Engaged to The Duke of Death

Backfired Plot

I woke up with a smile on my face, remembering my dream from last night that was taken straight from my memories – the look on Sera's face when I had cut off her hair had made me laugh loudly. Catherine didn't quite know what to do with me and decided that hitting me with a belt was the best course of discipline that she could take.

The pain was temporary but...that memory of Sera's crying, sobbing face would last a lifetime.

It was almost a shame that I didn't take a picture.

Sitting up on my bed, I raised my arms over my head and stretched, feeling refreshed and rejuvenated this morning. My eyes looked at the front of my room, just now noticing the body that was standing in the doorway with a smirk on his face and dark glint in his eyes – the same face that nearly resembled my own when I looked into the damn mirror these days.

"Douche...?" I spoke softly.

I hadn't been expecting him to be back so soon from the hospital...or wherever the hell they had taken him to get treated and recover. I wished I had hit him a little bit harder down the stairs so he would have ended up in the morgue instead.

If I had then he wouldn't be here – he wouldn't be here where he could harm me. I didn't know if I was truly capable of murder or not, but Demetri was making the attempt look appealing.

"They released you already?" I asked, about to get up but he raised his hand. I found that it was glowing that orange color, a visible sign that he was using his telekinesis on me. I struggled to move from the bed, feeling cornered as he was suddenly in front of me.

"Don't bother getting up, my beloved sister..." Demetri spat out as he causally began to walk towards me.

Despite knowing what was happening, I was still struggling to move.

I glanced down at my arms, seeing how hard they were trembling in my efforts to become free. I looked back up in time to see Demetri taking a seat at the side of my bed, his hand gently outstretched towards my face. I couldn't move my head, so I resorted in glaring vehemently over at him, wanting him to know my complete and utter displeasure at even the thought of his hand touching me.

"What would possess you to kick me down the stairs?" He asked in a low tone, his hand a few inches away from touching me. It seemed as if he had wanted to, but that incident must have shaken him. He realized now that I wasn't the submissive Annette that he had been expecting. "I am trying to make a life that is better for us...!" He hissed under his breath.

"Funny – I don't want you anywhere in my life," I scathingly responded and he was taken aback as his raised hand turned into a fist. He began to shake it, and my eyes glanced over at it, expecting him to slap or punch me with it – he seemed like the type to abuse women.

The weak minded men generally do.

"Are you going to hit me?" I taunted, trying to crane my head to the side. I was able to move my head a small amount but not much. "Then do it already," I ordered him, making sure to narrow my eyes. "Just know that I will retaliate and it will be much worse than a simple kick down the stairs."

I might actually kill him if he hits --

He slammed his fist...down on the bed.

A small bit to the left as his face twisted into one that exhibited despair – "I'm trying to take care of you, Annette!" He yelled out, begging me to see reason. I blinked my eyes, not showing any emotion other than a silent warning that was still etched onto my face. "You don't want to marry the Duke of Death – you told me!"