Ford
YOUR EMOTIONS CAN DESTROY YOU.
There's no mistaking the intensity of my gaze on Genevieve in that photo, but it's uncertain how she will interpret it and be accurate with her analysis. Before I can license her the time to examine the specifics of the photo, I slip it harshly back into the envelope, ignoring the words that seem to be etched into my mind.
Emotions can completely destroy you. They send you into a downwards spiral where your mind becomes corrupted into regularly believing you should die, programming you into committing suicide. Emotions are a deadly concoction for the human mind. Fear breeds irrationality and greed nurtures deceit. Love is a deceitful bastard. It has the supremacy to make you the happiest person alive or leave you wounded and scarred.
"Someone knows we're here," Genevieve whispers, her voice tremoring to depict the dread that's beginning to fester inside her. "We need to leave."
As I stuff the envelope into my pocket, Genevieve bolts to the door. Her quivering hands fiddle with the locks to no avail as I rush forward, snaking my arms around her waist and hauling her backwards. Her feet shuffle across the floor as I lift her up off the ground, her flailing arms angering me as I duck my head to avoid a haphazard thump.
Lugging her into the lounge, I step to the nearest wall and in one fell swoop I spin her body around, pressing her back flush against the wall as my body towers her. Her body trembles as I place my hands on the wall to flank her head. She hesitantly raises her fearful gaze to meet mine, her cheeks flushed despite the abrupt paleness to her face. I dip my head until I'm as close as I can be.
"Calm the fuck down, princess," I murmur to her, though a margin of ire manages to creep into my tone. "We're not leaving this house."
As she exhales deeply, her breath hits my lips. In that moment, I want nothing more than to capture her breath in a stolen kiss but the desire to not have her hate me any more than she already does is so incandescent that it halts any attempt I can make to lean in.
"Then we're just sitting ducks," she replies, her voice wavering. "Someone knows we're here. We need to leave."
My hands ball into fists against the wall. Genevieve doesn't seem to notice, even when her gaze bows. Does she not realize it's safer for us to be barricaded in the house than out in the open and jeopardise an official Red Alert operation? The repercussions will be detrimental.
"What part of we're not leaving this house do you not understand, Genevieve? You leave this house and you're a target. We might be sitting ducks, but we're fortified behind walls and locks, and I'm a champion boxer; I can fucking fight. I've been told to keep you in this house until Sunday evening when we can both leave. You leave early and whoever sent that letter won't be the only one after you."
My low threat appears to resonate with her, because her quivering ceases momentarily, her eyes snapping back immediately to meet mine with the implied warning. The beats pass between us as my blood thrums tenderly in my ears, my heartbeat loud and vibrating.
I've been at the same proximity to Genevieve before, but this time is slightly different. We're silent and just simply staring at one another. I have no idea what conjecture is fogging her mind or what her subsequent actions will be, but I suspect she believes me enough to remain in the house.
I keep speaking to curb the silence. "We'll go through the house. Check every door and window is locked. Then I'll call someone. They can innocently patrol the road throughout the night and sit in a car down the road. But in order for that shit to happen, you need to promise me you won't be sneaking off into the night."
