The Devil In Disguise

CHAPTER 23: Who Is The Boy?

His hand whipped out before I could move, and lifted a strand of my hair. I held a shaky breath, fear consuming me, my limbs trembling.

"I'm glad you changed it back," he murmured. "I like it this way."

I struggled to breathe, and a concerned expression made its way onto his face with ease.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" Then he laughed a cruel, cruel laugh which shook the foundation of the very earth I stood on, the tremors travelling to the core of my bones, more than a few of which he had broken.

"It's been a long time, darling," he continued, his voice lowering to an almost greedy growl. My heart thudded in my chest as I replied,

"Not long enough."

His eyes flashed. I tried to fight the voice in my head that told me to shut up and not talk back, but I didn't heed it — I would hold my head high.

"Your attitude seems to have come back since we last spoke," he tilted his head like a graceful swan. "But don't worry; within no time you'll be silent. Permanently."

He then laughed melodically and I grimaced. Such harmonic notes shouldn't be emitted from such a monster.

"I hate you," I breathed. I had nowhere to go. I was done for; this time, I couldn't escape. He knew what I was capable of, and that I was cleverer than he'd imagined. He would have taken measures to prevent my escape.

My only fate, now, was death.

"What was that?" he demanded sharply, letting go of my hair. I looked at him with pure contempt, staying silent now. His hand flew out and slapped me so fast that he barely moved, and my head whipped to the side, my cheek stinging. But I still turned back, met his gaze head on with hatred in my eyes, and said louder this time, "I hate you."

His eyes flashed again and fear shivered its way around my body, giving me goosebumps that I'd blame on the cold air if there was any point; the atmosphere had suddenly dropped a few degrees.

"Lorelei, darling," he said in a dangerously low tone, gripping my chin painfully with his thumb and index finger, "shut your mouth before I sew it together with a rusted nail."

I shut my mouth and said not a word.

"Better," he said, trying to calm himself down. He let go of my chin and got his car keys out. "Now, listen here. You're coming with me. No hassle, no screaming or I will cut off your blood supply with my bare hands. Understood?"

I nodded numbly as he grabbed my wrist with gloved hands and led me away from my friends, away from civilisation, towards death. There was no point struggling. My knees were weak and I could barely walk, but he didn't mind. As long as I was being docile, he wouldn't hurt me. But as soon as we were alone, he'd unleash his fucked up mind and let it go haywire on me, ruining me, scarring me, killing me — and all the while, he'd be taking pictures.

His car was parked on a desolate street. He let go of my wrist to take out his car keys, knowing I wouldn't run. There was no point. We got closer and closer, and I realised he'd got a new one. One that looked like a normal, average, unsuspicious car.

"So, those were your friends?" he asked. I froze on the spot, my protective instincts surging along with my adrenaline. He could hurt me, but not them.

Oh, how valiant of you, a small voice in my mind exclaimed. You're a bit late, though.

He halted a few steps ahead, realising I'd stopped walking. Slowly, he turned around, his hands in his pockets, head tilted to the side.

He let out a chuckle. "You used to be able to control your emotions so well," he said, taking a step closer to me, consequently making me step back. "Now, your reactions tell me all I need to know."

I cursed internally. He was right; I'd lost my touch.

I wiped my face clean of emotion and looked at him coldly. "Yes, they're my friends. It doesn't take a genius to figure that out."

He just looked at me with a glint in his eye. "Who's the boy?"

My heart skipped a beat but I showed nothing. "What do you mean?" I said coolly although my hands had started trembling again. I hid them in the pockets of my jeans and hoped it looked like I was relaxed, like I didn't really care about the situation anymore.

Who was I kidding? He saw right through me, his piercing eyes catching my every move.

"You know what I mean, darling."

I stayed silent and ignored him. I knew that that would result in something bad but I wasn't going to tell him anything about them. They wouldn't end up like Katy. They couldn't.

For the second time, he slapped me before I could even register it, this time harder than before. I held my stinging cheek and internally cursed myself for gasping sharply. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of my pain.

He strode towards me suddenly and I tried to back away but he grabbed my shoulders and yanked me towards him. He leaned down and cupped my face in his hands, and he was so close that I stopped breathing. I could make out each and every wave in the ocean of his maniacal eyes.

"Answer me," he breathed, filling my nostrils with the smell of smoke. I knew he didn't care much about the actual answer, but the fact that I wouldn't answer him showed disobedience — he hated that. I knew he'd ask me to identify Xander until I did, slowly injecting more fear into me as he spoke.

"Who. Is. The. Boy?" he repeated.

I gathered as much hatred as I could into my eyes and directed it at him. He could see every single metaphorical dagger I was stabbing him with in my mind, and his own eyes filled with fury.

But before he could do anything, I spat in his face, taking him by surprise; he let go of me in disgust.

And in that millisecond, I kicked his kneecap as hard as I could so that he buckled while he was distracted. Then I turned and ran.

A/N

Run, Karissa, run!

Vote for this chapter to find out what happens next!

—deainlustris