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I wish I wasn’t thinking about ways of dissolving into the wall or the earth.
Or anywhere that’s not in the stranger’s field of vision. His body covers my front and it’s all hard, strong, and so terrifying, I feel like I’m going to throw up.
Memories from two nights ago slash my bruised conscience and ugly voices scream in my head.
Loud.
Louder.
I think… I’m having a panic attack.
I can’t have a panic attack. I’ve always been apathetic in a way, hard to have emotions pulled out of me, and even harder to translate them in the sensory world without my brush. So why the hell am I panicking?
My eyes don’t leave the stranger’s muted ones and it hits me then.
It’s because of them that I’m having this reaction.
These eyes that resemble the clashing of a rainy forest with the night. During the night, I couldn’t decipher their color, but even in the light, the green and blue are so dark, it’s as if they’re colorless.
He’s colorless, and not in a bland sense, but in the exact opposite way.
Mum says the eyes are the window to a person’s soul. In that case, there’s a black hole where this bastard’s soul is supposed to be.
The hand he imprisons me with against the wall isn’t harsh, but it’s firm enough to translate that he’s the one with the power. The one who can turn a mere touch into an act of violence as he did before. Since I already had an encounter with him, he’s already established his savagery and that no societal standards bind him. So even though he’s holding me with infinite ease, appearing as if he’s not exerting any type of force, I know better.
I really,reallyknow better.
Hot breaths kiss the side of my cheek as he hikes up an arm over my head and leans down to speak so close to my face that I taste the words instead of hearing them. “I’m going to remove my hand from your mouth and you’ll be quiet for me. Scream, and I’ll resort to unpleasant methods.”
I continue staring at him, feeling trapped by his height and physique. I thought he was big two days ago, but it’s like he’s gained an extra presence.
His fingers flex on my cheeks, demanding my whole attention. “Nod if you understand.”
I slowly bob my head. I have no interest in finding out what this psycho finds unpleasant. Besides, I’m holding out the conviction that he can’t do anything to me with so many people around.
Yes, we’re in the secluded area near the library, but it’s not like no one passes by. It’s still a public place.
He slides his hand away from my face, but before I can breathe in air, he glides it to the hollow of my throat, his fingers digging into the sides. It’s not meant to choke me, but more to put the threat there.
It’s meant to communicate that if he wants to, he can snuff out my air at any moment.
“You said you’d let me go.” I’m thankful I sound calm and I’m not the panicky, absolutely disgraceful version from earlier.
“I said I’d remove my hand, not that I would let you go.”
“Can you let me go?”
“I like it when you ask, but the answer to your question is no.” The pads of his fingers press into the flesh of my neck. “I kind of like this position.”
He doesn’t look to have the capacity to like anything. Hell, his expression is so neutral that it’s hard to imagine him doing something fun.
Does he even have emotions like the rest of us?
Considering he was willing to see me die just so he could photograph me, and then he made me suck him off, he probably doesn’t.
Still, I force myself to stare into his apathetic eyes at the expense of being swallowed in their darkness. “What do you want from me?”
“Haven’t figured that out yet, but I will soon.”
