(Bills POV)
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I looked down at her, feeling like I was swaying with the sweet stuff in my system. I practically giggled thinking of how sensitive she was, emotionally and physically. I inhaled more smoke, and leaned down to press my lips against hers. I parted them with my tongue, and exhaled the cloud of smoke into her mouth. I closed her lips together, and sashayed out of the room after giving her one last look and grab on the thigh- my mind loopy. I stumbled into my bathroom across the slim hall, and flicked on the bright, white light. I bent down slightly so I could see myself entirely in the mirror, and smiled. I never disliked what I saw. I looked myself up and down, my eyes resting on the bold, black star against the flushed skin of my pelvis. I leaned my hands onto the sink, and looked at my face through lowered eyes. I grinned, not seeing a single flaw. I licked my bottom lip, watching the cigarette move with my mouth. I grabbed it, and tapped the excess ash off into the sink.
I sighed, and looked at myself into the mirror with a groggy smile. I didn't know why I had to force her to give herself to me, i was literally perfect. But she didn't see that. Sometimes I wondered what she thought, and why I couldn't understand it. I dropped my smile, and pushed myself off of the counter. I hated how she made me feel, I hated how everything made me feel. Since I dragged her along with me, she's all I've been able to think about. Even while high or drunk, it's only her. And I hated how I couldn't understand her, understand the way she thought. And now drugs do nothing but amplify all the confusion and stress it caused me, they don't relax me anymore. Maybe I wasn't using enough.
"Stupid, stupid fucking.." I groaned, and hit the palm of my hands against my temples. My groan turned into a yell, and I smashed the cigarette into the wall. I fumed as I watched it fall to the ground, My ears ringing as I stormed back into my bedroom.
I looked at her as she lay on my bed, beginning to stir awake. I curled my top lip back, and grabbed her shoulders with as much force as I could. She let a startled whine escape her lips as her eyes ever so slightly opened, looking at me.
"You're not allowed to be awake yet." I sneered down at her.
I tore her from my sheets, and flung her across the room by her wrist. She hit the wall with a loud thud, and crumbled to the ground with a gasp stuck in her motionless mouth. I stayed still, breathing heavily in and out as I watched her slide down. There was a crack in the drywall, and dark smears coming from her scalp. I shut my mouth, and turned away from her with my hands resting heavy on my face. My veins tingled, and it was like I was hyperaware of everything. I felt the usual, refreshing twisted sense of satisfaction wash over me as I listened in on her shallow breathing behind me.
Feeling the tension in the air, I slowly approached her. My eyes, hidden behind my eyelashes, scanned her prone form, taking in every detail i could make out. I bent down and picked her up from my arm, my breath ragged as I began to feel sweat bead up on my forehead. I took her by her waist and threw her over my shoulder, holding her by the back of her legs. My heart slowly beat as I stomped to the bathroom, Angelina like a rag doll in my hands.
I clicked the door shut, and locked it. I submerged her immobilized body into the bathtub, and worked off her shirt with soft grunts.
"You..." I started, running my hands over her body. "Are coming with me today." My voice transitioned to a whisper. "To meet some friends." I leaned over her wounded self, and twisted on the water.
With a smile, I let my hands explore her body with the excuse of washing her. She was so warm, even warmer with the blood running down her figure from her temple. Her face was flushed, I loved seeing her like this. I hadn't known why, but when her body was relaxed she was just so.. I didn't have the right word.
I used the products I used on myself on her, nothing too much. I was just trying to get her clean, a part of me wanted her to feel refreshed and warm. I drizzled the soap over her torso, and scrubbed her exposed skin. I rinsed her in cool water, and backed away from her. My body tingled, and the world was in circles. Just how I liked it.
She began to stir- the cold water must've startled her out of slumber.
"Open your eyes, pretty." I murmured, snatching the towel from the rack.
I bent down, and grabbed her forearms. "We have places to be." I rushed my words as I yanked her out from the bathtub, her loopy eyes widening.
She groaned, her hand instinctively shaking around her temple. I glanced over to it, and inhaled as I grimaced.
"Sorry about that." I said, my expression sarcastic.
"You.." she slurred as she looked down. She gasped, and tried to pull away. "Where're my clothes?" She gasped.
I rolled my eyes. "Use context clues. You're all wet, we're in a bathroom...?" I rounded my hand in a circular motion, encouraging her to think. "Dear lord Angelina, I bathed you." I scoffed, quickly wrapping her in the towel.
I stepped away, surprisingly gentle. "Clothes." I muttered, pointing to the counter. I had a pair folded in there for her already, I hoped they would fit.
Her expression softened slightly, but her eyes were still hard. "Thanks." She whispered, still staggering back and fourth slightly.
Her words surprised me a bit; she hadn't ever said that to me. "Mhm." I stepped out of the room, I needed to get my head straight.
I clicked the door closed, and went straight to my bedroom without hesitation. We're going on a little solo trip together. I tore my closet open with a smile, and yanked a duffel from the top shelf. I threw it on my bed, and held it open. I opened my other closet door, and chose which gun I wanted off of the six hooked to the wall.
I licked my lips as I grabbed my favorite, the G18. It was the best specialized automatic Glock out of my collection, it took the most lives the fastest. It was a gorgeous polished black color, and the handle had a nice grip to it. I twirled it around in my fingers, and tossed it on my bed.
I pulled the towel from my waist, and rummaged through my drawers for something to wear. I wanted something different today. I pulled black boxers over my exposed lower body, and then a pair of faded blue jeans. They were far too big for me however, so I fitted them with my favorite white studded belt. I grabbed a random shirt from my floor, and tried to work it on. It was a black, shredded weave shirt with holes on the sides and middle of torso. Over it, I pulled a faux wolf fur jacket over, with fur outlining the rim and cuffs. It reached the back of my knees, and there was a hood on it that reached my mid-back. I pulled on socks and my thickest leather boots, and rubbed my hands satisfied.
I sat down in front of my mirror and fixed my piercings, eyeing the gash Angelina left on my eyebrow after she tore the ring out. I rubbed my fingers in dark powder, and smeared it over my eyes. I dabbed silver glitter over it, just enough to match my outfit. After pulling on my rings and studded cuffs, I pushed myself from my chair and headed back to the bed. I grabbed the gun and stuffed it in the side pocket of my large pants, and snatched the empty duffel. I took the band out of my hair, letting my thin locks relax on my shoulders.
My ears twitched as I heard the bathroom door creak open, and Angelina's quiet steps make their way to my doorway. I glanced over my shoulder to her, my core tightening with even more need as I watched her expression become more and more nervous. The look in her eyes told me she hated me, but I knew that wasn't true. I scanned her body up and down, the clothes fit her just fine. I turned to face her, and slowly walked towards her. I leaned on the doorway hovering over her, my hand in my closet. I pulled out a sweater, and threw it at her as she backed away from me.
"It's cold outside." I sneered down to her.
Without word she put it on, and straighten it out.
"What size shoe are you?" I asked, heading over to a large box on the other side of my room.
She cleared her throat. "Eleven."
I paused, and looked at her. I didn't think any of the female shoes I've collected from passersby in the past would fit her.
"Hm." I said, rummaging through the box anyways.
She was lucky, there was a single pair of of fake slip-ones marked '10.5'. I tossed them to her, my eyes watching her every move. "Make these work." I insisted.
Before she could put them on, I grabbed the bag and her arm, and dragged her to the exit with rapid pace. I threw her out into the morning light, and unlocked my sleek black car.
"Get in." I snapped, nodding towards the passengers seat.
"I, no-" she started, staggering as she attempted to pull herself to her feet. "I don't want to go." She whispered, not looking me in the eye.
Without word I pulled the gun from its harness, and pointed it at her face. "Get the fuck in." I said, my voice growing louder with annoyance. I loved how her body felt, but I was starting to hate when she spoke.
Her mouth zipped shut, and she slowly made her way to the car. The shoes were still in her hand, and she ducked in through the door I held open for her. I slammed it shut, and made my way to the drivers seat.
"We're going to.." I paused, thinking of a wya to put it. "Run some errands." I smiled as I closed my door, and started the car.
She had no idea what she was in for, and that was the fun part. I knew I was problematic, but I also knew I was her prettiest problem.
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