Broken Constellation

Chapter 8

I sit in an office.

It's interior clad in leather and cold metal. 

I have been moved here after being deeply interrogated by Zayden. His methods were intriguing but he restricted himself from causing damage since he is apparently trying to convince me to do his dirty work.

I move around the desk, making myself comfortable in his seat, swinging it and turning towards the large window that replaces what should be a wall. 

Zayden provided me with a list of lovely reasons as to why I shouldn't fuck around with him and just do as he says.

Though I find no fun in obeying him, I am beginning to wonder if I even have a choice.

I have no doubt in mind that he would keep me here and use physical force to get me  to work with him. But it is so much more fun to watch him get angry and lash out.

I smile, the creak of the chair the only noice in the room as I continue to spin right and left.

"What are you doing", A low voice grumbles from behind me.

Fuck me dead. Where did he come from?

I ignore him, in no mood to argue and be drowned in a fucking bucket of petrol again.

Fucking lunatic.

I hear his footsteps approach, each step aggressive just as is the way he stops me from swinging the chair and gives me whiplash.  

I stare at him, my face morphing into an expression of obvious annoyance at his interruption.

"That is my seat" He speaks the silent threat , his voice deep.

I hate my mouth. Every time I open It, I say something  unnecessary or out of context or something that makes me feel really fucking stupid so I stay silent. Trying to avoid the regretful feeling that consumes me every time I so much as express a response of statement.

His jaw clenches as his anger holds him on a leash.

But he shouldn't be the one fucking angry since he wasn't the one kidnapped and fucking interrogated.

His breaths are heavy and uneven, I pick at the skin around my nails, a small habit I've held that reassures me. 

He continues to loom over me, recognizing the fact that I won't move. So he turns around and sits on the  chair that faces my back.

"Turn around", The demand makes me freeze as I take notice of the pure authority his tone holds.

So I slowly use my legs to twist myself around until I'm facing him. My back still kills, I was fucking dragged on broken glass by some idiot. 

 I probably look like a wreck. I can fee the multiple cuts on my face start to dry out and my hair is a mess, When I tied it up before my hands were covered in blood so I'm assuming I have a few cuts there too. I'm just lucky I didn't get a concussion. My shirt is torn on the back and my tights are too. They didn't even want to offer me some clean clothes when I got here.

What type of little bitch wants to look like this when theres the possibility of death. I wouldn't be caught dead in the situation I'm in now but here I am. 

"What" I ask, my voice chopped and dry as I move my hands ontop of his desk. The sensation of the metal making me chill.

Fuck I need water.

I continue to pick at the skin on my nails, unaware of the fact that I've now drawn blood.

He looks towards my hand and then back to me. The movement too quick to be reassuring.