The Fallen Angel

Chapter 38: Start a War

Chapter 38: Start a War

Angelo ran an eye over me. "Are you scared, Isabelle?"

His voice came out scratchy; like nails on a chalkboard.

It gave the impression of being deliberate and I hated the truth of the matter...that even within this moment he had the upper hand between us two.

Did he really think that would be the case till the very end of my existence? I began to brood over that possibility.

The very thought of it set me on fire once more.

Like a warrior ready to start a war.

It didn't matter that I wasn't prepared for the brawl. I was far too gone. I had become a deranged person—the one I had turned into since he entered this heavenly chamber. Thus, my eyes snapped open and I faced him head on.

The overwhelming appearance of him startled me initially—as it would anyone. This certainly was not something you would see everyday as a normal person.

But then again, nothing about our encounters have been "normal".

The weight of his soulless stare remained but I was more angry than intimidated. There was a fight going on inside of me; the practical part being petrified by this strange 'thing' he had become. But the other part found it convenient that the fury I felt slowly overshadowed that. It had escalated to the point where nothing scared me anymore. After all, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

For some reason, me fearlessly meeting his gaze had the corner of his lips lifting up and for a split second, I saw a glimpse of the real Angelo from within. A flicker of excitement—perhaps a little disbelief—that I had the guts to do so. That cockiness triggered me like a pin pulled from a bomb.

"Is there something funny?" I snapped irritatingly.

His hand that had lifted towards me, inciting my terror before somehow had traveled to the side of my head, resting there on the wall. I had closed my eyes so I never actually saw its journey. It brought me temporary relief and partial guilt that a tiny part of me thought that he would actually harm me.

"No," he mused; still looking like a war monster.

A mixture of a beautiful and deadly one.

He licked his lips before casting a spiteful look my way. I fixed my eyes on it, wondering where it was coming from. "It's just that I find it ironic that even in this moment, angry and filled with contempt, you manage to come across as endearing to me. You have no idea how beautifully tragic that is. Especially when the only sentiment you carry for me is now hatred."

I was left speechless.

His words were laced with deep affliction.

Why did it feel like I was talking to a mere reflection of the man I once knew?

It was jarring. Hearing those words from him in this state.

They didn't sound flattering or sweet. If anything they sounded like a hidden threat.

"You have no idea..." he whispered once again before reaching for something in his trousers that were now tattered shorts after his transformation. His shirt had been completely eradicated as well. I tried not to focus on his abdominal muscles and the way they flexed when he did so. They looked bigger and more toned than before. "But you will soon." He finished, gaining my attention as the heavy tone struck a chord inside of me.

I watched as he took out two pills of opposing colors from his pocket.

One was white and the other was black.