gialiani
- LETTURE 778
- Voti 44
- Parti 11
My hair whips across my face. Someone is watching me; I felt it. My mother had always told me to check my surroundings, but clearly I hadn't. Every day I felt him, always watching me. No matter if I was with my parents or even lying in my bed.
His footsteps grow closer, but I've yet to realize from which direction. "Irina," I hear a whisper. My body shivers, and my heart rate speeds up instantly. I fumble with the zipper in my purse. "Leave me alone! I have pepper spray, and I am not afraid to use it."
My voice was unsteady and harsh. A low chuckle escapes his lips. Stopping and turning around, waving my pepper spray around. "I'm serious!" I say, hoping that I sounded confident.
The hairs on the back of my neck rise; his hot mouth fawns over my neck. "Oh, my dear Irina. You can never escape me. Wherever you are, I'm ten steps behind."
"You will be mine." His voice, his presence, and the heat he radiated off of him almost made me fall on my knees. He's so close, but yet so far.
"The next man that touches you will disappear. And that's not a threat; it's a promise."
__________
Irina was thirteen when she started piano lessons with the infamous Flora Vitello. Twice a week at five pm sharp, she'd knock, waiting patiently.
As always, he opened the door, silent, letting her pass. He'd watch quietly, absorbing the music. This went on until Flora retired, and their paths went separate ways.
But he wouldn't stop until he had her, even if it meant watching from a distance. Once he set his eyes on something or someone, he took it, consequences be damned.
Malachi Vitello watched whenever he could, and now that she was back in sight, he wouldn't dare to let go.