𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐋 |𝟏𝟖+|

𝐓 𝐖 𝐎

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

　✼ N E V A E H ✼　 

𝐓he voice is a deep authoritative and somewhat raspy voice on the other side of the door commands. When I pay close attention to it I hear an accent that definitely doesn't scream Miami to me. It's a heavily laced Italian accent, one that gives me both goosebumps and the feeling of shivers running up my spine, one out of the two is fear, the other I'm not quite sure.

You're just horny bitch. Shut up.

I mean he's Italian, how can I not be?

I turn around slowly with my hands in the air with the ring of the key still dangling on my thumb. This is racially motivated, isn't it?  "Excuse me?" The tone of my voice is just a bit sassy as I make my voice out to be more dramatic than necessary.

The man brings the gun closer to my head. Ooh, kinky, I like it.

I'm not scared, I can't be. With the amount of times I've been in a situation like this, it should be forbidden for me to even be scared. I squint my eyes shut and whisper a silent prayer. Please don't let me die right now, God. 

Amen.

"You heard me, I said open the fucking door!" I laugh at the urgency in his voice which clearly annoys him because he takes the gun off of safety. Now that I pay close attention, I realize he's breathing heavy which means he must have ran here from wherever he came from. I can make out beads of sweat tripling from his face despite the fact that it's pitch back outside. 

And why the fuck is this dude yelling? Like, I'm right in front of you. I can hear you loud and clear, dude, and I really don't want to.

He pushes the gun closer to my head as if it isn't already close enough. "Would you stop doing that? I have a gun kink and you really aren't helping." I admit, irritating Mystery Man even more.

Oh, he's in a silly pissy mood, I get it.

Being the little nosey and impatient person I am, I tried to pick up as many details of Mystery Man as I could in spite of my scarce resource of light. I have a feeling that if I went into my bag just to get a flashlight out to shine it in his face he'll probably shoot me. Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn't but it's better to be safe than sorry. 

I realized his eyes weren't dark, but they weren't bright either. They were glowing, the moon reflecting through it. His hair isn't a light color because it was hard to notice in the dark which means that it must've been a dark brown, almost black.

Mr. Mans is mad tall by the way, his figure towered over me which should give me all the more reason to just kick him in the balls and run for my life, but I notice that he's carrying someone in his arms so I'd be putting both that person and myself in danger.

I knew that he wouldn't shoot me for more reasons than one. One, he definitely isn't a lefty. That's because he's using his dominant hand, which is the strongest, to carry the heavier object which is the person and not the gun. 

Two, if he shot me, he wouldn't have any help which I'm assuming was the only reason he decided to trespass into my hospital. From what I gathered, he needed help. Or else he wouldn't be standing in the front of the hospital with a gun pointed at my head.

I met his gaze, it felt as if his eyes were burrowing some deep hole into me, like he was looking into my soul. Searching for something that should be there, but gave up.