If He's As Bad As They Say, Guess I'm Cursed

Heroin Gold in my Veins

Music: Nectar of the gods🧊,Lana Del Rey

"You look pale Duncan? Is there something wrong?"
She asked knowing full well why he was worried.

He tried to shake off the feeling of dread, to hide his reaction.

He was tied up stuck in the middle of nowhere with a goddamn Macabre agent.
Frankly he'd choose the bear over this situation.

"I'm familiar with forms of torture that would break your stale heart, but you can threaten me day and night, if it pleases you Lorelei."
He smirked looking up at her from his chair, hiding his fear.

She frowned in return, hating the way he used her name. Like it was coated in sugar as he spoke it.

"Well my threats aren't empty, and your little act of nonchalance is a useless vice.
Just admit it, you're scared, I wouldn't blame you?"
She said confidently as she paced around his chair.

He refused to give her what she wanted whether it could ameliorate his circumstances or not.

"Maybe I should be, I'll look into it for you. The food is under the floorboards in the bedroom by the way. Pleasure doing business with you."

She groaned and just left, heading into the bedroom.
Though she kept the door open, he may have been tied down but she knew well enough he was still dangerous.

She pried some floorboards up, sure enough, there was a collection of cans and bottles and such.

The wind and snow whipped and hollered at the old cabins windows, it was cold, terribly cold.

The fire helped but it couldn't stave off the deadly chill that seemed to settle into her.

In the bedroom Lorelei felt miserable, she was cold and itching for a hit of something.
It wouldn't be a good idea to get high right now, tempting as it was.

He couldn't be trusted not to take advantage of it, and she knew she might not be able to hold herself back if he bothered her.

Instead she opted for smoking, she pulled out a little pack of Marlboros and lit her cigarette with her shaky hands.

Duncan watched her, he could really use a cigarette right now.

"Say sweetheart, could you spare one?"

She looked up at him, "Why should I?"

"I'll shut up, for awhile. How about that?"
He said with a sigh.
It seemed she was both a psychopath and a tyrant.
How *lovely*.

"Deal."
She replied, making her way into the living room.

She pulled out a cigarette and hastily put it in his mouth, he just watched her with those intense hazel eyes of his giving her a nod, as if to say thank you.

Quickly avoiding his gaze, she lit it, and retreated back to the bedroom.

He was a stupid, egotistical, killer, and he'd haunted her dreams for years.
But all she saw in his eyes was weakness, he just seemed... Sad.
She pushed the thought away.

Whilst stewing in his chair Duncan spent his time staring at her.
She was an immature, tyrannical, little girl on a temporary power trip.
He wanted to hate her, it really should've been easy?

But he couldn't convince himself to, because sometimes when the cabin was quiet and they were both just sitting in silence watching each other.
She looked so very lonely.

That night Lorelei made some soup, and hand fed him some as well.
Which was undoubtedly awkward.

She build up the fire enough to keep it going for most of the night. Soon enough going to bed, turning out the lights.

For a few hours she didn't sleep out of worry he'd escape, but she assured herself that was near impossible.

And soon enough, she was fast asleep.

Duncan on the other hand had kept himself awake, he had plans.

Little did she know instead of finishing his cigarette earlier on in the day, without her noticing he had strategically maneuvered it to let it burn out on the ropes holding down his right hand.

He bit and chewed at the burnt part, hoping it could weaken them enough to break free.

With all his strength he wrenched his arm up, breaking the rope. Finally.

He untied himself slowly and quietly, watching Lorelei carefully to make sure she did not stir.

He stood up and walked silently to the kitchen grabbing a knife he'd hidden under the cutlery drawer, making his way into the bedroom.

Lorelei slept peacefully, she looked so different when she was asleep.

Her long hair draped over her pillow, her delicate features were quietly content instead of her signature scowl.
She was so, pretty.

Nope, don't be an idiot, that's stupid, he told himself. There will be no f#cking Stockholm syndrome here. (👀)

He put the knife up to her throat, just do it.
She'll kill and torture you if you don't, she's a Macabre agent, and proud of it.

Oh for God's sake Duncan, this is not the time to start giving a f#ck about people?

He steadied his shaking hand, taking a deep breath.

Thoughts of that little girl convulsing and crying to him back in Czech all those years ago played in the back of his head.

He created this monster, he needed to finish what he started.