BREATH . OF . LIFE . ~ { ReGenisis Chronicles Book I }

Chapter Three [Part 5/5] Haven Built From Hell

                        -Kate Firethorn-

Walking back into the hallway I noted once more how unlit it was, yet how clearly my eyes picked up on details in the dark. It felt almost as if I had a flashlight built into my eyes. Outside where there was lamplight I hadn't noticed how things seemed to illuminate as I scanned over them, objects raising out as if I had a zoom in function. The curve of the wooden border at the bottom of the wall, the tiny lines almost undetectable in the laminate flooring where the pieces had slotted together. The variances in shade of the beach wood pattern on it and the little spider that moved along out of the corner of my eyes and crawled under a door. The quiet tap of all eight of its legs tickling in my ears as I focused on it. I gasped.

A quiet chuckle beside me, the hand that gripped mine squeezed a little tighter for a second. I looked up. The expression on Griffin's face was amusement, joyful now instead of heavy.

"What the hell am I?" I swallowed.

He leant forward, closing his eyes as he kissed my forehead. "Adjusting," he whispered, warm air tickling against my skin. "I'm going for a shower to get this blood washed off, I promise to explain after." He stood straight then and parted his hand from mine.

I watched him walk down the hall, slipping off the sleeves of his polo neck that had been butchered to get the bullets out of him. I could see his contoured back perfectly, the ripple of every well formed muscle, and caught my breath. I glanced away as he walked through a door at the very end of the corridor.

"Right, ok." I stood there wide eyed, hugging one of my arms around myself, holding onto my opposing arm. I nodded to the air trying to recall my mind, what I was supposed to be doing next.

I listened to the buzz of a shower switching on. The sound of high pressure instant rain cascading. I tried not to focus onto the fact I could hear it bouncing off of skin. "It's in your head, Kate," I clamped my eyes together, hoping it would work on my ears too.

Down the other end of the hall I heard a heavy, gruff sigh through older lungs. Bubbling water rocking a kettle, a click and steam hissing into the air. My eyes opened and I decided to follow the noise until I was stood in the doorway to the dimly lit kitchen.

Still I could tell that the walls were pale cream, the furniture was all white and clinically clean. All items seemed to be meticulously placed. I could also tell the only splashes of colour was the lime green kettle that had just boiled, the bright red toaster and ocean blue coffee maker. I cringed and shuddered at seeing the mismatched colours. There was nothing so loud or mismatched at home, except perhaps my taste in music.

The old man was standing by the counter, three black coffee mugs out, all of them lined up perfectly, three inches between them exactly their handles all facing forward at an exact angle. The old man had lifted up the green kettle and was pouring its contents into the first mug, the sweet aroma of apple and cinnamon tea swirled into the air as pale steam rose from the cup.

"Tea, Coffee, sedative?" The old man asked without once glancing up to acknowledge my presence.

"Sedative?" I frowned, my eyebrows furrowing.

"I take by the inflexion in your voice that was a question and not the answer to mine." He grumbled, setting the kettle back down.

I shook my head. "Coffee," I said finally.

He lifted the coffee pot and poured it into the cup furthest from himself, replaced it, then lifted both his cup and mine. When he handed it to me I could feel the heat permeating the mug, but where usually my hands would scold against it, this felt quite natural and soothing. The old man grumbled, stepping back. "If you want to murder it with sugar, I'll let you pull that trigger." He took three sips of his drink, waited, then another three sips.