Satan Reincarnate (re-written)

Changes Begin

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He held my knee, his eyes more intense then they were before. He didn't say anything, he just looked at me as his lips curled into a slight smile.

„Don't be frightened, I have no ill intentions." He mumbled, his voice sweet and his eyes softening with a slight hardness on the edges. His voice was low, his accent sliding off his tongue.

I felt a weight on my chest, I didn't trust him. Only hours ago he beat me bloody, leaving me to rot in an alley.

"But-" I started, my voice quiet as it cracked with my rapid thoughts. My palms were sweaty and I clamped them against my arms.

"I know what you're thinking." He interrupted me, his voice a bit more stern, and louder than it was to begin with.

I closed my mouth with a breath, almost feeling demanded by how he so coldly loomed over me in the car.

"Don't overthink it, just let me explain." His voice lowered, his hand inching towards mine. He outstretched his fingers and wound them around my clammy ones with a squeeze, and then relaxed. His hands were warm, and as he shifted closer to me, the thick, warm wool on his sweater almost invited me in. But as he physically consoled me, my mind was awry. Don't overthink? What did he want me to do... agree with him?

He looked at my eyes like he could see the thoughts dripping off my brain. It felt like they were sliding down the ridges of my mind and out my ears, almost like he could actually understand.

"Calm down.." he squeezed my hand, and shifted again so his other arm was behind my back.

Strangely, I felt a sense of safety more than I did danger. I looked up at his consoling face, his eyes somber. His lips were slightly parted, both piercings glinting in the faint glow of the car.

"That wasn't me." He said, blank.

"Not you?" I said, aghast. "I know damn well it was." What was he trying to do, gaslight me into thinking I was crazy? I couldn't scoot away from him, I was completely pressed against the door, under his warm grip.

"No, You don't understand. It was me physically, not mentally." He finished, his voice pleading.

"Not.. mentally?" I asked, my voice raising.

"Yes, you're getting it." he said.

I roll my eyes. "I'm not fucking stupid." I murmured to him, looking out the window as my voice was low, and hushed- barely above a whisper.

"Yes, you really are." He muttered back, scooting a bit closer to me so our arms brushed.

His words were quick and stern, and only honest. I looked at him, one of my eyebrows arched. He looked back at me, his face expressionless and bland. Bored, almost.

"What did you say to me?" I asked him, my voice raising a few octaves.

He rolled his eyes, and leaned into me. His arm sprung out, and pressed the lock on my door down. He maintained eye contact with me as he withdrew his finger, a smile now on the corners of his plump lips.

"You heard me." He said, a grin now dancing across his mouth.

I felt a surge of danger in my gut as my chest tightened at his words. His smile was somewhat deceptive, wicked. His eyes glinted with a flame, like he had ill plans.

"Don't underestimate me, Angelina. You'll regret it." He said, his gritted teeth making his words a low growl. His hand was still on mine, but it was a more intense grip.

I look down at his hand squeezing mine, my circulation struggling to pulse. I look back up at him, trying to wiggle my fingers out from him. His eyes were fierce, and his expression was cold.

"Let go." I whispered, my voice cracking under pressure. He was threatening, his stare seeping into my rapidly moving mind.

He leaned in closer to the point where I could feel his alcoholic breath on my nose.

"No." He sternly replied, squeezing my hand more. He grabbed my other wrist, and jerked me forward.

I gasped as he pushed me between the seats into the passengers ride. He ripped the car door open, and quickly slid back into the front seat next to me. He slammed the door shut behind him, and grasped the steering wheel so hard the scabs on his knuckles began to tear apart. He glanced over at me, a smile still on his face. His expression was very intimate and warm, but something in his eyes was devilish and cold. He grabbed the stickshift, and yanked it back as he pressed the accelerator. He let out a low laugh as the car sped down the damp, busy streets. I was a little shocked, I didn't know what was happening or where he was taking me. But, I did know that I couldn't do anything about it. I huffed and held my arms against my chest with a quiet groan. I was still incredibky sore from being beat the fuck up, my ears were still ringing. I rubbed my shoulders and brought my knees to my chest as I looked out the window at the blurry scenery. The stereo blaired into my ears, making them throb. I saw in the corner of my eye as Bill looked at me, and back at the road several times. His hand relaxed, and he put it from the wheel, onto my thigh with a gentle pat.

"Relax, we're almost there." He said as he turned down the radio.

I looked at him, a slight grimace on my face.

"And where is there?" I asked, annoyed.

He was still eyeing me, his eyes slim and thoughtful. His hand was still heavy on my thigh, his nails dug through my pants and into my skin. He rubbed up and down, leaving a trail of scratch marks on my pants.

"You'll see." He replied through a thick smile on his lips.

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