Her Hatred

16

"That was scary" Macy exhaled while chuckling at the same time, "what the hel—" she was cut off by a scream again, this time, it was filled with more pain.

We were about to see what was going on but ended up being stopped by Igor who grabbed Macy's arm and pulled her to him, "Don't."

"Why? What's wrong?" Confusion was clear in her voice. Igor was silent while both Macy and I stared at him expectantly. "What's going on?"

"It's Boss, he's torturing the prisoners." Igor replied, "don't even think of going there."

"Why was he torturing them?" I asked, my tone laced with curiosity.

"They aren't good people." Igor began explaining, "They've done things really bad to really good people. Most of them pissed boss off."

"Then why don't he just kill them?" I asked, taking the last strand of noodle from my bowl.

"He enjoys torturing people. It's his hobby." Igor replied with a shrug making me suck in a breath. Torturing people was his god damn hobby.

"Was he always like this?"

"No, I don't think so." He replied, "there must be a reason. I think the reason is his dead girlfriend though. She was his first girlfriend and she betrayed him or something like that. That took a troll on him, I suppose." He then faced Macy, "Anyway, let's return home, babe. I'm done with the works."

Macy nodded and waved at me before leaving with Igor. The mansion was empty. Igor told me that Alessio didn't allow his men to stay in the mansion because he didn't trust them. They all had to return home except for the security guards, watchmen and all that.

I walked towards the sink and washed my bowl. When I was done, I turned around and was met with a bloodied man. He had blood all over him; on his clothes, hands, hairs, face, pants—everywhere. I took a closer look at the man and recognized him. It was Alessio.

"I thought I told you to stay in your room." His voice was emotionless like the his eyes and face. It was extremely hard to tell how he was feeling.

"I...I was hungry." I took a slow and small step backwards, feeling my back being pressed against the sink. He looked scary.

He took a step closer to me, "Are you scared of me?"

"N-No" I gulped. I wasn't scared of him, at least, that's what I thought. He took another step and was standing right in front of me. He trailed his bloodied finger down my face, "Why are you scared?"

He was reeking of alcohol. He was drunk. I pushed his hand away from me, "You're drunk."

"Congrafuckingtulations, you discovered America." He said sarcastically making me roll my eyes. I grabbed his hand, not caring whether they were bloodied or not. I couldn't make out whether the blood was his or not.

He helped me last time, when I was beaten up. I could return the favour by helping him too. I didn't like having debts, I was one to always clear them.

"Where's your room?" I asked. He pointed his finger to the room across mine. I then walked to his room dragging him with me. He wasn't complaining, he was too drunk to do so.

I opened the door and stepped inside. His room was dark. There was not one thing that showed positivity. There was only three colours present in his room; Black, white and Grey.

"I'm tired" he muttered and was about to throw his body on the bed when grabbed his arm with both my hands and all my strength and made him stand up again, "No, no, you need to clean yourself first."

"I don't want to" he grunted, "I want to sleep." He was behaving like a child.

"No" I replied firmly. I opened his bathroom door and shoved him inside. I turned on the shower before leaving the bathroom, locking the door behind me. He needed to sober the fuck up.

I waited for around ten minutes. Why was he taking so long? Did that man die in the shower? I opened the door and peeked inside, hoping not to see what I did not want to see. I sighed in relief when I saw he was still fully clothed.

The blood was off him. His shirt was soaked, I could see through it. I could see all the tattoos his upper body was filled with. He had his hands on the wall, his head lowered and was allowing the water to fall on him.

He didn't acknowledge my presence. He seemed like he was lost in his thoughts. I stayed there and kept staring at him. He was probably the most attractive and handsome man I've ever seen.

He sure was the monster they said he was. But everytime I looked at him, it made me rethink of my decision to kill him.

Seconds later, he looked up at me. His eyes were red, and he had bags under them, showing just how tired he was. He blinked his eyes several time, as if he was struggling to not fall asleep.

I grabbed a towel, walked inside and turned the shower off. I got on my tip toes and dried his hair using the towel. It was such a weird thing to do. Don't ask my why I was doing that, I don't know.

He didn't say anything. He let me do whatever I was doing. I then removed the towel, grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the bathroom.

I opened his wardrobe, picked a random shirt and a pair of shorts before handing them to him, "Come on."

He held the clothes in his hands and stared at me without moving. I raised my brows at him, "What?"

"Change my clothes too."

"You aren't a baby," I rolled my eyes, "change them yourself." I couldn't tell whether he was still drunk or not.

He grunted before removing his shirt right in front of me making me turn around instantly. The fuck was he doing?

"What are you doing?'

"Changing" he replied in a 'duh' tone which made me want to rip his drunk head off.

"You could've gone—" I cut myself off, realizing that I should've been the one leaving since I was in his room, "you know what? Never mind."

"You can turn around now." He said and I turned around. He wasn't wearing the shirt but only the short. The shirt was thrown on the floor.

"Alright. Now go to bed." I pointed to the bed. Instead of going towards the bed, he walked in my direction and without warning, buried his face in the crook of my neck. I could feel his hot breath tingling my skin making me shiver. "What are you doing?"

"You smell so good, you know that?" He asked in a sleepy voice, "and you're so beautiful, princess." His lips were touching my skin when he was speaking making me bit my lip. I pushed him away, "Stop smelling people, you dog. You're drunk, go to sleep!" 

"Fine." He grabbed my hand and walked towards the bed, "You're sleeping with me."

"What?" My eyes widened, "no, I'm not."

"Please?" He sounded so vulnerable, "Just for one night." I sighed and laid down beside him, far from him.

I then felt a hand on my waist then felt myself being pulled until my back made contact with his chest. He rested his head on top of mine, "Sleep, princess."