'Do you know why you are suspended from ceiling krasivaya?' he whispers in my ears and wipes the sweat dripping from my neck due to the trepidation and exhaustion.
'Answer me,' he verbally expresses as he circles my quivering body gradually, his eye...
A repetitive question I have been asked will this ever end?
The answer is obviously yes, just trust the process of the book, no characters in my book would suffer life long, they would have something positive at the end, and I am a believer in a happy or positive ending but not cliché
I hope some doubts are cleared, you people can ask me any other question as well :)
I would try to update the book more frequently, so in return can you guys please vote, comment, and follow
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PRESENT
I have not seen Augustin for the past 2 days since that he almost shot me, I don't blame him for anything, he is exactly playing with me as I did, at least he is not playing with my heart and feelings, he is and was always transparent about his feelings, but I have not, everything that transpired, I developed genuine feelings from him, he could read me, he would know if I was bluffing my feeling, but I was not, that made the task simple in a way, but falling for him was never part of the plan, never.
I have not spoken a word in 2 days, I am confined in his room, timely I would be provided with my supper, the maid would quietly keep the tray of food, they won't even look at me forgot talking, the only good thing was I had papers and color, I would drown myself in the art.
Without a thought, I sketch Augustin, his face and features are so in built in my mind, I would never forget his face, his bristly eyebrows, defined cheekbones, concrete jaw, his deep and expressive eyes where I get lost if I stared long enough, I don't know why I started to sketch him, I never sketch faces of people I know, maybe I miss him, but I should not miss him, he would hurt me again in one way or another, I am tired
Unwanted tears rolled from my eyes which soon turned into loud sobs but I continued to sketch with the shaky hands, the door creaked open, a masculine smell along with a vigorous smell of alcohol.
I turned around to see him, he looked disheveled but not weak, I have never seen weak or needy, he takes long strides towards me before shutting the door with a thud making my body squeal in response.
"You have been crying" he looks at me for a while and then his eyes turn towards the sketch.
"You sketched me" he chuckles
"Yes" I whispered and tried moving towards the bathroom in order to evade him
"Don't recoil from me" he admonishes and pulls me towards his chest
I looked at him with tear-filled eyes "Why are you crying? Does your arm hurt? He questioned and tenderly kissed my arms, I shuddered
"No, it does not," I said and looked down unable to hold eye contact.
