Breakfast.
I haven't kept a journal since I was little. I tried a couple of times in high school, but I always felt stifled by words. I've never been good with them. In this case though, a journal seems fitting. Things have changed. My life has changed. Tomorrow morning I have some difficult decisions to make. I need an outlet. Something to help me come to terms with... everything.
Morning, of course, is a relative term. When Jude wakes up to cook us all breakfast, which I have no doubt he will, it'll be well into the evening. All entrances to the warehouse seal automatically at 6 pm, but I think we all could use the extra few hours sleep. Not to say it really matters, no sunlight gets inside anyway.
Yesterday, I ate breakfast in the morning. Like a normal human being. Coffee and a breakfast bagel from Spinnaker's, a privately owned cafe not far from where I live - or, used to live. What can I say? I've always had a healthy appetite. I get extremely hungry when I wake up.
I went to work, exactly like normal. It was my shift on the Nocturnes, my favourite exhibit. I don't actually mind the dirty work that goes with my job. I love animals of all kinds. I love what I do. Admittedly, sometimes I come home smelling like a barn. It's not a glamourous job. But better than smelling like bacon grease. Tonight was one of those barn nights; when I came home, I was already dirty, sweaty, and tired, with no plans other than a hot shower and a paperback Danielle Steele. When I got there, there was a note on my front door. Be ready at ten o'clock. And an elegant black dress hanging on my closet door. It's now lying in tatters somewhere near the collection of clothing.
If someone had told me when I met Jude that I would end up here, I'd have laughed. He was a good-looking and incredibly charming stranger at first, and then a friend I had grown fond of. The way we kept running into each other has always reminded me of that movie, Serendipity, with John Cusack in it. I'm almost confident that if I put Jude in an elevator and told him to choose a floor at random, and myself in another, we'd both choose the same floor. It seemed that his entrance into my life and my entrance into his world was fate. I'm still not sure why. It was easier when he was that pale but gorgeous man with the incredibly green eyes, sipping lemon water across from me in that bar.
He's told me many things since then, and although tonight he shared with me his true identity, that is one thing I will not divulge on paper. Too risky. I won't be responsible for his secrets falling into the wrong hands. Everyone in his world knows his name, and my association with him means I'm being constantly watched, although I don't think that applies here in the warehouse. The place is a fortress. The Vandmars have also offered their own protection, but I don't think even Jude would approve of me keeping a written account of tonight's events if he knew about it. He'll find out eventually though. I don't think anything gets by that creature.
Sometimes I think back to that night he told me what he was. It happened sort of by accident. He told me to run, to keep running and never see him again. With all that's happened since then, sometimes I think I should have.
But I'm glad I didn't.
Morning, of course, is a relative term. When Jude wakes up to cook us all breakfast, which I have no doubt he will, it'll be well into the evening. All entrances to the warehouse seal automatically at 6 pm, but I think we all could use the extra few hours sleep. Not to say it really matters, no sunlight gets inside anyway.
Yesterday, I ate breakfast in the morning. Like a normal human being. Coffee and a breakfast bagel from Spinnaker's, a privately owned cafe not far from where I live - or, used to live. What can I say? I've always had a healthy appetite. I get extremely hungry when I wake up.
I went to work, exactly like normal. It was my shift on the Nocturnes, my favourite exhibit. I don't actually mind the dirty work that goes with my job. I love animals of all kinds. I love what I do. Admittedly, sometimes I come home smelling like a barn. It's not a glamourous job. But better than smelling like bacon grease. Tonight was one of those barn nights; when I came home, I was already dirty, sweaty, and tired, with no plans other than a hot shower and a paperback Danielle Steele. When I got there, there was a note on my front door. Be ready at ten o'clock. And an elegant black dress hanging on my closet door. It's now lying in tatters somewhere near the collection of clothing.
If someone had told me when I met Jude that I would end up here, I'd have laughed. He was a good-looking and incredibly charming stranger at first, and then a friend I had grown fond of. The way we kept running into each other has always reminded me of that movie, Serendipity, with John Cusack in it. I'm almost confident that if I put Jude in an elevator and told him to choose a floor at random, and myself in another, we'd both choose the same floor. It seemed that his entrance into my life and my entrance into his world was fate. I'm still not sure why. It was easier when he was that pale but gorgeous man with the incredibly green eyes, sipping lemon water across from me in that bar.
He's told me many things since then, and although tonight he shared with me his true identity, that is one thing I will not divulge on paper. Too risky. I won't be responsible for his secrets falling into the wrong hands. Everyone in his world knows his name, and my association with him means I'm being constantly watched, although I don't think that applies here in the warehouse. The place is a fortress. The Vandmars have also offered their own protection, but I don't think even Jude would approve of me keeping a written account of tonight's events if he knew about it. He'll find out eventually though. I don't think anything gets by that creature.
Sometimes I think back to that night he told me what he was. It happened sort of by accident. He told me to run, to keep running and never see him again. With all that's happened since then, sometimes I think I should have.
But I'm glad I didn't.