Page 29 of Nemesync
But she abandoned me.
Abandonment is a persistent theme in my life.
Maybe I am just not deserving enough for people to stand by me?
Or maybe I’m just overthinking again.
8
ELIJAH
Normally, life was always red and black for me. It was blood or darkness, evil and virtue, nothing more, nothing less.
Life was binary, with two choices each time: the two extremes. Boring, but effective.
But ever since she got closer to me, I see something else - brown, her damn brown eyes.
MyLittle Nightmarewith blazing eyes was the third option in my binary life, destabilizing my entire organization and making the two options I’ve always had no longer enough.
I can’t stop following her, letting her poison me with her existence without realizing it, getting so deeply under my skin that I feel it itching everywhere without really being able to remove her.
I can’t stop seeking her, even though it’s toxic, like a serpent that falls victim to its own venom.
She was killing me, just with her existence.
Isn’t the stalker always the one in control? Why is my own prey more dangerous to me than I am to her?
Those fucking eyes.
They’re everywhere, haunting me even when I shut my own. I see them when I try to sleep, when I work, when I eat, when I fucking breathe. And when I saw them tonight, looking disgusted after that bastard Zaidan said something to her, it just set me off, and I saw red again.
The problem is, Zaidan didn’t just disrespect her; he had the audacity to ask her to marry him. And for that, he better be ready to face the consequences, because he’s about to learn how to treat a woman.
His screams fill the room, it’s a twisted melody that I can’t help but enjoy. It’s my kind of music - the agony of a fucking tortured man. I know that he doesn’t deserve my forgiveness, even though he’s been begging for it for the past few minutes.
A man who wants to marry a woman but won’t fight for her? That’s pure cowardice. And in the Bratva, we learn to not tolerate weakness, especially not when it comes to our women.
If it were me proposing to my pretty Zanae, I wouldn’t let anything stand in my way. I’d move hell and earth to make her say yes, I’d burn down heaven for her to be mine. But this stupid bastard? He doesn’t deserve her, and he’s really starting to severely get on my nerves.
No one deserves her.
Not even me.
Every time I hurt him, I can feel madness tightening its grip around my soul, and I don’t even want to escape it, I thrive in that havoc caused by possessiveness and this fucking need for ownership on her. My obsession with her only fuels the fury I feel; he made her uncomfortable, knowing damn well I saw everything.
My lips twist into a grin as I savor slowly the sounds around me and his cries.
“Dyavol, I didn’t… I didn’t know… I promise you?—”
I shut him up, driving the blade deeper into his abdomen, watching as the red pools around him before the brown of her eyes flashes in my mind again.
Fuck.
“The more you talk, the more it’ll hurt, you idiot.”
He screams louder, and I can’t shake the image of the red mark on her arm from my mind.
This frenzy is where the psychotic inside me finds refuge.Sadism.
