Annabel [h.s.]

seven

There is no way that I can escape this now; no way that I can possibly escape her and all that lies behind the darkness in her eyes. I've gone too far. Inexplicably, I have become entranced by everything that she is, especially the red that we share. She is like the moon: haunting, beautiful, and so far out of reach.

I have walked her through the gates of hell and, still, she has made no attempt to turn back. She likes to push my buttons, to put me on edge in an attempt to feel the red that resides within her. She is dangerous, but I cannot pull myself away from her gravity.

There is a different side to her though, a side that I rarely see, a side that pulls me further and further from the shore that keeps me anchored and I am starting to drown. I can feel it every time that I look at her and it is petrifying.

She pushes me away so easily because she knows. She knows that I have begun to drown and that I am suffocating and she wants no part of it because she is drowning too.

There is no way out now, I've taken things farther than I ever thought possible and I am beginning to accept the fate I've designed for myself, even though I will hate myself in the end.

H.

Rain fell in heavy sheets and created a steady thrum as it fell upon the man-made structure. Harry was lying in bed with is eyes closed and humming to a song that he didn't know the name of.

It was early, around ten A.M., but it felt like it was much later because of the heavy clouds that covered the sun and released their tears in thick waves. He was entranced in his thoughts and the comforting quality of the rain and he didn't notice when Annabel appeared in his doorway.

She was wearing an outfit that consisted entirely of black: skin-tight black jeans, a fairly breathable black long-sleeved shirt that accentuated her breasts and left little to the imagination, black combat boots, and a black beanie.

"Let's do something."

Annabel was bored with sitting around the house and doing essentially nothing, besides having sex of course, and she had an idea that was bound to be exciting.

Harry blinked slowly and turned his head to look at her, "Like what?"

Annabel smiled wickedly, "I want to steal something."

She watched him carefully as he lifted an eyebrow and contemplated her statement. There was something about the way that he looked with his messy hair and light eyes that had her staring at him for longer than she had intended and he had noticed.

The slightest of smiles formed on his lips as he spoke slowly and decisively, "I don't have experience in that area."

He didn't state it explicitly, but she knew that he was intrigued by the idea itself. Annabel put on her sultry smile and walked over to his side of the bed. Harry was interested, but he needed a little push.

In another moment, she was straddling his hips and gently pushing his hair out of his face, "Me either. I've heard the thrill is intoxicating."

Annabel trailed her hands down his bare chest and looked up at him with eyes that were anything but innocent, "I'll make it worth your while."

Harry sighed and placed his hands on her hips, his fingers rubbing small circles into her skin as she bit her lip and anticipated his answer. The idea was entirely random and out of the blue, but he was certainly willing to go along with it if Annabel wanted to try it.

After all, how hard could it be? He'd killed dozens of women and he still hadn't been caught. There was nothing trickier than getting away with murder, so he wasn't worried about it at all.