Capturing Bambi

Chapter 2

Chapter Pr

The scene finally rotates as his eyes find my shaking frame, yet again. Like a deer stuck in the headlights, I freeze. Not knowing what to do.

But I don't have to wait much longer, for he enunciates exactly what he demands from me.

" How about you get some cleaning supplies for me, sweetheart? " He implores in a sickly sweet voice.

The tone takes an abrupt turn, from a dangerously low growl to a tender tone, like that of a lover. But it's hard to fall for the charm in his voice, when his hands seem to be tainted in blood.

I swallow a lump as my throat feels dry like the Sahara desert. The scene unfolding before my eyes seems to send me in a shock as I fail to find my voice.

" Words love. " He demands when I simply shake my head in acknowledgment.

" Y...yes sir. " I manage to let out, my voice barely above a whisper. But he heard it well.

I rush to the janitor's room and grab onto the supplies for dear life. Just as I'm about to open the gates to hell, a thougt enters my mind.

What if I just run? Flee from the devils den and never set a foot back in here?

" Ahhhhh. " An ear-piercing scream bursts into my ears.

He's torturing the man!

One cry of pain is enough for some rationality to knock in my head. Makrof seemed like a powerful and wealthy man, a man of importance. If he can do that to him, think about all the horror he can instill upon you, Arabella.

With not many seconds left to contemplate, I make my decision and securely towards the dinning area.

" Should have gotten a ball gag for this bitch. " I hear the third man, probably the henchman comment as he ties a napkin around Makrof's face to shut him off.

Though that doesn't provide for much, except cutting his blood supply in the face region.

The blue eyed devil, seems the least bit concerned as his eyes rest somewhere else. His gaze travels upon my frame in a frantic motion, trying to dig out more than I can give.

" Now kneel, right there, right before me. " He demands, pointing to the floor, right at his feet. His voice, a cold rasp laced with venom, barely rising above a whisper, yet it cuts through the silence with precision, revealing a controlled fury simmering beneath the surface.

Without a word of objection. I fall on my knees. Retaliation long fleeing my body as I find myself obeying each word of his, out of sheer terror.

" Be my muse as I paint the canvas a beautiful shade of crimson red. " He adds, with an evil glimmer in those ocean orbs.

For he views the man beneath his feet as nothing but a canvas that will be painted red with its own blood.

" Here is how this goes. I cut him, he bleeds. " He states, and just like that he pulls the twisted knife with ease, like a skilled hunter, only to glide it against his skin one more time.

" Then... " He adds, with a hidden depth to his words as he contemplates for a moment.

" You clean the blood. " He completes, his eyes getting darker with each passing moment.

" By the time he's dead, the floor should no longer remain tainted. " He states, a warning dangling from his words.

" You're not cleaning the floor Bambi, you're fighting for survival. " He lets out. His words, dangerously low and smooth as ice, carrying an undercurrent of menace that promised retribution without raising his voice.