PEACEFUL

三十四

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—· · · · ⋆꒷꒦‧₊˚𓆩♡𓆪˚₊‧꒦꒷⋆ · · · ·—
| ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 34 |
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"What's wrong with him?"

Some women whispered together as they huddled close to their leaders' door.

Peaking through the small crack of the thin door, they watch as he gripped tightly onto his bed frame with one hand as the other caressed his face.

His whimpers and groans were all heard by the women, but they didn't make a step to assist him.

"Gah," the man flinched, a liquid falling from his face and impacting with the floor.

Recognizing the substance as blood, all the women gasped, one sliding the door open quickly, giving up their hidden presence.

"Lord Founder!" The girl shouted in worry, but the demon didn't move. In fact, he stopped moving at all, concerning the women even more, "Sir...?"

The group of women didn't dare move a muscle as the abrupt girl moved to the man they worshiped.

One foot in front of another the woman approached the man and placed a hand on his crouched form, "Are yo—"

"You..."

Shock coursed through everyone's bodies at the inhuman speed he moved, a quick wind hitting their faces as their bodies heightened in fear.

Douma, now looming over his follower, cupped her face in a harsh grip. His wide multi-colored eyes bore deep into the woman in his grasp who began to go limp with fear, only being held up by the demon's strength.

"Your eyes...your beautiful beautiful eyes..." he mumbled, his thumbs tracing under the females e/c eyes, his lips parting as he felt himself fall deep into them.

As his grip became looser, the woman began to stand upright and regain her mind. Looking deep into his own eyes, all she could see was the lust and infatuation that clouded them. She could tell he was mad. What had made him this why?

But she pushed the thought off to the side, becoming obsessed with the attention he was giving her.

"Douma..." she whispered seductively, reaching up to his face and pushing away a few strands of loosely fallen hair.

"Mm," he hummed, his eyes drooping as he looked down to her lips, drawing himself near her smaller frame.

"Himari!"

One of the stunned women called out to the endangered woman.

Douma's senses heightened hearing the woman's name being called, his eyes snapped down to the woman standing before him. Staring down at her, he saw her for who she really was, a look of disgust clear on his face.

Not receiving the expected contact, the woman opened her eyes, ignoring her concerned friend.

Looking back up with innocent eyes, the woman put her hand on Douma's chest pleadingly, "What's wron—?"

"You're not her."

Screams began to encase the area, the women at the door running for they feared their lives, images of their friends' decapitated corpses clear in their minds.