Outside the dangerous streets, soft dark curly brown hair flows in the moonlight mixed with street lamps which seem to illuminate strong stern features. Thick denim jacket with the bright glimmer of silver hidden inside. A shade of crystal clear gre...
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Sleep last night definitely didn't come easy with the constant thoughts flooding in surrounding my death from Harold. When will the time come? Yet my terrified thoughts were always accompanied with gunfire sometimes alarmingly close. He, my kidnaper didn't seem to mind. Not even a stir or shuffle of the sheets was heard during the chaos outside the dirty streets. I'm sure it's painted in red, angry red.
His breaths were shallow as he laid on the white fitted bed, while I was situated on the couch cuddled up. It was comfy enough, yet the sore neck in the morning was indicated as I had rested in an awkward position. I was too scared to move thinking Harold would shoot me thinking I was an intruder or worse, an eradicator.
"Either eat now Miss Delaney," he lowly growls green eyes blazing, "or starve to death, I don't give a damn."
Staring at the food he picked up from the trip to the corner store had my stomach churning, wondering how the old lady coped with watching the death of her assumed late husband. I wouldn't dare cry in front of him as his anger would increase by ten folds. My lip quivers with the shake of my head knowing I wouldn't be able to keep it down. It's been an unknown amount of hours since the commence of the seasonal eradication. I can only wish that it ended at the usual time. I would be out of this mess sooner.
Shuffling up he strides over towards the table situated in the middle of the room. Gathering a seat he begins pulling at his lip, studying me and my own trembling lip. Emotions hidden behind emeralds. This eradicator was one of the few that we're almost destined to become such a monster it seems. Shifting on the couch under his dark gaze, the sound it caused had his eyes casting away with a smirk on his plump pink lips.
"I'm not particularly hungry," I gulped staring at my twirling hands in my lap.
With a huff Harold simply digs in to his food, I couldn't help and stare angrily that I indeed found him very attractive when he will be the death of me in the end.
"Pack up my shit will you? We're leaving when I'm done."
"Leaving, where to?" I gulp.
"Don't ask questions you don't want the answer to love, now hurry up. I'm a fast eater,you see?" He smirks staring at me through his long dark lashes.
My insides swirl as I start packing all his things or shit as he had called. There was a lot of it. Shuffling towards the double bed I notice a small weapon filled with bullets. A pistol. My eyebrows furrow together as I peek back at the devil, Harold.
Cautiously pacing around the bed I knell down out of sight and grasp the cool metal in my hands while shoving it in my waist band. The cold sensation sending shivers down my spine. I already feel like him... and Harper. My eyes dart down to my feet as I notice the shirt Harold wore to bed sighing I pick it up as a distraction.
But as I stand up Harold smirks with dark eyes pinned on my small form. The rise of my heartbeat picks up which certainly could be heard, the soft material now clenched in my hand limply hanging by my side.
"I'm beginning to think you're a little too curious. You could have simply asked to borrow my shirt, you know?" He chuckles deeply shaking his head.
Letting out a breath of air I tighten my grip on the black shirt while the gun in my waist band has now warmed to match my body heat, which is scorching due this infuriating man in front of me. My lips speak for them self as I play along with his assumption that I wanted his shirt. Did I?
"So, can I—"
"No don't be stupid, and I never said I'd say yes to you." He growls eyebrows drawn.
"We're leaving. Now!" He yells grabbing his backpack and stuffing the extra food inside.
I slowly tip toe my way to stand near the dark maroon couch yet again, Harold swiftly comes up to me yanking the shirt out of my tiny hand as I hiss holding my wound. It was healing now despite the red bandage I now adorn. The bleeding has stopped and so have the major head spins. He definitely helped me in some way I suppose.
Biting my lip I watch him move around the room swiftly picking up his belongings he seemingly had thrown around the room in a fit. I wanted to scream and yell at him in all reality yet the mouse I am kept me quiet. Not even a squeak. I want to accuse him of murder, I need to for my sanity's sake. I was unwillingly swirling down a dark deep hole with no way out. No ladder insight nor a flash of shinning armour.
Is death what they say it really is? Watching your life display before you seems all too beautiful, it could be filled with all the dark memories you burry deep and try to forget. It might even just be nothingness. Darkness like being lost in the tumbling sea during a horrific storm, choking down the endless salty water. I know my death will be painful, so does that mean my last thoughts will match?
As Harold unlocks the door I hold my breath heading to the unknown. I can only hope my death isn't painful with instincts yelling at me that I'm going to meet his father. It's destined to be as that. Painful. As I remember Harold's cruel harsh tone when he found out my full name, I can only imagine the torment I'll endure. What have I gotten myself into?
"Hurry up before I shoot a bullet between your gorgeous eyes, you'll be seeing hell's gates soon my little eradicator." He grimaces stepping outside the wooden door.
In that instant, sucking in a breath of air, it seems Harold as painted out my end. A bullet between my eyes by Harold or his father, I am soon to find out.
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It's a filler sorry. I'm not a fan of this story so far. The characters are absolutely either insanely inaccurate or their emotions are completely wrong in certain situations. I'm not sure if I should revise it or just warn that it's my first story like everyone else. I now understand why authors state it's their first story because same!
