I.N.K. Service

I.N.K. Service

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WpMetadataReadOngoing20m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sat, Jul 16, 2016
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Fiction
Romance
I gasp as I round the corner. I almost slam into a tall, suited torso. I look up and the scarred face stares back at me, blue eyes electric, brows furrowed, jaw clenched with menace. My first reaction is to pull a hit and run, but I then realize that it would land me being either punched in the face or pinned against the wall, or maybe worse. I start to back up, but the space I create between us is closed immediately. I start panicking like a wild rabbit about to be torn apart by a fox. I want to bound away from him but my legs are frozen. I want to push him over and have him tumble down the stairs but my arms are frozen. Suddenly, my bare shoulder blades hit the rough drywall behind me. Various curse words float through my head as I frantically search for a solution. None come until I try to kick between his legs on a whim. He saw it coming from a mile away and before I could even move, stepped on my foot. I hold back a squeal. It takes all my strength not to let out a startled yelp. He takes a long breath. "Are you," he starts in a gruff, fearsome voice, "Miss Melonie Terrace?" My brain freezes. I don't know, am I Miss Melonie Terrace? Yes, wait yes I am. I nod vigorously, eyes wide with fear and confusion. He takes his giant shoe of my tiny foot and pulls a card from his pocket and shoves it into my hand. And just like that, he disappears back up the stairs. I stand against the wall, shell shocked for a moment. The gears in my head start working. How did he know my name? Why did he want to see me? How did he know I was here? I gulp loudly compared to the silence around me. I feel the card between my fingers and lift the cream-colored paper to my face. It reads, Miss Melonie Terrace LaCriox; Restaurant 8'o clock, Sep. 5th
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He once told me no one knows the real him.I didn't think he meant it, and not in a good way. He is a straight A student, and everyone knows it, not to mention he is on the swim team. All that though isn't the real him, the real him hides deep within himself. ---------- "Can you please tell me what that was?" I nearly shout at him. All I get is silence. He keeps his back to me. "Please, I need some explanation." I beg. I stay still as he stops dead in his tracks. His body is tense and it's scarring me. He turns around slowly to face me with his hands at his sides. His eyes meet mine, but there is no spark of any emotion in them. They are cold and dark making me look away not being able to hold his deadly stare. I feel uneasy under his gaze, and i feel his eyes burning a hole in the side of my face. "No, I won't explain because it's not important." He says in a low, almost, growl. I flinch and look back into his eyes. I feel hurt by his words and I don't know why, but I know he sees it in my eyes. His faces flashes with regret but it's quickly covered up with his faces going back to it's hard cold look. I feel my heart stop and my face go pale. His look terrified me making me hold my breath. "Breath." He orders. I start to breathe again and just blink at him. "Now go." He orders me again. I flinch involuntarily at his tone and jump back slightly. "Please don't let me walk home alone." I beg in a quiet voice, looking down at my feet. The next thing I see are his black combat boots right in front of my shoes. I look up into his eyes and he looks down into mine confusion written all over his face. "How come you aren't running yet?" He questions searching my eyes. "I just can't walk home alone, please I'm scared." I hear him chuckle. "You aren't afraid of me? What can possibly be scarier than me?" He asks. "Well, I know you will keep me safe." "Why is that?" He questions raising an eyebrow at me. "You haven't hurt me." "Yet." He mutters, but I roll my eyes.

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