City full of Empty People

8

𝙹𝙰𝚂𝚈𝚁𝙰 𝙱𝙰𝙽𝙺𝚂

I could feel his hand resting on and pressing in my lower back as the other came up to my face.

I flinched, remembering the last time his hand was close to my face like this. The second he seemed to realize his smirk faded away. His hand rested on my cheek, making its way to my lips.

This was wrong. What was he doing? More importantly, why was he doing this?

"Stop. Why are you doing this?" I tried to escape his touch, but he wouldn't let me.

"Let me go, Rhett!" My voice was a loud whisper. I wanted him to hear my anger, but I didn't want others to hear us, or catch us.

He let go of me.

I was happy he did and tried to ignore the empty feeling of having lost his touch.

Had he lost his mind? He couldn't just fucking touch me after he almost tried to kill me!

I hated him...
but I hated myself more for letting him have an effect on me.

I looked him up and down, taking in all of his looks. He was wearing black baggy jeans and a t-shirt. It was so simple, but he still managed to look this fucking good.

If he came one step closer, I'd kill him. Or hurt him. Whatever damage I could manage to do.

It's the first time I've noticed the stitches on his cheek. Scratch that, I've noticed them earlier, but I haven't really questioned them before.

His empty expression from earlier had vanished and he was back to devilishly grinning and looking like a dick.

"Why are you always so fucking tense, Jazzy? Who hurt you?" He didn't 'whisper' back. He obviously didn't care who heard us or if anyone did.

"You did. Remember? You tried to kill me?"

Why the fuck did he call me Jazzy. No one's called me Jazzy in a long time. Everyone just called me Jaz. Or Jasyra. Never Jazzy. I always corrected people for calling me that. But with him I somehow didn't feel the urge to.

I kinda liked him calling me that.
But I knew he only wanted to tease me and play with me, then eventually hurt me and break me. They all did. That's why I wouldn't let him in.

"You know I only wanted to teach you a lesson. A friendly one. You should thank me, now you'll be better prepared next time." His eyes wandered to my neck where his hand had been wrapped around.

A friendly one? Thank him? He's lost his mind.

He must have noticed the bruises on my neck and took a step closer. I tried to pull away, but it was no use. He was stronger and his hand was now on my waist again as the other gently brushed against my bruised neck.

He lowered his head and I could feel his breathy whisper on my neck as I slightly shifted my head back.

"I'm sorry."

-

𝚁𝙾𝚆𝙰𝙽 𝙺𝙰𝚂𝙿𝚁𝙰𝙺

I wasn't. But that's what she needed to hear right now.

We stayed like this for a second or two. My hand on her waist and my face burried in her neck, taking in her compelling smell. Damn, she smelled good. I guess that didn't matter as she was rotten inside.