A black, heavy cloud hung low above the man's bowed head, the skin between his eyebrows tight with concentration, and frustration.
His large hand gripped the pen gently yet he wrote on the white lined paper aggressively, as if he was mad at it.
On...
Hoppla! Dieses Bild entspricht nicht unseren inhaltlichen Richtlinien. Um mit dem Veröffentlichen fortfahren zu können, entferne es bitte oder lade ein anderes Bild hoch.
My shaking hand gripped the door handle as I slowly, unsurely opened the car door. The quietness was so loud in my ears that I almost winced.
A few more gunshots startled me, fear and anxiety caused a headache to cover the entirety of my brain. I took slow, cautious steps toward the mansion, my breathing so low I wondered if I was breathing at all.
Sticks and stones crunched beneath the weight of my boots, and for a moment, everything paused around me. White hot fear shot through my veins when a hand gripped my forearm tightly, and I swung my arm away and successfully landed on my butt.
A dark figure towered above me, large and terrifying. I whimpered as I scrambled backwards, "No, no, please! Don't hurt me, please!"
The figure bent at the knees, and moved closer to me. Fearful tears touched my cheeks as I whimpered like a hurt cat out of fear.
"Ms Jones," the voice was deep, and he said my name slowly, "Ms Jones, I'm not going to hurt you,"
"No!" I cried, "don't-don't touch me, I'm sorry! Please—"
"Rafael!" Thunderous footsteps came from being me, and now there were two figures towering over me, but I only knew the one.
"Shh, shh," Lucifer cooed, picking me up from the ground, "it's all right, bunny. I'm here. No one's going to hurt you, baby. There's no one here,"
I cried into his neck, squeezing him tight as he effortlessly carried me into the mansion. He took what I assumed to be stairs, two by two and shut a heavy brown door behind us.
"Look, princess," his voice coaxed, "we're safe, sweetheart. It's just you and me, darling,"
Whimpering, and wiping the tears from my cheeks, I lifted my head and looked at my surroundings.
The room was stark white, with dark brown wooden floors and navy reading chairs in the corner. Plants stood in almost every corner, healthy and green.
"Where—?"
"In my room," he whispered softly into my hair, "we're safe, Daisy,"
Slowly, he put me down. But I could not forget his hands on my thighs, one arm draped around my waist to pull me towards him.
He tucked pieces of hair behind my ears, helping me with the tears on my cheeks. He sat on the bed, pulling up his trousers as he motioned for me to come to him with his head.
I obeyed, feeling tiny and helpless, he took my wrist and kissed it quickly before he pulled me into his lap.
"The shooting?"
He slowly, gently rubbed my back up and down, "There's a shooting range not far from the house. The shooting was my men,"
"So-so there's no one here?"
He shook his head, blue eyes cracking my composure into a million different pieces. He moved my hair from the side of my neck and rubbed the skin of my nape.
