Like A King | #wattys2019

Chapter 12: Suffer Like A King

Pressure makes the pipes burst.

My mom used to tell me that, every time I cried because of a test. Which was ironic because she was the one who put the pressure on me in the first place. I used to sit and wonder what she meant. I thrived off pressure, I craved it because it pushed me harder. 

But right now, I wasn't just feeling that emotional pressure. I was also feeling the pressure of Xavier's hand wrapped around my neck. 

And once again I craved the pressure of stupid things (like tests) to come back. My childhood wasn't perfect. Some people would call it broken. But right now, I would trade the situation I'm in right now for my busted house and my even more busted parents in a heartbeat. 

Hot breath on the side of my face brought me back to reality. The horrible reality that I found myself in."

"Tell me principespa, what are you trying to do exactly?" 

Was this bitch serious? 

I didn't answer him for two reasons: one, his cold hand that was still wrapped around my throat, slowly squeezing it like a snake wrapping around its prey and two, the silent treatment was as petty as I was feeling.

"Answer me. Or you're going to get the same treatment as your friend, except I'm not going to let you die."

"Do it then."

Silence. I could imagine his smirk dropping as his hand uncoiled itself from my fragile throat.

I didn't even register the fact that he'd moved until his face was level with mine as he sat in the much comfier chair on the other side of the desk. His stare was as intense as the butt cramps I was getting from being sat in this uncomfortable chair.

Knowing that this staring competition was just going to endlessly continue  (and I have very dry eyes and would probably blink first) I decided to speak first. 

"I've been getting way too many mixed signals here to be considered normal. First, you're going to kill me for some 'disrespect' bullshit. Then, you send me a cute little message where you call me 'your wife'. And now you're going to torture me." 

His scowl deepened as I leaned as close to him as my restraints would allow.

"So tell me," I seethed, "what exactly is your plan, batman?"

And I swear to you. If looks could kill, I would be so far under the ground I would have made it to the other side of the globe.

"Do not ever mistake my kindness towards you for indecisiveness." 

"This is you being kind?" I said, scoffing.

"Yes, it is. And you best remember this kindness because believe me Anna. I can get really mean. Really f*cking fast."

"Why am I here?" 

He looked bewildered at my statement.

"Why. The f*ck. Would I tell you."

His grin was almost mocking as his hands clasped and his torso leaned slightly over his desk. 

"It's killing you, isn't it Anna? Not knowing." Well sh*t give this guy a doctorate because I just got diagnosed. "When I ask you a question. I get an answer, don't I mia principespa?"

This conversation was pointless. So, answering him was pointless. If I was going to be stuck here I would make it as painful for him as it is for me. 

"Anna, I would be more than happy to keep you here all day until you answer me. You'd be a pretty decoration for me to look at as I work."

Just the thought of his eyes on me made me feel hot. Probably hot out of disgust, if that was even a thing.