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It's-It's just that..." Anya croaks, holding back her sobs. "I wish he would at least come out for the holiday week, it really pains me to know he's chosen loneliness."Damn, these people are so attached to a conspicuously detached killer. I thought it was incredible really, how close-knit even the servants of the manor are to him. In all my stay here, I haven't witnessed him solidly display affection to any of them. For the exception a month ago of his kiss on Mrs. Agnelli's forehead."Shhh don't cry," I console, patting her back gently."You know, he's saved me from a terrible life.." Anya clarifies somberly as she sets the plastic carton on the countertop. "He's not as bad as you think he is. I refuse to believe he means you harm deep down especially since you've rescued Arielle."I bite the inside of my cheek, suppressing to refute her opinion. Without noticing, she proceeds. "Before I was offered employment here..I-I was..a..sex slave in Russia.""What?!" I gape at her. She nods
HAZEL -He begins ambling forward towards me, mouth twisting in a sordid way. In utter trepidation, I scramble backward utilizing my elbows. I notice he's inadvertently blocking the path I would have tread to my bedroom. In a matter of seconds, a rush of adrenaline kicks in, and I leap to my feet. Without sparing him a second glance, I hastily canter in the opposite direction towards the foyer.My heart hammers at abnormal speed as I rapidly descend the length of the stairwell. Once I get to the landing, I risk a glance up only to discover he hasn't pursued me. A heavy sigh of relief escapes my mouth as I stand still trying to calm my breathing.This wasn't supposed to happen according to plans! I wonder how I would manage to get to my room with him out in the corridor. A deep regret fills me for having attempted such a foolish idea of delivering the note to him. Considering that both of us were the only occupants currently in the manor, it was highly incongruous of me.I should inform
HAZEL -This morbid asphyxiation remains constricting around me. My strength evanescing, inept to repel it any longer. Suffocating despite not expiring. I drown in seemingly perpetual tears but yet remain to breathe. Impelling towards the ebbs of extremity, however not fading.Through the reflection of the mirror, the girl peering back at me is nothing short of an immeasurable condition.Dark tresses in wild disarray, primarily engulfing her small frame. Eyes brimming with drops of desolation. Leaving a trail of damp misery down the apples of her cheeks.Minutes must have elapsed and my eyes hesitantly shift to her face's lower feature, I had strived and yet failed to avoid a glimpse of it.Swollen, bruised, and trembling... the appearance of my lips took my breath away.Leaning forward at the mirror, I take a closer examination. The tip of my tongue darts out flicks moisture over the bloody fissure, and pain signals its way from the wound to my mind.My eyes blink shut, yet there mat
HAZEL -Instantly, those incisive pair of azure eyes arrest me. I nearly choke on my tongue.His expression hardens. My heart nearly constricts, legs feel like blocks of concrete. The memory of last night resurfaces. I briefly avert my gaze toward Mrs. Molotov and the child before looking back at him again.His rigid stare remains on me, visage inscrutable now. The man next to him pauses speaking due to the lack of interest. With confusion, the man follows the demon's gaze and looks straight at me.I feel my face flushing as I approach their vicinity. I adjust my sight on Mrs. Molotov and the child instead.She smiles at me sweetly. I recognized the semblance between her and Serge. The little boy took more after Mister Molotov in the looks department.Placing the pitchers before them, I glance nervously into the demon's presence again. The entirety of his focus continues ensnaring me.By now, I'm drenched in repleted apprehension as I curl my perspiring hands into fists against my
He's stood at the entrance of the lounge. A silent spectator, attention only on me.When did he get here?"Oh, Vladimir!" Rachael jovially acknowledges him. " we absolutely love your gifts! The children are so happy! Come here and unwrap our gifts to you!"Everyone voices their agreement."Later," He utters in a clipped incisive tone. Without breaking eye contact with me, he saunters in. His cane clicked against the floor and his overcoat bristled.I shift my eyes to my fingers, nervously fiddling with the hem of my cardigan. I wanted to get up and leave for my room immediately.What I least expected next, was for his polished black boots to come to a halt inches away from me. Wide-eyed, I glance up at him to find he's austerely peering down at me.Everyone has gotten quiet as they direct their focus on us. My face emblazons with a sudden blush."I need a word," He commands, a voice underlined by authority. "In private.."I throw a glance around at everyone.Is he talking to me?"I'm
Vladimir's POV in 3rd Person.Patience and disciplined designation... Have always been the two denominators shackling his mind in the quiet before the storm. Provided that his kill is within the span of short intervals.Delay only produced an irksome vehemence. Roots of avidity sprout, shattering the silent exterior. Releasing untimely clamor out of the dismal recesses of his mind.A devoted prisoner to such a capacity, the chaos invariably defined him. Fear the one vanquished by discord within...His face was obscured by a silver mask, bordered by the cowl of an ebony hood. With heavy anticipation, leather-gloved finge rs twitch. Ensconced in the pockets of obsidian garments. Robes concealing weaponry, laced with death.It's been far too long...A month had elapsed since he last embarked on an execution spree. The present was fixed to fulfill a task of such a degree. A time to quench a bloodlust anew. Now was a period for inner solace. A storm more dulcet than beforetill the brewi
The dead man under, totally forgotten.In utter shock, he disengages away from the deceased man's throat.Vaulting to his own feet.The vast room spun, teetering on the edges. He staggers on his boots like a yearning drunkard.Excessive images of her, bombard his mind repeatedly.A pristine headscarf. Those accusing dark eyes. Long shiny, sable tresses-"Fūck out of my mind!!" He roars in rapid frustration, blindly launching a blow at a nearby crate. The object splinters into pieces. "Woah!" Yigor yells in alarm. "Easy there, man!""Vladimir!" Grigori nearly reaches out to him yet retreats cautiously. "What the fūck?"Serge slips off his mask, reveali ng a concerning appearance. "Vladimir, what's wrong?"Vladimir stood his back to them. Visibly trembling. His broad chest heaves. As if he'd just surfaced in an extremely darkened abyss. He strives to collect his composureWhy the fūck is she here?He blinked a few times under the mask, tears slipping out. Vision wavers with perplexity.
No! His thoughts betrayed him once yet again. Had this mind been an individual form, he would have clawed it all to a bloody pulp. Perhaps he should bash his fūcking brains out with a bat by his own hand. If only he didn't have a family to constantly defend.Suddenly the glass of brandy shatters in his leather-gloved grip. Serving to obstruct him from his ever-darkening thoughts.Yigor shoves the stripper off from his lap and vaults towards Vladimir's side."What the fūck?" He took ahold of his cousin's unharmed hand. His worried eyes rove over him. "What's wrong with you tonight?""It's alright, I'll get Mister Nikolay another." The bartender piped in as he begin preparing behind the bar."It's fine." Vladimir's voice lets out roughened, husky. He clears his throat and looks around himself in the half-filled club. Gaze landed on a scantily dressed pretty redhead, swaying on the dance floor.She winks at him and lewdly licks at her bottom lip. He diverts his glance away. Yigor follow