No Love For The Villain - vanish into fiction

A bad person. Being casually kind and leaving her alive so heartlessly.

“I hate you too.”

At Sierra’s words, the corner of the man’s mouth, which had been expressionless, lifted. It was the face of someone who had just received a confession.

“That’s good to hear.”

His smile, spreading more softly than his cold eyes, pierced her vision even more sharply. Sierra averted her gaze. To prevent him from occupying her mind again and shaking her.

But a hand gripping her chin lifted her head. Her falling gaze instantly rose and was captured once more by Eli’s eyes. Unavoidably, his face became imprinted on her pupils.

Eli stared at Sierra without even blinking.

“Some people live by hating someone as if they want to kill them. More tenaciously than when they live for love.”

His gaze, meeting hers, seemed to command her to live by hating him.

“Shall I be honest? I don’t want to kill you. Not yet.”

Not yet. That single word was attached like a thread of hope.

“The more you beg me to kill you, the less I want to. I wonder if it’s because I’m a bad person…”

His gaze, which had lingered on her eyes, swept downward. Sensing his gaze resting on her lips, Sierra couldn’t help but recall his kiss.

It felt as if her mouth was being violated even without his lips touching hers. Remembering his kiss all night, remembering it too much was because she had recalled it too much.

She pushed him away frantically. But the man didn’t budge. Her hand, weakly rubbing against his chest, ended up clutching his suit jacket instead. Eli looked down at the hand that had tried to push him away but ended up holding on.

“Or maybe it’s because you cling to me so prettily.”

Eli let the whisper escape and then stepped back. Sierra, who had been tense, went slack and lost her grip on his clothing.

Freed from Sierra’s grasp, Eli leisurely approached the desk. He looked over the scattered pieces of paper on the desk, sweeping them together with his hand. He loosely fitted the torn drawing pieces together.

As the pieces aligned, they revealed the secret she had drawn through the night. The moment the man’s face she had drawn became clear, a hot flush surged up from Sierra’s neck.

Eli, looking down at his own portrait, flipped one piece over and began writing something on the white space. After scribbling a number, he used the tip of the pencil to point at something placed on the other side of the desk.

“Call me when you’ve finished eating. Don’t leave any.”

A savory aroma rose from the item tied with a white cloth. It hadn’t been there when she woke up.

Sierra realized he must have left the room to get that food for her. She went over to his side and scattered the assembled drawing pieces again.

“I won’t eat it. Anything you give me.”

It was a futile act. Even tearing it apart and scattering it, the night she spent drawing him didn’t become undone.

Eli quietly observed his own fragmented face for a moment, then pulled one piece of paper closer. It was the lips. The lips she had drawn over and over again were smudged and blurred from her touch. Just as much as she had recalled his kisses, just as much as she had thought of him.

Sierra hesitated, then snatched the drawing of his lips back. Eli’s eyes watched her as if they could pierce right through her.

“Have it your way, Miss Knightley.”

Eli put the pencil down. The pencil, freed from his hand, rolled lonely across the desk.

Sierra watched Eli’s back as he left the room. Just as she was about to lower her head in the now-empty room, she spotted a gift box sitting alone on one side of the bed.

Sierra approached the gift box. She carefully pulled the golden ribbon loose and removed the fine wrapping paper. What was inside was revealed.

Paint.

Red, blue, and bright yellow paints were laid out. They were the very paints her father used to give her as a gift whenever he returned from Newland.

The brilliant colors that hadn’t returned even in spring had bloomed in the dead of winter.

She looked at the other thing Eli had brought. Untying the cloth bundle, a wave of warm heat escaped. Thinly sliced chicken and vegetables floated in a clear broth. The aroma of the food awakened her dulled hunger.

Sierra glanced back at the door behind her. The door that couldn’t be locked wouldn’t stop anyone from bursting in. Though no one was there, Sierra felt uneasy, as if the Pastor were standing there. Her knees, scraped and sore from being dragged across the floor, throbbed.