When My Heart Stops, I'll Give It To You

(32) Wake Up

When My Heart Stops, I'll Give It To You

Chapter 32: Wake Up

Nessa's P.O.V.

Liam made me chocolate pancakes, bacon, sausage and a large cup of chocolate milk. I eyed him suspiciously before accepting it and leaning back against the headboard of the bed.
"What?" He grunted, back to his sarcastic and snappy self.
"I just didn't know you could cook." I admitted, shrugging before taking a bite out of my pancake.
"There's a lot of things you don't know about me," He dismissed, rolling his eyes.
"I know that you're moody as hell." I mumbled, my headache threatening to come back.
"Don't be stupid, Nessa. Maybe I just don't like you." Liam gave me a fake, sickly sweet smile.
"You sure did last night when you slept in my bed." I shot back, dropping my fork back into my plate so that I could cross my arms and stare up at him in defiance. His hair was in a tousled heap on his head and his eyes look tired.
"I told you, I only did that because you begged me to." He chuckled, that smirk growing on his lips as if he thought he won the fight.
"Sure, keep telling yourself that." I smiled a little to myself, knowing that would bother him.
"Ok, Nessa." Liam snapped, walking out the door and slamming it shut behind him.
I finished off the rest of my breakfast and watched several reruns of Friends when I began to get really bored. I got up from the bed, ignoring the rush of my headache, and began to pace around his room. It was a black painted room with one window and only three things of furniture-the TV, his bed, and the minibar. There was nothing to do from what I could see. I peered into his closet but the only things he had in there were a few pairs of clothes.
My eyes unwilling traveled to the door in front me before I turned the doorknob, and lucky for me it was open. I had a sudden urge to snoop around the gigantic house. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I shouldn't. Maybe it was the hangover or maybe I was still a little drunk, but I was acting on impulse.
Trying to shut the door as quietly as possible, I hurried down the hall. I barely remembered the walk down these halls to his room last night. I looked around to see there was three ways for me to go, and two doors to explore. This was a completely different floor than the one Christopher and I were on.
After some thought, I chose the door straight ahead of me. It wasn't locked, which only surprised me momentarily. I wonder how many people they had housed here. It couldn't be many, I had only seen about three or four on the floor with Chris's room. None of them ever really came out of their rooms.
I walked into the room and felt up the wall for awhile before finally finding the light switch. Light slowly flooded the room and I let out a tiny gasp. The entire room was made out of metal, my footsteps making loud noises as I made my way around. But that wasn't what was surprising; lined on the walls, stacked on shelfs, and even hanging from the wall, was weapons. Throwing knives, at least a hundred different guns, ice picks, crossbows, long whips, and tons of light bulb shaped black objects that I guessed was throwing bombs. On one wall was a laid back chair, like one at a dentist's, except there was straps where someone's ankles, arms, and head would go. Beside that was a tiny table with a few surgical needles containing unknown substances. Other weapons I couldn't even identify. Every knife was perfectly sharp to the point, as if someone came in every day and sharpened each one. There was also protective gear like bullet proof vests, or just weapon belts with multiple pockets. Unlike the knifes, some weapons hadn't of been cleaned so well. I could see tiny specks of dried blood on a few of the more threatening looking items.
Not being able to resist, I picked up one of the perfectly carved knifes and held it in front of me. The handle was worn, as if it had been used on more than one occasion. I stared at my reflection on the smooth steel surface, my eyes wide and curious. All I could think of was how many people-or things-it was used to kill. I turned it a little to the side and jumped when I saw another reflection behind me.
"Didn't your mommy ever warn you not to play with knives?" Liam sneered, snatching it out of my hand and placing his hand on my waist to turn me around.
"Liam, what the hell is this place?" I asked, refusing to feel sorry for leaving his room when he instructed me not to.
"How else are we supposed to protect ourselves, Nessa? What, did you think we just sprinkled magical angel dust on monsters and it made them disappear?" He remarked sarcastically.
"Protecting yourself is one thing, torturing is another. Those things are used to abuse people." I argued, not backing down from his attempt to make me feel small and stupid. "There's a huge difference between trying to defend yourself and inflicting pain on someone for your own pleasure. So, let me ask again. What is this place?"
"Oh, get over yourself, Nessa. Do you realize how shitty this world is and how harsh it can be? You need to wake up or else reality is going to slap you in the face. You'll still be skipping on rainbows, convincing yourself that it's worth spending the time on caring about something as pathetic as human life. I mean, as I'm speaking to you millions and millions of people are dying because that's just how it is-the world is cruel and humans are weak. That's how it will always be."
Liam was up in my face now, ranting and looking more angry than I had ever seen him, his eyes two bright embers of fire. I was frozen in my spot at his words, and even though I had promised myself not to let him get to me, he had.
So he smirked, and continued. "So I'll tell you again what this room is, we use these weapons to protect ourselves. There's no rule book or guidelines or whatever the hell else you're thinking. We kill anyone who's in our way. Do you have problem with this system, Vanessa?"
I spoke back up, waking myself up out of my scared state. "I thought you were angels."
Liam's smirk grew as he leaned in closer to me, the musky scent of his skin filling my senses. His eyes sparkled with humor. "Have you ever even heard of a regular angel out of Heaven? No, babe. We're fallen angels, almost as bad as the demons we tell ourselves we're better than. "
~~~

Writers comment: why do you never tell her anything christopher dammit
Sorry this was late, writers block momentarily 😁
Now please don't say this is like psychotic bc number 1: this isn't a harry styles fan fic lol and number 2: yes this is a torture chamber but its the "good guys" who own it to supposedly punish those who cross them. I didn't intend for any of this story to be related to psychotic at all lol
so anyways love you guys :)