Stay With Me Afomia

Chapter 7

Afomia's pulse quickened as Zein's arms tightened around her, lifting her effortlessly from the floor. For a brief moment, her mind was clouded by the alcohol, but something inside her snapped. It wasn't the physical weight of his hold that sent her over the edge, but the feeling that he was trying to control everything once again. She wasn't some fragile doll to be carried around, to be bent to his will at every turn. No.

She slapped his chest with both hands, the force behind it surprising even herself. "Stop," she commanded, her voice sharp and filled with fury. She wasn't sure why she was so angry, but the emotions rushed through her in a tidal wave.

Zein's usual calm demeanor faltered. His blue eyes widened slightly as he processed her sudden resistance. He froze in place, his hands still hovering around her waist, but the unspoken tension between them became palpable. A flash of confusion crossed his face, but it was gone almost instantly, replaced by a quiet uncertainty.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" His voice was low, controlled, but there was something different in the way he said it—a subtle c***k in his usual confidence. The concern was there, but it didn't make her feel better. It only heightened the sense of frustration burning inside her.

Afomia didn't know what had gotten into her. Maybe it was the alcohol clouding her judgment, or maybe it was the constant battle to assert control in her life that made her feel suffocated by his presence. But whatever it was, she couldn't stop herself now.

"Don't touch me," she hissed, stepping back and pushing against him with every ounce of defiance she had left. Her hands pressed hard into his chest, and she could feel the heat of his body through the fabric of his clothes. She could feel his muscles tense beneath her touch, but he didn't push her away. He just stood there, his dark blue gaze locked on hers, his body still as stone.

His lips parted as if to say something, but Afomia wasn't having it. Her voice came out sharp and bitter, almost like a slap. "You always do this, don't you? You think you know what's best for me, but you don't. I'm not some... thing to be managed. I'm not your toy, Zein."

Her words hung in the air like a challenge, raw and unfiltered. She wanted to break free from whatever hold he had on her, even if it was just for a moment. She wanted to feel like she was in control again.

Zein's blue eyes darkened, his jaw tightening as if he were holding back something—perhaps his own frustration, or maybe something else. His usual composure was cracking, and for the first time, Afomia saw something more than just the calculating, omnipotent figure he often presented. There was a vulnerability there, but it was hidden beneath layers of pride and control.

"I never wanted to control you," he said softly, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of emotion. "I just... I just want to protect you." His eyes softened, but only for a fleeting moment. "But if you need space, I'll give it to you. You're free to make your own choices. I'm not here to stop you."

Afomia's heart skipped a beat at the unexpected vulnerability in his voice. For a moment, she thought she saw something—an understanding in him, something she hadn't expected. It should have comforted her, but instead, it only made her feel even more lost. She wasn't sure what she wanted anymore. She wasn't sure if she could trust him or herself.

Her chest tightened as she looked down, suddenly feeling too exposed. She crossed her arms over her body, as though shielding herself from the wave of emotions crashing through her. She had never been good at vulnerability, and yet it seemed to be creeping up on her, seeping into the cracks of her carefully constructed walls.

"Why?" she asked quietly, her voice trembling for a brief second. She wasn't sure what she was asking. She didn't know if she was asking about him or herself. The questions, the confusion, were overwhelming.

Zein didn't answer immediately. Instead, he watched her carefully, his gaze never wavering. His blue eyes seemed to pierce through her, searching for something she couldn't quite name. There was something in them—something she wasn't prepared to face. His posture remained still, but his eyes told a different story.

He took a deep breath before finally speaking, his voice soft yet filled with determination. "Afomia," he began, stepping closer to her. "I will never force you into anything. But don't push me away too far. You don't know what you're doing, and I don't want to see you lost in this world without me by your side."

The words hit her harder than she expected. She wasn't sure whether to run or stay, to fight or surrender. She had never felt so vulnerable, so unsure of herself.

She opened her mouth to respond, but the words were stuck, trapped by the weight of everything between them. Instead, she stepped back, trying to regain some distance, some semblance of control. But even as she did, she couldn't shake the feeling that Zein was right. She had never been good at letting people in, but now, with him, she wasn't sure if that was even an option.

Zein's voice softened once more, the cool calmness returning. "I'll give you time, Afomia. But don't close me out completely. When you're ready... I'll be here."

He turned and walked toward the door, his blue eyes lingering on her for one last moment before he left. Afomia remained in the center of the room, her chest rising and falling with each shaky breath. The silence around her was suffocating. She had wanted distance, space from him, but now that it was here, it felt like a void.

Her mind raced, trying to make sense of everything. Was this what she wanted? To push him away, to reject everything he offered? Or was it just fear—fear of letting someone in, someone who saw her as more than a weapon or a means to an end? The questions circled in her mind, leaving her more confused than before.

And as the door clicked shut behind him, Afomia was left standing in the quiet, her heart heavy with the weight of her own choices.

Afomia slowly stirred awake, the soft rustling of the sheets enveloping her as her eyes fluttered open. The first thing she noticed was the unfamiliar warmth of the bed, the luxurious silk sheets beneath her. It wasn't her room. The last memory she had was of standing in Zein's doorway, the tension heavy in the air. But now, she found herself in a room more opulent than any she had ever been in, with rich dark furniture and golden accents that screamed wealth and power. Zein's room.

As she lay there for a moment, her head heavy with the remnants of the night before, she felt the absence of Zein. He wasn't here, and the emptiness of his absence gnawed at her stomach. Was he mad? Did she push him too far? But before she could ponder any longer, a soft knock interrupted her thoughts.

A servant entered, her demeanor polite but cautious. "Good morning, my lady," the servant said, her voice soft. "I was asked to inform you that Master Zein was called by your father in the Hell's Realm. He will be gone for some time. Would you like me to prepare your breakfast?"

Afomia's heart skipped at the mention of her father, but she masked her reaction with a quick nod. The Hell's Realm? She hadn't been there in years, not since her life had ended. But the mention of her father stirred something cold in her chest, a dark and powerful anger that had been buried for so long.

"Breakfast, please," she muttered, the words coming out more like a command than a request.

The servant left to prepare the meal, and Afomia sat up in the bed, her thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and anger. She had no idea what her father wanted with Zein, or why Zein was involved in her past. But for now, it didn't matter. Zein wasn't here, and she was left with her thoughts—her plans—things she had been forced to suppress for too long.

After a few moments of silence, Afomia stood, her feet touching the cold marble floor as she walked over to the vanity. The reflection in the mirror was not the same person she once knew. She had changed so much since her death, but there was something about the woman she saw now that was both fierce and broken. She wasn't the innocent, vulnerable girl who had once crumbled under the weight of the world. She had grown stronger, sharper. The anger that had been buried deep within her was bubbling to the surface, and it would only take a spark to ignite it.

When the servant returned with the tray of food, Afomia didn't hesitate to eat, though her mind was far from the meal. Her thoughts wandered back to the horrific day of her death—the betrayal, the pain.

She could see it all so vividly. The moment they struck her down, the moment her body fell limp. Sierra's cold eyes, her brothers' laughter, and the way they abandoned her in the darkness. The world seemed to slow as she replayed it in her mind.

"Who killed me?" The question haunted her still.

Her fists clenched around the utensils, the silver gleaming in the morning light. The memories, the anger, it was all too much. She could feel the power building inside of her, dark and furious, like a storm gathering in the distance.

Afomia stood suddenly, her chair scraping against the floor. Her body was shaking, not from fear but from the growing intensity of the energy swirling around her. The air seemed to crackle with dark intent, a force she hadn't tapped into in a long time. It was a power she had learned to control in her previous life, a power that had been hidden and sealed away—until now.

She closed her eyes, breathing deeply, allowing the anger to settle into a burning rage deep in her chest. The dark energy that surrounded her was unmistakable—she could feel it tightening around her, feeding off her emotions. She wanted to kill them. All of them. Sierra, her brothers, anyone who had been complicit in her murder. They would all pay for what they had done.

Afomia's eyes snapped open, glowing with an eerie intensity as she reached out with her mind, feeling the energy coiling around her, ready to strike. She wasn't going to let them get away with it. They would pay. They would suffer, just like she had.

She walked toward the window, her footsteps silent but filled with purpose. She could feel the pull of the power within her, the darkness whispering in her mind. "Take them out." The words echoed, louder than any voice she had ever heard.

Afomia's heart was racing, her thoughts becoming clearer. She was no longer the girl who had been killed and left behind. She was a force to be reckoned with. She would take control of her fate, just as she had always planned. Zein wouldn't stop her. Her father wouldn't stop her. No one would.

The time for patience was over. The time for revenge had come.

But just as she was about to unleash the full extent of her powers, she felt something—a presence. It was faint, but it was there. Zein's energy. He wasn't far. The realization made her pause. She wanted to carry out her vengeance, but part of her still had a strange connection to him. Would he stop her from doing what needed to be done?

Afomia's grip on the window ledge tightened. She had to do this on her own. She didn't need Zein, and she didn't need anyone else. She would destroy those who had wronged her.

The question lingered in her mind: "When are we going to go to her brothers who murdered me?"

But for now, she would take matters into her own hands. With a deep breath, she let go of her hesitation. Her dark power surged, and she knew that she would stop at nothing to make them all pay.