Aryan's Lethal Obsession

Adah

Dad!

I sat up with a jolt. With the dim light, I had to blink rapidly, and when my vision got acclimated, an enormous room came into my view. I hastily looked around for my father, only to get stunned by unfamiliar surroundings.

Was it a dream, or am I dreaming now? I can't recollect how or what had happened to me.

I pinched my hand immediately and realized what I saw earlier was a dream. I heave in relief, consoling myself while my heart was rapidly beating. It was a nightmare where I saw my dad was lying dead in the hospital while Jawad was accusing me of killing him.

My ragged breathing, fanning my lock, tingles my skin, and when I raised my hand to brush them away, a familiar voice rang, startling me.

"You are awake."

No, no, please not him. I fisted whatever I could hold off before discovering it was a duvet. I glanced down immediately to find myself on a bed covered in a black sheet. I instantly raised my head to see the devil standing before a glass wall. His cold glare piercing through me made me retreat unknowingly.

By now, I could see only the corner of the room was illuminated by overhead lights, the reason for the low light in the room. The sound of his footsteps made me snap my head in his direction and saw him grabbing a bottle. Neither he spoke again, nor I could make myself open my mouth.

My heart thundered when a sudden thought hit me: was I lying on his bed? I gulped audibly and looked around for anyone else. The last I remembered was being dragged to that dungeon and then the gunshot.

My breathing hitched with the remnant part of it. He made me shoot John. Now I could feel my eyes tearing with the realization. Did he get me here to kill me? He let John go. Will he let me go too? But why did he get me to his bedroom? As if on cue, my mind answered the question, to spend the night with you.

I shivered.

He walked towards the nearby couch across from me and sat. My throat was already dry with anxiety, and now the fear, the dread which I was not ready to go through, was facing me. His gaze was following the slightest of my move like a hawk, and I could feel cold sweat trailing down my neck. When my back hit the headboard, I drew my knees closer as if they could save me. My breathing was coming out labored when he was still giving me a scrutinized look.

I wanted to run away, but could I? I was in his territory, at his mercy. Even for assumption's sake, if I run away from here, what about Dad? And I don't even know where he brought me. How will I get money for his operation in 12 hours? Should I accept this as my fate and let him claim my body? If he comes to know I'm not an experienced escort, will he be dissatisfied and refuse to pay me?

I was still lost in thoughts when the silence was broken by his question, "What's your name?"

I froze at my place. Before leaving the club, Jasmine warned me not to tell my name or any details that could lead back to me. Moreover, I was not a call girl and witnessed a murder. He almost killed John, involuntarily a whimper escaped my mouth, and I covered it with my trembling palm.

"I won't kill you," as if he read my mind, he replied. Should I believe me?

"But it won't take a second to change my mind," he replied in a neutral tone, but there was an underlying threat.

"J..." I mumble in a low voice. I couldn't muster up the courage to talk to him sitting on his bed, knowing well what would happen soon.

"What?" he asked in annoyance.

"Jazz," I blurted the first name that came to my mind. My shaky voice made him stop whatever he was doing. Wait, was he drinking directly from the bottle? Will he torture me?

"Come here," after a while, he ordered.

Should I?

You can't run away from him, my subconscious replied again.

I pushed myself off the bed, recollecting what he is capable of if his orders are not followed. He won't blink an eye to shoot me as he shoots Jahanzeb and John. I walked towards him on my weak legs, unaware of my disheveled look. I saw his eyes darkening, and when I followed his gaze, I saw my saree was barely covering my chest. The sheer intensity of his stare was pushing me to the verge of shielding my body with my arms, but what was the point of hiding when soon he would tarnish it.

When I stood at a safe distance from him, he forwarded the same bottle on the table and said, "Make me a drink."

I blinked while looking at the bottle and then at him. Drink? I recollected seeing how to make a drink on a t.v, and my silence seemed to irk him when he groaned and tossed the bottle on the table, making me flinch with the sound.

"How long have you been working as a call girl?" he asked in impatience, and the word call girl pricked my heart.

"Few..few months," I stammered as I couldn't lie when those black orbs were drilling into my soul.

"One part of this bottle and two-part of soda, you will find it on the counter there," he said, but he kept staring into my eyes as if searching for answers.

"I forgot your name; what was that?" he asked, but I felt that was not the case.

"Jazz," I replied, lowering my eyes and walking towards the direction he pointed. I was practicing deep breathing to keep my pounding heart at ease at the back of my mind. Either way, I decided to sell myself for money and shouldn't focus on whom I'm selling.

He said soda; where should I find it? I was looking at the various bottles for it when my body stiffened with his presence behind me. His one hand rested on the counter beside me while he gestured his other arms towards one of the bottles, "There."

When did he come here?

I noticed our position and realized he was caging me between him and the counter while both his arms rested beside me. My breathing hitched in my throat, and I clutched the glass closer to my chest. His hot breath was now fanning my neck, which only accelerated my heartbeat.

"Are you waiting for something?" he asked in a neutral tone, but I could feel his burning gaze on me.

I quickly grabbed the soda with a trembling hand, motivating myself for the inevitable. For Dad, I kept chanting to divert myself from the dread. I spilled some of the weird liquid while filling when I felt his rough hand over my stomach. I went rigid with his touch and clutched my eyes shut.

For Dad. I forced myself to endure his touch.

He leaned closer to my ear and whispered, "breath."

It was then I realized I was holding my breath. A shuddering breath left me when he pushed my hair aside and trailed his finger over my spine. A ripple passed through me on his warm touch, but the dread was making it impossible for me to stay conscious. I felt I would pass out, but when his lips kissed me behind my ear, I couldn't stop shivering. His finger circled my belly button while his lips were sucking my neck. His other hand was about to open my blouse string when I heard a crackling sound and his growl, "Fuck!"

I felt his presence gone and something trickling down my palms. When I opened my eyes, I saw blood dripping, only for me to realize in my dread I clutched hard to the verge of breaking it.

"Kill John," he roared, making me snap out of my reverie.