Sinfully Imperfect

17. Knocking Nightmares, Change Of Heart & Junkin Juicies

"Yeah, she's there."

"He wants to meet her."

"But what if Boss gets to know?"

"You know, if we don't allow him, he will do anything."

"He is very stubborn."

"Let him go."

The door squeaked open, and a teen boy walked in. With only two little windows at the top, it was pitch black inside. He flicked on the flashlight and swept it over the room, as if looking for something, or perhaps someone. When he saw a body on the frigid, filthy ground, his hands came to a halt. He approached her gently, taking cautious steps so as not to startle her.

"Princess?" he whispered, ever so softly, as he crouched down to her level.

The girl was lying languidly on the tattered mat. Her face was veiled by her unruly hair, which hadn't been bathed in weeks, if not months. She was completely unaware. To be honest, she had no clue how long she had been locked in that dark, filthy chamber. However, she felt as though it had been years since she had experienced the spirit of the natural wind. She wasn't sleeping, but that didn't mean she was terrified of the young guy sitting next to her. It had been much too long since she had sobbed. She was numb—utterly and completely numb.

"Princess?" The young boy tried again, knowing full well that she was awake. He even understood why she was acting the way she did, and he couldn't blame her. It was intended to happen, and it did. It did no good to drag her into his world, as it never did to anybody else. But the point was, why was he so concerned about her? Why was he there, tenderly soothing her and calling her princess, despite the fact that he plainly knew the rules—the rules to reign, conquer, and kill? Those were the questions he couldn't answer, and he was insistent about keeping it that way for as long as he could ensure her safety.

The small girl, on the other hand, didn't respond because she hadn't spoken in a while, not because she was tired of all those dreadful things. For her, everything was a jumble of fuzzy lines. She sought refuge in her numbness since her voice felt like a curse to her. Her numbness lingered over her at all hours of the day and night. Scene after scene replayed in her head, making it extremely difficult for her to sleep. As a result, even sleep was a nightmare for her.

"I'm here to save you; rescue you, Princess. Please talk to me." She would have laughed at him if it hadn't been for her numbness. Rescue? Was there a way out for her? What a joke! Perhaps she had embraced her destiny, her life, and everything else. At the very least, the splattered blood over her clothes, palms, and body served as a constant reminder. Still, a small part of her hoped that someone, perhaps her Prince Charming, would come to her rescue, as if he were a Knight in Shining Armor. She remembered her mum narrating her a few fairy tales, but she couldn't understand what she was saying at the time. In fact, she cringed, saying, "I'm a strong girl. I don't need anyone. Not even a knight in a shivering tremor." Her mother always laughed at her wrong pronunciation.

"Trust me, Princess." He gently stroked her rattling, dry strands. She had a fleeting moment of hope that her mother's words were real and that he was there to help her. She cautiously stood up and took a seat next to him. Her clothing was stained with blood, and she had bags under her eyes. What was hilarious was that the blood wasn't hers! Her big hazel eyes were dull and lifeless, with no glint in them. She seemed vulnerable and fragile.

"Who are you?" She spoke up for the first time in weeks. "I'm the Devil," he answered with a smile, his eyes brimming with empathy and compassion at seeing her in such a condition. He didn't want to divulge his true identity or lie to her. He was, without a doubt, the 'Devil'.