Dark Intentions

|12. The bliss of destruction|

Hi,

Umm, is it even worth apologising for the delay? I personally think we should all act like adults and appreciate that almost 2 years later I have actually managed to upload a new chapter. 

Horray! 

Enjoy. 

PS. I would re read from the start just to catch up. It has been 2 years after all...

|12.|

Well... What the hell am I supposed to say to that?

I find myself gulping awkwardly, my gaze quickly switching to the view outside. Replaying his words, I find myself questioning why I was suddenly feeling sorry for the psycho next to me.

'Cus thats what he was-is! A fucking gun wielding, pan smashing, bondage loving psycho!

Remember that Kes. Everyone has a sad backstory, but it doesn't mean you should go around feeling sorry for every single one.

I refuse to look back at him, instead keeping my eyes focused out of the window, trying to ignore his intense presence next to me or the suffocating silence.

And since this whole 'kidnappee' situation was a new learning curve for me, I internally lectured myself on how sometimes, I should learn to keep my yappering mouth shut. It would do me a whole world of good.

I don't know how long we kept driving for, but I am ashamed to admit that I had actually fallen asleep sometime during the drive.

I blame my ability to sleep whilst being a hostage purely on the fact that I had gone through a rollercoaster of emotions and my adrenaline had completely ransacked my body and that I was just fucking exhausted.

Yup! That is the only reason.

And definitely not because I was slowly getting comfortable around the self proclaimed murderer, with the gun in his pocket and sharp eyes that could rip you apart with just a glare.

By the time I returned back to reality, it's already dark outside and our car was the only vehicle on an otherwise deserted road. The sky had turned pitch black and other than the yellow glow from the streetlights and the slight twinkle of the stars above we were, or I should say Morte was, pretty much driving blind.

I blink hard a few times, trying to clear the sleep from my eyes and after a much needed stretch and groan I settle back into the leather car seat.

I risk a glance at my kidnapper who remains strictly focused on the road though even in the darkness of the night I could tell his eyes were struggling to stay open. Part of me was trying to figure out how to use his fatigue as an advantage. Surely even scary psycho's like Morte need sleep to function and sooner or later he will need to rest up. That would give me the perfect opportunity to break free. The other part of me however, the microscopic barely even there part felt a twinge of pity for the guy.

Stockholm syndrome! My wise conscience screamed at me immediately and I found myself inhaling deeply to ground myself to my reality again. Kes, remind yourself of what the fuck this situation really is. Morte- no your fucking kidnappper, lets not personify him any further- literally bound you up and has threatened you on several occasions. He freaking carries a gun around like it's a lollipop and right now he is heading to find your ex fake fiance and shoot him in the head. Remember?!

Yup. And that was all I needed to break me out of whatever romantic nonsense was swirling around my sleepy, starved mind.

Remember your priorities Kes.