Dylan's words left me reeling. 

Confused and struggling to decipher what he'd left with me, I put the pieces together. He'd watched someone die. Regardless, the word was all I would get, Dylan wasn't the talkative type and I wasn't one to pry but what was the redemption he spoke off?

The way Dylan left, I could almost see the arrogance lifting off his bare back like a fog. Dylan's naked back was something straight out of a sports illustrated magazine and my eyes were thirsty. Every curve of every muscle was something I wanted to admire, and it wasn't until I heard the door slam in the distance that I realized that Dylan had long since been out of eyeshot and what I was staring at was simply a silhouette. 

After shaking myself free of mesmerization, I managed to drag my attention back to the food Dylan had indicated was mine. If weren't for the distraction that Dylan had offered, I would've been able to grasp how enticing the meal actually was. 

Once I'd slid the contents of the container unto the plate, I popped it into the microwave and hit 2. I pulled myself up onto the counter and twisted the ends of my curly, shaggy looking hair between my fingertips. Though I'd been diagnosed with Cancer, I was fortunate enough to not suffer from all of the side effects. My hair was still fine, aside from a few split ends, there were no major changes.

However, that was going to change. Suddenly being told I would get Chemotherapy was a lot to digest, but anyway I looked at it, it was happening. I wasn't going to die doped up on drugs or drunk from nursing a mixture of whiskey and vodka nor would it be from my lungs giving out from being eaten by cancer. I would live and the dirty blonde hair that was usually in a tangled mess would most likely be gone. 

When the microwave beeped, signaling that the premade meal was ready to be consumed, I hopped off the counter and quickly retrieved the plate. The smell instantly surrounded me, and I realized then that eating at Dylan's house would be much more spectacular than I had imagined. 

Cheese sauce covered ravioli glistened as the steam rose from the plate. The meal was sure to be delicious, just from the smell alone, I was salivating, and I wondered to myself just how long it had been that I had been enticed by food. Years maybe. Maybe even as far back

Minutes later, I put the empty plate in the sink. It was time to find Dylan. 

Back to the hallway, and peering down each end, I searched for the man who'd offered me his hand, but he was nowhere to be seen. So, instead of digging around anymore, I went back to the room in which I'd woken up. Peace lasted for a few minutes as I laid on the bed and stared up at the ceiling fan. A harsh knock from the front of the room caused me to fly into a sitting position. 

It was Dylan.

Standing in the doorway with a short white towel draped around his neck, he eyed me. The exposed skin of his arms and neck showed me that he was no longer covered in paint. And based on the fact that he was dressed in black slacks and had his white shirt almost completely buttoned, I figured he was going somewhere. 

"I'll show you where your room is," Dylan said as he sleeked his fingers through his damp silky hair. "Oh, and Lilith," he continued as I sat on the bed looking back at him. "I won't be here tonight, feel free to get yourself acquainted, though I doubt you'll have much time since you need to unpack."

I watched him for a moment, swallowing hard as I stared at how deceptively beautiful he was.

 He somehow screamed arrogance even in the simple way he was dressed. Cocking an eyebrow in irritation, Dylan cleared his throat, and I guessed to myself that it was because I didn't hop at his words.

Finally, I slid off the bed, and as Dylan basically ran down the hallway, my tired legs bounced after him trying to keep up as he took a sharp left and disappeared behind the wall. I panicked for a moment before getting to the bend and seeing for myself that there were stairs. At that point, I hadn't considered the possibility that the place I was in even had other floors. With a kitchen, bathroom and so much extra unknown rooms, I figured that it was a ground floor home. 

I was wrong.

I spotted Dylan as he continued down the staircase, completely unaware that I hadn't been directly behind him. And as I continued after him, I saw the difference in the space. 

A beautiful scene met me as I walked hastily down the carpeted staircase. 

At the bottom of the staircase, large floor length windows covered the wall of what I presumed to be a foyer. The windows let in the natural light from the outside and gave those inside a view that was breathtaking. A private garden. 

I lingered, staring out at the different colors that seemed to create a kaleidoscope within the greenery until Dylan's irritated voice called to me. 

When I caught up to him, he placed a firm grip on my forearm and led me through the sitting room. There was no protest as I gazed around at the rooms that I was quickly taken through, and once Dylan had arrived at my predetermined destination, he released me and angrily cleared his throat.

I rubbed my arm where he had been holding me, and looked around the room. The same floor length windows graced the far wall, and next to them, a door leading to a private bathroom that was left ajar.

There were two dressers, the nightstand on the left of the bed, and a large television that was mounted on the wall. I continued to look around until I spotted the boxes piled up near the back of the room by a smaller shuttered door. 

Dylan walked past me and stood at the foot of the bed, clearing his throat once again. "While you live with me, this is your room. Everything here is available to your use as long as you don't disturb anyone else. Private bathroom through there," he pointed at the partially opened door, "Linens in there," he gestured at the shuttered door at the opposite side of the room, "and food should only be prepared using the kitchen and ingredients on the top floor." 

My eyes bounced around the room once again as I took in what he said and then slowly focused on him as he proceeded to walk toward me. 

Dylan Stone stopped just inches in front of me, smiling like he was satisfied with himself, "Any questions?" 

I smiled back and shook my head. 

"Good. Good night, Lilith."

"Good night, Dylan."

The shower had been perfect. The perfect water flow, the perfect scent of body wash, the perfect temperature, even the towel I dried off with was perfect. For the first time in my life, I felt perfectly polished and so instantly fell asleep when I temporarily laid my head down. 

I wish I could say that I dreamed of better days. Or that my mind felt so at ease that I had some pleasant fantasy that included Dylan. I didn't, I just slept. 

Hours later, banging on the bedroom door made me shoot right out of bed.   

I had locked the heavy wooden door, a precaution after being informed that there were other residents in the house. But as the banging and shouting of my name continued to echo throughout the room, it sounded more like concerned people instead of annoyed neighbors. 

I hobbled to the door, wrapping the towel around my body even tighter since I'd yet to get dressed. "I'm coming!" I called out, hoping to silence the unknown individuals that stood on the other side of the door. Two deep breaths and a slap on the cheek, and I was turning the little knob to unlock the door. 

A man and a woman, both dressed in what appeared to be service clothes, greeted me as I opened the door. I surveyed them both as they stood staring back at me with wild frantic eyes. "Did you need something in here?" I asked them quietly. The man cleared his throat. Confused, I pressed on, "Well, is someone gonna talk?"

The man spoke up, thrusting his chest forward as he regarded me, "We were instructed by Mr.Stone to give you aid," he informed me. The entire phrasing of his words threw me off and I leaned forward, urging him to repeat what he said just in more understandable terms. "We're supposed to look after you," he sent in a more condescending tone. 

Upon hearing the tonality with which he spoke, the woman cleared her throat and took a step forward. "Mr. Stone asked us to take care of you," she quickly said, "but it's been about three hours. You've had the door locked and there was no movement so we became worried that. . ." she trailed off allowing the man to speak once again.

"We thought you'd tried to hurt yourself, Ms.Grant."

"Babysitters?" I laughed to myself.

I considered what they said for a bit, annoyed and satisfied at the same time by their reactions. I was on suicide watch, by order of the great Dylan Stone. "I'm fine, I was just asleep," I told them. The two looked at each other before bowing to me. "And I'm perfectly capable of being on my own. There is absolutely no need to bother yourselves with babysitting me. I'm sure that you have other duties to tend to."

They looked to each other once again then slowly nodded and left.  A loud sigh of relief escaped my lips as I quietly shut the door.

I suppose falling asleep naked in someone else's house was rude, but the only way to get something to wear would be to dive into those boxes that held my 'things'. It was something that I wasn't quite ready to do. By pulling everything out and breaking down the boxes it would be saying something; that I was ready to move forward and I wasn't a hundred percent sure that I really was.

As I unpacked the first box, filled with things that were on my dresser and in jewelry boxes, I became certain that a few key things were missing. Tiny pill bottles filled with the best street drugs I'd managed to get my hands on. 

Jenny didn't take anything as regularly or as strong as I did, and I was sure that if Dylan had been the one to pack, he probably would've tossed them without a second thought. Regardless, I felt uneasy. 

The drugs being nearby gave me reassurance. they were my version of a favorite blankie. They put me to sleep, gave me pleasant dreams, and helped me temporarily forget the bullshit that I dealt with on a daily basis. Now they were gone.

The unpacking resumed, so did the knocking on my door at twenty-minute intervals. I shouted that I was fine each time, and finally, as I finished weeding through my old life and acclimating into the new, I realized, I didn't have much. 

All my cocktail dresses were gone -- save for a long black one with sequins adorning the v-shaped neckline. I'd won it online a few years ago and never wore it. Seeing as it survived the move, I figured that Dylan noticed it was untouched, or that Jenny knew how much I liked it. If it was the former, I hoped that he would help me find somewhere fancy to wear it. 

The only thing I found that should've been trashed was something from way before I even dreamed of meeting Jenny. Maybe that's why I kept it. Back then, it was the connection I had between my old life back home, and the one I had started in college. Now, it was the thing that would be my connection to all the shitty things that I went through before I even left school. 

Normal people would've tossed it long ago, but sometimes old memories, that old part of yourself, you try to hang on to it to see how much you change over the years. 

That's how it was for me. The old diary that still had my and initials engraved on the cover was something I couldn't let go of. Maybe Dylan had shared the same sentiments that I did because it survived the move. 

A/N 

Thank you for continuing once again. Do tell your friends. I'm sorry editing is taking so long. She's a tiny time terrorist and NYC is blazing hot.