Dark Grasso,
An eldest Son.
An heir to the Grasso business and industry.
A head of Italian mafia transportation.
A sociopath.
Moon Diaz,
The daughter of the Diaz mafia.
A doctor and psychologist.
An empath.
When Moon runs away from her home...
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If she wants me dead she better kill me herself. If she want my life ruined, she better ruin it herself. She should just kill me than put me in this unbearable torment.
I once had no fear in my body, was terrified to death for a woman who appeared in my life a few days ago. Death felt merciful than thoughts of her being hurt. Eternal torture given by Satan is still lesser than her disappearing from my life even for a second.
Moon, my love, just end my life if you keep torturing me with the pain more painful than burning alive.
.
"Kill me." I made Moon put a knife on my throat as every nerve inside my body wanted her to punish her for leaving me. "Slice my throat and end me."
"Dark?!" She uttered, trying to pull back her hand but I held her hand firm. "What the hell are you doing?! Stop, you'll get yourself hurt!" She struggled, trying to snatch her hand away but,
"I said slice my throat." I pulled her hand closer to my throat and keep the edge of the knife on my neck.
I want her to feel the terror, I want her to feel what I felt when she left me that morning, I want her to feel how it feels to even think about the person you love get hurt.
"Don't be fucking stupid, Dark..." She said, trying pull her hand back but I didn't let her. I scoot close to her, slamming the door of the limo close and capturing Moon's waist as she tried to move.
"You want me dead that bad, don't you?" Her absence is my torture. Why can't she just fucking understands that?! "Now is your chance. Use this knife and kill me."
"I don't want you dead, Dark!" She shouted, the terror coated her face as soon as I pushed her hand even closer to my neck. Those blue eyes filled with tears, hands started shaking. "Stop, please, fucking stop, you're scaring me!"
"I was terrified for past three days, Moon!" I grudged, pulling her on my lap harshly, still keeping the knife on my throat. "Do you even know how many times I have died with thoughts of you getting hurt?!"
"Dark, please..." Her free palm slammed on my shoulder as she struggled to pull the knife away from my throat. With that tiny strength, she couldn't even move her hand. "Please, you'll get hurt... please..."
Her body delicate, so fragile it hurts to hold it rough. Her face beautiful, so innocent it kills to look away. Her soul divine, so pure it forgives the sinful life.
"This isn't hurting me, you do!" I uttered, slamming her hips on my torso and spreading her thighs away to feel her against my body. I died to feel her touch. I died to smell her scent. I died to see her sight.
As much as I want her to feel terror, I want her to feel me as well. I want her to hold me close and I want her to calm me down because fuck... I am burning with anger, angst and disappointment.
