The Emptiness She Holds

The nightmares

Chapter 15: The Nightmares

"What the hell did I tell you?!" he yelled, making me flinch backward.

"Don't ever FUCKING embarrass me like that!" His hand came down hard across my cheek—a burning slap that left me whimpering as I retreated from his monstrous form.

He was my nightmare.

My biggest nightmare.

"What? Not so talkative now, are you?" He stalked toward me with heavy strides. "Who gave you permission to talk to the Don of the Brazilian mafia?!" he screeched, rage dripping from every word before grabbing his gun and hurling it at my head.

Blood ran down my forehead from the impact, the gash burning.

I snapped.

Time froze—like waves caught mid-crash.

Without thinking, I grabbed the gun beside me, dripping my own blood onto the grip, and pointed it at his head.

Shock and amusement flickered across his face.

"You wouldn't pull the trigger, bitch," he spat, taunting me.

My gaze turned stone cold.

"My name is Blair. Not bitch," I hissed venomously before pulling the trigger.

The bullet tore through his skull. He dropped dead, whispering four words that haunt me every day.

"I'll always... haunt you."

His eyes rolled back.

He was dead.

He was dead.

He was dead.

I repeated it over and over, refusing to believe it.

Gone.

Gone in a second.

My nightmare, killed in a single second.

Sirens wailed in the distance.

I thought—finally—I'd be saved.

The door crashed open. Armed men stormed in, guns trained on me.

"PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!" they shouted.

Confused, I raised my hands.

"Drop the weapon and walk slowly toward me," an authoritative voice commanded.

"W-wait! He tried to kill me! I d-defended myself," I stammered, tears streaming down my face.

"Whatever you say will be used against you in court," the cop said, cuffing me and dragging me out.

I heard whispers. I wasn't stupid—they thought I was the villain.

"She's brutal."

"No remorse on her face."

"How did her parents fuck up this bad? She looks twelve."

"What a devilish girl."

"Poor man. It's always bitches like this ruining lives."

I shook my head at the cruel voices.

"I'M NOT THE MONSTER. I'M THE VICTIM!" I screamed, collapsing to my knees, sobs drowned by the rain.

"I WAS TORTURED. I WAS HIT. I WAS RAPED. I WAS MALNOURISHED. I WAS... abused," I whispered, head hanging low.

The cops exchanged uncertain looks.

"Why does no one believe me?" I let out a dry laugh, accepting I was utterly alone in this shitty world.

Present

I gasped awake, blinking around the sterile hospital room.

Fucks sake, second time this week.

I tried to sit up, but pain exploded through my side like fireworks.

Grunting, I looked down at the bandaged bullet wound.

"You're awake," a gruff voice said from the edge of my bed.

I snapped my head toward him—those same grey eyes, framed by thick lashes and a jawline people would kill for.

Klaus lay there, half-asleep, black wavy hair tangled under the blinking hospital lights.

My eyes traced his arm resting near my feet—veins and muscles flexing without effort.

He yawned—a deep, throaty sound—and my toes curled. I quickly averted my gaze, cheeks flushing.

"How long was I out?" I asked, dread creeping in.

"A day..." he mumbled sleepily.

My eyes shot open in shock.

I jumped out of bed, moving fast toward my duffel bag.

Klaus stood instantly.

"What are you doing? You're injured!" He blocked the door.

"Klaus, move or I'll have to deal with you," I warned, tone sharp.

"No can do, boss," he said, standing his ground.

Before he could blink, I rushed him—but my injured leg slowed me.

He grabbed my right arm, locking eyes.

"You need rest," he said seriously.

I smirked, lifted my left arm, and jabbed a weak point in his neck.

He collapsed, unconscious.

"Sorry, bud," I muttered, slipping on sweatpants and a sweatshirt.

I pulled on hospital slippers—maybe I should start a collection—and slipped out.

Running down the hall, I tried to act normal, though pain still stabbed my side.

I called a cab and slipped a twenty into my bra.

Yeah, I'm a wizard. Be jealous.

I was taken out of my delusion when the cab stopped at my street.

I thanked the driver, headed up the block, and caught the guards off guard.

Haha, get it?

Whatever, boring-ass readers.

cough

"Mrs. Armani, the boss has been looking for you all day," one guard said, voice trembling like he'd seen Vincent's rage firsthand.

I smirked, sucking on a sucker I'd stolen from the hospital front desk.

"Great. I angered stepdaddy. Hopefully, he'll send me off to some rich, stuck-up boarding school," I pouted.

The guard blinked, shocked by my reaction, then reluctantly let me pass.

That's when I heard it.

A hyena yell of my full name:

"BLAIR ATHENA ARMANI!"

Oh, sorry—full name.

Rolling my eyes, I trudged up the stairs to the house of nightmares, where Drama Queen and his subjects waited.

Ugh. Should've come back a week later.

I muttered to myself, sulking as I climbed.

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