Chapter 7:

Trash Day

Vibrant cities of towering skyscrapers, pristine white and grey metals, and greenery. A sight you could only fully take in from up here. There was a time I once walked among the ground. Down there among the normal people. I should be down among them.

I read stories like this before. Some handsome, rich, and powerful person would swoop in and steal the day. Taking the heroine away to their castle. Was I the heroine? I didn't feel very heroic, and I was a male.

"She's definitely like out of those books..." I laughed to myself at the thought.

I was terrified of heights, but I grew used to the views from this high up. One of her many penthouses in New York City. White, pristine marble floors and walls. Decorated with high end art and statues. Ferns and other plants added some green to the entire place.

Nearby, two security personnel kept guard over me. Cecelia was quite protective of me. I didn't understand it. Turning on my heel, I walked the halls of our home.

"Our home...it's so strange saying that," I smirked, amused.

There was a time I was content with my one room I had in a three-bedroom apartment we barely could afford. Living on the poverty line, I was a burden on my family. Unable to work, I was on disability which helped a little bit. Something good that came out of my mental issues at least.

It just helped to reinforce how out of place I was here. As I walked down a hallway of grand paintings, various landscapes of places I didn't know. There was a time I walked with my head held down. Never truly looking at the world.

"Excuse me? Is this chair taken?" Cecelia's voice sounded in my memory of the day we met.

At that time, I had looked up, and it was like my entire world opened before me. It was ironic how true that was. I thought it was just some random person. Now I knew so much more.

"P-Please...I didn't...ah!" A man's voice cried out.

Turning the corner, I saw that my wife had arrived home.

"Oh, dear," She looked up and smiled at me, blood across her face, "You were home?"

"...Yes," I nodded, walking past her into the kitchen, "How was work?"

Opening the fridge, I reached in for a bottle of orange juice. I was craving something citrusy. Leaning against the counter, I cracked it open and took a nice swig of it. The flavor was refreshing.

"You know..." She smiled, kneeing the man in the face, "Busy, as always."

Blood from the hit sprayed from the man's nose, splattering her face and the nearby cabinets.

"...It was just cleaned in here," I sighed, taking another drink, though my stomach began to churn.

"P-Please...h-help me..." The man croaked, and I made the mistake of making eye-contact.

The juice became sour on my tongue. Closing the bottle in disappointment, I placed it on the counter and looked away.

"My husband asked me a question," Cecelia spoke all too sweetly, "And you're interrupting. You two, take this man. I wish to speak to my husband."

"Yes, Ma'am," The two guards that had followed me obeyed.

As the man was taken away, she made her way to me. Her arms draping over my shoulders as she hung to me loosely.

"What's wrong, my love?" She inquired, "Is it because of that?"

She referred to the man from before, but I shook my head. Not wanting to admit I was a bit squeamish. Honestly, perhaps I was desensitized to it. My brain never did work like others. I felt bad for the man, but mainly for any family he had.

"...Juice just turned sour," I replied with a weak smile.

She watched me closely, moving her head slowly to get a better look.

"Dear..." She whispered, "You can tell me. I would never harm you."

Her words sounded a bit hurt, and my heart began to panic.

"Shit...did I make her sad? Quick...say something," Glancing back over at her, I gave her a loving smile. Reaching up, I cupped her cheek with one of my hands.

"Is this real? She's real, right? I actually feel her..." It was still such a shock that this woman allowed me anywhere near her, let alone touch her and all the other things we did together.

"No, it's not about that," I said softly, "Just, perhaps, not in the kitchen? Our food is here..."

"I can adhere to that," She chuckled, contemplating a bit, "I suppose it is a bit unsanitary."

Wiping away some of the blood on her face with my thumb, I saw something flicker across her face. It was subtle, and I wasn't sure if I truly even saw it, but it felt familiar. Choosing to not think any more on it, I let my hand drop and turned towards the sink.

Her arms fell from my shoulders as I made my way over. Washing my hand free of the blood, I grabbed a washcloth from nearby and wetted it. Turning back, I walked over to her and began to wipe the blood from her face. Stopping in my tracks for a fraction of a moment. My heart caught in my chest.

She was watching me with eyes like a predator. Piercing and fierce. The blood upon her face gave her a ferocious look. Like some kind of badass. I couldn't help but think she was hot despite it.

"No, not like a badass. She is one," I smiled tenderly, making my way over to her.

The cloth pressed against her face gently as I made sure to clean it up.

"There," I whispered, satisfied, "Perfect. As beautiful as you are no matter what, you don't need that filth on you."

"Were those words mine? Did I just say that?" I was impressed by my own boldness, and it seemed she was as well.

Her smile and the look in her eyes told me exactly what she wanted in that moment. The entire mood changed as I found myself in some danger.

"You," She grabbed me by the collar, "Bedroom. Fifteen minutes."

"Y-Yes, Ma'am," I gulped, laughing nervously.

A sly smile spread along her full, soft lips. I watched as she walked away. As she got to the doorway, she paused with her hand on the frame.

"You know...make that five minutes," Glancing back at me, that twinkle in her eye, "Taking out the trash won't take too long."

With that, she disappeared beyond the door. I could hear staggered breathing and a pounding in my ears. It didn't take too long for me to realize what it was.

"Oh...that's just me..." I laughed to myself, holding my hand to my chest, making my way quickly to the bedroom.

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