Hidden Box
1107 Words
LEXIE
The afternoon sun came through the small window in the storage room, lighting up the dusty air. I had offered to organize the back room again after my shift at the drug store. It kept my hands busy and my mind from thinking too much about Raven or anything at all.
I moved boxes around, sorting old bike parts and papers into neat piles. Dust floated in the light, making me sneeze a few times. My hands were dirty, but I felt useful. The room was starting to look better.
I pushed a heavy crate to the side and paused. Behind it, tucked against the wall, was an old metal box. It looked forgotten, covered in dust, with a simple lock on the front.
I knelt down and brushed the dust off with my hand. The box felt heavy. Curious, I tried the lock. It was old and loose, with a little wiggle, it clicked open.
I lifted the lid slowly. Inside were old club papers, yellowed with age, and a worn notebook with a cracked leather cover.
I picked up the notebook and opened it carefully. The pages had dates, names, and numbers written in messy handwriting. Some names I didn’t recognize. But near the middle, I saw “D.C.” written several times, next to dates and amounts of money.
*D.C.*
What did that mean? A person? A place? A code? My fingers traced the letters, something about it felt important, but I didn’t know why. I turned another page, trying to read more.
But heavy footsteps sounded behind me. I quickly closed the notebook, put it back in the box, and pushed the box behind the crate again. My heart beat fast. I grabbed a random stack of papers and pretended to sort them.
Chaos stepped into the room. His broad shoulders filled the doorway. He wore a black t-shirt that stretched across his chest, and his arms showed the dark tattoos. He stopped a few feet away, watching me with calm gray eyes.
“Still organizing?” he asked, his voice low and steady.
I turned toward him with a quick smile, brushing dust from my hands. “Someone has to. This room was a disaster. I’m turning it into something useful. You’re welcome, by the way.”
Chaos’s lips twitched slightly. He leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, his big body relaxed but strong. “You don’t have to do this, Sara.”
“I know,” I said, crossing my arms. “But sitting still makes me think too much. Organizing keeps my hands busy and my brain quiet. It’s a win-win.”
He nodded slowly, his eyes moving over the neat piles I had made. “You’re good at this. Making order out of chaos.”
I laughed softly. “I’ve had lots of practice. My life has been one big chaotic mess for a while now. At least I can fix this room.”
Chaos stayed quiet for a moment. He didn’t step closer, but his presence filled the space. “What makes you feel safe, Sara?” he asked suddenly, his voice gentle. “When everything feels out of control… what helps?”
The question caught me off guard. I looked down at the papers in my hands, my fingers tightening on them. “Safe?” I repeated. “That’s a big question. I used to think riding my bike fast on empty roads made me feel safe. Like I could outrun anything. Now… I’m not sure anymore.”
I almost said more. I almost told him about the nights I couldn’t sleep, about the fear that followed me everywhere, but I stopped myself.
Chaos watched me carefully. His shoulders were relaxed against the doorframe, but his jaw tightened just a little. “You don’t have to tell me everything,” he said quietly. “But if you ever need to talk, I’m here. No pressure.”
I met his eyes. “You’re always saying that. No pressure. But you keep showing up anyway. It’s confusing, Chaos. You make it hard to stay distant.”
He gave a small shrug. “I don’t want you to feel alone here. That’s all.”
I let out a shaky laugh. “Too late. I’m already feeling less alone, and that scares me more than anything.”
We stood there for a long moment. The storage room felt smaller with him in it. His big body was still relaxed, hands loose at his sides. He didn’t move closer. He just waited, giving me space.
I cleared my throat and changed the subject. “So, what brings the big boss to the storage room? Checking if I’m stealing your old bike parts?”
Chaos’s lips curved into a small smirk. “Just making sure you’re not buried under a pile of boxes. You work too hard sometimes.”
“I like working hard,” I said, lifting my chin. “It makes me feel useful, and less like a charity case staying in your spare room.”
“You’re not a charity case,” he said firmly. His voice was low but strong. “You’re helping around here. Mia likes having you. Mr. Harlan says you’re quick. Even the regulars at the bar notice you.”
I raised an eyebrow. “The regulars notice me? Should I be worried or flattered?”
“Both,” he said, his smirk growing. “You make people laugh. That’s rare around here.”
I felt a small warmth in my chest. I looked away, pretending to sort another stack of papers. “Careful, Chaos. You keep saying nice things and I might start thinking you actually like having me around.”
He stayed quiet, his gray eyes watched me steadily. “Maybe I do.”
The words hung in the air. I felt my cheeks warm, but I pushed the feeling down. I stood up and brushed dust from my jeans. “I should finish this later. My hands are filthy and my back is complaining.”
Chaos nodded. He stepped back from the doorway to let me pass. “Get some rest, Sara. You’ve done enough for today.”
I walked past him, close enough to feel the warmth from his body but not touching. At the door, I paused and looked back.
“Thanks,” I said softly. “For checking on me, and for… not pushing.”
He gave one slow nod. “Anytime.”
I walked upstairs to my room, my heart beating a little too fast. I closed the door and leaned against it, letting out a long breath.
- Writer
