*** NEW AND IMPROVED ***
With her father missing, Shay will do anything to get him back, even if that means teaming up with a cruel gang leader and his band of psychotic men.
CHARACTER VIEWS DO NOT REPRESENT MY OWN.
***WARNING*** OFFENSIVE CON...
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SO COLD
I woke the next morning with the intention to leave the godforsaken house. I wiped the sleep from my eyes, pushed the covers away from my body and rolled over to the edge to sit. My feet met the classic oak floor. I rested my elbows on my knees, head in my hands and was thrown back to last night.
Oscar was a thorn in my side. His solemn expression and honest threats rang warning bells. I sobered up upon the realisation that he wished for a future with me by his side. He cut out pictures of us and stuck them on a blank canvas; added in distorted faces of children, a four-bedroom bricked house in Southern France, somewhere by a river and yearly holidays to the four corners of the world. He smiled afterwards like it was the most perfectly normal thing to be discussing with someone with whom you barely know.
The idea chilled me to the bone, and it caused for me to become antsy. I had a feeling I would soon be caged. Not yet. Soon. Weighed down by the weight of his obsession and unable to escape from his cold flinty-green gaze.
I needed to leave. Now.
It was 5:04. The analogue clock by the bedside blinked slowly and lazily at me, its white lights illuminating its face. The blinds were open; revealing the burning glare of the sun, just over the dusty red and peach horizon, heading towards an almost cloudless bright blue sky. It taunted me with each deliberate slither upwards; I only had so much time before time ran out and it would be morning or mid-day and people would wake.
More specifically, Oscar would wake up.
I left the bedroom door open. Slipped out into the hallway, pressed a heavy foot on the top step of the stairs, forehead creased, hoping for it to be silent. A creaky staircase would fit the horror movie I found myself in. My wish was heard by a passing genie. I tiptoed down the stairs, reached the front door and twisted the doorknob when – "It's locked." Oscar called from behind me. My forehead thudded on the door in defeat and I squeezed my eyes shut in despair. Fuck...me. I twisted around as his voice neared.
Cotton-black pyjama pants hung low on his hips and his chest was bare. His hair was wet likely from a rushed shower. He carried a steaming coffee cup in his hands and wore a vainglorious smile on his face. "Morning baby. Sleep well?"
