

Deis did not enter after her but stood outside the car, on the phone with someone, for at least a minute or two, giving her the chance to take in the car. It had this freshly manufactured car smell of new leather, mixed with perfume and a heavy scent of old whiskey and oak trees.

Her hands explored the car’s touch as she let them glide over the soft, almost silk-like leather. There was an emblem quilted into both rear seats. She tried to identify it, but the lighting wasn’t the best and her eyes still had a hard time focusing, but what she saw looked a bit like the horns of a ram with the number 333 in the middle .

What the hell is it with the 333 today?

A curved console separated the back seats. She opened it, just to investigate the car and maybe even get any further indication about who he was, but there were only two glasses and a bottle of whiskey in there. The only thing she recognized was the whiskey having a French label. Was he French? She only had his first name, Deis, and aside from being very unusual, it did not sound very French, nor Italian.

The door on her left opened, and he hopped into the car.

“Are you from France?” she asked him straight away, and his eyes wandered from the open console to the bottle in her hand to her eyes. Internally, she groaned at her inability to not blurt out anything.

“Quite the eye,” he chuckled. “My parents were,” came his casual answer while he seated himself, closing the door.

“Were?”

“They passed away when I was a child.”

“Oh.” It was all she could say. Everything else was a lie. A lie about being sorry for something she had no connection to or influence over.

“Let’s get you home then.”

“But…I’d rather–”

“I don’t care what you’d rather. You need a bed and rest from whatever got you all wound up.”

Bossy. Like most men with money, at least on the outside. It was something that bugged her. She held much dislike for men who thought themselves to be superior to others only because they were wealthy.

“What if I don’t tell you where I live?” She had to challenge him now.

“I already know where you live, we are driving there now.”

So he is a stalker.

“How did you find that out?” she asked him incredulously, putting the whiskey bottle back where it belonged.

In her mind, it crept up on her that he might be one of those guys she only knew from books or movies who always got their way, stalking the shit out of a woman and eating her like prey .

“I called Julie, I also told her I’d get you home safe.”

Okay, no stalker. God, I read too many creepy books.

“You know Julie?” she asked him with a drawn-up eyebrow.

“I’m a client of hers. Her best, she tells me.”

“Oh.”

Why do I always expect the worst in people?

He continued to stare at her, so intense it felt as if she lay with an open chest on an operating table, and he was the surgeon staring into her, trying to figuring out how to get the tumor out.

On the whole, it made her so uncomfortable she had to rub her hands over her thighs, and as that didn’t help, she broke the gaze and let it trail out of the window instead. Although she could still feel his eyes on her, her attention went to the streets of Manhattan. Rolling down the city that never sleeps by night in an armored G-Class probably was the most special thing she had ever done.

Armored G-Class. She reminded herself. Mafia vibes all over it. Maybe that is the reason I expect the worst of him.

“You looked quite extraordinarily out of place tonight.”

“Yeah, thanks for pointing out my incompetence in dressing properly,” she snapped at him without looking.

It made him chuckle. A chuckle, so deep, with an almost unrecognizable rasping sound in it, and to her disgust it made her stomach flutter.

Gods, get a grip on yourself. He’s just a guy.

“I found it refreshing.”

“Bite me.” Her wearing no fancy brands, all black, while the room was full of the entire color palette was sure not refreshing for a guy like him who could have anyone. He surely wouldn’t go for the black, incompetent funeral lady with the panic attacks.

“What happened to you?” he asked.

W-what happened to me?

“What do you mean?”

“I wonder what happened to you, why you feel so low of yourself?” His question hit her straight in the chest.

For a moment, it even rendered her speechless.

So he knew.

Am I really that easy to read? Damn. I need to mask it better.

“I don’t.”

“And I don’t like being lied to.”

It touched her somewhere so deep, because she hated it too, and now she was the one lying.

“Why do you even care?” she snapped at him.

“I find people interesting who don’t follow what’s socially dictated and just express themselves as they are. I don’t enjoy meeting the masks people put on, but meeting their souls.”

His answer seemed to be so honest. It made her feel seen for the first time. She couldn’t have phrased it any better, as it was exactly what she always felt like.

And maybe this small emotional connection made words pour out of her mouth without thinking. Or maybe it was her inability to shut the fuck up.

“What happened to me, are my parents, what they did as much as what they didn’t do. And if you like people who express themselves as they are, I am not your girl. I have no clue who I am, nor how to express myself.”

It was true. She was a nobody.

“But sure, no buttercup daisy,” she added with a little smirk, as for whatever reason her mind pulled up the image of Julie in her yellow dress. If she knew one thing, it was that she’d never be like Julie.

The laugh leaving his throat went straight down her spine in its beautiful rawness, meandering its way to her inner existence like a river splitting land.

“No, sure no buttercup daisy,” he sniggered. “They don’t get you. Your darkness. You, being different. But that doesn’t mean you don’t know who you are.”

She broke her gaze outside and flashed it towards him.

How does he know? How can he possibly know?

And when she didn’t answer, he whispered to her, “Maybe they are the ones who don’t know who they are. And if you ask me, I’d say the best way to know who you are is knowing who you are not.”

His words hit her like a bat to a ball .

And for the briefest of moments, for this one blissful fraction of a second, her self-loathing, her inner voice always criticizing herself, vanished. In this moment, with the stranger in his showing-it-off-in-your-face-car she had such a dislike for, she felt as if she could just be who she was.

She wasn’t faulty, wrong, or did not belong. Right here, right now, the weight of the Empire State Building she always carried on her shoulders was gone, as he quietened the waves of her mind into a still sea. A sea on which shore she stood, for the first time breathing in the clear air of a beautiful morning with the rising sun after years of storms.

“To recognize darkness, one needs to know darkness,” he said it so casually while for her, it contained the depth and wisdom of the entire universe in it.

He knows darkness. Well, he probably is the darkness himself.

Staring at him, a part of her screamed at her to run. Only it was too late. Because somewhere, deep in her existence, a longing had erupted like a volcano, and the lava of need burned down her insides. She did not know what his darkness was, and right now she did not care, because to her, he was the fresh air filling her lungs. She could sense, deep down in her deepest core, that their connection would eat her like a roaring fire consuming every last bit with its flames – leaving behind a trail of destruction.

But hell, what do I care.