Two Hearts: The Hunt [Slowly Editing]

Chapter Eight (Part II)

A/N- Here's your update as promised! Check out the song on the right. Its definitely relatable, especially for future chapters hehe (; > > >

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Caleb's POV-

It was as I was pushing the creaky wooden door open to my apartment with my back that it dawned on me that Miss Leopard Pants was going to be the first person in this town to visit it. Well, besides my landlord anyway. And that 95-year old bald-headed geezer didn't even know where he was half the time. Twice I've had to show him where my door was because he could not find it. "They all looked the same", he'd say in confusion whilst scratching the smooth, shiny skin on his waxed, bare head.

A soft moan brought my attention down to the last person I thought I'd be carrying in my arms bridal-style at 9 o'clock at night. Miss Leopard Pants-Catalina, I had to remember to start calling her that now- opened her big green eyes and I watched as they wandered around my apartment, taking in my missing pair of socks lying on the floor beside my worn blue sofa, the dirty pile of dishes in the kitchen sink, and the mess of scattered papers that covered every inch of the low wooden coffee table in the center of the T.V room.

She looked up at me and gave me a pointed look, to which I quickly said, "Sorry if it's a bit of a mess. I haven't been here since this morning."

For a second I thought she was going to ask about where my parents were but instead she asked, "You live here?" Catalina scrunched up her nose in obvious disgust.

And thanks for reminding me of how much of a snob you are.

"Yes," I replied proudly, shutting the door behind me with my back and making my way to the kitchen on the other side of the room. My apartment was basically a box divided into three areas: the T.V room that was immediately to your right when you walked in the door and the kitchen was a part of this same area but was separated by a white bar and white linoleum floors further down from the entrance. My bedroom and the guest bathroom were beside each other in small hallway on the left side of the apartment.

I was surprised that Catalina hadn't at all commented on how much of a mess she looked like with her matted, tangled hair, her dirty clothes and skin smeared with red. We were in a mirrored elevator yet she hadn't even bothered to look at herself. Either I was wrong about her conceitedness, or she was too distracted by the pain she was in to even care. I figured it was the latter.

But even so, as I looked down at her shivering form with her tightly shut eyes, I realized that she didn't even look as bad as someone who had just undergone the same trauma she had experienced. Her pale skin contrasted brightly with the crimson bite marks and gashes on her arms and legs and even one on her pale cheek, causing her to look more like a bloody angel than a total train wreck. Under the glow of the dim light of the apartment foyer, she reminded me of some sort of symbol for a beautiful tragedy.

I quickly stopped myself from continuing on with complimenting her beauty, even if it was in my head. What was I even thinking? No amount of good looks could change the fact that she had basically just dissed my apartment. I brought my attention back to the task at hand, which was making sure that she didn't die right here in my arms. I think that would have just been the cherry on top to a terrible day.

"Okay, so, how do you want to do this?" I asked her. "You could either get in the shower and rinse yourself off with water or we can get a wet cloth-"

"Wet cloth," she quickly intercepted, although it was with obvious difficulty. It was a good thing I had excellent hearing because her voice was barely above a whisper now. "I don't trust you enough not to peek."