The last thing Daren remembered was the feel of something hard hitting the back of his head and darkness seeping into his vision as he blacked out. Now, after waking up, he finds himself in an unfamiliar living room, griping onto the wrist of this unknown woman who had been reaching for him.
He takes a closer look at her face and he can see the colour draining from it as she stares at him. He had no idea who she was, but she also looked weak enough that he doubted she was the one who had hit him. Without releasing her, he takes a better look of his surroundings.
He was prone on a brown two seater couch in a small living room, out the window he could see high rises, so they must be in an apartment building at a decent height. He could see the kitchen through one door and the end of a bed through another, it appeared to not be a very large apartment.
The only noises he could hear inside were her laboured and panicky breaths as well as his own breathing. Looking at the coffee table showed him a bowl of water and in her other hand was a small towel. This and the lack of other noises indicated to him that she probably was not a threat.
He slowly releases her arm and watches as she cradles it to her chest, but otherwise stays still. "Where am I?" is is first question.
He watches as she visibly swallows, doing nothing to hide her fear. "You're um, you're in my apartment a few blocks over from the newspaper company," she answers.
"And how did I get here?"
"I carried you here," she whispers meekly.
He sighs, "Let me rephrase, why am I here?"
She flinches at his tone, "I'm sorry, but you were in my car."
That causes him to frown, wondering what she was on about. "I was in your car?"
"Yes," she replies. "I left work and it wasn't until I got out of my car here that I saw you in the back seat. I saw that you were injured, so decided to bring you upstairs to help you. I didn't know who you were until now."
Until now? That was a curious thing to say considering he had not even told her who he was. She must have seen the confusion, because she was flinching again before elaborating. "I didn't see your face properly until you woke up, but I know you. Rather, I know of you."
That made more sense, and he takes another look around her apartment. He takes in the newspapers stacked on her table, the degree hanging above her desk and remembers her comment about the newspaper company. He repressed a laugh, "You're Yvonne Clark, you wrote that article about me last week."
She bites her lip and almost appears to whimper, but given she clearly knows who is and what he is capable of, he guesses that response is normal. "Ah, yes, that was me," she answers, refusing to meet his eyes.
"Not a very flattering picture of me," he teases.
"That wasn't me, um, that was my partner," she rushes to explain. "He's the photographer."
She clearly was unable to understand that he was just teasing her, it was not like he was going to hurt her over it. Though when he thinks back on some of the contents of the article, maybe she thought he might.
This could be fun.
-
Meanwhile, in the parking garage of the apartment building, there was a phone ringing on the floor of the back seat of Yvonne's car. The caller ID read 'Paul (Bodyguard 3).' As the ringing stopped, a notification appeared '13 missed calls from Paul (Bodyguard 3).'
Paul, Bodyguard 3, was getting very worried.
So, I didn't write for 2 days, whoops. I was very engrossed in other things these last two days, but here I am, writing part 2 of the last post. Just like the last story with a part 2, it's a POV swap, because I thought it would be fun.
On another note, tomorrow is the start of July CampNaNo, one of the two practice months for the actual NaNoWriMo in November. So hopefully that means I'll be posting and working on my novel every day. Fingers crossed. Word goal for this camp is 25k, let's go.
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