ᴄᴀꜱᴀɴᴏᴠᴀ //h.s//

6

I know it's been forever, but senior year is no joke in college. 

Hi guys, what's new! 

~ 

7:00 pm, same night.

Murmurs reach my once deaf ears as my body begins to live again. I fight it internally, begging it to give up and let me go see my parents. The request is denied, and not long after pain floods all my nerves. 

My brain overloads trying to process the pain, and small sounds fall from my chapped lips despite my strong efforts to keep them in. My eyes open quickly after, only closing once before adjusting to the dim light setting I was encased in. My hands register that I'm on a soft surface, and my eyes recognize the ceiling above me. Home. Or rather, my condo. While the thought does calm me, I'm also very aware that I didn't put myself here. 

The pain I woke up with still roars through my body like the ocean during a hurricane, knocking the breath out of me each time it peaks. 

Move, I need to move. 

My hands find their place underneath me and I begin to push myself up but am halted when my right side erupts in pain. My breathing turns into labored quick moments that can't grab enough oxygen. My eyes glance towards the wound, expecting to see blood smeared with dirt, but instead, they see a white bandage peaking underneath a black tank top. Confused, and even more concerned now I push myself up all the way. Had that bastard dressed me?  Was he still here?

These questions make my heart race, as my eyes continue to absorb new information. Such as the fact I was laid over the comforter, and my legs were covered in grey sweatpants, feet covered in white socks. I'm now certain that he dressed me, and my stomach considers emptying on the spot, but I hold it back. 

I calm down enough to quiet my breathing and listen to the atmosphere around me. The lamp on my nightstand was on, casting a glow to my room that was neatly organized. My eyes glaze over the room before settling on the closed door that leads to where the devil is. It's gotta be locked right? 

Only one way to find out. 

I gently allow my body to scoot over to the edge of the bed, biting my bottom lip to minimize the grunts of pain that beat against it. While my legs weren't in pain the sag of my arm weight on the wound wasn't pleasant. The only thing I had going for me, was that he didn't know I was awake, therefore allowing me the element of surprise. Or, maybe I didn't need a surprise, maybe I just needed a bit of time. 

My brain considers many options as I stand there. The thought of him bandaging me goes against everything I thought he'd stand for after seeing him on that cliffside. Then again, there was apparently a lot to him I didn't know.  

A sharp alert from my bladder signals the bathroom to be my first stop instead of confronting the nameless devil. Thanks to the socks my feet don't make noise as I tread across the ground and into the bathroom. The room is slightly lit because of the moonlight coming in from the large windows by the sink. How long had I been out? 

Once I make it to the white ceramic bowl, I shift my sweats down, and sit, moving forward a bit so my piss doesn't hit the water therefore making it quiet. I know right now the element of surprise is my best and only option to either get answers or escape. My brain still hadn't decided which it wanted more. 

Once I finish, I wipe, stand, and pull up both bottoms. I notice that he didn't change my first set, which oddly calms me down. I flush and make my way to the sink turning the water on to a small stream, rinsing with soap then turning it off again. I tap my hands on the creme towel hanging on the wall to my right and for a second finally, look at myself in the mirror. My hair is straight, but I can see a few knots. My face looks flushed, but that's probably because I haven't eaten during whatever time period I've been here. It probably also could be accredited to blood loss. 

The bandage is smaller than what I thought I'd need, especially after getting shot in the shoulder. I lean forward a bit to inspect it closer, wondering why there isn't any blood on it. 

"I stitched it when we got back," his calm voice floats into the once safe space. My body can't help but react to the sudden sound, as my eyes widen and my hands grip the sink harder now. He's in the doorway, I can vaguely see the outline of him leaning against the door frame from my view in the mirror. 

No words are exchanged, no moves made, just silence.  

"Quite the mess we've found ourselves in new girl." 

"I think you mean, a mess you've found yourself in." The reply comes out shakily, my knuckles bound to be white now as my fingers slowly go numb on the counter. 

Silence enters again, but this time he moves forward, into the space and towards me. My eyes stay on him through the mirror. The air thins, or maybe I just stopped breathing once he settled behind me. 

His green eyes lock onto mine in the reflection.He's wearing dark colors, probably black if I had to guess under the vague moonlight. His brown curls look perfectly in place, his jaw line tense. His shoulder rise and fall steadily, but thats as far as I let my eyes drift. 

He moves up just enough to where his arms encase around me and his hands fall on the outside of my numb ones. His chest brushes against my back with each rise and fall. His height makes it to where his head could rest on top of mine, but he holds it above and neither of us break eye contact. 

Our minds communicate in the silence, he reads my fear, and I try to read his intentions. 

The communication breaks when I feel his caloused hand on my right shoulder, his fingertips applying just enough pressure on the white bandage to let me know I should stay still. 

"Are we going to be enemies?" His head cocks to the side slightly, a nearly amused look on his face. His tone was taunting, yet retorical. 

I close my eyes briefly, before moving as fast as I can. My right hand comes and grabs his unsuspecting one, pulling it forward while I move myself to the left, making his head collide with the edge of the sink. The impact didn't break skin, but it fazed him enough for me to get out of his line of fire. Stepping behind him I notice his gun tucked between his shirt and pants. Without second guessing myself I grab it, turn off the safety, and aim it at the back of his head. He's in a kneeling position from the sink impact giving me slight leverage for the moment. 

"Well we aren't lovers," is all I say before shooting him in the right shoulder. He lets out a yell before falling onto his left side grabbing at the fresh wound. With the close range the bullet should have gone straight through, but I wasn't sticking around long enough to check. The echo of the shot is defening in my ears, but I ignore the ringing as I turn and stumble out of the bathroom. 

As I quickly exit the bathroom and bedroom all together I hear an earie sound, and at first I assume it's my ears playing tricks on me. I shake my head and continue through the condo towards the front door. The living room lights are on, and my eyes wince a few times before adjusting. Once adjusted I don't dare look anywhere but the door as I make my way to it. I grab the handle with my left hand turning the knob before swinging the door open and stumbling out into the dark night. I don't close the door, I just keep moving. The gun is death gripped in my right hand, my entire body on high alert in case I need to use it again. 

The earie sound continues and once my ears finally stop ringing I realize I've heard the sound correctly. It makes me stop for a moment and glance back at the condo. In the distance I see his shape, leaning against the back wall in the living room, crimson blood on his hand that covers the wound I left. 

He doesn't pursue me, instead he keeps on creating the sound that shoots chills up my spine, the sound of laughter. 

The devils laughter. 

//

YOU KNOW IT'S NOT THE SAME AS IT WAASSSSSSS 

HIIIII I'm so sorry if this sucks, but I wanted her to be a badass but also have some tension. SHE AIN'T NO SCAREDY CAT!! Although, uhhh maybe she should be now....