"I haven't been kind to you?! Where do you fit into that equation? I'm not the one who has been tormenting the other here," (f/n) answered, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Tsk, tsk, not true, little doe," he responded, putting on Otis's working pants. "For the past four days, I wasn't able to have any physical contact with you. Do you know how much that caused me to suffer? I finally get enjoyable company only to have such an annoying restriction placed on me."
She just rolled her eyes and looked away from him for a moment. Arguing with him wouldn't probably serve her any benefit in the long run. Personally, she was surprised at the fact that she just continued to do so anyway. For once that eerie atmosphere was gone, and the being just seemed human, too human in fact. It was as if she was dealing with just a sadistic a**hole and not some supernatural being.
Her own comparison made her wonder if at some point this being was human. Additionally, the thing was in Nathan's home. Did Nathan have something to do with this being's creation? Is that why he failed to mention the huge risk involved in watching over his estate? Whatever the reason, her ultimate goal was still to get out of the house.
Peering back over to him, he was now buttoning up Otis's light blue shirt. "I think that your definition of suffering is different from mine," she muttered out, when she noticed that he was waiting for her reply to his previous statement.
"There are various forms of suffering, though, little doe. Besides, you've surely had the pleasure of enjoying someone else's company. Those looks of yours are hard not to notice."
"Save the compliments, creep. And for your information, I've only had two dates in my entire life. On both occasions the guys wanted something more than I was willing to give. In fact their annoying arrogant personalities remind me of you," she retorted, a scowl clearing painting her lips.
"Such harsh words for a little doe, though, it would seem that you keep encountering 'annoying arrogant personalities.' Perhaps, that's telling you something. Maybe, you're just in denial that you like such men," he countered, now finished with putting on Otis's mail uniform.
"You're wrong. I've come across many guys that don't possess such traits. For example Nathan is one of them," she argued, her body instinctively tensing up when he started to come over to her.
"Do you have any romantic feelings for Nathan? If so, I can understand that. He is quite the catch," he mentioned, as he stood in front of her and glanced down at her.
"No, I don't have feelings for him. I was just proving your point incorrect. What about you, were you his past boyfriend or something? There were some mixed emotions in your eyes when I mentioned his name: hate, irritancy, jealously, sadness. The list goes on."
Instead of receiving an answer, he just started to laugh, as he covered his face with his right hand. She didn't know that she said something funny. Frankly, she was beginning to get freaked out by his reaction. Worry and fright were starting to stir inside of her. (F/n) was tempted to dart for the room door and leave the laughing man to his own devices. When she saw him lower his hand and wear an insane smile on his lips, she scooted back on the bed to create some more distance between them.
"Such a cute little doe," he chuckled out, as he glanced at her like she was a naïve child. "Are you trying to get me to answer your question about what I am? If I told you that information, it would give you more insight into what I am. Still, the idea is indulging, but I don't harbor such feelings for that man. All I can recognize now is that he is attractive."
He proceeded to move closer to her, and (f/n) continued to position herself some distance away from him. Soon, he leaned over to her and grabbed her wrists. With seemingly little effort, he pulled her off the bed and back onto her feet. His right arm wrapped around her waist, while his left fingers glided under her chin.
Lifting her chin upwards, he continued, "Granted, there is an idea much more pleasing than that. After all I have a little doe, who doesn't understand how intoxicating she is." He began to lower his lips to hers, and (f/n) desperately sought a way out of sharing another kiss with the man/being. It was extremely confusing as to what to classify him as.
"Wait a moment, I thought that you were going to tell me your name," she quickly voiced, as she shifted her head away from him to avoid the approaching kiss.
Thankfully, he did stop. "Ah, having you call out my name would be more satisfying. So, thank you for reminding me, little doe. Do you have any guesses?" he asked with a playful grin.
"I don't think that you want to hear the names that I have you," she answered bluntly. "I'll oblige you, however, if you insist on me doing so."
Grin widening, he released her and took a few steps back. "You truly bring me entertaining answers, little doe. A doe playing with her hunter isn't common. Despite my past actions, you're not cowering in a corner; you're not attempting to hide from me. Perhaps, it's because you understand that you can't hide from me. Regardless, let me give you my name."
Before she could react, she was hoisted up and onto his left shoulder. His left arm secured itself around her waist, as he exited the room and headed towards the front section of the home. "What do you think you're doing now? I asked you about your name! I didn't ask you to carry me like a sack of vegetables!"
"You didn't, but I'm under no condition to take commands from you. I will give you my name, but in a more delightful fashion. Your use of the word vegetables, though, is fitting for what I plan," he commented, and she could catch a smirk on his lips.
Hearing this, however, caused the blood to slightly drain from her face. Ahead of them was the kitchen. If they were going there, the word vegetables would apply to that room. Granted, she doubted that he would spell out his name with produce. Rather, she had a very clear idea of what he had in store for her. Then again, maybe she would get lucky, and her theory would be far off. Once she was set on the kitchen counter, though, her suspicion was becoming increasingly likely.
"You see, little doe, the kitchen is a place for creativity, the place for experimentation and the place to bring flavor to chemistry. It's a place of multiple sciences. So, a kitchen counter isn't only a counter," he uttered, as he grabbed a kitchen knife from the cutlery box.
(F/n) instantly went to get off the counter; she didn't need any more injuries from the man. Before even one of her feet could touch the ground, he grabbed her and forced to lie down on the counter. She struggled, trying to get his left arm off of her waist. All she ended up doing was injuring Otis more, while the being just looked at her amused.
"I like to refer to the kitchen counter as an operating table. Each vegetable, or any food item, is examined until a solution is found. Of course, there are the mishaps that occur every now and then. Today, however, I don't intend to mess up. I will, though, if you continue to resist me in such a fashion."
"I thought that you liked my fighting spirit," she snapped back, her eyes locking onto the approaching blade in his right hand.
"Oh, I do little doe. The question is whether or not you want to have serious injuries or minor cuts? The choice is yours." Without anymore hesitation he brought the blade close to her left eye. Not wishing to incur an unfortunate wound, she halted her struggling. She closed her eyes and felt the blade press against the skin close to and under her left eye.
Each stroke she paid attention to, as she spelled out the name in her head. She hoped that it wouldn't scar, though. Otherwise, it would seem like she belonged to him, like she was his property. Still, she could distinguish between the straight and curved strokes, as she tried to ignore the pain. The first letter was a D, the second an R, the third an E and the last an M.
After the M she didn't feel anything being carved into her skin. So, her tormentor was called Drem. She could think of a lot more d words that fitted him better and was half-tempted to call him one of those instead, pretending like she had felt the cuts wrong.
"Well, what do you think of the name, little doe?" he asked, tossing the knife effortlessly into the sink behind him.
"I like the name, but I still hate you. You're a jerk, and a name won't change that," she responded, as she felt his arm loosen its hold on her. So, she quickly pushed it aside and got off of the counter. A few seconds away from her was the front door, and she was debating on running to it and out. Of course, she knew that actually reaching the door was another story.
"Maybe, that will change in the future," he declared, walking around her and towards the front door. His left hand rested on the doorknob, while his right hand was on the belt of Otis's uniform. "Now, why don't you give me a parting gift?"