Unstable (Sequel to Twisted)

Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"Lie on the bed."

"H-Harry I don't understand any of this. How are you alive? I thought you were-"

Harry closed the door deafeningly behind me, practically slamming it, and I felt his hand wrap painfully tight around my frail neck, his lips pressing into the curve of my neck. The words were halted in my throat, my breath hitching when his long fingers gave a little squeeze over one of the most critical part of my body.

"It's only been 14 days and it seems like you've forgotten who the fuck is in charge."

His voice was a low whisper, yet it sent deadly tingles throughout my entire body. I could hear his soft breathing directly behind me; I could feel his hot breath fanning across my bare neck as he swept my short hair away for more access.

"Now be a good girl and lie on the bed."

His hand released my throat, and I shakily got on my bed, deciding to lie on my stomach. I was breathing heavily, fear coursing through my mind-enveloping it completely. Fear was such a funny emotion; when it was pure, raw fear, your body felt completely tense and your mind would reel. You suddenly couldn't focus on small things; you could only focus on what was currently happening-what was putting your life in jeopardy.

It had been 14 days since I had experienced fear like this. I went from feeling fearful almost every single day to nothing. This was why I was so paranoid at times.

"I didn't mean to betray you," I said quickly, my voice shrilly and pleading, though I knew perfectly well Harry wasn't a man who had mercy on anyone-especially if they betrayed him. "She threatened Fran-she threatened to cut all her fingers off. If she just threatened me, I wouldn't have told her-I swear. You have to listen to me! I didn't mean to do it. I had no choice!"

"I don't want to hear excuses." Harry's stern voice cut me off immediately, and I flinched when I felt his hand circle around my ankle. "In fact, I don't want to hear your voice at all. Got it?"

"No, no, no," I immediately fought against him, kicking out my leg and trying to crawl away in a blind panic. I had no idea what he was planning to do, but I knew it wasn't going to be good since he was absolutely furious with me. I was actually close to tears when Harry's grip on my ankle tightened and he pulled me towards him, spreading my legs. "I didn't mean to do it! Why won't you listen to me?"

"What did I just fucking say?" Harry roared, his composure slipping. "Didn't I tell you to keep your mouth shut?"

"I-"

"Take your pants off."

I paused in my protests, looking over my shoulder to see Harry's green eyes staring expectantly at me. "What? Why?"

"I'm so fucking sick of your bull shit." Harry seethed, reaching into his pocket. My face visibly paled when I saw him take out a pocket knife, the pointed edge unsheathing with a flick of his wrist. The pointed end of the small yet lethal knife glinted in the lighting of my room, and I felt like my heart had just stopped.

"No!" I began clawing away again, but Harry grabbed a hold of my ankle and held me in place. I was thrusting myself in place, squirming like a fish out of water, yelling out protests and begging him not to hut me. I knew what he could do with that knife, and that thought alone terrified me.

"Take your fucking pants off or I'll cut them into tiny shreds." Harry commanded sharply, holding his knife so casually in his hand like it was a pen or something.

I immediately complied, my breathing ragged, choking in my mouth as I shakily slid out of my jeans. I had to lift myself a bit on the bed to take them off completely, sending them onto the floor. I was violently trembling now. What was he planning on doing with me?