Control Freak ✔️

30 in her eyes

Caleb would have done absolutely anything for Ivy except this.

As the two waited beneath the bridge in their stolen car, the uneven rumbling of the engine agitated him to shut it off. His beady, trembling eyes were acutely focused on his shaking knuckles, clinging to the steering wheel for dear life. His pupils fled from her vibrant gaze, afraid of what her eyes would ask of him.

His entire countenance tinged with worry and indecision, and his light brown eyes were glowing and wild, like a wounded animal ensnared in a trap, looking desperately for a way out; a way not to fight. Or, if somehow, he was dreaming, then one pull of the trigger would wake him up and he'd realize he had been asleep in his bed this whole time. He would wake up and be relieved to know that he was still on summer vacation, home from college and determined not to waste what little time he had left before it was time to go back. With one pull of the trigger, he could have that life back. But in order to do that, he would've had to trust the word of his pretty-eyed nightmare, sitting beside him as she softly beckoned for him to come closer.

"Hey. Look at me, Caleb. You trust me, don't you?"

To his surprise, she raised the gun and turned it on herself, pressing it right between her big, perfect eyes. He was entranced by her, ensnared in the million fibers of her evergreen gaze. Her soft fingers, like gentle vines, crawled along his skin and encircled his hands until they stopped shaking.

"See now?" she said with those eyes of hers glowing in earnest. "You have my life in your hands, Caleb. You always will. If ever you feel like you don't trust me anymore, then, you know what to do..."

He still wasn't entirely convinced that she wasn't a succubus. Or a vampire. Or some kind of alien. It really didn't matter what kind of monster he chose her to be, but only that she possessed an otherworldly power over Caleb, one that could make him believe in great castles. Except there were no more princesses to save in them. In truth, the last was dead and gone, and all that were left were the demons who wore their dresses.

His breaths were short and chaotic. His trigger finger wavered until it was so numb he couldn't feel it squeeze. He knew he couldn't trust her. He'd known since the day he made that promise and sold his soul to Ivy Quinn.

"Do you feel better?"

He slowly nodded.

"Okay, let's go."

Ivy was wearing a nice coat, a long dress and leather boots underneath. Caleb was in a suit: a black sports jacket, white shirt, and a yellow bow tie cinched tight around his neck. They both looked as if they had just finished sitting through Sunday Service. They got out of the car and stalked towards the bank. Ivy clung to his arm, a sweet smile on her face. At that moment, he imagined how good it would've been if they were going to a matinee, or anywhere else a normal couple would go. Instead, the pistol in his breast pocket weighed on his chest, and he could feel his heart thumping against it.

She smiled at everyone that turned to look at them as they stood in line; there were three or four people ahead of them. Caleb looked around. There were a few people sitting in the waiting area. There were a few others filling out deposit slips.

"Next," called the teller.

"Hello, sir," Ivy sang.

"Hello, ma'am," he replied. "How may I help you today?"

"Oh, I'd just like to withdraw some money."

"May I see your i.d.?"

"Certainly," she replied as she shuffled through her handbag. She came up with an i.d. card, but before flashing it in front of him, she said, "oh, honey, you've got a little something there," gesturing to the side of his mouth.

"Oh," he said, wiping over his mouth with his jacket sleeve. "Did I get it?"

"Here, honey." She leaned in over the counter and he did the same. At that moment, she snatched him by the tie and brought him close, brandishing a pistol in her other hand.

"Now, now," she said. "Be a dear and help me withdraw all the money from the safe." Ivy yanked across the counter and wrapped her arm around his throat.

"EVERYBODY ON THE GROUND!" she boomed. She turned to look at Caleb, who had frozen in place. "Caleb," she hissed. "Don't get nervous."

He shook himself out of it and pulled out his gun. "Y-y-yeah, everyone, put your hands behind your head and sit down along the walls."

"Lock the doors, darling," she softly commanded.

The glass behind her shattered. Ivy quickly dropped to the floor, letting go of her hostage as he scampered away. Caleb frantically scanned the open area to find the gunman. It was one of the bankers who had come out of his cubicle to meet them, wielding a hand cannon of his own.

"Aren't you kids a little old to be playing cops and robbers?" he growled. "Hope you're ready to die!" Ivy scurried over the counter and rolled to the other side of it just as he let off another round. Then he saw Caleb.

"Caleb!"

"What'sa matter, sport? Ya wet yourself?"

Caleb couldn't move. He held the gun out in front of him, but the barrel wouldn't stop shaking. He felt the sweat drip from his nose as he tried to swallow his spit. His teeth began to chatter as he started to mumble, "this can't be real. This can't be real."

"C'mon, c'mon, please!"

"Caleb, move!"

The last thing he remembered focusing on was his grinning white teeth as raised the gun to Caleb. The bullet ripped past him, a trickling stream of blood flung in the other direction as Caleb dove behind a chair. Finally, Caleb returned fire. He blew a hole through the cubicle wall, as the banker retreated behind it.

All the patrons fled the scene, screaming. And then, all was still. There was a lurching murmur, a quiet bellow, as if the walls were breathing. It came like an ominous lullaby, a siren song toward which its prey reluctantly approached, swaying in obedience with each rhythmic bound into nowhere. Soon the silence pervaded like a growl. Its bellows quaked the walls of his skull and sent a violent shock through his knees. It jarred him out of his bones. The sound of his wheezing breaths made it more and more difficult to steady the gun. He wanted to call out. He wanted to fire his pistol, just to compel any motion at all. His vision began to blur. It wasn't until that moment he realized he had really been shot. Caleb couldn't tell where— the shoulder, maybe the neck or arm— he couldn't feel his arm anymore. He dropped the gun and it came down with a thud.

"Heh heh," he heard a laugh from what seemed like miles away. "You're really not cut out for this, eh kid?"

"Get me into the safe or I kill you," Ivy murmured. She had crawled her way to the back and apprehended one of the stragglers. The teller nodded, and on their hands and knees they moved in front of the vault door. The teller hesitated with the code.

"Hurry up! Do you think I'm joking with you? Hurry up with the code!" She began typing in the keycode and just as the vault door unlatched—

"Not so fast, you bitch!" Ivy felt him behind her, with the gun cocked at point blank range. Suddenly, she felt very cold, and her senses, numb and muted. Like a deer caught in the all-consuming flash of its quick, impending demise, she was frozen, with no time to get out of the way.

"Ivy!" roared Caleb. He lunged in front of the opening made from the shattered glass, and fired. The banker lurched forward, smashing his head against the vault door as a spray of red spouted from the left side of his face and painted the shiny steel.

Ivy's eyes beamed as she looked up at him. "Damn, baby!" she exclaimed.

"EVERYBODY," he cried in an exasperated pant. "JUST REMAIN FUCKING CALM, OKAY! FUCK!"

"Take a breath, baby, relax," she purred. "You're gonna pass out." Before going into the vault, she took a good look at her would-be killer: with his head peeled back over his shoulders and his chin climbing up the red wall; his eyes were staring into nothing.

"Good shooting," she marveled under her breath.