Something filthy about Mr.Haynes

Danger

Serene's POV

I was woken by a fresh smell of a firewood and the sudden whoosh of warm air, as the clothes were dropped onto the bed beside me.

"Wake up! Now!"-he hissed.

I forced to open my eyes hesitantly, for I wasn't sure if it's another nightmare i'm drifting in or am I still alive in this hell.

When my gaze landed on his features, that now watched me with certain irritation, I suddenly snapped out of my thoughts, as well as out of my dreams.

This was hell, after all.

I didn't know what was there he wanted with me again or what other sick surprises he had prepared and the previous night's events made my fear towards his actions grow higher.

I hardly swallowed, as I watched his furious gaze roam my body again, starting from my feet and going all the way up, as he shot me a look full of hatred and the fear crept in my head once more.

"Dress up! Now!"-he growled from the armchair.

I sat up quickly like I just got the worst sting of a bee, startled by his rough voice.

I rubbed my eyes carefully, as I tried to avoid his gaze, which, i'm sure was angry, but my attempts failed miserable, as I couldn't stop but to snap my head towards him.

He was sitting there still, his hands both resting on the chair holdings as his fierce eyes looked directly at me. He was wearing black jeans, his long legs wide apart with a pair of same dirty converse that kicked me so many times already I lost the count. The white t-shirt underneath his black jacket was tight, like a skin of a snake wrapping around his muscular chest, showing just a tip of his tattoos.

His right hand held a cigarette, as most of the time, and I figured he was sitting like this for a while already, because there was a small pile of ashes under his feet. His left hand, in contrary, was holding his chin with just the fingertips, as he kept playing with his beard, brushing nervously through this sweet mess of his hair once in a while.

No no! What the hell is wrong with you, Serene, it's not charming at all! It's not nice!

My freaked out features were probably more than obvious, for his hand flew to the side dramatically and he rolled his eyes.

"You make it difficult every time,"-he taunted,-"acting like we've just met. All this stupid fear in your face and the hopelessness isn't really your thing."

"You tell me,"-i sighed sitting up and throwing the blankets off of me,-"what exactly is my thing then?"

"Dress on!"-he repeated again so insistently and annoyed, that I forgot suddenly what was I doing at the moment. He groaned silently, while I just sat there dumbfounded and didn't move a finger, startled by his sudden mood swings.

I couldn't stop but wonder what I did to make him this mad at night, why so suddenly from a peaceful dream he turned into this raging psycho. He attacked me when I was sleeping, his hands roaming my body and I wasn't strong enough to push him away.

He bit my again. I wasn't sure what kind of a sick game he was playing, but every day it was getting worse.

My palm flew to my neck instinctively and I froze suddenly, feeling two little bite marks under my fingertips.

"It healed already. Dress up."

Ignoring his intimidating voice I remembered how he hurt me and the way I prayed myself to sleep for hours, it seemed, too afraid to drift into a dream, in case he attacked me once again.