Rage

♠️TWENTY NINE♠️

•Raquel’s POV•

"I’m all yours."
Those words, those bare, unpolished confessions wouldn’t stop echoing in my head. They looped endlessly like some cruel refrain, like a song designed to torment me. I’d always known, in the unspoken corners of my heart, that I was drawn to Sal. How could I not be? The man was art made flesh, a contradiction of sharp edges and soft shadows, the kind of beauty that unsettles as much as it captivates.

But attraction was one thing. This… whatever had bloomed inside me, was something far more dangerous. Feelings I couldn’t name. Feelings that had no safe definition.

I rubbed at my eyes, rough and restless, forcing myself to focus on where I was. His room. Of course. The walls bled with chaotic color, paintings scrawled with hidden meanings, cryptic brush-strokes that spoke more about the painter than the subject. It was ironic. For a boy I’d only ever seen cloaked in shades of grey, his room was alive with fire and storms.

Salvatore Camara, pale skin, mischievous smirk, the effortless mask of a flirt, always slipping through my fingers like smoke. I thought I knew him. A boy full of jokes and clever remarks, untouchable in his mystery. But I never saw this side. This raw, unfiltered, terrifying side. And the image of a little boy pressing a knife to his own skin, carving his pain into his flesh, tightened my chest like a noose.

Then I noticed it. Movement.
A shadow stretched across the room, tall and deliberate. My gaze should’ve cut through the dark since the reading lamp burned bright enough to sting my eyes yet the figure remained blurred, unreal.

“Sal?” My voice quivered, the sound ricocheting off the walls. No answer.

“This isn’t funny,” I snapped, sharper this time. But underneath the anger was fear, that gnawing whisper: Had he seen the truth of me? The fractured, broken thing I was, the reason people always left?

I shifted, tried to sit up and froze. My wrists wouldn’t budge. Cold metal bit into my skin. Chains. My hands were chained to the bed frame. Panic surged through me like fire as I struggled, wrists scraping raw against the iron, breath climbing into sharp, uneven gasps.

“Sal!” I screamed, desperation breaking through my throat.

The shadow moved again, closer now, until familiar eyes pierced the dark storm-grey, set beneath ruffled black hair, his lips pale pink but curled into something unreadable.

Relief flickered, only to be devoured by confusion. “Sal, get me out of this. What’s happening?” I pleaded, but he only looked at me the way someone might look at a stray animal, pitiful, detached.

“Poor thing,” he murmured, before turning away, disappearing into the spill of lamplight.

“What’s going on?” My voice cracked, my body trembling as though my own fear had taken hold of my bones.

When he returned, there was a smile tugging at his mouth, wrong, unsettling. He lowered himself beside me, the mattress dipping with his weight. Instinctively, I recoiled, pressing my back against the headboard.

“Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?” he asked softly, his words deceptively tender. “Pretty like the stars… yet distracting, like art that ruins you if you stare too long.”

My breath caught. He studied me as though I were a canvas, his voice laced with wonder and something darker. “Whoever made you… must have spent ages, every detail designed soo deliberately.”

Then he laid his head against my chest, the intimacy suffocating in its strangeness. His words hummed against my skin: “I love you.”

I stiffened, heart rattling violently in my ribcage. “Sal, I… I love you too,” I whispered, terrified of saying the wrong thing, terrified of not saying enough.

He lifted his head slowly, eyes searching mine, grey oceans turning violent. “Say it like you mean it.”

“I love you, Sal,” I said again, firmer this time, as if conviction alone could save me.

But he only shook his head, the movement brushing against me. “There it is again. That believable lie.”

Before I could answer, his hands slid to my waist, fingers splayed across my skin like possession. His lips found mine, feather-soft at first, coaxing. I kissed back, instinct, survival, longing, I couldn’t tell. When I tried to pull away, his mouth pressed harder, claiming.

“You deserve the world,” he breathed against my lips, trailing kisses up toward my temple. His words should have been a promise, but each one rang like a verdict. “You deserve heaven.” His hand left my waist, climbing higher, fingers grazing my shoulder, then curling with dreadful intent toward my throat. “And hell.”

“Sal—” My voice fractured as his hand tightened around my neck.

The kiss broke, replaced with a suffocating grip. My fingers clawed at his arm, but he was relentless, his strength overwhelming. His eyes, once warm in mischief, were now glacial, merciless.

“Please,” I choked, tears spilling down my face.

His gaze didn’t soften. His grip didn’t waver. He leaned in, his lips ghosting mine, his voice a whisper of damnation:

“Too bad I can only give you one.”

The tears blurred my vision, terror flooding every vein as his face hovered close, his breath chilling my skin.

“And it’s not heaven.”

My eyes snapped open and the first thing I did was feel my neck, make sure I was still breathing, still whole. For a second I just laid there, frozen, heart hammering like I’d run a mile.

Then the room settled back into itself and I realized it had all been a dream. I scrambled out of bed, tripping over my sheets, and barreled to the mirror. I pressed my fingertips to my throat, searching for bruises or angry red marks from where someone had wrapped their hands around me. Nothing. My skin was smooth and warm, my pulse was still racing, but there were no traces, no proof.

What the actual hell was that?

I checked the bathroom, then the closet even the hallway, half expecting Sal to be lurking around the corner, with fear in his eyes and comforting me and telling me it's all been a silly dream. He wasn’t. I sank down to the floor, shoved my fingers through my hair until it stuck up in every direction, and tried to force myself back into reality.

It’s just a dream, I told myself, repeating it until the words felt like they might mean something. I stared at my reflection until my eyes burned, as if convincing the girl in the glass would convince the rest of me. But the fear had left a taste in my mouth that wouldn’t wash away.

Authors note

Hey hey, loves. It feels more that amazing to be back on track writing and I'm so so sorry for holding you guys in suspense. it's just that I had soo many ideas for this chapter and they were all fighting there way through my brain, good thing I finally decided.

Soo.., what do y'all think about this Chapter and what will happen next?

And btw I just realized I write better when im not in a rush or pressured my school work.

God, I hate that I have to go to school, good thing I'm on a break, so you know what that means....... more chapters and hopefully I'll try to finish this book before the year ends. Yayy

Thanks for choosing my book once again and don't forget to like, and give your opinions, pleaseee, this writer is obsessed with what you guys think about her chapters.

Ok ok, bye for now, love you <333