THOSE EYES

CHAPTER 24 - Please, don't give up!

My head hurts, I can't bring myself to open my eyes, I still feel dizzy, and most of all, I want to do is vomit. I don't know where I am, I don't know where that creature called Victor is, and I don't know how long I'm going to be alive.

"You finally woke up," a male voice said.

I gulped some saliva in my mouth down my dry and itchy throat before I spoke: "Where am I?" I heard a couple of footsteps walking around me before he finally said: "We are still in your apartment, waiting for your groom."

"I already told you that he wouldn't come, no matter what you do to me," I said as I tried to open my eyes. torturous

"Even if I do this," my kidnaper said before I felt a sharp and torturous pain coming from my right arm. The pain kept growing as he kept sliding something that felt like the sharpest knife in the world along my forearm. When he stopped, I felt the warm liquid slowly traveling down my trembling body. I screamed in pain as he forcefully glided his finger across the fresh-cut in my arm and murmured something that sounded like L-O-V-E by Nat King Cole.

"Maybe he will come if I cut you in some other places," he said as he did the same thing to my left arm. The pain intensified so much that my body started trembling like a leaf on mighty running water. My head started to feel dizzy, and the whole upside down room was spinning. I screamed and shouted in pain, begging for help and mercy, but nobody came, and the pain didn't stop.

"Please stop!" I shouted as tears kept flowing down my forehead.

"I'll stop when he comes!" my kidnapper shouted at me, cutting my flesh deeper. Tears wouldn't stop running as I screamed at him: "He won't come even if you kill me!"

I heard a loud bang before a familiar voice spoke gently: "Are you okay?"

I slowly opened my eyes with all the force I had to see him.

"Hey, kitty cat, are you alright? Sorry that I'm late," Tom said as he caressed my cheek.

I closed my eyes tightly. I don't want to see Tom's worried fiery eyes and his dropped down lips. Now that he's in front of me, the wound on my heart opened again. I don't want him to save me, I don't want to see him, and I don't want to let him think that I need him in any way, shape, or form.

"Don't be scared. I'm here now," Tom said as he let me loose from the ceiling. As I finally stood on the welcoming wooden floor, I pushed his hands away and shouted: "Go away!"

When I was about to fall on the floor, rather than letting him help me, he caught me. As he looked into my eyes, my heart skipped a beat.

"Please don't push me away," he said before I broke our eye contact and spoke back: "You didn't even have to come in the first place!"

As I lowered my sight, I saw the body of my capturer lying lifelessly on the floor.

"You killed him!" I shouted as I tried to push him away through the stinging pain. Tom slowly pulled me into a hug by my waist before he spoke: "Calm down, I didn't kill him. I just knocked him off." Then he took a deep breath and said: "I thought that I lost you. I'm so sorry."

I didn't hug him back. I kept pushing him away as the blood kept gushing out of the cuts on my forearms down our clothes on the floor.

I'd rather die from blood loss than admit that I need his help.

I don't know how it came to this, but right now, I feel angry. I would rather see that Tom didn't even come. First of all, he rejected me and then he came here to save me. The thing that pisses me off the most is his behaviour. Tom acts as if nothing happened, as if he didn't feel anything toward me.

As if I'm just another woman that passed by.

I'm conflicted, he makes me conflicted, and I can't put together the puzzle that tells me how to act right now.

All I know is that I don't even want to see his face right now, not if he doesn't want to talk about his past and the thing that he keeps hiding from me. Even if I know what he's hiding, I want to hear it from his lips, with his words.

"Let me go!" I said as I was still trying to push him away.

"Ella!" a voice shouted from the front door of my apartment. Peter came running from around the corner as he screamed my name again. I was still trying to push Tom away as I looked at Peter.

"Let me go!" I shouted at Tom. Peter grabbed Tom and threw him away.

"What the fuck are doing!? Heal her already brick head! Or do you want to kill her as you did with Clara!?" Peter shouted before squatting down and picking me up.

"Tell me how you feel?" Peter said as he quickly stepped toward the front door.

"Dizzy ..." I said before closing my eyes. He shook me a little and spoke: "Please stay conscious. I'm going to heal you as soon as we get to the hospital."

The sound of the bang of the car door made me open my eyes. Peter was shouting something at the driver as I looked up at his worried expression. He looked down, and I followed his watery eyes to my bloody hands. Blood was gushing out of the two massive cuts along my forearms. He took off his expensive Giorgio Armani suit and wrapped it around the cuts. As he looked into my eyes, I could see the glistening determination to save me.

"Hey, hey, don't give up now! When we get to the hospital, you'll get a transfusion, and then I'll heal the cuts. Okay? Hey, do you hear me?! Come on, Ella, don't do this to me!" he said as he kept shaking me to keep me conscious.

I parted my dried lips and spoke: "O-okay ..."

As he was planning a million planes: how to keep me alive, I just laid between his arms, powerless and desperate to be saved again.

"Hi! Yes, we have an emergency! My fiance cut her arms, and there is a lot of blood, and she needs a blood transfusion. We are on our way right now! No, she needs it! If she doesn't get that transfusion, she is going to die! Her blood type is AB+. Fucking get the blood for her! I won't calm down! Okay! Okay! Yes, I fucking get it!"

He kept shouting at the phone while squeezing my hand to keep the blood from floating. When he cut the line, he looked down at me and spoke gently: "Everything is going to be alright. We only have to get there, and you will get the transfusion and then and then ..."

As hard as I tried, I couldn't speak. But even if my throat was as dry as the desert on the hottest day of the year, I said faintly: "O-okay ..."

Peter's expression softened, and he pulled me into a tight hug as he whispered: "Please, Clara, don't give up ... Not again ..."

He called me Clara. Am I just another portrait of that girl and nothing more. I closed my eyes to stop the dizziness and spinning that was happening inside my head. The car suddenly stopped, and the driver shouted: "Sir, we are here!"

Peter jumped out of the car and ran into the building with me in his arms. A hoard of doctors and sisters surrounded us, demanding explanations. All the words got mixed as I looked up at Peter's angry face. He looked down at me, and his expression softened.

Maybe this is the time that I will die. Maybe, it really is.

The doctor will say that I committed suicide, the psychologist will say that the cause was the fast and modern life that I couldn't stand. But only I will know the truth, that I died because I loved someone that didn't want to accept it.