human farm

Stop spying on my heart

(Stop spying on my heart)

I remained lying in my place absent-mindedly, not thinking about anything. Perhaps I was still under the influence of shock and pain. He kept staring at me like a predatory animal.

After a few moments, he moved his
sinful hands away from me and sat
comfortably next to me, lost in thought,
staring at the ceiling. As for me, I fell
asleep—I couldn’t help it. I closed my
eyes against my will due to extreme
fatigue, and I didn’t feel anything after
that.

Until I felt his hands holding me. He was carrying me. I didn't know where he was taking me, but I didn't open my eyes. I didn't want him to know that I had woken up. I didn't want to look at him, hear his voice, or have him talk to me. I hated him. I think I didn't hate him before, but now I hate and despise him so much.

He put me on the bed and then moved away from me. I opened my eyes slightly, wanting to know what he was doing. He went to the closet, put on his clothes, then went to the balcony.

I asked myself, "What is he doing outside at this time?"

I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was half-past five; the sun would rise soon.

What is he doing? Then, for a moment, a terrifying thought gripped my mind: What if he wanted to commit suicide?

What would happen to me if he died? Another terrifying thought struck me: I would end up passing to his heirs, meaning Gerard, Jayden, or their mother. This idea terrified me to the point that I got out of bed.

I felt very dizzy when I stood up suddenly, but I held myself together until I reached the balcony. I saw him standing there watching as the sun was rising in the sky.

I shouted:

"What are you doing?"

He turned to me, seemingly surprised by my presence. I noticed slight burns on his hands. He quickly came back in and caught me as I was about to fall. Then he looked at my face and said:

"What is the matter?"

Feeling ashamed and remorseful about my behavior, I wondered how I could make excuses to him now. He'd think that I cared about him. I looked at his hands, and the burns had disappeared. In a shy voice, avoiding eye contact, I asked:

"What were you doing with the sun shining? Did you want to...?"

He continued, saying:

"Suicide?... Do you even care about me?"

Damn it, I was afraid of how I would answer that question. I wished I hadn't gotten out of bed. Stammering, I replied:

"No... not quite. But of course, I don't want you to die. What were you doing?"

I didn't like my last tone; it sounded anxious and urgent, but he didn't say anything except my name. He only said my name, "Irene."

My name had a special impact on my heart when he said it. He just said my name and then kissed me deeply. I surrendered to his kiss, feeling so helpless that I couldn't resist even if I wanted to. I looked so tiny in his arms as he kissed my lips. I felt ashamed and embarrassed because I liked this kiss.

He stopped, and then just looked into my eyes eagerly.

Feeling ashamed of his gaze, I looked away. He picked me up, placed me on the bed, then left the room. After a few moments, he returned holding a glass of water and two medicine pills.

Sitting next to me, he handed them to me and said:

"Take this; it will compensate for the amount of blood you lost."