His Sour Lemon #2.1

Part 37: Breathless

CHAPTER 37: Breathless

December, 2033.
Outskirts of New York City, America.
Fitzgerald Institute for Troubled Youth.

"You were instructed to lengthen the timespan of the fights allocated to you, Edmund."

Elizabeth Zoysia deserved death to the highest accord. What's worse than someone who whips children, is someone who takes care of their wounds afterwords and shows a kindness after her demonic side shifted from behind the curtain. She ripped it down against my back and I jolted with every count, seething, spit and blood dribbles down my chin in a disgusting vile manner. Sweat and the cold bite at my skin, while the rest of me writhes.

"What is your excuse this time?" She asks me.

I grasp the cane in my fingers and stand my full height, knowing I tower over her this time, "You cannot control me anymore." My voice so dark and lethal.

Her words mean nothing.

Her punishments mean nothing.

Her abuse means nothing.

Her authority means nothing.

I turn around slowly, "If you want me to fight so badly, let's start with you."

"GUARDS!"

********

August 17th, 2042.
City Centre, New York, NY, USA
Creed Mansion, Headquarters.

I thought I misheard her, or misread the situation, I know I read something wrong because hearing such words, nothing made sense. I know, I was sure she was mad at me, testing me, "What?"

She furrows her eyebrows, "What I said was pretty self-explanatory, Edmund."

So, what she said was real?

FUCK, did she want to break me?

She sighs and steps in closer, "Not like that right now, Edmund. When we're both ready to take that specific step forward, there's no rush, I'm just explaining to you that...I'm going to have a shower, excuse me." Wait a freaking second...door locks.

I snap my eyes up, "Wait, I..." I'm talking to a closed door.

I couldn't stand.

I couldn't move.

Breathing fucking hurt, "What? How?" I whisper to myself, nervous and jittery. Why the fuck was I jittery, and stupidly quiet. Now what does she think? Fuck. She shocks me at every single damn turn. Melanie Myers wanted me. Me. A man who's lied to her. Who's scared her most likely. I felt it burn in the midline of her chest, I couldn't believe it.

When she's finished in the shower, she steps out. I was expecting her pissed-off expression, instead she gives me a small smile, "Don't overthink it, Edmund." She tells me, I stare forward, feeling my blood count deplete while silence dips onto a dark canvas around me before her voice resounds, "Do you want to talk about it?" She asks me.

"Last week, you barely spoke to me. No matter what I tried doing, I even had to watch you on television with Kenji, and the way you two interacted, I'm not blind, lemon." I list a range of facts.

"Kenji and I are close friends, I grew up with him, Edmund. It doesn't mean there was any chemical attraction." She confirms, I look at her, before dropping my head in my hands.

"What about physical attraction? You expect me to believe that you're still a virgin?" I scoff inwardly, the thought of another guy's hands on her has me rippling.