Making You Mine

thirteen - drowning in sorrow

Abhimanyu leaned back in the comfort of his chair, his eyes flickering with the orange-red-yellow tinge of the fire burning in front of him, emulating the fire raging inside of him. His finger circled around the rim of the glass as he stayed stoic, watching the fire lighting up the dark room in silent noise.

His gaze lowered down to the half full glass of neat whiskey before he downed it in one go.

He then slammed the glass on the wooden table in front of him before pouring himself another round. His 6th for the night.

He sniffled as he wiped away at his nose before leaning back in his chair, his glass settled on the edge of edge of the armrest as he went back to watching the fire burn on and on.

Abhimanyu knew he fucked up. Felt it in his bones. But he didn't know what else to do. What else to say.

His anger was warranted. Akshara had broken protocol. He had told her repeatedly to stay put, to stay home. Stay in bed. But she had ignored all of his orders.

And in trying to be a rebel, she had forgotten her phone at home. He had no way of contacting her. His little mouse. If it hadn't been for his tight security, he may never have known where she was.

If she was safe or not.

She had to be taught a lesson. Akshara had to know all her actions had consequences. Especially if those actions didn't adhere to his words —his wants —there would be definite consequences.

Abhimanyu downed his whiskey in one gulp, letting the burning sensation pierce through his throat.

Had he been harsh on Akshara? Yes. But she deserved every bit of it. Yes. Yes, she deserved every bit of his anger.

But then why? Why was he feeling like such a horrible piece of shit? Normally tears would have no affect on him —because his anger —his control on himself —always prevailed. But then why did Akshara's tears —her indifference, her sadness, her hurt affect him so much that he was trying to drink himself into oblivion?

Abhimanyu leaned back in the comfortable chair and began staring at the ceiling, soaking in the loneliness as the room began to dim and his eyes began to close, trying to think about where the fuck he went wrong. He closed his eyes and let himself be engulfed by silence as the ticking of the clock encompassed the quietness.

~*~

Akshara wiped her tears away from her cheeks as she sank her face further down into the wetness of the pillow, bringing her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms around herself in a fetal position. Her eyes maneuvered to the digital clock on her nightstand to show it was currently 3am.

Akshara sighed, breathing deeply as another tear rolled down her cheek. She knew Abhimanyu liked control —and frankly his dominating aura, the command he held once he entered the room was what drew her to him.

She liked his dominating ways.

Enjoyed it.

Relished it.

And the sex was mind blowing. Jaw dropping, out of the universe amazing.

But never in her dreams did she expect to see this face of Abhimanyu's. The anger. The ruthlessness. The way he left marks on her body —and not the good kind. She hated it. She hated it here.

Now she didn't know what to do. Or how to go about tackling the situation with Abhimanyu. What did she do? What did she even say?

From the corner of her eye, she watched the door to their room open as a disheveled Abhimanyu stood, leaning against the door frame, with a whisky glass in his hand. His tie was loosened and the top three buttons of his crinkled white shirt were unbuttoned leaving much of his chest for show.