Devils Roses 01 - Cursed

You’re obviously not American, I can hear an accent. It's faint and only present on the slightest words. Where are you from?”
    He laughed. “You’re very clever for what, eighteen?” He was asking my age, this was a good sign.
    I nodded. “I graduate in a few weeks.”
    We walked, talking, as the backs of our hands brushed against each other.
    “ Where will you go after you graduate?”
    “ University in the city and then stay to work in the city, I guess. No more small towns.” I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, leaving my dad seemed frightening now that my mom was gone.
    “ What do you want to be?” he asked, staring out at the sea.
    I shrugged. “It was a doctor because I wanted to help people, but recently I went to visit a friend at Children’s Hospital in the city and it broke my heart. Now I’m not sure where I fit.”
    As we stopped at the end of the pier, he moved my hair out of my face that the wind had taken off with. “You’re young, you will figure it out.” His tone was filled with remorse and sadness.
    I looked up into his eyes. They looked as if they had crystals inside. They sparkled with life. His face was that of a Greek statue from thousands of years earlier, perfect and chiseled. He looked strong—fierce when he stood there by the sea. I could imagine him as a king or great leader. He suited the strength of his name, like a Viking standing at the helm of the Great War ship.
    He looked down at me. “You’re getting cold.”
    I hadn’t noticed I was getting cold, I had felt great. “Sorry I didn’t realize. I’m still very weak.”
    He frowned. “Were you ill?”
    I glared at him trying to see if he was serious. “I was drugged at a party. We had this conversation, remember?”
    He looked confused. “You were serious?”
    I nodded. “Yes. A man date-rape drugged my friend’s drink and she and I shared it. She is in liver failure now at Children’s. She is the friend I was visiting there.”
    He looked very angry and concerned. “That’s disgusting. What happened after you took the drugs?”
    I shrugged. “The memories are fuzzy, but we were each found in a pile of vomit, and she was taken to hospital right away. I, apparently, put myself to bed so everyone thought I was fine. But the way I remember it, was that you were there, and I was choking and you saved me by getting the vomit out of my throat. Then you cleaned me up and put me to bed.”
    He shook his head. “It must have been a dream. The man who drugged you never got a hold of you though?” He truly almost had me convinced I had dreamt him up.
    I shrugged. “We don’t know, we don’t think so. But he’s following me now. He is stalking me. He came after me in the woods.”
    "Why were you in the woods?"
    I blushed and looked down. "I was looking for you. The place where I saw you before—I was in the woods there."
    He grabbed my arms quite firmly, unexpectedly. “You need to be very careful then. You need to stay with other people and stay out of the woods. I can't always protect you.”
    I winced. “You’re hurting me.” What did he mean protect me?
    His grip loosened instantly. “Sorry, it just makes me so angry. I can't stand the idea of anyone hurting you. Or you being alone.”
    I didn’t know how to respond to that sort of intensity or familiarity, but my cell phone was going wacky in my pocket. “I have to get that.” I pulled the phone out and looked at the dozen messages.
    I dialed my dad quickly and looked back at him. “Excuse me for a moment.” I held up a hand and walked to the other side of the pier.
    My dad answered in a panic. “Hello…Aimee?”
    “ Hey, Dad.”
    He bellowed into the phone. “Do you have any idea, what I have been going through this last hour? I sent Shane looking for you. I almost called the police young lady.”
    I shuddered. “Sorry, I just got caught up in the conversation I was having. It was refreshing to be a normal kid for an hour.”
    He groaned into the phone. “Aimee, the coffee shop phoned and said you were having coffee with a strange man no one knows. He could be the psycho.”
    I shook my head as I looked down the pier at him. “No, Dad, he’s not. I know his voice a little bit and this is not the guy. His mouth isn’t the same, anyway. He’s a fellow art lover from the library, not a crazed rapist.”
    “ Okay. Well, I want you home in the next half hour. You have school tomorrow and you’re going, for the full day. God, I