The Sweetest Kill (SAMPLE)

Eight: Acquisition

© Amber Kalkes 2015

Chapter Eight: Acquisition

My apartment is quiet when I enter it about an hour later. I took my time getting home, enjoying the snow and trying to think of someway to come up with this month's rent. The results have been fruitless but I don't regret my decision to quit. It was a good decision, just bad timing.

Stripping off my layers of clothes I'm down to my bra and pants when I catch a hint of red out of the corner of my eye. I freeze and slowly turn towards the area by my desk and squint into the darkness. I don't see anything at first but that's quickly remedied when my lamp flicks on. I blink hard at the sudden brightness before realizing I have company.

I watch him with the same amount of caution as last time but he looks completely relaxed. His head tilts to the side as his eyes impassively look over my partially exposed torso before they narrow on my arms. I suddenly feel very naked and exposed, knowing he sees them in all their monstrous glory. Self-consciously, I wrap my arms around my stomach while trying to ignore the stinging in my hand when the rising blister accidently bumps my elbow. I should really wrap that up.

"W-What are you doing here?" I ask, squirming in my spot.

His eyes move up to meet mine and I see bemusement in them, "You have bruises on your arms."

I glance down at my arms and realize that it's true. Quarter sized bruises on both fronts of my arms and probably more on the back that I can't see. Still, I feel like we're ignoring the bigger issues with my arms. Most people would be disgusted or horrified by the scars, scabs and bandages marring my arms but he only looks curious. Of course, I have to remember he's not exactly most people. I'm not even sure he can be classified as a person considering what he is.

"You still haven't answered me." I whisper, not sure where to go with this conversation.

"I came to see how you were."

I narrow my eyes at him, "Yeah, about that. I thought we had a deal!"

"Did we?" He ask silkily, "I don't remember shaking or signing anything."

I gape at him. Is he serious right now?

"Why?"

He looks bored, "Why what?"

"Why didn't you kill me like I asked?"

He shrugs, "I didn't feel like it."

I feel like he just smacked me in the face. He didn't feel like it? He didn't feel like it? I drop my arms to my sides and clench my hands into fists. Where the hell does he get off, just backing out like that? We had a deal! Maybe it wasn't anything past a verbal agreement but what the hell? Its not like it would have been hard for him to kill me! He was right there, at edge. All he had to do was push me off it.

I glare at him, only to notice his attention is on my arms again. I realize that I've exposed myself again and cross them over my torso. He watches my action without much expression before sighing and sitting more comfortably in the chair.

"What do you want?" I mutter bitterly, just wanting to be left alone.

"Why do you hurt yourself?" He counters.

"That's none of your business." I hiss defensively.

"Humor me. Tell me why and maybe I'll tell you why I really didn't kill you."

I scoff, "Like I can trust you to tell me anything."

He smirks, "I guess that's a chance you're going to have to take, won't you?"