Tainted

Nyctophilia

Nyctophilia| love of darkness or night; finding relaxation or comfort in the darkness
—
Romeo
Guilt isn't an emotion I am capable of feeling, it hasn't been for a very long time. This isn't for any particular reason other than, I don't care. I don't care who I have to hurt to get what I want, I will gladly do it as long as my needs and desires are fulfilled.

Call me selfish, I don't give a fuck. Humans are replaceable in my eyes.

Lots will question this, but it's the only way to succeed in this world. Caring will get you killed, and to be quite honest, I like living.

So why when I heard the sniffles of the brunette sitting on the other side of the car that I had an aching feeling forming in my chest? The feeling is foreign and something I haven't experienced in too fucking long. Since I was seven to be exact.

Her sniffles were soft, and although I couldn't see her face because of it being turned away, I was sure tears streaked her cheeks. Fuck.

I need to get a grip. I've never been pussy whipped, especially by someone's whose pussy I haven't even been in, and I don't plan on starting now. Or ever to exact.

I pull out my phone in hopes that if I scroll through some emails that I could distract myself from the girl crying beside me. It didn't work no matter how hard I tried. My eyes were scanning all the words, but none were registering in my brain.

"Can I ask you something?" I lift my head almost immediately at the sound of her voice. Her face was now turned, her eyes almost red from crying. Even so, she still somehow looked perfect. There was not one flaw on this girl's face, and it was infuriating. I so badly wanted to find something that would disgust me, but there was nothing about this girl that grossed me out.

I noticed that she had makeup on when she walked out of the house, and it didn't seem like the crying messed it up whatsoever. Her skin was smooth.

I lift my brows in response, giving her the signal to go on ahead.

She swallowed and licked her plump bottom lip before continuing, "does my Papá know I'm being held here against my will?"

Her question was one that I thought would have been clear by now, but I guess not. I stare at her, studying at her facial expression before answering. "He's aware," is all I say, nothing more, nothing less.

She nods, and I see a part of her that is relieved, and it only inches my curiosity. "Is there a reason why he would think otherwise?" I ask, not being able to refrain myself from doing so.

"Well," she begins, her voice trembling a bit. "I made a mistake about a month ago on my birthday, and since then he's looked at me differently. So, I wouldn't want him to think I've run off with some guy."

The incident on her birthday, I believe I recall Neo mentioning something about it. "And what happened on your birthday?"

Her facial expression changes into one that displays only fear and distraught. I could tell this was a touchy subject for her, and I didn't have the patience to get to know why. "It's not something I am able to talk about yet." She looks down in her lap, fiddling with part of her dress. The same dress that hugged her curves in all the right spots. I hated it.

That achy feeling came back as soon as I realized she was hurt because of what happened. Why the fuck did I feel some type of way over such bullshit? I don't bat an eye when I blow someone's head off, yet I find myself guilty for something I didn't even do.