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“Who are you?”
I asked, fear conquering with the brave within my soul. I can feel the sweat drench my damaged skin, the ringing screams vibrating in my ears, and the thumping of my heart against my chest. My fingers are curled into a fist, nails digging into my palm. I can't hear my rapid breathing, but I can feel the oxygen flooding in and out of my lungs.
How can you not be scared when you've got no strength to fight for your own safety, how can you not be scared when your life is holding on, on thin ice, how can you not be scared when you're not aware of your surrendering, all alone, with one dangerous man who could be anyone behind that mask. How can you not be scared when you miss how things supposed to be..
I felt a sting on my left leg and winced in pain, my wounds weren't treated yet and i could feel them getting worse.
The man who was standing on both two feet-- not too far away his attention was still on me, watching my every move in silence. It was silence for a few seconds but he breaks it leaving the room.
While he was gone, i had some time to analyze it, it was a rather surprisingly nice room, the endeavour and vibe the room was transmitting with its colors and furniture was chill, the smell of vanilla was lingering through the air and the outside breeze was getting through the open window that was open not too far away from where i was laying on the bed. Honestly, i was relieved to be laying down and resting my body-- and even being alone for at least a few minutes. Even though being alone was equally to being alone with my own thoughts that we're blasting through my brain like your favorite song, the thing was-- I wasn't enjoying them and even if i tried to stop them, they just kept on coming.
Suddenly, the door opened and the masked man came through with medicine and some other stuff. He lay down the things on the little table beside me, and spreaded them on the bed. I looked at him in confusion and i was already starting to question his intentions.
Was he about to treat my wounds? It's not like i didn't want to, yes, i needed someone urgently to treat them, but i couldn't trust just anybody to do that for me. I couldn't trust the one who caused them, who hurt me.
In a second he reached for my leg but i immediately reacted back and flinched, with a wince i moved my leg towards myself in order to get away from his grasping hands.
“You don't trust me?” the man asked, in its way too deep voice.
It was quite ironic that the mysterious man asked me that, after hurting me intentionally. I couldn't comprehend his intentions, his personality was very moody, he changed his attitude minute by minute like the one who hurt me wasn't him, it was like he did not want that to happen, like his intentions were more like to get myself out if there, which i was grateful for, but i'd honestly rather be home than... here.
