𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞 | ✔

ғ ɪ ᴠ ᴇ

DEVI BHATT

I feel sick, excited maybe. I crave attention to the point where the sugary feeling I get from it, starts rotting my stomach. And it turns into that acid you taste at the back of your mouth when you talk. It doesn't just burn my mouth; it burns my mind. Burns every positive memory in my mind I've been collecting so all I see is just the bad.

The bad, the worse, the ugly. There are no good parts in my mind sometimes.

There's a tsunami raging in my stomach and it's flooding the nerves in my brain. Anxiety borders are up. But they're working a little too well. Too much anxiety. Or is it adrenaline? I can't tell.

The past is rolling back to me and this time my feet are glued to the ground. There's no running. Only hiding. But that seems impossible with prying eyes. To be specific, storm grey eyes.

Taking a step back shakily, I ask, "what is it?"

I meet his eyes as they study me intensely. He really needs to comb his hair back sometime. The room is cleared out leaving just the two of us.

"When someone intimidates you, you don't let them see it," he says, annoyed. His stare on me burns right through me, I feel really naked.

"You don't intimidate me," I state with as much confidence I can fathom.

"Prove it." he steps closer so were face to face. Or face to chest really. "Prove you're not scared of me." I suck in a breath as his pupils dilate with each step, he takes towards me.

"What could possibly convince you that?" I whisper.

"When you see someone walk directly at you, what do you do?" he murmurs against my ear. "I'll tell you what you don't do, Devi," my name sounds like liquified sin on his tongue, begging to be tasted. "You don't walk backwards. You don't let them walk you to a corner."

My back hits the wall. And my confidence hits the earths core. I think it's pretty hot.

"When you work for me, fear is not an option or my world will devour you. You won't even last a day."

"Okay," I say steadily.

He wraps one hand around my neck, tilting my head upwards so my eyes meet his storm. The eye of the storm. Everything is spinning, I can't focus on anything but his hand. His eyes. His body just inches away from touching mine. He inspects every part of my face, his gaze lingering on my lips a little longer. If he wants me to back down, he will be disappointed. Endurance is something my heart has been reinforced with.

I hope he doesn't notice my hairs, I still have some laser appointments left.

Releasing a breath, I place my hand on his chest. His heartbeat almost aligns with mine. It's going thump thump thump. As if my touch does something to him. As if his walls have just crumbled in my hand.

I push him, with as much ungentleness I can muster.

"Don't you dare try to patronize me again," I say right to him with a steady voice. I've always wanted to use that word.

Guilt flickers in his eyes for a mere second before returning to his normal overcast expression. I storm out the door not waiting for his reply.

On the drive back home, it rains heavily clouding my senses with nostalgia.

I call Thomas and he answers on the first ring. I tell him it all. It was all his fault, so he's the only one who knows. So he's the only one I can go for advice.

"It's a bad idea," he replies immediately. "I've never even heard of him, or his name."

"I have," I say slowly, as my hand tightens on the steering wheel.