Page 34 of Imprisoned Obsession

Is that what has drawn us to each other? Having had the same experiences that damaged our hearts and warped our morals?

Elio tilts the knife in our hands toward my tear-stained cheek but stops just centimeters away. The heat radiating from it is still doing some damage since my skin itches painfully.

He leans to the other side and kisses my temple, whispering praise for my laughable bravery.

“Everything I do is for your own good,” he sneers, hushed. “Why can’t you see that?”

I can’t see anything. I have just been blindsided by a combination of fears from my past. The knife in the flame, its handle in my hand, his grip forcing the pain deep into my hands.

Adding pain to my lifelong fear has surely amplified my level of distress. If he was in the same behavior-correction program that I was, he should be more understanding and sympathize with me.

He’s not. He’s gleefully excited with twinkling eyes and smiling lips.

How did we both come from the same place and turn out to be such polar opposites?

He embraced his horrifying experiences there, and I blocked the memories to avoid dealing with them.

“Please,” I plead, whimpering.

His other hand slides around the base of my neck and buries my face in his chest, forcing me to listen to the earsplitting heartbeat. He shouldn’t have a heartbeat; he’s a heartless monster who doesn’t care about anyone.

He pushes me off his chest and brings the searing knife closer to me. He forces me to look him in the eye as he smiles wickedly.

I want the consolation his heartbeat brought to me. I want it back.

I choke on a sob as tears drip off my jaw and roll down the smooth curve of my neck.

His smile grows insanely. He’s enjoying this at the expense of my fragmented sense of self.

Elio is a sadist.

I admit what he hasn’t pointed out, “You scare me.”

His animated eyes look almost euphoric.

“I’m sorry,” he says maliciously.

He’s not sorry. There is not an ounce of sympathy on the daunting canvas of his handsome face.

“Allow me to make it up to you, darling.”

His lips slam into mine, teeth tearing my bottom lip and drawing blood. Elio purrs with contentment as he jerks the knife from our hands and carelessly tosses it on the counter.

His velvety, deep voice mocks, “After all, I did hurt your feelings.”

Chapter Eight

Elio

I have her exactly where I want her.

The halo of her soft hair lies messily on the silk pillows, pieces grazing her trembling shoulders as she stiffly contains her tears.

Was I too harsh? Have I gone too far?

Her bouncing tits lurch after a stifled hiccup. Silently mocking laughter forces the apprehension from my mind.

Willa is alright. We will be fine.

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