Hurting Adeline (18+)

Hide and seek

I gasp, my eyes widening and snapping back to his. Not a single iota of

pain shines in his eyes. Not even a glimmer.

He jerks on the blade once, ripping it from my weak hold, blindly tossing

it behind him.

The knife clatters loudly against something before toppling to the floor,

the sound reverberating in the otherwise quiet room. Nothing but my

heavy panting breaks the static of silence surrounding us. His presence is a

vortex, steadily depleting the oxygen from the room-and even from my

brain.

Because I cannot think straight with his body so close to mine. With the

fear coiled tightly around me, the force of it turning my body to stone. I'm

useless. Powerless. The inability to fight rages in my head, my survival

instincts tell me to just move, yet my body refuses to.

And then his bloody hand is wrapping around the back of my neck and

bringing my body flush with his once more. I cringe at the feel of his life's

essence dripping from his hand. The blood feels like menacing fingers

crawling down my spine, staining my skin as if to mark me.

To my horror, he lifts his other hand-the one still gripping a much more

wicked-looking knife than mine-and brings the tip of the blade to the

underside of my chin.

He applies enough pressure to force my chin up further, the metal biting

into my skin. The slightest curl to his lips stalls the breath in my lungs. The

act speaks of something daunting. Something condemning.

"You're even more beautiful up close," he murmurs, his sinful eyes

devouring my face.

I scowl and plant my hands on his chest, ignoring the pure steel beneath

his flesh, and attempt to push him away. But he resists the force, his lip

curling into a snarl.

Tears rim my lids as frustration grows.

"Please, just leave. I-I don't want you here. I don't want you. Just leave

me alone," I beg. It feels like reaching a hand inside my chest, yanking out

my pride and throwing it onto the floor. But I don't give a fuck about my

pride in this moment.

I just want this man to fucking leave.

He presses in closer. "Are you going to cry, Addie?" he taunts. My hands

are still pressed firmly against his chest. His heart is racing beneath palms, giving me pause. If I didn't know any better, I'd think he's not as

unaffected as he's appearing to be.

"No," I lie.

I will absolutely have no problems crying my eyes out after he leaves.

But I refuse to show him any more weakness.