Enemy Beloved

45 | Romeo

★

C L A I R E

The tap on glass makes me squeeze my pillow tightly. It is the third one in the last twenty seconds and the fact that it's not coming from the door frightens me more. I pull my knees up to my chest, curling like a squirrel under the blanket as I squeeze my eyes shut.

What if it's him? The man with the knife. Should I shout for Dad?

I should have listened to Mom and slept in her room instead of my own.

There is another tap, louder this time, and I hear something crack. I think it's the glass of my window. I slowly peek my head out of the blanket, my eyes falling on the window and I see a small crack on the glass. I used to keep the windows open, but now I prefer to keep everything securely locked after the horrifying incident.

"CLAIRE!"

The shout makes me jump from the bed when I recognize the voice. It's deep, raspy, and forcibly loud. My heart beats fast, my feet hitting the floor as I run past the window and throw open the door to my balcony.

Night wind nips at my skin as I grab the railing and look down. Vaughn is standing under my balcony, being held by two guards who are trying to pull him away from there.

His appearance is shabby. The top buttons of his white shirt are undone, his sleeves are folded as if in a hurry, a corner of his shirt peeks out from his dress pants, his tie is loosened and his hair seems like he ran his hands through them over and over. One look at him and I realize that he is not in his proper senses.

"Claire..." he exhales when he sees me, a glimmer of relief taking over his drunken eyes.

He is drunk. He is mother-fucking drunk!

"Vaughn..." I squeeze the railing tightly with my hands. "What are you doing here?"

I try to sound unbothered but my voice comes out squeaky and worried.

"I...I...wanted to see you...Claire..." he grumbles, trying to push the guards off him.

"Mr. Jackson, you need to leave. You aren't allowed here," one of the guards, Peter, tells Vaughn but the latter pushes his hands off.

"I'm not going anywhere..." He stumbles backward, his back hitting the other guard whose short height compared to Vaughn's makes it hard for him to stop himself from being pushed away. "I need to...need to...see Claire."

"But Mr. Jackson—"

"Charlie, let him go," I cut the guard off and he looks up at me, small eyes scrutinizing me. "I take my orders back. He's allowed here."

I don't even recall why I gave such a stupid order when I wanted Vaughn to come here.

He is here now, although drunk and without his wits.

"You sure, Madam?"

I nod and they release Vaughn before walking away quietly, murmuring something between themselves. Vaughn shows them the finger behind their back and adjusts his shirt, his fingers trying to button his tie. He has lost it for sure, thinking his tie is his suit. When he is done with whatever he was attempting to do, he looks up at me again, a wide grin claiming his lips.

"Claire...throw me a curtain. Help me up..." he says incoherently, taking steps forward.

"No," I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

He seems startled by my denial and furrows his eyebrows. "What do you mean 'No'? Let...let me up!"

How much did he drink...and why?