Shelter From the Storm (Mathim & AndNich)

[AndNich123]

There are so many of them. Her brow furrowed as she starred up at them. It was something so simple, something she had done a thousand times, but tonight they seemed different. They seemed further away, somehow changed by the night. It was impossible. She knew it was impossible. A flash of lightening lit up the sky, quickly followed by a crack of thunder. It drew a shudder from her fueled by fear. She had always hated thunder , this was true, but there was more to it tonight. That sound, that terrible sound, played out in her mind. She had heard so many times tonight. Over and over. Even now, as the lightening and thunder had settled, she could still hear it play over and over in her mind. She had raced to the open door to her bedroom just in time to see him fall. She fell next, her gaze upwards to the open doorway. Her body had landed without delay next to his. Both of them painting the floor a crimson shade of despair. It seemed surreal, as if it were some elaborate prank. The blood that was pouring from their bodies had to be fake. They had landed on something when they fell, triggering it to emerge from underneath their bodies. It had to be. It was the only thing that made sense. Their maid had been the first. She lay in a heap by the first door. Others came rushing in upon hearing that same awful sound that now plagued her. They were only met with the same fate. Body after body crashed to the floor, discarded as if they were nothing more than trash. The screaming from them coming to a sudden, sharp halt after the boisterous sound from the guns sounded. She could remember her entire body jerking with each loud boom. Her mind screaming, 'run', but her legs refusing to obey the command. None of it made sense. Person after person lay there taking their final gasping breath, sputtering, choking on their own blood as they drew those last ragged breaths. Their screams now silent, but their lives not yet over. It was another sound she knew she would never forget, and the crash of the thunder brought wave after wave of vivid memories back to her. Even Sebastian had been taken. He had rushed in from the moment the doorbell rang, as if he felt it was his job to further alert the household that a visitor was there. "If it moves, and it's not one of us, kill it," the voice behind the mask ordered. Without any confirmation, the other fanned out. Sounds of doors opening, a few other screams from others sharply cut through the air, halted in the same manner the others had been. She wasn't even aware of the tears that were now streaking down her face. The masked figure tilted his head at the barking dog, as if he were trying to ascertain what he might be thinking. Perhaps he was wondering what his purpose could possibly be, as someone like him could not possibly understand the love or importance of a pet. He raised his hand, the gun poised at Sebastian's head. She covered her mouth, certain she would scream. The gun roared to life once more, ending Sebastian's.

She stepped backwards into her own room, careful not to alert anyone of her presence. Her eyes frantically ripped through the room, as if the answer to what she should do would be written on the walls. 'Get out,' her mind screamed once more. Without any further delay, she turned to the closed window. Her fingers freed the latches, and she threw it open. The lattice there held her mother's most prized roses. It would have to do. It would have to support her. If not, she would fall. Certainly she would be injured, but they would hear her, and any injuries she received as a result of her fall would be meaningless. Her life would be over.

She climbed from the room, her bare toes curling around the lattice as best as she could. Her fingers gripping the slender slates. Fear raced through her as the night sky was lit up by the impending storm. "Please," she finally spoke, her voice barely a whisper. The wind catching her hair, tossing it about without a care, as if it were nothing but a rag doll. Her loose fitting top slipping up her body, drawing a shiver between her shoulder blades as the cool night air kissed her bare flesh. It was a climb she had never done before, and yet somehow her fingers and toes found the footing they needed to safely get her to the ground. Once she was securely on the ground, she turned and ran as fast as her feet could carry her. The rain had started to fall. Beneath her feet dirt began to grow moist before giving way to mud. It flew up painting her legs. Still she ran. Her footing lost, she took a tumble. Once she stopped, she found her footing quickly and stood up. The house wasn't even in sight any longer. Her arms were now prickled from the trees and brush she had escaped through. The rain had matted her hair to her head as droplets fell from the strands that were now plastered around her shoulders.

The only lights she could find were that from the street lights that brightened an almost empty street. Produce. She saw the sign painted on the side of the building. There was a single truck parked. It appeared to be pretty full, ready to disembark. She quickly ran for it, not wanting to be seen. With the same agile speed, she climbed over the side of the country truck and slipped between the boxes and large bags that were loaded in the back. It was just enough room for her to sink down and out of sight, and this is where she is now as the truck barrels down the road. There are no sounds now, except for the roar of the engine. Her bottom lip trembles. The rain had ended. The storm was blowing over. The night air has made her cold. Exhaustion was creeping over her, and though her heart was still racing, she could feel sleep wrapping her in it's embrace. 'No,' she thought. 'Don't….sleep.' It was a futile effort. The rocking back and forth of the truck as it made it's way closer and closer to it's destination proved to be far too much for her, and sleep claimed her.

It wasn't until the thunder sounded, louder than before, that her eyes jolted open. The truck was silent. She could hear voices. Two men. They were chatting. There was no attempt to keep their voices hushed. The crates and bags were still piled high around her. A door closed, and she sat up, quickly scrambling to see if anyone was around. There was no one. She had no idea where she was. Still she moved, climbing from the truck and once again racing, running as fast as her legs could carry her. Once more the rain began to fall. This time the stars were not overhead. The light of day lit her path. It also illuminated her form, and as such she knew she had to find shelter quickly. The voices didn't return. There was nothing. Just a vast road lay before her. She veered from it, running through more brush and trees. For what seemed like forever, she pushed through the rain and limbs that once again struck her, as if they were trying to hinder her efforts.

When she emerged from the greenery, there was a farmhouse. She could hears the sounds of animals softly carrying about their day. Not knowing what she find, she slowly moved forward, closer and closer to the farmhouse. Her eyes darting around, searching in both hope and fear that she would find someone. As she drew closer to the steps that led up to the front door, she could feel the exhaustion once more. Before she could reach them, she stumbled, falling to the ground just at the first step. Her hands reached for the railings to try and pull herself up. Her filthy fingers snaked upwards. She stopped and dropped her hands to the step. Her dirty hand left a mark on the pristine paint. Again she repeated her efforts. Over and over her hand crashed to the step. She would keep doing this until someone would hear her. In the back of her mind, silently she begged for it to be someone kind, someone who was not at her home the night before.

 

[Mathim]

The days when it was too wet outside to really do anything made it easy to work the farm. Free irrigation, and all that was really needed to be done was feeding the chickens. Even that made for something free; the worms that came up to the surface of the damp earth were eagerly gobbled up by the pecking machines. The upkeep on the egg-layers was cheap and he got free unlimited eggs out of it, but he drew the line at having a cow. Free milk just wasn't worth the hassle.

He lived alone, not entirely by choice but also much because it was impossible to make a relationship form or last with the ghosts of his pasts ever present. Maybe he didn't deserve to have anyone else in his life. Or was he punishing himself by keeping away from other people? Perhaps both, but in either case the result was the same. The lone farmer. Potatoes, carrots, mainly produce that grew beneath the soil and had to be plucked out by hand. A fitting crop considering the line of work he used to engage in being to put bodies in the ground.

The house was unassuming, both outside and in, though a remnant of his pre-retirement work lay behind a locked door. For all it was worth, he wanted to retain some memory of, for lack of a better term, the good old days. Back when organized crime enforcement meant he wasn't actually doing anything that bad. Killing people who were terrible criminals who had no moral boundaries. Keeping that kind of riff-raff in line or in body bags meant long-term peace in the community and many lives saved via prevention. That's what he had to tell himself when he got involved to be able to perform his duty without being consumed by guilt.

So the last thing he expected on a day like that was to have a knock on his door. He wasn't doing anything, lazy days like that were hard to find engaging activities that wouldn't distract him from work when he was able to get out there in the dirt. And with no associations, especially with those he had ceased to work for, it wasn't like he had a social media presence. He wasn't afraid of being identified or incriminated for his previous line of work but there was no reason to try to make friends who would inevitably find out what he used to do.

He reflexively retrieved a handgun when he heard the knock on the door; one never knew if it was a rival mob family looking for some payback (despite the fact that his former employer had assured him all such activity would be prevented). He did have a rudimentary security camera hidden for the doorstep and put the gun away when he saw it was a waterlogged, filthy young woman. What could this mean?

He went to the door, caution thrown to the wind. He hadn't seen a female in person for quite some time. On the rare occasions he had to go into town he usually did so late at night to avoid running into more people than absolutely necessary. Good lord, she looked so forlorn, much more so than the camera footage had shown. He found himself at a loss for words. Living alone he didn't have anyone to talk to and did not make a practice of talking to himself so it hit him that he had not heard his own voice in weeks. Unable to form words in this state, he expected the girl to beg for help but she seemed to be having the same difficulty. Whatever had brought her there was unmistakably traumatic, so he didn't assume she was naturally mute, though his failure to speak to her may have suggested to her that he might have been. The tears in her eyes, her frail form, he scooped her up in his arms and brought her inside.

Carrying her to the downstairs bathroom, he set her on the edge of the tub against the wall while he turned on the hot water, her frozen skin worrying him. Even if there wasn't any risk of hypothermia she was still likely to come down with a chill in that state and he wasn't about to call an ambulance or doctor out to his remote farm. Still having difficulty with words, he looked at her pleadingly, hoping she wasn't going to object to him taking off her muddy clothes to allow her to make the most of the bath he drew her.

 

[AndNich123]

A face. It was a face that instantly drew a sigh of relief from her. She didn't know him. There wasn't anything about him that would make her, or anyone else for that matter, think that he was someone who wouldn't do her any harm. Still the relief washed over her like a welcomed blanket slightly warming her inside. She slowly blinked her tired at him just before his arms took her. The relief only grew. There was a sense of being safe in his hold. She took deep breaths as the farmhouse blurred as she felt her floating form drift through the unknown walls.

Safe seemed to be the only word coming to mind. Her mind couldn't grasp anymore words. Sentences, verbal communication, thought all seemed to elude her. She couldn't tell him who she was or what she had been through. Asking him his name was out of the question.

Even as she felt the bathtub beneath her, she didn't turn her head to face him. Instead she stared out into space. Memories of the night before, still fresh and raw, played out in her mind like some sick horror film. Tears didn't even form at this point. Perhaps she cried them all. Maybe her body didn't have anymore to shed. She could feel the dirt dried and cracking on her skin. Her heart pounded in her ears, only interrupted by the sound of the water rushing from the faucet. She shook her head slightly, as if there was any possible way that she could shake the night before from her. Her eyes took in her surroundings for the first time since she had been carried over the threshold. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew it was a bathroom. Even as she felt his hands touching her clothing, she did not protest. Instead her eyes slowly found him. Her gaze softened, and silently she attempted to thank him. The words came in her mind, but she was unaware that her lips were not moving. She found a kindness within him, inside of the eyes that she found. It could have been anyone's home, but fate had brought her hear. Maybe it was wishful thinking that he was kind and someone she would be safe with, but what she found inside of those eyes, inside of his arms, somehow let her know she was safe with him within these walls.

 

[Mathim]

The enigmatic girl was hard not to find captivating. Such a mystery, something he hadn't often got the chance to ponder. To be out there, so far off the beaten path, shoeless, not at all dressed for the weather that at least a day in advance would let anyone in the vicinity would know would be like. Was she some kind of mental patient? Surely not, no place like that was anywhere near his farm and she wasn't wearing a hospital gown or any other such clothing. A runaway? Again, far off the beaten path and totally unprepared. Unless she'd committed some sort of crime and was looking to hide out. Poor thing looked utterly traumatized...he suspected she had done something horrifying and was fleeing from the consequences. Spooked...probably ran over some pedestrian while texting and driving. Nothing compared to some of the things he'd done, so he could sympathize. No reason for him to involve the authorities, what a hypocrite he would be. Not to mention he'd sooner die than deal with the authorities for any reason.

His shirt was already ruined having hugged her to himself in his arm so he took off the wet, muddy thing, baring his lightly hairy chest and six-pack abs, no doubt a product of a farm boy lifestyle. That made it easier to lower her gently into the water once the tub was sufficiently full, but not before trying and failing to avert his gaze as he peeled the ruined garments she was barely wearing. It didn't cross his mind to think whether he had anything for her to wear after. One thing at a time. She was quite petite, he observed, probably one of those spoiled girls whose family could afford the best kind of food that wouldn't pile on calories. That would make sense if she was a hit-and-run text-and-driver. But she looked so forlorn and pitiful, he couldn't feel negatively about her, his judgments melting away as he watched the steamy water form a veil around her face.

He ran his fingers through her damp hair, letting what filth had gotten into it slough off into the water. He kept his hair very short and so did not own a comb or brush for her. Another thing he would probably need to get for her. Wait, why was he thinking about this? She couldn't stay there with him...could she? She was the first person he'd seen in weeks, the first woman he'd seen in ages, and it really hit him that he was incredibly lonely. Judging by what was happening, surely she wasn't going to want to go back to wherever she had come from. Whether hiding out or just looking for a place to belong, she could have done a hell of a lot worse than coming across his doorstep.

He wanted to ask her name, he wanted to know if she was comfortable or needed any specific kind of help, hell, he would have given a finger to find out what the hell was going on with her winding up there in that state, but for the life of him, he couldn't form the words. He knelt next to the tub now, no longer towering over her, and cocked his head to the side to show just how curious he was about her. He didn't look like one of those creepy country boys from a horror movie that were meant to elicit feelings of trepidation but a single guy living out there all on his own would undoubtedly send up some red flags no matter who a visitor was, so he tried to put on airs of innocence in spite of the awkwardness of the situation. Her naked, him half-naked, it was hard to argue things would not have looked vastly different to anyone walking in on them.

He reached into the water and took her by the hand, gently squeezing and running his thumb over it, letting her know soundlessly that he was there for her, wanting to comfort her, no matter the situation. He was the good Samaritan that anyone in a dark hour hoped they would find, in spite of his past. No one who knew his history would believe that but people could change, and he was proof of that. She would likely need him to carry her out of the tub yet again, he legs would be like jelly after all she'd been through. She could have his bathrobe, that was the best he could give her that wouldn't be far too big for her comparatively tiny frame.

 

[AndNich123]

She sat there, encompassed by the warmth the bath gave. Her knees were drawn in close to her chest, as her trembling chin nearly rested upon it. Wet and dripping with water, her arms wrapped around her knees as if she could embrace the pain, the memories away. Her hand drifted away from her body slightly. His touch was gentle, soft, and soothing. Perhaps that was why she didn't protest. Her body and her mind were both craving such feelings. Even on the brink, staring out into the unknown, feeling this comfort he was giving her, it still wasn't enough for her to relax completely.

Feeling as though someone was starring at her, she slowly turned her head towards him. Those eyes, those same caring, trusting even, eyes were gazing at her. There was so much she wanted to tell him. The words were forming in her mind. Granted they were fragmented bits and pieces that would need to be put together like a puzzle, but they were still forming. Her bottom lip trembled, as if she were about to say something, anything to him, but no sound came. It surprised her, so much so that she began to put forth even more effort in speaking, but it was to avail. Though she felt as though she was pushing a boulder, in truth she had made no progress at all. It began to exhaust her even more, as well as cause her frustration. 'Hear me,' she thought. It was clear he could not hear her. There was no sound, not even a speak of a voice. Nothing.

She moved her hand from his quickly, sloshing water about in the warm bath, and in one movement she took hold of his arm. Her other hand joined as she took a firm grasp of him. Her knees had dropped in the water now as she sat looking at him, pleading and yet silently asking for his sympathy, his pity, his kindness. She was certain her lips were still moving, mouthing the word please, but in reality, her lips were merely quivering, as if despite the warm bath, she was still chilled to the bone. In fact, she was. The night before an icy memory that embraced her had left her this way. Her fingers pressed into his skin, as if she wanted him to be even closer than he already was, as if she expected him to climb into the bath with her, but the truth was, she was trying to pull the comfort he gave closer in any way possible. Leaning down, she rested her head upon his arm, and for one brief moment, she began to feel as though she could relax just a bit. She literally felt the weight of the night before bearing down on her even more, and in an instant, she felt her own will break. The tears began to fall. A dam had been opened, and there was no containing them. She silently sobbed, as if she were afraid someone would hear. Her body shook ever so slightly as she finally found some sort of release from the night before in the comfort of this stranger.

 

[Mathim]

Her clinging to him gave him the stronger impression that she was in trouble for something she wasn't personally responsible for. Scared...terrified to be alone. Abusive stepfather, possibly. Nothing he hadn't seen before. Nothing he hadn't taken particular pleasure in doling out some creative punishment over when he was assigned a hit back in the day. Something about guys abusing women and kids really got under his skin. Considering he was a killer, that really said how wretched those who deliberately preyed upon the weak were in his eyes.

Having planned to leave her there to warm up and relax, he now had no way of leaving without roughly removing her hand from his, so with little choice, he took the path of least resistance. If this didn't get her to blush and turn away, letting him go so she could deal with her unresolved issues, he didn't know what else to do, so he began to undo his belt and lowered his pants. A pair of briefs that looked like they'd never been washed without non-white clothes were underneath and, seeing no reaction from her, he lowered them as well. His arm cramping leaving it in the position it was in being clung to, he had little choice but to then simply climb into the tub with her. Not having been exposed to the frigid weather, it nevertheless felt good and made it slightly difficult to avoid becoming half-erect considering the company he was now keeping.

Kneeling before her supine form, he couldn't help blushing, the blood in his body having no problems reaching all of his parts unlike her rain-soaked cheeks. The tub was big enough for him to spread his legs and fit two, but it was still awkward, with his manhood inches from her muff. Still keeping his arm prisoner, he really wanted her to let go but still could not articulate this verbally, so he once again used his free hand to stroke her other arm and pat her shoulder in a comforting manner. He did feel a cramp from being in an unusual position there, and slipped trying to correct his posture, resulting in falling forward, catching himself but not without wrapping his arms around her in the attempt to steady himself. Now embracing, and face to face, he did have a look of alarm on his face but it melted away seeing that she was not similarly bothered by the connotations. Far from it, in fact. She looked almost like a kiss might have been the one thing she needed more than anything else in the world in that moment. Was he imagining things? His heart was hammering, so many mixed feelings. Any night of the week, this would be a dream come true. Too good to be true, so how was it happening when he was wide awake?

 

[AndNich123]

Things happened. They happened so fast that she barely had time to process them. His movements, the undressing, climbing into the water, and then the slip. He was so close. It was the sounds, the sloshing of the water that caught her attention. What seemed like inches from her face, he hoovered. The look in his eyes wasn't one that frightened her. If anything, she thought he seemed afraid now. She couldn't help but wonder if that was the look she had in her own eyes. If that was the case, then she couldn't imagine what he must be thinking or feeling, about her. This man, this kind man, who had opened his doors to her, his home, was met with the same look she now gazed into. She felt compassion for him. The realization alone made her gasp softly. It wasn't how close he was to her. It wasn't the warmth from his body that she felt. It was the fact that she realized for the first time since those terrible events transpired she was feeling something other than fear. She liked it. She wanted to feel more. As they both seemed frozen in time, at this moment, it became clear to her that she had to feel anything other than what she had been feeling. It became clear that her guard was down as the emotions began to flood her. At first, it was a tremble of the hand that still clung to him. Trust. She realized he could be trusted. The floodgates opened a bit more. The tremble grew stronger, spreading over her body. Certainly, he could have thought that she was cold. Nothing could be further from the truth. She released his hand quickly, and with the same speed, she slid closer to him in the water. The water lapped up around their bodies, the sound was anything but soft and gentle. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, burying her face against his chest. The warmth from the bath, the steam, the water, it all mixed for the perfect cover, concealing the tears, but there would no such cover for the sobs that came from her. They racked her, slicing into her core. She was actually letting him in.

Pain. It was immense, threatening to pull her down beneath the waves that raged like a hurricane. No matter the depths that her cries came from, no matter how many tears stained her skin, burning into her flesh, comfort from this pain could not be found. It began to devour her, leaving her in a place where there only was bleak darkness. Panic began to creep across her. She could feel her heartbeat quicken. Pulling back from him, she looked into his eyes, searching for that same comfort that she had found before. It was there, meeting her, wrapping her in something other than pain. She wanted to tell him thank you, but her lips and mind would not work as one. Instead, she leaned forward, resting her face against his. It was a small gesture to some, but to her, it was a source of comfort and warmth. It washed over her, lifting the dark shroud that had been a blanket over her just a moment before. He was the key. It was a realization that claimed her mind. She latched on to the thought as if it were a key to unlocking any emotion other than pain. Pulling back from him quickly, she allowed her nose to linger close to his. Wanting to speak to him, to convey that she wanted to be closer to him, she could only shift her body in the water. Moving closer, finding the position she wanted to be in, it became clear to her for the first time that his body was reacting to hers'. Amid all of this, he was....aroused. Normally such a thought would have repulsed her, but tonight she found it leaving her with a different emotion. It was one she liked and welcomed. It was anything other than pain. The warmth was stronger, radiating towards parts of her body that surprised her. Her legs were opened, a knee resting on each side of him. She had her arms around his neck, clinging to him. Slowly she leaned further back, feeling more of the effect her body was having on him. Aroused seemed to be a word that didn't quite describe what she felt. It the simplest of descriptions that painted her mind, he was hard. Hard. The very word made the feelings she was having even stronger, more intense. She could feel her sex rubbing against him. Carefully she began her body, stroking against the firm member she had before her. Wanting to ask him, wanting to know if it was okay, wanting to tell him that she had never done this before, she found her lips useless. All she could do was a quick glance downward before bringing her eyes back up to meet his. 'Please,' her eyes pleaded with him. She wanted to feel anything other than pain. She wanted to find light in the warmth of this man. She wanted more.