Promised pain

Eleven

Levine Romanov
It's been another week, two weeks since I've been stuck in this damn house, it's past boring, unbearable and suffocating to the point where I feel like cutting off my fingers.

I groan, stepping out of the room, Rio is fortunately nowhere in view, he doesn't stay here anymore, I stay here until noon and then Enzo arrives, aaand the messages never stopped.

The photos did, which means that he cannot find me here, which is very comforting to be honest, I sigh in exaggeration and a crazy idea sparks in my mind.

All those days since I've arrived here, I never went upstairs. Since Enzo's very first warning, I never stepped a foot in the upper floor, and right now, I feel my legs leading me upstairs.

I look around as if I'm committing something illegal, when I find no one, I slowly breathe out, this floor isn't exactly different than the other one, it's dark, neat, and has a long hallway that I start strolling through.

Three doors are there, curious than ever, I slip inside the first one I meet. The room is bigger than mine, while mine is white this is black, and I realize instantly as I look around that it's Enzo's.

The motorbike helmet that's placed on one commode, the pack of cigarettes, the leather jacket draped over the door handle, I walk with slow steps, taking every part of it in.

It smells like him too, the cologne he uses is everywhere around here, what doesn't fit in this theme though, is a bright color that catches my eyes, I don't make out what's exactly placed on the commode until I approach it.

My lips part ever so slightly when I realize they're my pink ribbons, I always use them, and they always get lost, I just didn't realize that Enzo collects them.

I don't know how long I stare at them in awe, recalling every single time one fell out of my hair, a small smile tugs at my lips and I briefly take a quick glance before slipping out of the room.

I embrace myself with a breath before stepping inside the next room, my breath catches up in my throat as I stare in front of me and take the sight I'm currently witnessing.

Canvas are thrown everywhere, while every single room in this house is neat and organized, this is far from it, and so are the paintings in front of me, some are placed far away and filled with aesthetically pleasing colors and stunning landscapes.

The ones in front of me which seem like the latest, are messy, splattered with red, almost as if he was angry while painting those, I slowly make out what's beneath the red, it's someone, a person who doesn't seem familiar at all, a man who is currently staring at me dead in the eye while his whole being is splattered with red paint.

That is starting to look like blood.
The more I stare at the painting, the more it seems vulgar and violent.

I slowly take a couple of steps as I inspect the rest of the recent paintings, they're all the same, splattered with red paint, different people, shivers crane up my spine the longer I continue inspecting them.

And just when I'm about to leave this, feeling my limbs tightening to an uncomfortable extent, I find myself being backed up against one of the paintings, a gasp leaves my lips as terror fills my bones.

My eyes meet Enzo's hazed ones, "Didn't I tell you not to come here?" His voice is so low, so different, it almost scares me, when my lips part to say anything, his hold on me tightens, on my fucking neck.

How is he here?

He's not choking me yet, but it's close enough to feel like a fucking warning, "I—" I barely whisper, feeling genuinely fucking apologetic but unable to express it, my limbs weaken beneath his weight.

And I look up into his dead eyes.
His lips twist to the side.
And I see the emotion I despise the most in his eyes.
Disgust.

And I have no one to blame but myself, "Get out." He lets go of my neck, I stay frozen for a single moment, before I quickly walk away, my heart jumping out of my chest as adrenaline pumps into my veins.

I walk outside, regret settles at the bottom of my stomach and I clench my fist beside me before going downstairs, I let my feet lead me again as I step inside the balcony.

Staring ahead of me, the same boredom from the morning lingers in my bones but currently it's accompanied with the sudden urge to punch myself.
Anger arises inside of my stomach like never before.

I don't want to lose Enzo, not in any single way, why did I fucking ruin it like that? Whatever we had, he is already very off about us being friends but no, any crumbles we had I needed to destroy of course.

Levine's effect on anything beautiful.
Ruining it.

My phone pings in my pocket and I don't even bother, already predicting it's that goddamn creep, but when my phone rings I'm forced to grab it. However, I see a name flashing on here, and it's none other than Amelia.

I answer instantly, welcoming the distraction, "You haven't been answering my texts." I grimace as soon as she says that, "I avoid checking my messages." I admit with a wary breath.

"Why the fuck?" She asks, sounding confused at best, I pinch my nose bridge, "It's a long story." One she later persuades me to spill and I do just that.

"Oh, Jesus, but you have Enzo, right? I mean, he probably has guards and all that, you better stay hidden, girl." She typically says and I suppress a groan, "I had him, yeah." I breathe out, I don't even know why I form it as a past form.

"Had him? What happened?" She asks cautiously, for some reason sounding nearly horrified, I sigh, rubbing my eyes "Maybe I still have him but we're probably back to point one." I express tightly, my muscles clenching at the reason behind it.

"And why is that?" She asks, sounding curious, "Because I did something he warned me not to." I grimace when I realize that I did overstep his boundaries, that he indeed has every right to be distant all over again from me.

"Okay, what is it?" She asks, contemplating, "He told me not to enter some sort of place in his house and I did." I explain in a low tone, ashamed and defeated, it's mostly impulsive.

But I'm not that impulsive either, I think before I do shit, at least most of the time, I just—basically let my curiosity lead me, and while I love being optimistic, that look that filled his expression when he backed me up against the wall was one I've never witnessed before.

It made my skin crawl, and while I didn't fear him, partially at least. In that moment, my whole body was jolted, erratic and all, heartbeats going crazy, but I also felt something that I've been merely avoiding even thinking about for a while now.

Heat rushed through my body, my limbs weakened, and fire erupted through every single nerve of mine, but that tingle of arousal wasn't imaginable, I felt it, in every single bone of mine. The problem is, from the last expression that crossed his face.

He felt it too.

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