chapter 7
1069 Words
Alex POV
I just couldn't believe what was really going on with my mind.
The words were my own imagination. There isn't anyone here with me. Just my mind playing games with me.
I have never for a day wanted him, but now he is hurt, I can't do anything but cry all day.
His words and the words of the strange men pulled strings within me.
“DON'T TRUST ANYONE!”
I paced the room back and forth, my eyes scanning everywhere.
Different thoughts walked into my head. I couldn't just stay here while he's dying there all alone.
I needed to do something—and really quick.
My pulse raced faster than ever.
I ran fast to the door, banging it hard and loud, then releasing a loud screech.
“Come open this damn door!”
My voice covered the whole room. It was loud and sharp.
“Please.” I fell to the ground, my whole body aching.
Things are happening faster than expected. A few days ago, I was happy that I would finally be 21—and now, sold to Mr. Damian Blackwood.
Kept captive in his walls and given no space to breathe.
“Stay back!” A voice came from the other side.
I adjusted back a bit.
His guard stepped in, his face laced with something I couldn't piece together at first glance.
“How's he doing?” I questioned as soon as he walked in.
“He demands to see you.”
I craved to exist in this place and also wanted to see him.
“Where is he?”
I walked out of the room, leaving him standing there all alone.
“At the hospital!” Okay.
My gaze shifted to the door handle.
I want to leave this place and have a little peace for myself.
I pushed the door immediately, locking him in the room.
It all happened like the speed of light; I locked him in there, the key holding him firm.
He was stupid to keep me out and stay in.
“Open this door!” He banged hard on the door.
I ignored him, trying to cook up something to escape this place.
His voice grew louder and stronger, sending threats to me, which I just ignored.
For a few minutes, I heard his voice from the other end, feeling like a call or something. “Come back now!” he groaned from the other end.
“Calm down, buddy. I can help you if you help me.” My voice came in quiet, trying not to get locked up once again.
“I'm not working in your favor here or in the favor of any other person, not even my boss. I do what I am sent here to do—and you should be dying in the next few minutes.”
Chills went down my spine.
He has always acted like a holy saint; he's the nearest to Damian.
Things are happening way faster than even expected.
“Okay then, you'd stay in there and die!” My lips felt shaky. Words were hard to say, but I had to say something at least, even if it gets me into trouble.
I couldn't wait another second before running up to my room.
I closed the door, my mind racing.
“What can I do?” I paced the room, my hands scattering my well-arranged hair.
My mind felt closed.
No ideas—just nothing.
The knock on my door brought me back to reality.
“Who's there?” I murmured, picking up a glass vase and taking baby steps.
The bang on the door grew intense, almost jolting fear into my body.
“Come out unless I break this door!” The words were meaner than expected.
I stepped back, thinking about what I would do now.
Before I could think, the door burst open. A man in a black suit, well-braided hair, and black sunglasses walked in.
He pointed his gun toward my forehead.
“What do you want from me?” My character showed a fear-free human, even though I wanted to run as fast as I could. But I knew better than doing so.
“You're his wife.”
His wife—he called me. That almost made me laugh hard, but I stood firm.
“Yes, and what's bad about being Damian Blackwood's wife?” He stepped closer, each step reminding me I might lose my life to someone I don't love.
I couldn't accept the fact I said I'm his wife.
“You'd die like him, with no one to assist you.”
This time, I took a breath in and out and walked closer to him, my vase still strong in my arm.
“Is that a threat or a fact?”
“You can call it anything when you die.”
He pulled his trigger. My soul almost left my body when I heard the sound of it.
I looked at my arm and went even closer to him.
Our two breaths almost met.
“What are you doing?” he questioned.
I gave him an evil smile and hit his head with the glass vase.
He immediately fell to the ground, a piece of the broken glass stuck in his head.
I couldn't just believe it. I couldn't believe I did that.
I didn't stand there to help him.
I picked up his gun, taking a breath in and out.
I slowly walked downstairs, taking each step after the other.
After each step, I made sure I looked back to know who was coming for me.
Today, there were no maids around, neither the guards that usually stood everywhere.
I walked into the opulent sitting room. Glancing around, my eyes met with a car key.
I quickly picked that up and ran outside.
Running toward the car lot, I got more confused than ever.
“Which car!” I yelled out in frustration.
I pressed a button on the car key, and a car beeped.
Growing up as a young girl, my father had always taught me how to drive. I was a good driver when my dad was alive—but now, it’s been more than half a decade since I got into one.
I opened the door, hopping in.
The car engine buzzed.
“Help.”
I heard the voice from behind.
- Writer
