Slave's Love (Pirate!Spamano)

Capítulo 15 (quince)

Romano's POV:

Rain sparkled on my hair. Was it day or night outside? It didn't really matter; it was dark nonetheless. There was nothing around me. There were no sounds at all. I was trapped in darkness with no way out, with no-one to help. And yet, I heard dripping.

Drip drip

But what was it? Where was it coming from? I started to run towards the sound without giving it a second thought. If it was the only thing in this place of nothingness, it could mean no harm. Right? Even the rain disappeared at the speed I ran in. But, as I ran and ran, not knowing where I went, I realized I didn't even know where the sound was coming from. I tripped over my own leg and fell.

But didn't meet a solid ground. I just continued to fall, further and further away, deeper and deeper into blackness. And then, something caught me. It held me softly, in gentle hands and my heart began to race. A candle of hope shone inside of me as I slowly began to turn my head around. Be it Antonio, be it him, I begged the heavens, the God and the Spaniard himself to be there.

I wanted to be with him again, to feel his heart race, his hot breath against my ear. I wanted to hear his soft as silk voice, wanted to get lost in those deep emeralds, wanted to dive into his arms, knowing nothing would hurt me there. And yet, with my head twisted around, my face twisted as well. Who, or rather what I saw wasn't the handsome man I craved for.

A hole instead of eyes was looking at me, blood-red liquid dripping from where a face should've been. There was still left something of teeth and hair, even an ear but everything else from the thing's face disappeared. It just wasn't there, where it was supposed to be.

At that moment, I didn't want to be held gently. I didn't want that person, that thing, to be touching me. I wanted to stand on my two legs and run. Run away somewhere, a place I didn't know myself and could get lost just so the thing that was holding me could get lost, too.

And so, I screamed. I screamed at the top of my lungs and tried to escape the grip. I kicked, I scratched those pale hands with my nails, I tried to get them off so I could be free. But there was no end of my suffering; the grip only tightened as the thing's arms wrapped around my waist but I wasn't pulled closer. I didn't feel any heat against my back and when I looked around again, the thing was on its position; standing proud and tall in the air as its arms were locked around me.

My screaming didn't die out; there was no-one to stop me but also no-one to let me go. Adrenaline was slowly filling my veins and my blood was fading into nowhere. And suddenly, everything fell silent. My throat wasn't aching anymore from the whole screaming and yelling for my dear life. Something reached my nose, a familiar yet very distant scent of iron but it wasn't completely that. It had this special thing in it.

It dyed the odour in red, like a pretty dress that hugged a lady's body perfectly. Just what the fuck was it? And why was it streaming from my neck? My twisted neck. That one took me a while to swallow. My nerves were on the edge, no serious thoughts were sailing through my brain, my body was shaking and so was my soul. My eyes were shaking as well but why? Oh, yes – my neck was twisted and turned many times. And the blood? It was coming from the curves with great force.

But who did it? Was it I? Or the man perhaps? Maybe it happened on its own. Either way, I was dead. I was most certainly dead because I didn't feel breeze against my cheeks, nor the clear tears streaming down my face. There were no signs of a heartbeat, no sounds of ideas bursting in. But then again – why the fuck was I still breathing?

Why was air still rushing into my lungs? Why was my chest going up and down like nothing happened? Why was I still alive and feeling such great pain I felt numb? The answers I did not know. I highly doubted there was someone who would.