↳ 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐑 ー 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘

𝐋𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐈𝐈 ー 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

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Grayson's POV

Growing up, I was fascinated by things that a child should've steered clear of. I wanted to know what every bullet and blade felt like. I wanted to know how much blood I could lose before I passed out or worse.

Then I wanted to know if everyone is the same on the inside. Different injuries warrant different types of bloodshed amongst other symptoms. Some are strong enough to still go on. Some accept their fate without a fight. In the end we all bleed the same.

I like it when they try to bargain with me. It's the lengths a person can be pushed to once their lives are on the line. They can't run or hide but they still try. They can't defeat me but they fight back regardless.

I can't get enough. Killing gives me control. It keeps me sane, despite what others say. There's been too many times in the past where I lost control and was overcome by vulnerabilities.

Never again.

I scrub the last of the blood from my hands and rub them dry on the grey towel. No one will miss the alcoholic I quite literally broke in half this morning. Hope mentioned he's made a few of her friends uncomfortable because he loitered near the old gas station.

"Hey you're home." Sierra abandons her laptop completely. "Busy morning?" It's code for did you get up to no good?

"Yeah." She chews on her lip while I down most of the water in the bottle. "You're staring again."

"You look good today."

"I look the same." It's not like I go out of my way to make any drastic changes to my appearance.

"Exactly."

She's so innocent. When I first laid eyes on her during my interview, I wondered if she was the same on the inside too. I wanted to know if her heart was as golden as her hair. Was she as soft as she looked? Would she fight back or let it happen?

She looked so out of place in that prison. Too soft spoken and fragile. I almost felt compelled to shield her from the other inmates. She was mine. She had no idea I'd already claimed her the moment I set eyes on her.

"Now who's staring?" she teases.

When she comes closer I'm hit with a cloud of lavender. That damn perfume. It always attacks me out of nowhere. What's worse is I'm beginning to like the scent and it's infuriating.

"How can I not?"

As expected, her cheeks come alive with a rosy tint. It's so easy. Sometimes I toy with her for the fun of it because it's fun to watch her squirm. Even better when she's trying to get a reaction from me but then melts from a simple look.

"Hug?" she asks so politely, arms stretching up.

I'd rather peel my skin off. In this moment I'd rather be tortured than touched. The guy who grabbed my wrist this morning lost his hand simply because I didn't want to be touched by anyone.

But my arms unfold on their own accord and her face brightens with the widest smile. She balances on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around my neck but I still need to dip down a few inches.