Satan reincarnate: You're my Poetry

Ready?

***

"Where're you going?" He asked, interest piqued as I began to scoot the bar stool out from under me.

Avoiding his almost all-knowing gaze, I slipped my hair behind my ear as my bare feet hit the ground.

"Just to the bathroom, I won't be long." I murmured back, my hand gently probing over his shoulder, and past the top of his back as I walked away.

I in fact was not going to the bathroom. Something in my core had been twisted all morning and I couldn't figure out what the fuck was wrong. I was happy, I strangely felt safe, and was under the watchful gaze of a man who would hang people on a hook for me.

I breathed out as I trailed up the stairs, feeling my lower core tremble as I exhaled. The feeling of his eyes boring into my skull as I walked away felt like a headache developing in the inner crust of my cranium.

I turned the corner, disappearing from his stare as I entered the main bedroom with all of the older relics he collected to keep of mine. Quickly- knowing he'd catch on eventually- I locked the door behind me. I wanted to know what was up, what was making me feel so internally twisted. I had always had an impactful gut, and always trusted it. I wanted to trust it this time too.

I only had a few minutes before he would most likely get the hint, so I had to make the most of it. I kneeled next to the sturdy, oak dresser, my fingers wrapping around each and every handle. I tugged, looking through the drawers with rapid pace. After a couple minutes, I reached the last drawer. There was nothing but the same thing: clothes. Angry, I slammed the dresser door.

"Fuck this." I whispered, quickly standing up. My next destination was to rummage through the closet, if there was even anything I was looking for.

Halfway there, my steps were interrupted by the sound of a small tear. Almost like tape being ripped from something, or unsticking from a hard surface. The sound, however, came from the dresser. I backtracked, my eyebrows slightly raising up. I slowly turned around approaching the dresser again, knowing I missed something.

"Angelina?" I heard the impatient call of Bill from downstairs, his voice gradually increasing in volume.

He was getting closer, I had to find whatever was there.

Where would someone hide something in a dresser? Involving tape?

I took a moment to ponder. My eyes lit up, the bottom of the dresser.

"One moment!" I called back, getting on my knees and bending over so the side of my face was against the ground.

"I gotcha." I whispered, a smile on my face as I reached my arm under, my hand brushing over whatever was  hanging off the bottom of the dresser. It felt... like paper. A bunch of files, laminations- most likely files and photos. But what would be so important that he would have to hide?

Satisfied, I push off of the ground and head back to the door. I pull it open, jumping back at the sight of him standing directly behind the entrance. 

"All done?" He asked, his voice pressing something inside of me. He was doing it deliberately, almost in a threatening manner.

I nod, trying not to think about whatever the hell he would be hiding from me. The more I thought about it, the more disturbed I'd become. Yeah, he wouldn't tell me jack shit about his thoughts or feelings, but he had always wanted me to know what he was capable of. He would describe in color and detail what he had done, what he wanted to do,  and what he was going to do to some people. So after all of that, all the inclusiveness- what was so important he had to hide?

His expression softens, his hand finding mine.

"You had me worried, you were up here for a while." He explained, pulling me from the door. Not a gentle tug away, but almost like he wanted me out. He knew I was looking for something.

Shrugging, I peak up at him through my eyelashes. "I was just fixing my hair,"

"I messed it up too bad last night?" He pried, cutting me off with a slight smile on his face.

I nudge him, it was so strange having 'normal' conversations and a 'normal relationship' with him. It was almost unreal to have the part of my life that was ripped away from me, just come back one random night with little to no explanation. The more I think about it, the more suspicious it had become. What was he doing, why was he hiding this of all things?

"Go sit down and wait for me, I'm going to get some clothes on." He commanded, no other options granted as he led me down the stairs, gently placing me on the couch by my shoulders.

I sat down, watching him eye me from the corner of his face as he jogged upstairs. I knew he wasn't only going to get dressed, but he was racing into that room specifically to check on those damned files.

Time had passed, probably only ten minutes. But it felt like fucking forever, until there was a small ping and vibration that came from the bar we were just sitting at together. I sat up, leaning out from my sulk into the couch as I thought about what he was doing in there.. and what he put in those files. As I glanced up to the stairs, I knew he would be up there for a bit longer. What was the harm in checking the notification?

I crept over, my heart beginning to beat in my chest. He was unpredictable. Could this be part of whatever was in those files? Perhaps not, the timing would be too perfect.

My heart sank seeing the name. It was a missed call, and few texts on top of that from a name I hadn't thought of for a long time.

iMessage von Tom: Sie weiß es?
(iMessage from Tom: She knows?)

iMessage von Tom: Wir werden auf dich warten.
(iMessage from Tom: We'll be waiting.)

There was a pit in my stomach. The sensation of dread creeping in like a shadow, chilling my bones as I realized the impending darkness lurking just beyond the text. The certainty of impending doom, almost foretelling a sinister fate drawing closer with each passing moment.

He was hiding something, and I had to be ready. It could be a surprise and at moment, and I had to be prepared.

"What're you looking at?" The intense whisper rang through my ears from behind me.

Maybe I was wrong, maybe he didn't want to protect me from the danger. Perhaps he was the danger.

***