7
I sat up silently screaming, tears streaming down my cheeks and my ears ringing, my body doubled over, clutching my head from the searing pain coursing through my heart and mind.
It took a while before I had calmed down enough to realise I wasn’t in familiar surroundings. I grabbed and pulled at the high thread count cotton that wrapped around me and kicked at the pillows, pushing myself further away with each hand full, until my back was against the wall above the bed.
My eyes scanned the room, learning the layout best I could in the dim lighting, and stopped when they found Typhon asleep, his legs thrown over the edge of the arm chair, one arm dangling in front just reaching the floor, and the other wrapped around his face hiding his eyes from the light. I knew it was him since his black and teal dreadlocks hung around his shoulders and over the chair, and the soft snore resonating from his throat sounded just as smug as he does when he’s awake!
Slowly I crept to the edge of the bed, peering over the side to make sure there wasn’t anything down there. My foot touched down onto the cool marble floor and I shivered from the contact.
“Unless you’re going to the bathroom I’d say an escape would be futile.” I gasped, clutching my heart. I spun around to see Typhon still in the same position as before, but a self-righteous grin poking out from underneath his arm.
“What the hell!” I almost screamed, making him jump and fall out of his seat. I fell back onto the bed laughing hysterically, gripping my stomach I was laughing so hard. The look on his face told me he wasn’t amused, but I really didn’t care, this arrogant ass deserves some humiliation! After all I am the one he whacked like a bad mafia agent and left tied up in the trunk of a car for god knows how long!
He sat up, glaring at me which only made me laugh harder. Like a 5-year-old he crossed his arms and started sulking, getting up and walking away from the girl in hysterics laughing on the bed. He slammed the bathroom door behind him and I sighed, wiping away the small tears that had appeared, courtesy of my laughing fit.
I could hear him through the door, cursing in 4 different languages, the most popular being Dutch.
“Dome Meisje”. Hey, I’m not stupid, or little. Bitch.
“Ik kan Hera dick weed”, I shouted.
He swung open the door and stood there, just glaring at me, his arms crossed over his chest and his face wet from the tap I guess.
I eyed the door, it was only 10 feet away, and if I ran I could beat him by half a second if I’m lucky.
He noticed my glance and his eyes narrowed; I bolted from the bed and ran as fast as I could. I reached the door and slammed into someone, making me stumble back and fall on my ass.
I looked up and Typhon was stood in front of the door, his expression radiating smugness.
How the hell!? He was behind me! There is no way he can run that fast! I train almost every day, running miles for hours. I built my speed up so fast that I haven’t been mugged in years. Mind you I only started running so I didn’t have to fight them anymore. I hate wearing cover up.
And yet, here he stands. I hate being bested, especially by pompous asses that should really wipe the grin off their face if they want to live to see their 20’s.
Nice! Liking the violent side lately, kudos.
Don’t get used to it, I hate being a bitch but sometimes it’s necessary.
YOU ARE READING
The Lost Daughter of Thaumaturgy
FantasyGabe is 17 and has lived her entire life on the run, from who? she doesn't know. Now that she's all alone, her mother gone, she must keep running from her unknown enemy. Little does she know, her enemies are her Destiny.
