My Twisted Bad Boy #Wattys2016

2.

2

Eccedentesiast

(n.) Someone who fakes a smile.

The hand felt cold on my skin and my whole body became stiff. His grip on my waist became tighter and it felt like I was gonna die. Scratch that, I know I'm gonna die.

The anonymous man, dragged me towards somewhere, but we weren't leaving the living the room. Is he going to kill me and roast me above my fireplace? Shit my colourful imagination was getting the best of me.

He said nothing and my body was still in state shock. I wanted to fight back, but I knew that, that could turn out as my death, so I just went along for now. I closed my eyes and started praying again, telling my mom how much I love her and apologizing to Elliot for when I stole her Drake shirt and never gave it back.

Tears rolled down my cheeks and I started hiccupping like a mad woman. Suddenly the lights went back on.

I was too scared to open my eyes again so I kept them closed, still in the intruder's grip. I felt his steady heartbeat against my back, it was completely normal, unlike mine. How in the world can he be so chill.

"You can open your eyes now babe." The smooth voice said and I shook my head furiously, I don't wanna look my death in the eyes. If you're gonna kill me, do it already.

He groaned and dragged me to what I suppose was the couch. I was right, he dropped me on the couch where I was sleeping just a few minutes ago. I slowly began to open my eyes, noticing the taser wasn't in my hand anymore. Why didn't he kill me already?

I looked at the floor infront of me and saw a pair of old Nikes in front of me. I was too scared to look up, I'm so gonna pee my pants. I think I did already.

"I'm not gonna kill you Zara." The voice said and I slowly looked up.. He wore dark denim jeans, a basic black shirt and a grey jacket.

Once I reached his face my breath got caught in my throat. His green eyes stood out the most, next to his curly black hair. But that isn't why my breath got caught in my throat, no, it was because he was covered in blood. So much freaking blood.

His neck was smeared with blood that was slowly turning dark and his hands were covered too. My hand immediately reached up to my face and felt the blood on it too. I couldn't speak, so instead I fell to the ground and crawled away from him.

"What the hell do you want, who are you?" I asked crawling back looking up at the boy who has a small smile on his face. "How the hell do you know my name? Why are you covered in blood?! But most importantly, why are you in my house and how did you get in?" I asked frantically bumping into the other couch. I raised myself from the ground with my hands and looked around me for a weapon that I could use to protect myself.

"Calm down Zara." He says and my eyes widened. "How am I supposed to calm down? How do you know my name, what are you doing here?" I asked grabbing a lamp that stood next to the couch to protect myself from him.

He took his jacket off and dropped it on my mom's white carpet. "Dude, now there's blood on the white carpet!" I said and the boy glared at me out of nowhere and strutted towards me.

"Don't fucking yell at me!" He spit in my face, not literally but his words were harsh. I nodded and my eyes widened and started to water. Then he started taking off his shirt.

"You aren't going to rape me, are you?" I asked my voice shaking, feeling tears run down my cheek. Stupid question Zara, stupid question.

He gave me a flat look and shook his head. "I got stabbed in a fight, you need to take care of my wound." He said and I frowned. How dare he! Come into my house, uninvited scaring the living shit out of me and then asking me to take care of his wound. No can do, over my dead body.

"What?! No, How do you know me? And how did you get in my house?" I asked and the boy glared at me, like a glare that would bury me sixty ft under. Then he reached behind his back and my eyes widended. Does he have a gun?!

I tried walking back but it was no use, I dropped on the couch behind me, never taking my eyes off the boy in front of me.

He didn't take out a gun but even worse in my opinion. A freaking knife and not a small one, one of those knives that can cut me into pieces easily.

"You either work along, or else I'll cut that pretty throat of yours, capiche?" He threathened. I nodded and he continued to take his shirt off, revealing a large cut across his musular chest.

"I-I'm gonna g-grab the f-first aid k-kit." I said shaking and stood up, but he grabbed my wrist before I could pull away.

"I don't trust you, walk." He said and I nodded, pulling the mysterious intruder along to my downstairs bathroom. I grabbed the medical things I needed and walked back to the living room. Thank god for those lessons my uncle insisted on giving me last summer.

I sat on the couch, covering it with a blanket first, and then started treating his wound. I sanitized it before I started treating it. The cut wasn't that deep, so I can probably help him.

I had to stitch it up.

"Um," I said and his head snapped towards me, his green eyes dangerously looking into mine. "I have to stitch, the wound." I said and continued glaring at me. "Do it then." He said and my eyes widened at his harsh tone. "O-okay." I said before grabbing the supplies.

He barely flinched. That made me even more scared.

"All done." I said with shaking hands, placing the used supplies in a plasic bag so I can throw them away. He looked at his stitch and nodded slightly impressed.

"W-who are you?" I asked hesitating. He pulled his shirt over his head and looked at me. "Cole." He said and leaned down to my ear which made me pull back. "Didn't your parents ever tell you to never open the door when you're home alone?" He said and grabbed his zipper hoodie and left. "Bye Zara." He said with his dark, low voice and slammed the door behind him.

What the fuck was that.