[𝐌𝐈𝐓 • 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝟏] He managed to make a sane eighteen-year-old INSANE.
~
He was fascinated by her. And he wanted to make her fascinated about him, so he played a game with her. Messed with her mind in ways he shouldn't have. The catch: he was th...
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┌────────────┐ MADDIE ALBAH └────────────┘
TRAPPED
"WOULD YOU like to go for something to eat first? You're extremely pale in the face," the man asked. He was at least three strides ahead of her as she followed him, hugging the baggy shirt he had slipped over her close to her body.
The smell of his scent entering her lungs made her serene, however, he was still a complete stranger and she didn't know what he could do. Especially with that small pocket knife he kept fiddling with in his hand, flipping the sharp blade out and closing it again. He also spun the little thing in his hands while the blade was out, doing little tricks absentmindedly by the looks of it. He's probably done the tricks a million times before, and it was only muscle memory at this stage. His fingers moved effortlessly as the knife danced in his hand.
As she glanced around the neighbourhood they were walking through, she didn't know what the time was as everything around her seemed to have gone to rest. But if Maddie had to take a guess, she would say it was at least 12 AM right now. The streets were practically empty of any cars driving. The stars brightly gleamed in the dark sky, almost like they had been sprinkled over the darkness. The moon smiled down at the earth with its yellowish-white glow, giving everything it touched a soft white outline. It was so quiet she could hear the soft rustling sounds of the grass as the wind blew gently around her, playing with her wavy brown locks.
"What do you say, mhm?" he spoke again, turning his head so he was looking at her over his bare shoulder. She looked away from the weeds sprouting through a crack in the tar road, and stared at his back, noticing some scars scattered on his beautifully tanned skin. The lighter toned skin of his scars seemed to be swollen from the healing process from all those years ago. Her lips pouted at the sight, feeling a strong sense of sympathy toward him. She wondered what could have happened for him to have those marks on his back.
"I don't take silence as an answer, my dear."
Realising she had gotten lost in her thoughts, she cleared her throat before replying meekly: "My throat's dry—"
"A drink it is." He turned his head to look forward again, but she couldn't help but notice how plump his cheek was from her angle. He seemed to be smiling, perhaps even smirking. "So, what's the little flower's name?"
She frowned her dark brows at him, confused as to what he was asking when she didn't see any flowers. Slowly, she remembered he had called her flower when asking if she was okay.
"M—Maddie," she stuttered softly, her throat tightening with embarrassment and nervousness. She redirected her cognac brown eyes away from his back, staring at the other side of the street as she brushed some flyaway strands of her hair behind her ear. She gnawed on the inside of her pink lips, feeling around for flaky skin with the tip of her tongue and peeling it off with her teeth.
