BOUND TO HIM BY FORCE

33. LITERATURE TORTURE

I walked in as if I knew where I was, as if I knew where I was going. I walked as if I owned the damn jet, but maybe I did. My eyes were quick to search until they found their target. Where he was, was where I was supposed to be. My feet moved, it seeming as if there was no one else in the jet, just two souls, all ruined, all detained, but one more darkener than the other.

I reached the seat, my body turning with me lowering myself down to the seat as if I had been there many times before, as if I had a clue what I was doing.

The seat was the most comfortable I had sat in, in months and I hated it. It wanted to coax me, blind and fool me when all I knew was suffering. I did not want to fall for a trap and enjoy delights that would bring me nothing. I was used to cold and hard surfaces, at least they reminded me of the hell I was in.

I did not want to be fooled that I was in heaven when I wasn’t. I preferred everything to be exactly as it was.

My upper body was straight, ready for anything. My eyes had already surveyed the jet, all doors, all windows and listening to the door close, sealing my departure.

My eyes moved from the black shiny shoes with mud under them. It did not fit him to wear shoes with mud but I understood. The suit pants were ironed to perfection up to his white crisp shirt but I did not want him to see me ogling at him so I acted uninterested, staring at the files on the table before us.

They held no much significance to me so I turned to stare out the window.

I wanted so badly to stare at that face, which was why I did the direct opposite. My heart was never to be listened to, it was poisoned by the hardships it went through, but my mind, my mind would never fail me. My right leg crossed over the other, deep in thought but not knowing what I was even thinking about.

I was taking it one second at a time, trying to adapt, but my mind worked slowly for it. Just like that, I would not see all the men; Samuel, Max. As much as I had thought I had not adapted, I had. I had failed in my mission because I already missed my cold cell. It was mine, I had turned it from the s**t it was to my own piece of space no one could take from me. It was where I dreamed of the moment I was in but the moment had seemed better in my head. I had not thought of the dread that would fall on me as I left the brutal Morgue I had turned to my home.

An ipad was suddenly placed on my side of the table. My eyes stretched to it, bending over to take it.

My nails had dried blood in them, suddenly seeing how dirty they actually were under the LED lights. My skin suddenly felt as if it was drowning under layers of dirt and I swallowed. It was not how I had imagined Azrail and I’s meeting again. I had imagined me staring into his eyes with such fire he would be proud, but I was not sure I wanted him to be proud. Him being proud would mean I would be dead in all sense. It would mean I was lost forever.

My finger swiped the screen with it opening and the home screen stared back at me. I did not know what he wanted me to see yet I had to figure it out fast.

I viewed the opened windows and saw two.

Tapping on the first one, it opened an app which greeted me with my name.

It notified me to put a layer of protection on it with me tapping that I would do that later.

My eye scanned through what was a schedule.

It was my day schedule.

To say I was shocked was the least.

At eight, I had a meeting in a building I did not even know. At ten I had another and at three. So many things were in between, just codes put there which I had no clue what they meant. My hand swiped to the next day and it was not any better. I had never felt so lost in my life. I left that window to the other, seeing that it was the files app. I left it too, moving to set up my finger print. I really did not like face recognition.

I went back to the files, opening to stare at so many documents staring back at me. Was I supposed to read all of those? My head was already throbbing, feeling as if I was at the worst school ever, a school where you had to figure out everything on your own. I preferred being tortured physically where it would be obvious that I was being tortured.

It seemed the files were all uploaded that very day and next to each document was a timer which was at eleven, counting down. I did not even want to know what happened when the timer hit zero. I opened the first document and it was three hundred pages long. I felt my brain ache, that ache making me dive really into it.

I read, my eyes moving about fast, trying for it to make as much sense as it could but it was a whole document about Crystal Vision, which was a company selling glass. Like, what the hell? How was it connected to Azrail and the organization?

You would never understand the pressure, the urgency that was consuming me. In my head, it had been drilled so many times that less than perfection was death. If you were not able to deliver, what was your use? And the fact that I was never that smart to begin with just frustrated me to no end. I had hated school with all my might, I had been an average student with no hope of getting better grades, besides copying.

No position was comfortable enough, shifting now and again.

I read on, but if you asked me what I had just read, I would tell you absolutely nothing.

My legs crossed to uncross until I said f**k it. I huffed, my eyes moving around the table and I cursed myself because at that point I had to stare up at the devil. It killed me, I don’t know why I was so scared of seeing him. His face was quite fuzzy in my head, not really wanting the image to clear.

I swallowed, my head tipping up. I took in that chest, the white shirt buttoned to the top, a tie was in place, just squeezing the life out of him. His neck was long enough and then that jaw.

Me staring him up as if we were in a movie was probably coming out in a way I did not want it to come out as.

I took in those lips, up, up, up until my eyes lay on his which were staring directly at me with no fail.

Any image I had of him was trashed right there and then because it was absolutely so out of point. I don’t know if it was because I had not seen him in nearly half a year, but he was good looking. He was really really good looking but that darkness was even deeper than I had made it up to be in my head. He was not smiling, he was irritated.

I did not even entertain all the emotions I was going through nor the intense stare he was giving me.

I cleared my throat, it dry and aching. It always was because I rarely talked.

“ Do you have a spare iPad or phone you are not using?” I questioned him with my eyes set. I would not cower before him no matter how scary and inhuman he looked.

“ iPad or phone?” His voice came, as if he was just an ordinary man when his voice said otherwise. Maybe I was just making it all up in my head, but surely the man was terrifying. It was hard staring into him and it was as if he was calling me up to the challenge, barely even blinking.

A few months back I would have been crying at that point. Even my hands quivered a little but I held on tighter onto the ipad in hand.

“ iPad please.” I said.

“ With the pen.” I added. He turned to the side, pulling out an iPad from a bag beside his chair. He stretched out his hand and I leaned forward, taking the pad then the pen.

“ Thank you.” I said after, unlocking the new ipad to open a clean word page. The only way I could help myself was by writing the facts then reading them when I was done, to get what the whole bloody document was about without all the other unneeded information.

My body slipped from the chair. I sat on the carpeted floor, both iPads on the desk which held his files because he was also working on something. My eyes went down and I tuned out to drown in literature torture.