Bitterly Sweetly (Completed)

Chapter Fifty-eight : One Less Devil

*Do not plagiarize my stories, no part of them may be copied, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means without my (Lara Ruze's) written permission. Plagiarizing my works will be taken as an offense and will be dealt with properly. If you find anyone copying my work, please do let me know.*

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Villains are made, for they've experienced trauma. Monsters are awakened, for they have been always there. While villains are redeemable, monsters must be slain. Such impressive differences they've got.

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Sofia had felt fear before, many times, and in many degrees throughout the years of her life. But this time, this fear that was consuming her felt way too dense, way too final.

Maybe because this monster that stood before her now had become her phobia.

For so long, he had haunted her through her nightmares, repeating his monstrosity while feeding from her fear. Dr. Bethany, the proficient psychiatrist, had helped put a stop to them and her progressing rapport with Max had acted as a soothing balm, cutting short her misery.

But the numbing fear was still in the back of her mind, she knew it was, for she could feel its cold fingertips freezing that part of her—behind which it hid. And now, with the creator of that darkness returning, the fear had suddenly burst forth and threatened to consume her whole.

Instinctively she was opening her mouth to scream but before she could succeed, Mevil crossed the minuscule distance between them in a long stride. His one hand went around her waist in the speed of light and another clasped on her mouth, his fingers locked like an iron chain around her face.

"No, my love, not yet," he drawled, his lips touching her earlobe intimately making her tremble in disgust. "We'll have ample time later to hear you scream, and trust me, scream you will. I'll make you," he whispered the last bit meaningfully.

Bile rose in her throat.

This is not happening. She repeated in her mind. This is so not happening.

But it was, it was happening for real.

She screamed against the palm of his hand in desperation but the only noise that came out was a scraped whimper.

Bruising her skin his grip tightened menacingly around her face.

"This is what I love about you the most," he muttered hungrily, nuzzling his nose on her cheek. "This feistiness. And I must say, sweet, you feel so soft in my arms and you smell just like I remember from that day, in my hotel room. Mmmm..."

She began struggling like hell to get out of his iron grip, trying to claw at his skin with her free hand, aiming to at least take a chunk of meat out of his body but he was stronger and much heavier. In the face of her desperate excuse of a fight, he rested all his weight upon her, letting her body paste painfully against the metal of her car behind them. His smell surrounded her and she cringed in disgust.

She would have puked if she weren't more worried about her survival. Because Mevil stunk, really bad. And it was not only the sweat.

Just like virtue smells like heaven, sin has a distinct smell, too. When a person has evilness pouring out of him, for some reason he begins smelling repulsive. Maybe it's a system the universe created to warn away all creatures around such evil.

For a moment Mevil moved off his hand from her waist. She took the chance and tried to scramble out from underneath him but the cold pressure of a metal barrel against her jaw made her freeze.