Thread: Bats in Broom Closets

Turning around at the sudden appearance of voices, Mickel's heart fell when he caught sight of her again. The way she was looking at him and holding a... was that a hammer? Oh, dear Gott. This was a mistake. He shouldn't be here and he shouldn't have come. At least he thought that until the burly man began addressing him as the 'beautiful linen boy'. What had she been telling this man about him? Who else had she told about what happened? Was that a guilty look on her face? Oh! Who was caught now , eh? Mickel had enough pride in himself to look righteously disgruntled about it until the word 'Liebhaber' started getting thrown around. Wait.. what??? That wasn't--! No! That didn't make much sense. If it was a story she was telling everyone he seriously doubted that she'd been referring to Mickel as that! Then he remembered the way he'd left her house and the few people he'd passed in her neighborhood and through town and how things must have looked... It was a relief and yet it wasn't. Mickel lamely scratched the back of his head at the other man's offcolor suggestions but he frowned at the way the Mdchen kept trying to talk for him and get him to leave without actually talking to him. He wasn't ready to go. He still had no idea what he wanted to say or what he was doing, but he wasn't ready to leave. Not if the possibility that she'd been telling stories about him was still there. He didn't have time to add himself to the conversation however, before the older man was suddenly grabbing the sheet from him, shoving wood into his arms and slamming a thick hand across his back, causing Mickel to tense defensively. Then in the next instant... the door was shut behind them both and he was standing in her house once again. Turning to her, he began to give her a boyish grin - his clean, yet crooked top teeth flashing at her briefly - but it vanished at the look on her face. Oh, right. Not funny. She didn't waste any time tearing into him yet again but despite the hammer in her hand and the anger in her voice, Mickel wasn't going to let her intimidate him about this. That was when he noticed that she looked different. Of course, she had clothes on now and her hair was styled nice but it was her face that threw him off. He could have sworn he saw markings there yesterday but they seemed to have magically disappeared. Then his eyes zeroed in on the broken part of her lip and he caught sight of shades of the bruises around her eyes and realized the marks were still there. It was coverup. She was hiding and wearing a mask so no one would know about what happened to her or ask questions. He wasn't sure how to feel knowing that he'd gotten to look into her face when she wasn't hiding... Looking towards the stairs he said, I will fix it. The closet door, I am meaning. You do no need to worry about it because I am fixing it. Okay? He shrugged with the load of boards in his arms. I did not mean to break it. I was scared. You were scaring me. I did not know this place was occupied, how was I to know? All the windows are boarded. You wake me up in the morning and throws a pot at my head when I was just sleeping. All I wanted is to go home because there was importance situation I need control and you kept me locked in there, terror me and asking me questions. He realized he was basically just listing reasons why he'd behaved the way he did when she probably had just as long a list for her own behavior. Mickel let out a heavy breath and shrugged again. It is just misunderstanding. We misunderstand and I apologize. He wasn't going to hold his breath waiting for an apology from her for keeping him prisoner. Hesitantly, with his finger picking at one of the bottom boards he was holding, he bit the inside of his lip and looked down at her legs, remembering the bruises he knew were still there. So... you have been talking with people...? What... I mean, what did you say about me? What have you been saying about what happened? This part had him extremely nervous because he would learn whether or not this had already gotten out of hand.