❝𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.❞ I gasped, squeezing the sheets of the bed. His long fingers entered me, making me close my eyes as I soaked in...
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["Theywatch. They hate. Andthentheycopy"]
❦
We lived because we killed. We lived because we fled. We were dying because they were killing. And they killed because we were fleeing. But now we stayed. And we can't go back.
They say it's the perfect time to have peace. Surrounded by family and friends. Drinking hot tea and beer, during a hot day.
The perfect time for me is when none of that happens. And it never happens. Perfect time is night. When darkness reigns in the city, and when all the lights are off, the only thing left is the moon, which illuminates the sky like a big candle. Not too strong and not too weak. Perfect.
It is also perfect when it is raining or when the wind is blowing. Then it takes everything from the street, to places you wouldn't even think things could never go. When the wind blows, it muffles everything that happens in the house, even the loudest screams and cries. Assignment? More everyday hobby-business. And the job must be done smoothly and safely.
In this small house, I'm surrounded by gray walls that could crack at any moment, and a roof that could fall on me, breaking my bones. Does it matter? No. Places like this fall by themselves. From old age or exhaustion. They are not much different from the people, especially from the one sitting in front of me.
You just need to have the right thing to break them.
His eyes are gray, bloodshot and blue. Scratched and wet face was shaking, as was his body which was bound by long, cold chains. Loud breathing echoed in this small, ghostly room.
I can see the fear in his eyes that he is trying to hide, but his cry betrays him.
He tried to escape, broke the chains, but in vain. Like everyone else.
Like always.
My brothers stood around him. They both wore black jackets, and at first glance they would look elegant and cute. Ohh, but honey, don't be fooled by the look. Their gaze is sharp, cold, their bodies are calm and straight as a board.
The two of them slowly circled around the man in the chair, chuckling evilly.
"Zabavnyy." Dimitri said. His accent was hard and deep, as was his laughter.
My lips formed a grin as I slowly approached the chair.
"Oh, David. When will you learn not to play with me? With us." I said slowly, stroking his black hair which was sticking to my fingers from sweat. "You were a very bad boy. Yeah? I think it's time to pay-"
