𝗝𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗔𝘀𝘀𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ☏︎

𝟏𝟖 | 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐞𝐡 ☁︎

I'm sitting on one end of the sofa, and he sits on the other. It's completely silent.

I have so much questions going through my head right now, but the only one I can think of is why?

I'd be trembling in fear if I weren't so shook at the moment. "Why?" I breathe, finally meeting his piercing gaze.

"Why what?" He asks.

"My ankle really hurts, three men shot up the restaurant, you yelled at me, there's so much more I could go on about." I blurt, but I couldn't stop now. "If living here isn't safe for me, I can't stay." I say more softly.

He's silent for a few minutes, breaking eye contact. He clearly knows something that I don't. It seems like all these 'accidents' and 'unfortunate events' aren't so accidental, and I want to know why.

"Damien, why is all of this happening? The fire, Noah, and the shooting?" I ask, and my eyes plead for him to tell me the truth. I catch a hint of guilt behind his eyes, before he shakes his head and gets up to leave.

I stand up and hiss out in pain, but I need answers. I rush after him as he starts making his way to his office, but I lose my balance, crashing into the ground. He doesn't stop. He walks into his office, shutting the door behind him and locking it, leaving me on the ground.

As much as I'm in pain, my blood boils with rage, yet I don't act on it. I simply try my hardest to stand up, and I stumble to my room. What a heartless dick. And to think I actually started to like him a little. All that was gone now, and replaced with a sour feeling.

Now that I think of it, I've let too much slide. He's been tormenting me sice I was hired, and the most recent offenses he's commit were leaving me in the ambulance, shouting at me in the restaurant, and now walking away from me.

I look down, realising I've left a trail of blood. Shit.

I'm bleeding, so I go to the bathroom and look in the mirror. It's just a nosebleed. I stuff a tissue up my nose and messily clean the blood-stained flooring.

I can't wait to get this cast off. I miss being able to walk.

I limp to the bed, hopping in and throwing the covers over me. It's late anyway, so I should probably get some sleep.

***

It's the next morning and I walk into the bathroom, fixing myself up. I take a long shower and brush my teeth, feeling fresh. Then I go to the kitchen, looking for something to eat.

Today I'm not going to speak to him at all. Only when necessary. I fix up some breakfast, a simple toast and butter on my plate. I sit at the kitchen island and eat, whilst on my phone. Even if he did me wrong, he's not going to ruin my day.

I feel a certain presence behind me, telling me that the dick has awoken. But I don't acknowledge him like he wants me to. Until he snatches my plate.

I turn to look at him and pierce him with an icy glare. He doesn't budge. "Not even a hi?" He says, acting like he deserves one after he left my questions unanswered.

I put my phone down and walk over to the sink to wash my hands and leave. He watches me leave my seat and limp to the sink, turning the tap on and washing my hands. "You left blood on the floor in my living room."

I don't respond, shaking my hands dry before his body presses into the back of mine, and he plants both hands on either side of the counter, trapping me. He brings his head close to my ear, and I can feel his hot breath on it.