"Why don't you just leave me alone?" I spit at him, the anger laced in my voice angered him and I loved it. I watched as he clenched his jaw, staring at me as his eyes darkened; walking up to me, soon towering over me making me realize how small I w...
MATTHEO RIDDLE BELONGS TO YASMINE AMARO. CALANTHA, NICCOLÒ, KASSANDRA, EPIPHANY, ERISED, DAÌNN, AND LANA ARE MINE. ALL OTHERS UNLESS MENTIONED ARE JK RO*LINGS.
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T R I G G E R W A R N I N G
blood, swearing
─── ･ ｡ ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
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─── ･ ｡ ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
T H I R T Y T W O
MATTHEW
COLD. Cold water awakened me, my eyes bursting wide open as my back arched forward, my bruised knees rocking against the concrete floor, now wet with water. Dry with blood. My blood.
Before me, Draco stood again, tossing an empty bucket onto the ground away from me, the sound of it hitting the ground burning my ears. It felt as though every one of my senses was heightened. Every touch to my skin, good or bad, I felt deep in every bone. Every sound, loud or quiet, rippled through my ears. And so on.
It took me a moment to adjust to the bright lights, just as I had when I first woke up. I was even weaker than before I'd fallen asleep, been put into sleep, whichever it was. I couldn't remember.
But my body ached, the blood in my veins burning through my skin, my chest rising and falling so fast I couldn't even focus my mind on anything except for the sound of my grasping for air. I stared straight ahead at him, not daring to let my eyes leave his rounded, smitten face. He had this... proud smile on his mouth. The mouth I so badly wanted to carve into, extending that flanky smile from ear to ear, to show all just how proud he was.
Draco laughed, his bruised knuckles showing from his pant pockets. He wore another black suit, identical to the one before, but this one was clean of my blood. I didn't know whether... it was still the same day, whether I'd been out for a few hours or a few days. I couldn't tell, and I knew if I'd asked, he'd only use it as an excuse to taunt me.
But still, my body ached, throbbed. I felt like I was on fire, like instead of blood in my veins it was gasoline, and that my organs were igniting with fire, and I was burning alive from the inside out. The air caught in my throat was smoke—dark, heavy, black smoke, choking me.
My stomach twisted, my knees aching from the hardness of the floor beneath them, and I quivered, my eyes clenched shut to try and shove the pain out of my mind, to ignore it. But I couldn't.
"That feeling," he paced slowly before me, an evil, blood-curdling smile bore his face. "in your veins, is your body reacting to the . . . new remnants on your skin."
