La Mort et ses Merveilles ✔

5. Unholy Sanctuary

La Mort et ses Merveilles

Chapter 5: Unholy Sanctuary

I couldn't see. I couldn't move. But most importantly, I couldn't breathe.

I could feel the pillow press against my face as Leslie held it down. I struggled, flailing my arms, but they were held in place with the straps. My heart racing, I feared for the worst. This was it, I was going to die. But if this psychopath things I was going to just lie here and let him suffocate me, he was wrong.

Yanking as hard as I could, I managed to get free from the restraints, the straps snapping away from the bedpost. I fumbled around in the dark, swinging my arms and kicking the air, trying to at least get him off me.

I heard him grunt as I managed to hit him. I don't know what I hit, but that seemed to loosen his grip against the pillow for a brief moment, and it was enough for me to wrestle free. Slipping away from his reach, I tried to scamper away, but he pulled me with his strong arms.

"Stop struggling you brat," he sputtered under his breath.

I managed to elbow him in the chest, to which he responded by twisting my arm. I yelled in pain. It was excruciating.

Slamming me against the back wall, he pushed his forearm against my neck. I was held against the wall, my feet lifted from the ground. I coughed and sputtered, trying to catch my breath, but he was choking me. My heart thumped hard in my chest. I tried to push him, to kick him, but he held me there, his chokehold getting stronger as he pushed harder against me.

I stared into his stormy blue eyes, the moonlight reflecting off his pale face, the blinds in the room casting shadows onto his features. He gritted his teeth, and I could hear him panting slightly. This was it. I was going to stare into his eyes as I died. He almost killed me once, and maybe he was here to finish the job.

It was then when the lights were switched on.

"Les," I heard a calm, yet firm voice pierce the heavy air. "Let go of him right now."

It was Josephine.

The young man let go of me, and I fell onto my knees with a loud thump, gasping for air. I looked up and saw Josephine standing by the entrance, Isabella behind her. She wore a blue nightgown, and her blonde hair was done up in a simple bun.

In her hand, directly pointing at Leslie, was a pistol.

"Jason," she called out to me in a calm but commanding tone, her eyes not even once leaving the young man. "Get behind me."

I scampered over to safety, standing by Isabella. Leslie walked up to us, saying nothing, his hands shoved in his pockets.

"Hands up," Josephine ordered. "Where I can see them."

He raised his hands up. I noticed the corner of his thin lips curling up into a smirk as he tilted his head. His deep set eyes looking at the three of us.

"There's nothing funny about this Les," the young woman said, the gun still aimed at him. "I told you to not try anything stupid."

The young man chuckled, before lowering his arms altogether.

"You're not going to shoot me," he said as he took a step forward.

"Do you want to see me try?" Josephine retorted, unwavering. "Leslie I swear I'll blow your head off."

The young man was silent for a while, averting his gaze. His blue eyes staring at the floor as he fidgeted.

"I'm sorry I shouldn't have done that," he muttered.