𝐏𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨́𝐧 𝐈𝐯𝐲

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟔.

Author's Pov
A week passed, and Smiley bided her time for the opportune moment to visit Ivy. Since the incident where she pushed her, causing her to faint, Smiley hadn't at glimpsed Ivy at her residence since. Aware that she had been staying at a relative's or friend's place post-hospitalization, Smiley was relieved to note Ivy's belongings remained unchanged, signaling she hadn't relocated.

Regardless of her whereabouts, Smiley would unfailingly seek her out. Aware of Ivy's attempt to involve law enforcement once she awoke, Smiley remained undeterred—the police were never an obstacle. For Smiley, the objective wasn't to harm Ivy; had that been the desire, Ivy's fate would have been sealed.

There was something about Ivy.

Smiley's hold on Ivy was like a shadow that wouldn't fade, waiting for the moment Ivy would break. The fear that danced in Ivy's eyes, that sculpted her features into a mask of terror, it was like a siren call to Smiley. She got a twisted kick out of it, out of pushing Ivy's buttons, watching her squirm. Smiley was all about that game, making Ivy's heart race with just her presence, playing with her like a puppet in some dark, distorted play.

Yet, Smiley was left with a gnawing hunger, a wrenched yearning unsatisfied by Ivy's meek surrender. She craved the fierce defiance her usual prey offered, the marks they would leave on her flesh in desperate resistance. But with Ivy, all Smiley harvested was a dingy police warning – a measly trophy that mocked her craving for the thrill of the chase.

Smiley couldn't understand if Ivy was weak or if she's just as sick and twisted as her and enjoyed the chase.

Smiley, a mere six years old, was trapped in a world where reality and imagination tangled like dark vines. Diagnosed with a blend of delusion and psychosis, her mind played tricks on her, shaping a distorted version of the truth. In her eyes, Ivy was morphed into a twisted, sinister figure.

Smiley just knew deep down that Ivy was desperate for more. It was like Ivy was practically begging, pleading with those big, round brown eyes for Smiley to come back and give her what she craved. The thought sent shivers down Smiley's spine, and she could feel herself getting on edge. She couldn't shake the image of Ivy's eyes, practically screaming for Smiley not to hurt her. It was enough to make anyone's blood run cold.

Smiley gripped her gun tightly, her leg bouncing impatiently as she waited outside Ivy's warehouse for what felt like an eternity. Five long hours had passed, and Smiley's eagerness to meet with Ivy again was palpable. She nonchalantly wiped her bloodied hands on her light blue jeans, not bothered by the stains they left behind. But of course, it wasn't her own blood anyway.

Minutes ticked by, and at last, Smiley spotted the familiar figures of the other employees filing out of the towering edifice, signaling the end of their shift. A grin of anticipation tugged at Smiley's lips, widening as she eagerly awaited Ivy's appearance. When Ivy finally appeared, Smiley's smile stretched even broader, but it swiftly turned into a frown upon noticing the stark white cast cradling Ivy's arm.