The Irish's Sanity

Chapter Twenty Seven

What my eyes saw left me frozen as endless tears ran down my cheeks. I was mute. My stomach turned as my body started to tremble. I could feel the contents of my stomach fighting to come up but my body was too afraid to as my eyes connected with Lachlan standing in all his glory, as he watched me, analysing me with his powerful gaze.

It was what was around and on him that made me almost take a step back. Pieces—actually limbs—of people—so many people—blood was all over, and the quietness of the room was maddening. The sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up with the top three buttons of his shirt popped open—he was covered in blood. I could see it on his face and his hair. His calmness amidst it all scared me, and the satisfaction shinning in his eyes made me gulp.

My hand moved to my mouth as I held in my sobs trying to keep myself together as my eyes noticed in one of his hands he held on to one of the heads as if it were a ball, only he held it in a way that his hand was where the neck was once holding onto the lower jaw. I closed my eyes trying to get a grip on myself. This man was the devil.

The contrast between the calm and quiet in the room compared to what was in here was horrifying. My nose was blocked from all the silent crying as I started breathing using my mouth, trying to count in my head so I wouldn't pass out. The thick smell of blood and death wasn't helping.

"I apologise, for taking so much of time. As you can see, I have been a bit occupied, love." He said not moving as inch, and as I literally broke down in front of him, my chest moving up and down as I tried to focus on him, my eyes strayed for a second, connected with yet another severed head on the ground- there were so many heads.  He then moved aside and only now had I noticed the table behind him, the silence in the room was drowned out by my sobs. I couldn't stop.

"Why are you still so far from me?" It was a simple question, yet it sounded like a threat, and I knew better than to take it lightly. The thought of being next to him and the sight all around me was nauseating. I could feel my knees start to fail me as my stance weakened. My mind refused to believe this, but at the same time, it felt very real. I didn't know what to do.

I didn't know what to do with myself; I didn't even know what was going on. I was afraid to live or breathe, terrified of setting him off in any way. I didn't want to get hurt, and I didn't want him to hurt me again. The last time I was in a basement with him, he scarred me for life instinctively I ran my hand over the other as I bit my lip.

"I-" I almost collapsed as the thought of him hurting me like that again crossed my mind. I couldn't take it, he would hurt me in any way.

"Please don't hurt me." My voice came out in a whisper that filled the room as I bit my lips, tears blinding my vision for a second.

I was in the grip of fear, and it was slowly crushing me alive. I could not move as I cried and tried to reason with myself. It didn't even take me a second to recover just by the look of him - it made me stand upright yet again and start to walk towards him, not daring to look at anything else in the room aside from him- my legs taking their own time as they wobbled. I wished I could lock myself up in a dark abyss where he would not be able to touch me, see me, or look at me.

"Hello love." His voice was deep and thick with his accent, his tone something else directed to me as he held me -the blood that on his hand now on me, the head in his other hand. And yet I could truly tell that he didn't see anything wrong with his actions or him as he looked at me in a way that made me believe he would never let me leave.

"I-I-Hi." My voice was low and thickened with fear. A huge ball on my throat. He kissed my forehead, leaving electricity all over my body, and I grabbed his suit, trying to find my ground, heavily crying into his chest, not even caring about the blood at the moment. I was disoriented; the scent of blood mixed with his made it worse.