Finally, when we both forgot about her presence, Mark relaxed. I could tell that the girl had affected him deeply. The only time she came out of the room was when Mark made lunch. She looked different, washed up and dressed in my T-shirt. I advised Mark to fill her plate with food as she had obviously been starving. She looked grateful but uncomfortable, just like Mark.
I couldn't help but notice a resemblance between the two of them. Mark, who despised women and was clearly uncomfortable around them, and Anya, who seemed to be wary of men's company.
Late in the evening, Mark emerged from his room with extra blankets and a pillow. I raised an eyebrow in question as he raked his hand through his hair. The answer he gave me was unexpected.
"See man, there are only two rooms in this house, and I don't need your visitor stealing from me and running away in the middle of the night," Mark said with a frown.
I was taken aback. "So, what are you insinuating?"
"I want you to sleep in the same room with her so you can keep an eye on her. I can't risk letting her be alone, I don't trust her one bit," he said with a shrug.
"Mark, the girl is young. Even you can see that. She doesn't strike me as a thief."
He snorted, "Trust me, they never strike a person as a criminal until it's too late," he said flatly.
Silence. I knew I had to ask. Even though I was certain he wouldn't answer, my curiosity was getting the best of me.
The Mark I met the day I arrived here, and the Mark that had been with me ever since Anya arrived, were two different people.
I walked up to him, ignoring the blankets and pillows. "What is it about this girl, Mark? We have saved women before on our missions, but you have never reacted this way before." My voice was gentle, but I was seeking answers.
"Those women weren't sixteen, and they definitely weren't in my house," he said flatly.
I stepped back. "I think there's something I'm not getting here. Are you attracted to her?" I asked, horrified.
He looked at me as if I had lost my mind. His stare made me relax and cleared my doubts. "She's just a child, what kind of monster do you think I am? Of course, I'm not attracted to her."
"Then, what is it about her age and her stay that's tying you up in knots? Apart from your dislike for her gender, that is."
He raked his hand through his hair again, and for a moment, I thought he wouldn't say anything.
As I watched him, I noticed the tension in his face, the way his hands trembled slightly. I realized then that there was something more going on here than just Mark's discomfort around women.
"Mark, you can talk to me. Whatever it is, we'll handle it together," I said, trying to reassure him.
Then, he walked over to the sofa and lowered himself on it, took a deep breath, and looked directly at me.
"Let me tell you about a girl I loved when I was very young," he began. "Her name was Vixenda, and she was beautiful, the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. We were both sixteen at the time, and we were in love, or so I thought. Vixenda came from a poor family, and so did I, but that didn't matter to us. We had each other, and that was all that mattered."
Mark paused, running his tongue across his lips. "One morning, I woke up, and she was gone. Vanished. And so was all the money I had saved up in the cabinet." He looked away, but not before I could see the pain in his eyes. "I was devastated-not just because I was poor and the losing the money hurt-but because the person I loved had disappeared without a trace. I went to her house with her father, but they had already left. We had a wonderful night together, but the next morning, she took all the money I had saved and disappeared without a word."
Mark's jaw ticked, his face contorted with anger and sadness. "I was heartbroken. For months, I tried to find her, but she was gone. I couldn't believe that the person I loved, the person I thought loved me too, could just disappear like that. It wasn't until I went to see her father that I found out she had gotten married. To someone else. Someone who wasn't me."
"Jesus," As Mark spoke, I could feel the weight of his pain and disappointment in every word. The emotions that he had bottled up for so many years were finally coming out, and I could see the rawness of his wounds. He was hurt, and he had every right to be.
"I became a bounty hunter when I was seventeen, and I've been hunting ever since," Mark continued, his voice laced with bitterness. "I'm rich now, but I've never forgotten what Vixenda did to me. I've never forgotten how she shattered my heart into a million pieces. I came back to Texas after all these years to put down roots, but I still can't shake the memories of what happened with Vixenda."