𝐇𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐞𝐞𝐤 | 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐝

entry twelve.

I stare at Peter across the table for a long moment.
I want to capture this memory in time.

His smirk burns straight through my eyes and causes a fluttering sensation to blossom in my stomach. I look down, trying to disguise the burning flush crimsoning against my cheeks.

"Look up, darling," Peter says. His voice almost makes me choke. I force my eyes to meet his, and I can feel his gaze all over my body. "Tell me,"

"Tell you what?" My voice is hoarse and surprise has reduced my volume to less than a whisper. He leans forward to listen, rather than telling me to speak up.

Peter tilts his head against his shoulder. I don't understand what changed between us. He had just been frustrated with me about taking pills. "That you'd love to see this place burn as much as I would,"

I look up at the cameras in the corner of the room. The light is red hot - bright and beady. Nevertheless, Peter continues to talk loudly.

"Peter," I whisper.

He closes his eyes when I say his name, suppressing a groan with his knuckles pressed over his red lips. "I love it when you say that,"

I tilt my head against my shoulder. I had never seen him so unguarded and extroverted. It was disorienting and amusing, as well as slightly suspicious. "Say what?"

"Peter," He repeats.

His voice is raspy and lows and plunges straight through my chest. I know that his words aren't corporal, but it's as if they travel straight to my heart, gripping the fleshy organ between tight fingers.

"But it's just your name," I shift in my seat, unsure why the flush upon my cheeks continued to spread like fire. It was as if Peter's smile was gasoline and his voice was the match, and he had just lit me in flames.

For a moment, I think he's about to object. But, his expression loosens immediately. I turn to look at the rejected pills on the table, rolling them between the pads of my fingertips.

"Do you really not want me to take them?" I ask quietly. I shouldn't give in to Peter, not when his demands are baseless. I shouldn't believe his words, but his smile severs every rational thought.

I had entirely succumbed to Peter Ballard.

Peter looks up, nodding solemnly. There's something behind his eyes, that flicker. "Yes," I feel that he wants to say more.

He's pushed himself to the edge of his seat, his head tilted back to avoid my eyes. His Adam's apple sticks out prominently from his throat.

"Why?" I want to amuse him for a few moments longer. It's rare to find myself alone with Peter. I planned to milk every second of it until I eventually had to leave. "Are you hiding something?"

His posture stiffens immediately as if I've unintentionally trapped him in a lie. Peter positions himself upright, staring at me with a new-found intensity. His gaze burns straight into my heart, searing holes.

"What are you suggesting?" Peter selects his words carefully, managing himself with thoughtful decisions. It's as if he's being scrutinised under a microscope. "Are you calling me a liar?"

Liar.

Anybody who worked under the management of Dr Brenner was a liar. In certain cases, I could argue that Peter most definitely was a liar. However, the dull amusement in his tone and the deadpan delivery of his words makes me want to shudder.

"No," I can't believe a single question could reduce me to single words. It seems that Peter simply has that effect on people. "Not at all,"

"Then what, darling?" Peter asks. His head is tilted against his shoulder, and I find myself drawing my chair closer - closer to him.

"Nothing," I shrug, forcing myself to focus on the multi-coloured pills on the table. "It was just a question,"

"I see," He falls back into silence again, shifting his finger around the rim of the glass. Cold beads of water dribble down the sides. After a few moments, he bites hard on his lower lip, turning to look up at me. "You do trust me, don't you?"

For once, he doesn't sound confident and self-assured. I want to disagree. I shouldn't trust him. It would make me a fool. But his smile and endearments draw me in.

"I do,"

The two words escape my lips in a low hush. It feels sinful to admit. The words that originally bound people in matrimony were being twisted in sick meaning. However, admitting the truth didn't create a pit of snakes, squirming in my stomach. Rather, a hot melting feeling, trickling down my spine.

Peter smiles.

He reminds me of Lucifer - The fallen angel of God. He wasn't always terrible, he used to be an angel but fell from the heavens after disobeying the Lord. Sometimes, I think that Peter is Lucifer's incarnate.

"I'm glad," He responds.

Peter hesitantly draws the glass of cold water towards me, creating a trail across the white wooden table. "Take your medication," He says gently.

"I thought you didn't want me to?"

Again, his face becomes tormented. His eyes lid shut and it feels intrusive to see him in such a state of mental despair.

I want to reach out and touch him.
To tell him that I'm here.

I feel stupid, and brush the pills off the table, holding all of them in my cupped palm. "Don't worry about me,"

I reach across the table, placing my free hand over his palm. My fingertips only lightly brush against his knuckles. It feels as if I'm encountering ice.

He smiles reassuringly, and it's all that I need.

A/N
- sorry that I was away. i've been very busy. if you enjoyed please vote and comment and excuse mistakes i wrote this chapter at the back of a bus.
- rosa <3