Bare Her Soul (James Patrick March x reader )

Eighteen

His soothing ministrations stilled instantly, and James was silent, for perhaps the first time. Your heart plummeted into your stomach.

"But it would seem that you are safe with me." he spoke finally, with a note of resentment.

You somehow found the strength to move off his lap, he made no move to stop you and you stood up shakily before him. The tears streamed down your cheeks now as you glared down at the man, the monster.

"You're really dead" you breathed.

"Yes."

He looked up at you with a calm expression, his eyes as cold and as black as night.

He'd tricked you, from the moment he'd met you at the bar, handsome smile and timeless charm. You shouldn't be able to feel him, even see him. His soul should have been dragged to hell almost a century ago.

The events of the past weeks all made horrifying sense, but it was too late to be horrified now.

"Are you going to kill me then?" you asked, raising your eyebrows.

"No." He answered "not until you want me to." 

You nodded once, and let out a small, grim laugh.

"Well..." you sighed defeatedly, broken " I guess I really know how to pick em."

You turned away from James, wiping your tears with your wrists. You padded across the room to retrieve your suitcase from the cupboard.

"What are you doing Y/N?" he asked quietly and you shrugged, your back still to him.

"Leaving. kill me now if you want. I know that you probably will, so what's the point in rushing eh? You'll only catch me, or John, Sally, one of your other minions will..."

You felt empty, disturbingly calm, accepting of your fate.

You should have known of course, but that was easy to say in hindsight.

You were surprised when you reached the threshold without his cruel hands on you. Even more surprised when you entered out into the hallway and had made it all the way into the elevator without him so much as rising from the bed.

When the doors opened onto the ground floor, your legs picked up the pace a bit, recognising that perhaps you did have a shot at salvation. You trembled at the prospect of that, that slither of hope that appeared now as you paced through the foyer. Iris stood in her usual place behind the reception desk, her pale eyes following you.

"Y/N" she called to you, and in that split second your eyes met hers, you knew that she knew. Sympathy flashed in her face, then a light smile that told you 'go on'.

And you did. You walked out of that hotel with terror and heartbreak on your heels and James March never stopped you.