(𝘉𝘖𝘖𝘒 𝘛𝘞𝘖 𝘐𝘕 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝙁𝙍𝘼𝘾𝙏𝙐𝙍𝙀𝘿 𝘛𝘙𝘐𝘓𝘖𝘎𝘠)
εꨄ︎з
𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈 has spent her entire life trying to earn a freedom she was never meant to have. Kept under her mother's control...
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- AMAYA'S POV -
I put on my helmet, which I rarely use, and get on my motorcycle, and for some strange reason, as soon as I do, my limbs start to shake. If there is an outage, Adams—fuck it—Rowan's electricity is also out of service. I am the one who can truly understand how it feels to face your greatest fear.
As I race off, everything around me blurs while I ignore the water raining down on my body and soaking my hair. He hates me, I know I should not help him. I do, however, want to help him.
My knuckles turn white as I pass the few cars on the road at a speed most likely way past the speed limit. I glance down and almost as if to confirm my assumption the speedometer starts to go crazy.
I almost leap off my motorcycle when I stop driving, switching the engine off, and letting out a little sigh as his house comes into view. I take off my helmet and go through my pockets, looking for a hairpin. I came prepared.
When I notice that there are no lights on, I dash to his front door and crouch down to pick the lock. I almost smile as I hear the door click, opening the door. I barely manage to restrain myself from running inside while I let the door slam behind me.
I let my helmet fall to the ground, and Rain immediately runs over to me while barking hysterically. She turns around as soon as she notices me, which I take as permission for me to follow her.
She brings me into the living room, where my eyes slowly wander over a seated figure with his legs pulled against his chest but I can not see his face.
Instantly, I find myself running in his direction and lowering myself in front of him. "Rowan," I attempted to reach out to him with a whisper when his head whips up and he flinches. He has red bloodshot eyes, and his breathing seems to be the fastest I have ever witnessed.
"Don't touch me," He pleads. "Please, just don't touch me."
My lungs are blocked from breathing and he looks lost—as if he does not realize I am here to help him.
"Where did you put the candles and the lighters, Rowan," I ask him and his eyebrows furrow, he looks like he is about to pass out. "The lighters, Rowan. Tell me where they are."
"My room... Why?" Rowan mumbles weakly and I stand up, running up the stairs and into his room.
My mind is clouded by confusion and I know what I am about to do, but I still open his drawers in a hurry, searching for the candles and the lighters. I feel sick to my stomach just looking at them—it's like someone is twisting my limbs until they become rubber bands.
