Amaris
I gently close my eyes, readying myself for death, yet nothing happens.
No trigger pulled.
No pain felt.
I am still breathing.
He didn't shoot me.
Slowly, I crack my eyelids open, just enough to peer at the monster above me, pressing a gun down my throat. His breathing is fast and shallow, his lips pressed firmly in a straight line, and his eyes hold such anger that I can't figure out why he hasn't pulled the trigger.
Yet. Hasn't pulled the trigger yet that is.
Just as quickly as he shoved the gun into my mouth, he removes it. Vlad returns the gun to his shoulder holster, covered by his expensive looking suit.
Is he seriously wearing Armani?
Vlad pulls out a walkie talkie and rambles off a bunch of words, in Russian obviously so I won't know what he's saying. Prick.
He pushes himself off of me and stands next to the bed. He had me so frightened that I didn't even feel him straddling me. "Don't go anywhere," He starts before a smug smile decorates his face. "Well..you can't go anywhere, now can you kitten?" He coos as he smiles maliciously down at me. He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up. Ha. Good going dumbass. "Someone will be here shortly to escort you. You are filthy and I don't appreciate all this blood staining the bed linens, even in my holding cells." He looks at me with disgust, then shakes his head and heads to the door. Before he exits, he turns around, staring me down like a predator would its prey. "I have much planned for you little girl." He slams the door behind him, part of it falling down into the room from its hinges. And with that grand departure, I'm alone again.
Hot tears of anger cascade down my cheeks. I can't help the overwhelming feeling of impending doom weighing down on me.
My family will never find me. Luca was shot. Damon was shot. My tears keep pouring out, hot tears, so hot they burn my skin. The sting serves as a reminder of the dumpster fire my life has become. If I had any type of luck, it'd just be bad luck. No in between.
The remainder of the door slams open, bringing my attention back over to it. Oh joy. A mean looking son of a bitch enters my non-cozy little prison. He too wears a fancy suit similar to Vlad's. He quickly approaches me and wastes no time pulling out a knife. With one fast flick of his wrist, the blade pops out and he reaches for me. Unsure of his intentions, I try pulling my body back from him. Please God, can't I just be shot instead of stabbed to death?
"Please... don't cut me... just shoot me... don't cut me." I plead desperately, the tears unstoppable and endless at this point. I've never cried so much. Ever.
The man paused and stared down at me. He is really intense. His eyes harbor some sort of emotional depth that I struggle to decipher. He seems to be debating on what he should do to me. His brilliant, blue eyes were a bit entrancing. "Hold still," he grunts as he swiftly slid the knife under the ropes binding my wrists. Perhaps he isn't as mean as he looks and won't hurt me after all. "If you try anything, I will beat you senseless." Perhaps I was wrong. His tone was serious but his gaze looked... apprehensive. Either way, pretty eyes or not, I'm not going to take the risk.
I rub the skin around the wounds on my wrists as he cuts the ropes from my ankles. Jesus my poor skin is going to get a nasty infection if I can't tend to it.
"Come." He simply orders, motioning for me to follow him.
I warily trudge behind him through the doorway and down a long hallway. They are going to need to replace that busted ass door. The ghost of a smile pulls at my lips but I reign it in before I'm fucked up for finding humor in something.
He leads me up a stone stairway that only has lanterns lighting the way every dozen steps or so. They really don't help much with the lighting. It's way too dim to even see more than a few feet ahead. After what felt like an hour of climbing steps, I'm panting for breath and glad when we emerge through a door that opens up to an extravagant looking hallway.
I squint momentarily. It's so damn bright up here. This hallway alone seems fit for royalty. I feel as though my bloodied state will forever maim the marble floor beneath me. The marble has an intricate design of black, gold, and silver swirling freely. Someone has good taste.
I hope I bleed all over it.
I follow as quickly as I can behind my escort, struggling to keep up with his long, fast strides in my heels I've still got on. "Hey, uh mister, can you slow down just a bit?" I dared make a request, if he shoots me, then oh well.
I receive no answer.
Dick.
Not only has he threatened to beat me, now he has the audacity to just be rude? As if! "Hey! Asshole! I'm talking to you!" I stop and quickly cover my mouth with both hands. Goddamnit! I didn't mean for that to happen.
He turns and faces me, a muscle thrumming quickly along his jaw. "You do not get to demand anything. You do not get to voice your wants. Actually, you do not get to speak unless it is required of you. Do you understand, suka?" He glares at me for a moment before his lip curls as if I have a horrible stench wafting off of me.
I offer a sharp nod then break eye contact. He turns and continues marching down the hall until we reach the desired door. He opens it up and reveals a luxurious bathroom. A tub that could easily fit four people sits dead center. The lighting is set low and I find it to be a bit relaxing. However, I take notice of oddly placed windows. I can't see anything through them but I know from their placement, they lead into the room we passed before coming in here. Fucking perverts. Someone is probably on the other side waiting for a nice show. The urge to flip the bird is too real.
But I don't. As they say, you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. So I'll behave.
I'm so distracted by my thoughts and surveying of the bathroom that I forget I'm not actually alone in here until he speaks again.
"Strip." He orders me, as if it is just a casual request I could so easily follow from a stranger. He's got to be out of his mind.
Hesitating, I say, "Umm. Can I have some privacy? As much as possible anyway. I am pretty sure there is someone already watching through those." I motion towards the suspicious windows.
He shakes his head. I'm not surprised. "You can either strip yourself or I will strip you instead. Your choice." He runs his eyes down my body and clears his throat.
My eyes widen impossibly as his words sink in. I slowly shake my head as I turn away and give him my back. In no rush of any kind, I slowly slide off my battered clothing. Using my arms and hands in an attempt to cover myself as much as possible, I turn back toward him.
He smirks at me and steps forward, kicking the door shut behind him. I take a step back fearfully. Please don't try to touch me! He begins running the water in the bathtub. "Do you prefer lavender or vanilla bath crystals?" He asks, as he glances at the containers sitting on the edge. My voice is frozen and so is my ability to speak. Did he actually just give me an option that wasn't demeaning? I fail to answer him as he just casually sits perched on the edge of the tub, just running a bath for the kidnapped chick.
He doesn't know me, yet acts as if this whole instance is a normal, everyday occurrence. Oh fuck. I bet this is a normal, everyday occurrence for this asshole.
His job must be to make sure the girls they steal are clean and smell pretty. What a bitch.
"Well then I choose for you. Vanilla. Sweet aroma for a delectable looking woman." He winks at me as he pours in the crystals. What in the mindfuck is going on? If he didn't have an accent, I'd assume English was his mother tongue with how well he speaks it though.
He stands up, snatching my hands away from my body and directs me into the tub. Heat blooms under my cheeks with embarrassment. I can feel his eyes staring at me in places he has no business looking. "I will sit over at the sink while you bathe. If you need anything, you have permission to request such as of right now." He turns and goes to the sink just as he said he would.
I sink down into the water. It's perfect, temperature wise and damn does it soothe my sore body. After several minutes of me just soaking, I decide to strike up a conversation. Why not make it even more awkward for myself? "What's your name?" I blurt out. He arches an eyebrow at me and remains silent. "So, uh, I know what to call you. Unless you prefer asshole..." I mutter, ducking my chin into my chest.
Surprisingly, he chuckles softly before answering. "Felix." His eyes drop to my chest quickly then return to my face. I'm glad I have this little bubbles and suds kind of barrier to protect me from his wandering eyes.
"Amaris." I reply. Maybe then he won't call me suka. I'm certain that's a cuss word. Maybe it means whore?
"Yes, I know." He gave a tight lipped smile and turned his back to me once more.
I relax as much as I possibly can into the bath, sighing softly in content. I refuse to shut my eyes though. I refuse to be caught off guard if this jerk decides to fuck with me.
Mere minutes later, I begin to scrub myself vigorously, wanting to wash away the night of the dinner party and my time here thus far. Minding my battered skin where I was tied up and the bullet graze on my arm, I go to town sloughing off all the misery and disgust tainting my skin.
I don't care how many layers of skin I remove if it means I can erase all of this chaos from my surface.