❛𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐁𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃, 𝐈'𝐌 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄...❜ | 𝐍𝐨.𝟑

Chapter 13- Question Time...

TW // MILD DISCUSSION OF SEXUAL ASSULT.
Emma's POV:
Pat, pat, pat...that's all I can hear. His footsteps. They begin getting louder...and louder...and louder...until they stop, the noise completely dissipates. I can feel his eyes on me...staring past my feelings, down into my long, deep, tunnelling soul...

What are you looking at, you bastard? You have no right to look at me like that after what you've done to me and my family...you're not fit to lace my boots...I'm not scared of you anymore...

He pulls the blue chair backwards, the ear-piercing scraping noise it causes making the footsteps seem barely inaudible to my stubborn ears. He's doing it on purpose...taking a fucking long time, staring me down, curving those eyes around my head in an attempt to scare me. But he won't. I've faced danger before, real danger. He's not dangerous. He's sad. Pathetic. A pitiful little child. He's nothing.

After lowering himself into the seat, he crushes the neck of a water bottle placed on his end of the rectangular table stretched out between us, the loud plasticky sound painful to my ambushed eardrums. The blue-coloured lid pops off by a scrape of the brittle teeth drilled shut inside his pink gums, the spout being sucked on with an unbreakable force, his dark pupils still searing into mine as he forcefully gulps down the water with every passing moment.

He won't win this battle...I refuse to let him.

The heavy air around us is thick with forthcoming, animosity, but most of all, pure anticipation. I'm sick of this. I didn't come for a chat, I came for closure. There's no reason for this to last any longer than necessary. "Clearly I'm going to be the bigger person as usual and start this damned conversation-"

Narrowing his pointed eyes at me, " 'The Bigger Fucking Person'?" underneath the table, I cross over my legs, stretching out across the way as I begin to get comfortable in my tacky, tightly commissioned, uncomfortable chair. This won't be an in-and-out kind of thing...I have to break it down. Turn the heat up, little by little, until he breaks...

"How's my son?" casting an eye roll, I fold my arms across my chest, focusing my gaze purley on him, never wavering, despite the smugly annoyed expression plastered across his darkened features, heavily dressed with a greyish tone added by the reputation of what this building stores. "Come on, Luka. We both know I'm not here to catch up. You signed away your parental rights the second you landed back in this place so the jury would take pity on you for 'being unable to handle the responsibility of parenting'." it's no shock to my traumatised mind that he repeated the same immorally-disgusting, inhumane crime he once did to me almost a decade ago, to some other poor and innocent soul, who was happily going about their daily life as usual, not a detectable problem in sight, until the universe gave them a shocking occurrence of despairing sadness, sure to last a lifetime.

He deserved exactly what he got - winding up in the place described as 'hell on earth', the place where the worlds dirt scraped from the back of its shoe lives, a building filled to the brim with London's scummiest morals, 'human' no word to describe the sheer ugliness of their respective actions. Every single one of them deserves the punishment they were handed, a punishment with the intention to cause unbearable suffering...and he's one of those derogatory people. How shameful.

"Why are you here?" finally...we get to the point at last, and skip the insufferable part where we continue to stare each other down, seeing which one will break down first underneath the pressure of it all, which I know would have been him if we continued the master charade. Thank god. I have much better ways to spend my time here on earth, and gazing dreadfully into this little-boy-in-men's-clothing's sternly constructed eyes is certainly not considered one of them. "You know why I am here...I had a visit last week...from one of your little friends..." through the wonders of police work, I dug down to the bone, finding the source of the problem I encountered the previous week...him.

The smug look obtained on his stubbled, tired face confirms my well-induced suspicions, and is one I certainly don't miss being forced into my eyesight every damn time I'm made to come face-to-face with this unholy creature...

I want to punch that fucking smugness right out of you...

"I have no idea what you're-"

Bang!

There it is. My limit, dangerously close to being hit with an unforgivably large force. You can hear the dreadful sound in the form of my tightly scrunched up fist, hitting the table before me, wobbly shaking in radiating, pulsing heat and anger, evident from the scorching red tone of my flesh, silencing his words and turning heads of other visitors around me, seeming scared and slightly confused by the sudden interruption..."Shut. Up. Don't say another word...you know you're guilty...it's written across your face...you think your clever?" beneath the table, I feel the air shift as he mimics the same action I did with my much shorter legs, another factor about him which adds to my unrepentant raging annoyance I strongly hold against him. "It's clearly gotten you emotional, so I'd say so, yeah."

That's it. Time to take this bitch down...

I flip my chair behind me, making a loud crashing noise as I firmly press the tips of my whitened thumbs and the sides of my index fingers onto the table, a heavy amount of pressure being added to the weak stability of my position as I lean over, becoming close to his stern complexion. "Why? Haven't you caused enough uproar to my family yet? You twisted soul...hiring a hitman to stalk me is low...even for you." my sentence of bitterness forcefully spoken, something in his facial state barely captures my attention...something different, something confusing, something I can't quite get a good grasp of...

"I paid the damn guy to kill you. He couldn't even get that right. You really think he'd have the bollocks to stalk you as well? You're a smart enough woman, figure it out." I've never seen genuine words exit this man's lips, each and every syllable ever sounded from his maliciously intended jaw been counted for as an exact lie. He couldn't spell 'honesty' if it was written across his damn forehead since birth, for the entire world to see...so why do his words lead me to believe otherwise?

My hand comes flying down yet again, unable to startle the perfect stillness of his body. "Stop playing with me. You really think I'm that stupid?" he sits back in his seat, arms folded across his puffy chest in an unbothered manner, a blank expression on his face. "What reason do I have to lie? I'm stuck in this place again, with no way out, and nothing to loose...even you know that."

I tilt my head thoughtfully to the side, this time finding his reasoning nothing short of the straight damn truth...if Luka's accomplice isn't my stalker, who the hell is? "You got yourself in here, Luka. By doing to some other poor young girl exactly what you did to me seven years ago." he leans forward, pushing past the heavily sedated air around him, the heat from his body lingering in the oxygen close to me, a sensation I pray to be abolished. "And she deserved it just as much as you did..."

I knew it wasn't long before I'd reach it - my maximum tolerance. My tolerance for him, his evil glint within his pupils, his smug smirk always obtained, and his slimy attitude that hasn't changed a single fucking bit. I've reached my limit...and I'm about to show it...

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Thank you for reading.

This chapter was filled with so much tension and emotion, so you can only expect another chapter with the same atmosphere...and a little bit of smut ;)

Let's just say that Lauren isn't exactly happy with her fiancée after she finds out what happens after this uneventful visit from hell...