Wicked boy

chapter 28

The only source of light came from the moon, which passed through the large window of the room. Before it became brutal, there was a moment of silence.

 A moment were I could only see the shape of his body, sitting in the armchair with a glass in his right hand. I couldn't see his face precisely, but I could see he was surveying options. I could tell he was looking at his glass which he was carefully rotating with his fingers.

For a minute, the only sound one could hear were the owl's hoot, buried in the dark forest. 

My heavy breathing, that I wasn't even trying to hide. I was still cold from earlier in the corridors, but as soon as I entered my dorm a wave of warm hit me. Mattheo's perfume also hit me, in a way were I immediately recognize him.

He wore it the night he assaulted me.

It was funny though, because a few days later I was thinking about him, his fingers deep inside me. I wonder what's wrong with me.

After a moment, I tried to breathe, but I couldn't keep my head from spinning. I was afraid of what was going to happen next. I wasn't afraid of him, but afraid of what I might said. I might regret, because when drunk, I have no filter. 

So I didn't speak, yet. Instead I took a look at the room. The sheets were thrown away, the pillow case was shred apart. My nightstand were far from my bed, the books that were in it, scattered  on my bed. 

I wonder if the pages are torn apart. 

The closet was wide open, my panties compartment out of it, and panties on the floor. Again, there was books on the floor I didn't know I had. 

And, as my eyes followed the mess he had caused like little bombs on the floor, they landed on Mattheo's left hand.

He had a knife. My knife. 

Why would he had my knife ?

I use to keep it under my pillow, in case something happen and I don't happen to have my wand around. It's faster if I want to hurt someone.

My mouth opened, then quickly closed when he spoke,

"I'm going to tell you a story, Y/N. There was once a war during which exchange of informations were precious. They allowed the good people to live and the bad one, to pay for what they'd done. Of course they were traitors among them that..."

His voice was husky, his hair all messy. I didn't quit hear the beginning of the story, maybe it was important but I couldn't concentrate. My head was spinning so fast,  I was trying not to threw up all over my panties and books.

My shoes were still in my hand, over my chest. My other hand were near the locket, just in case. I mean, if he was to jump on me, I would just have to open the door right. 

Once I made a review of the room, my eyes landed on him again. Only, he had stood up. His glass was still in his hand but empty. He snorted, looking down on his glass that he threw on the opposite wall within seconds. Anger flashed on his face for a second before it disappeared. 

The sound of the glass shattering again made me startled, pushing me further against the door. I let out a sound from my mouth, that quickly went muffle by my hand. My head kept spinning, my thought were mixed in my head.

After a moment, he got closer to me. He was slowly moving toward me, with control steps. It was as if he was trying to delay what was about to happen next. Only, in a few steps he was already in front of me, towering me like he always did. My chest moved up and down as he closed the last proximity that remained between us.