"ℑ𝔫 𝔬𝔯𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔰𝔬 𝔟𝔯𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔩𝔶, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔡𝔞𝔯𝔨𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔪𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔟𝔢 𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔢𝔫𝔱."
♛
The dark liquid traced down the soil leaving behind a line of crimson red as it reached the tip of a pair of sleek black shoes.
Through his hazy vision the weak body saw the glinting boots stepping over his dripping blood. Not an inch on his skin that wasn't bathed by blood. He shivered on the floor, unable to breathe or move.
The incomer squatted down to him, the smell of expensive musk mingling with the smell of blood. Those embroidered collars, those diamond cufflinks. Through blurry, fearful eyes he saw the face of the devil himself smiling down at him.
The devil had a face that would make any relieved of their pain, doey ocean eyes that promised the innocence of a warm day on the beach and dimples that gave him a childlike flair. But no, he had seen the devil behind that mask.
He yearned for death. His body for any sort of relief. The fear crawling over his veins dug its sharp claws into his being, making his breath go ragged.
A strand of the incomer's inky black hair fell over his dark eyes with a slight tilt of the head as he surveyed the broken man. As if searching for a missing piece in a grand art.
"Q-q..." The beaten man struggled to rasp out in pain. The incomer placed a finger to his lips, gently hushing him. Tears filled in his one good eye, the other had been burned shut.
The blue eyes lowered to his. A slow smile carving onto those regal features.
"Good evening, dearest," He whispered, breathy voice low and amused. It was the sort that raised the hair on one's neck and made their toes curl.
The man however did not give up, with pain wracking in every bone of his body he forwarded his bloodied, trembling arm to beg, dropping it midway unable to garner any strength. "P...pl..ease."
But even as he said so he knew it was of no use. Yet the unfortunate still tried, in desperation, "P...please..."
The man smiled warmly at his pleas. He reassuringly ruffled his greasy bloodclotted hair-courtesy of a week of torture-before dusting his hand in disgust.
"H...h..ave...mm...me..mer..cy." Came a tearful plea yet again. This time to save himself.
He got up, turning his back to him but the thuds of those wet shoeprints resonated sinisterly as he walked to the large tables of glinting metals. All little trinkets of torture.
No...No! He can't take it anymore. His body can't take it anymore!
"N...n..no..." The man forced out through the taste of his own blood, "K...kill m-me... just kill me.. p..ple...please...no more..."
"Patience, dearest." He could hear the devil whisper with a smile as he undid his cufflinks and slowly folded his sleeves.
"Good things to those that wait."
And his disordered shrieks of plea teared through the surrounding as the younger came up twirling a hammer in hand.
♛
The wind tenderly flew in her hair that was covered by a shawl, swiftly lingering in the jasmine scent and teasing it upon her rosy cheeks. She fixed it tighter around her shoulders. Her hazel eyes were alluring under the sunlight falling from the large victorian windows of the university corridors. The large glasses however hindered their beauty.
YOU ARE READING
QAIS
Romantik"She was his mirage, a dream he could only chase. He was her living hell, a nightmare she could not escape." Layla Mustafa is the only girl in her family allowed to go to university. Belonging to a strict patriarchal background, Layla, the shy and s...
