Chapter 8
947 Words
LEILA
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Right as his lips reach reaches my knee again.
BAM BAM BAM.
A hard insistent knock echoes through the heavy door. He freezes as I do too, saying a prayer in my heart, he drops the knife which he used.
Not minding the knock, I guess no one dares do that except it’s important he continues his act.
The ice still melting on the garter pant as it was almost finished, but his countenance has changed this time, like someone had interrupted something he’s really enjoying.
Another knock.
Louder this time and more demanding as it rings of impatience.
His jaw tightens and I see a muscle twitch in his cheek. He lets out this slow controlled breath, like he’s trying to keep a lid on a volcano.
Without breaking eye contact, he reaches into his pocket with, smooth and practiced and drops a small cold metal key onto the velvet right next to my cuffed hands.
My finger twitch, desperate to grab it but the cuffs hold me as a prisoner, the chain rattling uselessly against the bed-frame.
He finally moves away from the bed, silent as a ghost making me think if he knows making that silent walking step. He gets to the door as he opens just a crack.
He sounds so disturbed although his voice is low but I can’t quite place any word or what they were actually saying or the person behind the door.
My heart still pounding against my ribs as I strain, twisting my cuffed hands, trying to reach that damn key, my fingertips just barely brushing the cold metal.
So close yet so frustratingly far. It is like a cruel joke.
He closes the the door, I can see the ache on his face like he was just told about a major blow, I want to know what it is but at this point I don’t care my life matters currently.
He seems quiet as before as he turns back, doesn’t glance at me and just flicks a switch on the wall, picks up a shirt on a stand while I sit here trying to free up myself almost naked.
The red light snapping off replaced by this glaring white light this time around I blink and shield my eyes with my cuffed hands.
He opens the door wider now and in that split second, I practically dive for the robe that I had left on the floor earlier now knowing how I made the fast move in uncuffing myself.
I clutch the silk to my chest, trying to cover as much skin as possible, my breath still coming in these ragged panicked gasps.
The bright light makes the room look even more sterile, highlighting all the disturbing equipment laid out on the table.
The guy from behind the door walks in, Damien’s face still etched the same way, his eyes not reaching where I am.
Gerald Stefani Alvaro.
Damien’s younger brother, definitely not the skinny, awkward kid I remember from those tense family dinner years ago. He is taller, broader, a man now, with this intense look in his eyes that seems to take in everything at once.
His gaze sweeps across the room, taking in the stark white light, the array of things that suddenly look even more disturbing and real under the harsh light.
His eyes lands on me, huddled on the bed, all cuffed and leg tied, that stupid white lace of the garter still a mocking reminder of my complete vulnerability, he was one of the best persons I knew aside Damien, always having a fake mustache from his father, taking it to school coming back with a story of how the girls wanted to be around him because of that.
He has more striking feature to his dad than Damien and if I think of it due to the fact I didn’t see their mom, I’m very sure Damien had taken his features from her, especially his nose which is well sculpted far different from that of Gerald.
Gerald’s eyes widens, scanning my body from my head to toe, I had thrown the clutches off and the leg leash but I’m sure he can tell what went on here or maybe it’s something he walks up to, seeing the way Damien had allowed him come in, not minding if I was still in the same posture.
The dampness of my pant disturbing.
His eyes lingers for a beat on the robe I am clutching to my chest, like he can’t quite believe what he is seeing.
A pressure builds in his gaze, a mixture of shock and something else I can’t quite place, like he has seen something he really shouldn’t have and maybe I’m wrong about my first assumption of him always walking into girls like this.
More like he walked into a scene from a really bad dream, but it shifts to something else, but the both have a thing for having an unreadable face that you can’t tell what they are thinking or their next step.
His eyes snaps back to his brother who is standing by the door, staring at me as I embarrass myself still trying to hold onto what’s left.
The first thing that comes out f Gerald’s mouth, his voice on the high side but it can barely be heard by anyone outside this room, surprised question that hangs in the suddenly very bright room as Damien rubs his chin, not caring about anything currently happening as he seem to be thinking is something different.
Something from what had made him open the door.
“Leila Jones?” Gerald points at me.
- Writer
