Page 15 of Game of Hell
He’s been in that damn chair for hours now. Even after I woke up, peed, and showered he didn’t get up.
He hasn’t moved sincethen.
It’s starting to get weird, creepy even.
“You touched me without my consent. You’ve damned me since being in this fucking room. I can tell you completely lack manners or respect for women, so I’ll say this, fuck off.” My eyes burn with built up wrath. My hands form into fists at my sides and I stand up fully now.
He doesn’t budge, the mask hiding all of his emotions. Hiding if he’s even awake or acknowledging anything I’m saying.
“Ignoring me doesn’t make you more of a man.” I walk closer to him and snatch his mask. The band makes a loud pop sound as I remove it from his face and throw it onto the floor.
His grey eyes meet mine, no doubt, just empty. I can see my own reflection in them. The void of nothingness stares back at me. I look angry, upset, like a bitchy girlfriend.
“Do you hear me?” I scream and find myself grabbing his face in my hands. The piercing on his lip grazes my palm, it's cold and unknown. His face is soft in my hands, and his jaw is sharp and well defined.
“I do, Little devil.” He leans into my touch and smiles. It's frightening feeling the warmth of him within my palm but his eyes aren’t warm, they’re anything but warm. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, what he’ll do.
I frown and pull my hand back, but his hand shoots up to mine and clasps it in a tight grip. He brings it back up to his face and places it where I had it.
“Why aren’t you saying anything?” The stubbornness in me told me to keep pushing. No matter how far he or I take it, regardless of the consequences, I won’t go down without a fight.
“What do you want me to say, Little Devil? That I'm sorry because I’m not. I’ll do it again and again, until you’re mine.” His words are a promise, a silent vow only between us.
I blush and pull my wrist from his hand. I step back to create distance between us.
“I will never be yours.” I scoff at his assumption.
“Never said you had a choice.” He stands up and steps closer to me, his hands by his side and a sadistic glint in his eyes.
I back up until I hit a desk. A ceramic piggy bank wobbles back and forth on the edge before falling to the floor. It hits the ground with a loud crack and shatters into pieces.
The sound frightens me and I jump, but quickly bend over to pick it up.
“Oh shit.” I grab a few pieces, but one slices the inside of my palm. Pain shoots through my arm and I drop it all over again.
“Don’t be rash” I shiver when I feel his breath against my shoulder as he leans over me and grabs my injured hand in his. “You could have done worse.”
I nod at his words but don’t understand anything he’s saying. The sight of my own blood pouring out of my hand causes me to gag. He pulls me to stand up and I follow blindly over to the bathroom.
“I–I might throw up.” I barely get out between each gag and heavy breath.
“What, why?” He pulls my hand underneath the faucet and turns on the cool water. The water rinsing over my gushing hand only makes me more nauseous. He opens the cabinet over the sink and pulls out the one bottle in there, alcohol. “This is going to sting.”
Before I can protest he pours it over my hand. The sensation is numbingly painful, it's like feeling fire against your skin. It starts with a small flame and becomes an intense wave of excruciating pain. Pinch after pinch, until it finally dies down into nothing and all that is left is battered skin. He grabs gauze and wraps it around the deep wound.
“Fuck.” I shake my hand out of his and hiss. The pain subdues to a steady tingle.
“Stop cursing. It’s not cute.” He mumbles and steps away from me. The warmth he was giving me goes with him as he leaves me in the bathroom.
I blink, the feeling of puking vanishes and all I'm left with is confusion. This game he's playing is sickening. He acts like he cares and ruins it with a single word. I won’t let him control me or anything that I do.
I walk out of the bathroom and look at the neon red clock overhead. It reads 57:49. It’s been a few hours since I fell asleep, which is good considering we still had 4 clues to find.
“Did you find any clues while I was asleep?” I ask and he shakes his head. “What’s your obsession with that mask? it's kind of weird.”
I walk over to a desk I hadn't looked through yet and pull open all of the drawers.
“I don’t know.” His answer is enough for me to shut up. I can tell he doesn’t want to talk anymore.
