Smile

“Your friend is right, Nyria. I am a murderer. I already have too many people on my conscience to say how many there are, ”he said suddenly in a dark voice.

I bowed my head. Did he admit it so openly that I got scared and put him out the door? It was the first time he'd called me by my name, so I was speechless for a moment.

"Are you scared after all?" He spoke up again with the corners of his mouth twitching.

"I would like you to." I said and for once let out a low laugh.

...

It took me ten minutes in the bathroom. When I opened the door, a tall man stood menacingly close in front of me. Of course it was none other than Zayn. Once again I stood in front of him, covered only by a cloth. I wanted to ask what was going on when he grabbed my arms and pushed me back into the bathroom. He pressed his lips roughly to mine. I didn't even know what was happening to me. Why did he kiss me And why did I like it? I returned the kiss, but couldn't move after he let go of me. I stared up at him in disbelief.

"I could kill you, Nyria!" He muttered, eyeing me closely.

"If you really wanted to do that, you would have done it long ago."

I was amazed at myself. I was never that self-confident ...

My reaction seemed to baffle him too, because he raised his eyebrows. He shook his head briefly, dazed, then turned his back to me.

“Why are you still here? I would have expected you to leave as soon as you wake up. But you are still here. Why?"

Curiously, I stretched out my hand, but quickly let it drop again.

"Don't ask me questions that I can't answer."

His answer made me smile. He could be a haughty and arrogant ass, but at that moment - or earlier in my bed - he looked more than amiable!

“I don't know what you've been through, Zayn Vaher, but your story seems long. And painful. "

As I passed, I put my hand briefly on his shoulder. I did not miss that he winced at my fleeting touch. I smiled weakly. He didn't like being touched, no question about it. I wondered why.

 A few days had passed and Zayn was still with me. The police had still not found out that a refugee was staying with me. It was crazy! Although Zayn tried to keep his distance from me, he watched me with hawk eyes. It seemed like it was totally abnormal for him for me to do laundry or cook. It occurred to me that maybe he wasn't rich and therefore never had to do something like that. That would also be a possibility why he had become a murderer. But I didn't dare to ask why I immediately rejected this thought. I sensed that he had had a difficult life and spoke to him shortly afterwards, but we hadn't exchanged a word since that day. Maybe he was embarrassed? Or maybe he just didn't want to be asked about it anymore. But one thing remained unchanged. I woke up every night, which was when I saw Zayn hugging me again. When I woke up again in the morning, he was already on his feet. Apparently he didn't want me to know. When I got home from work on Tuesday afternoon, I heard paper rustling softly in the bedroom. I thought nothing of it, but when I entered the room and saw the book the man was holding in his hands, I wanted to throw myself at him. Apparently he hadn't noticed me because he kept leafing through my diary.   

"Found what you were looking for?" I said flatly.

He started and dropped the little book.

"I should have burned it," I mumbled and picked it up.

“Is that why you had any idea about me? Because you had a bad childhood yourself? ”He asked quietly and gave me another long look.

"Not really," I replied dryly. "I just have a feeling for something like that."

We were both silent for a while, then I sat down next to him on the carpet.

“Why are you rummaging through my things? You could have just asked me. "

My rather loving tone made him pause as expected.

"Aren't you mad?" He muttered.

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Just a little."

He was silent again, which is why I dared poke him.

“Zayn, if there is something, tell me. I'll answer your questions and listen carefully when you want to talk about something. So don't hesitate. "

His surprised look made me smile.

"We don't know each other," he breathed confused.

My smile got bigger.

“We don't even have to know each other, Zayn. You wouldn't want that at all. "

I got up with a soft sigh.

"It seems to me that you know me very well," he whispered softly.

He eyed me suspiciously, but I pretended not to notice. I was about to strut out of the room when I heard his voice again.

"I never met my parents."