His, Eternally [18+]

Chapter Eight: Fuel to the Fire

600 reads already? You guys are so fantastic, I'm so grateful. Also, I'm accepting books covers for this story if anyone wants to help a girl out. It would mean so much to me! <3

So much love for all of you,
- Corinne

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      The entire day at work, I felt him watching me. I didn't know where he was, but his presence was obvious. Every move I made, I could feels holes burning into the back of my head. It made me shudder with nervousness, but at the same time I felt a weird sense of safety; like nothing in this world could possibly hurt me. I caught on to work really fast, studying the people who came in and out. The voices, or the thoughts, I should say, were overwhelming; as I expected them to be. I would have to put up the barrier quite often, but over the hours I had learned to get used to it. It gave me up, praying that one day I would be so good at blocking out the voices that maybe I could live a normal life.  As the diner and bar started to close up, I felt myself sigh in relief. I groaned, taking my foot out of my vans to rub my foot. Damn, being a waitress really was exercise, I thought to myself, while trying to relief the tight knot which had cramped the sole of my foot.

During the entirety of my shift, however, I couldn't stop thinking about him. Thaddeus. Just thinking of his name sent shivers down my spine, and I couldn't tell it they were good or bad. I felt nervous as I could feel his eyes burn holes in the back of my head, wherever he was. Every time I thought of his presence, my cheeks and ears suddenly felt hot. What had gotten into me? Ever since I came to this town, I've felt odd, out of place — even more so than I had usually felt. I fumbled with my sleeves as I walked outside, wishing my coworkers a good night. I breathed in the cool air, smiling slightly at the moon above me. At times, I wondered what my birth mother was doing, if she was okay, if she had given birth to more children. I had wondered if she was clean from whatever drugs inhabited her body, and if  she had a husband to come home to every day. I pondered the idea of if she was working, as a waitress like me, a bartender, or even a doctor. I glanced at the moon again, feeling an odd sense of comfort as I remembered that we were both under the same sky. Did she love me, did she remember me?

After Janis passed away, I had especially begun to think often of my mother. What was her name, did she look like me? Were her eyes similar to mine, did she have the same button nose and cheekbones as I? Or did I look like my birth father? Was my mother given the power of telepathy, or was it only me?

I walked home, hearing the crunching of the twigs beneath my feet as I kicked pebbles. I enjoyed the sense of being alone, only having my thoughts to listen to. I had the feeling again, the feeling of being in an entirely separate universe. I shuddered, pulling my sleeves down further as I felt my hands start to get cold from the constant breeze.

"You need a coat, little one." I heard a deep, velvety voice from in the shadows. I froze in my spot, my heart stopping for a moment. "Please leave me be." I replied, with a voice much frailer than anticipated.

"I will not."

I sighed, picking up my pace. Before I knew what was happening, he was right in front of me. His face was covered by a dark hood, and the smell and warmth radiating from him was intoxicating. I swallowed hard, refusing to meet his gaze with a sudden anxious feeling creeping over me.

"Penny for your thoughts, Indie?" He asked lowly, listing my chin to look into his chocolate eyes. In the darkness of the night, the moon hit his olive toned skin that was all-too-delectable. "I can practically see those gears in that head of yours churning." He walked directly next to me, synching his footsteps with mine, having to shorten his stride because of his immense height.

"Nothing." I replied numbly. I didn't talk about my feelings, my depression, my anything. All of my feelings were oh-so bottled up, something I planned on never opening. He frowned, a slight crease forming between his brows as he studied me. Every time he looked at me, a nervousness swept over my body. I wanted to be left alone, even if the one refusing to leave me alone looked like a Greek God. "Please leave me alone, please." I pained voice came out, as I started to crack underneath him. It felt as if I were a glass bottle to him with a hidden message inside, trying to crack me open.

"Do you not realize this, little one? Or are you just naïve. Do you really, truly have no idea what I am to you?"

Naïve.

A sudden burst of anger courses through my veins, as I reached my hand up to slap him. I was not fucking naïve. In fact, I was far from it. I knew that this man wanted me, for some odd reason, and was utterly obsessed. I knew that he was most likely a psychopath, and I would not give into his luring voice and personality. He quickly grasped my wrist, too rough, might I add, enclosing his large and calloused fingers around it. "Little one, you think you can slap me?" His eyes began to turn obsidian black, squeezing my frail wrist as I felt a lump in my throat.

"Stop calling me that, stop talking down to me like I'm some sort of pet, stop!" I screeched, letting my pent up emotions unravel as I hissed at him bitterly. I felt warm, emotionless tears rush down my face. Was this all apart of his plan? To break me down, to see me vulnerable; was this some sort of fetish? Seeing girls cry under just some of his words? Before I could continue, he enveloped me in a warm hug. The sparks ignited through my body like fireworks, and his warmth felt like a warm fire on a cold winter night. I sighed into his arms, sobbing like no tomorrow. The feelings in my head were too much to bear, I couldn't keep living like this. The depression of waking up everyday, feeling so alone... it was horrendous. I hated myself so much, in those few minutes when he was holding me, hating for practically deepening my feelings for this psychopath.

But in my heart, somewhere deep, there was trust. Trust for him. The sparks between us when he held me felt like fuel to the fire, a fire that was truly untamable.