A Rose Of Revenge

✴️Chapter 9✴️: I'm brOKen.

{Eleanora's P.O.V}

Freedom.

Freedom means nothing to a lame man because he has never been restricted his freedom. The ability to walk around without being questioned. The ability to go to where you please at the moment you please without a second thought. The ability to even walk is a grace that is usually underestimated. I remember being beaten to the extent I could barely walk. I'll crawl to my prison room, just to hide away from those monsters who can't keep their club to themselves whenever they see me.

I looked up at the skies. The beautiful skies has never been as beautiful as it looked now. The chirping of the birds, the gentle ruffle of the leaves, the silent breeze that could be felt on my skin, making each strand of hair on my body stand, was once never even glanced at by me for once. The breeze went through my hair getting a little more aggressive than it actual started.  I lifted my eyes unto the skies. The beautiful blue sky that I had once despised was now like gold to me, after being denied of seeing it from this view for eight good years. My prisoner's uniform began blowing in different directions as the wind, this time, blew all around my body, becoming more more aggressive than it actually should.

Eight years! Eight good years!  Was all my mind was saying to me. No other word felt apropriate, my heart tugging against my chest and my panting became uneven as I felt the tears jerk my eyes just looking at the bright blue sky.

    "Here you are". The voice said as the footsteps was more audible. I tore my eyes away from the beautiful scenery and traced where the footsteps were coming from. It was Phillips.

In a tracksuit, with his hair braided into cornrows and his beards looking neatly shaved, he walked towards me with two cups in his hands, and from those cups, steam could be seen dancing round the top of the cups. The only difference between Phillips now and the then Phillips was the beards. Apart from that, everything else, remained the same. 

"I've been looking everywhere for you. I didn't know you left the restaurant before me". He said to me, handing over to me, one of the cups which gave off this very strong aroma of coffee.

  "I never followed you". I replied him simply. I just wasn't in the mood for too much talk.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't realize. I thought you were following me". He apologized, before resting on the body of his car, his legs stretched out as he took a sip from the coffee.

It was getting dark already and the sun was retiring back to his home, so that the moon could have his own sit on his throne. I also rested on his car as I continued to watch the natural phenomenon take place so naturally.

Suddenly I felt someone hold my left hand which wasn't holding anything, and I could feel his soft graze of fingers over my bruised knuckles and then my wrist which called my attention to the hand connecting us together.

"Does it hurt?" He asked, his soft eyes grazing softly over mine as he carefully scanned my body. I gently disconnected my hand from his, twirling the coffee in the cup as gently as I could.

"You sent Diazebel and the other Warder to spy on me, didn't you?" I asked, letting him know I wasn't interested in his voice of compassion. Though, He didn't reply immediately. He seemed to be taking his time, searching his brain for an answer.

"Yes, I did. But it wasn't to spy on you. It was to know if you were doing okay". He replied, calmly.

"By recording our conversation?" I asked him, locking eyes with him since we got to this dark alleys.

"She's a psycologist, she has her ways of doing things. I just wanted her to treat you so you'd be as perfect as you were before. At least close to perfect if not perfect". He replied me and I rolled my eyes away from him.