No Love For The Villain - Chapter 6
She felt the agony of stagnant, rotting water flooding her lungs, unable to flow anywhere and festering.
The man, who had been watching with cold eyes, brushed his fingers across Sierra’s tear-filled eyes. An illusion formed, as if his cool hand was wiping away tears that hadn’t even fallen. It was a touch that seemed to soothe the grief that couldn’t become tears.
The rims of Sierra’s eyes grew hot. She was used to holding back tears in front of the pastor, who sternly forbade her from crying. But a comforting touch was unfamiliar. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
Feeling the chilling sensation of her blocked sorrow bursting forth, Sierra let out a shuddering sigh. The gloved hand brushed her tear-streaked face, wiping them away before they could freeze. Overwhelmed by the rising sobs, Sierra struggled to breathe, her breaths coming in ragged gasps.
Then, the man’s fingertips pressed against the seam of her lips.
“Open your lips.”
The tip of his thumb pressed into the seam of her lips, prying them open to create space for her to breathe.
The smooth, foreign sensation of the glove inside her mouth made Sierra gag reflexively. But the man paid no heed, firmly pressing down on her tongue, which was trying to flee and resist.
The moment he cleared her airway, Sierra exhaled the trapped breath.
“You have to breathe.”
Listening to his low voice, Sierra finally loosened the constriction in her throat. As her crying subsided, her strength drained away, and her head lolled back.
Sierra watched the fingers withdraw as they brushed against her lips. The tips of the black leather gloves were damp and glistening.
“Do you need to cry more…?”
He spoke as if he would grant her wish to cry in an even more painful way. Without knowing his methods, Sierra was simply terrified.
When Sierra struggled against his grip on her ankle, Eli released her hand. The heavy coat was draped over her hunched shoulders.
“You’re cold. Keep it on.”
Wrapped in the coat that carried his scent, Sierra felt trapped in a deeper snare than when her ankle had been caught. Violence makes one resist, while tenderness makes one lean in.
Sierra hurriedly tried to take off his coat. But the moment she tried to pull it down, Eli promptly fastened the coat’s collar back up.
The hand that tightly gripped the coat’s lapel felt like a threat. A threat to keep it on and behave.
“Did you come to kill me?”
Her questioning voice trembled faintly. A gaze, devoid of malice and utterly calm, swept over her, then lingered on her wrist.
“If left alone, it seems you’d die soon enough.”
The man’s gaze, which rarely flickered, was as cold as the winter wind. That’s why the trembling wouldn’t stop in his presence.
“I don’t have a hobby of killing people who are desperate to die.”
“Then what kind of people do you kill?”
“People who beg me to let them live.”
“That’s cruel…”
“That’s the work I do.”
“You mean acting cruelly?”
“The work of ruining lives while pretending to grant their wishes.”
But if what they wish for is the ruin of their own lives…
Then, in the end, isn’t he granting their wishes after all?
Sierra wanted to escape. This house she couldn’t leave while waiting for her father, the endless sorrow.
The tomorrows that endlessly return, these legs that can run but take her nowhere—she wanted to tear them all away and leave.
But she didn’t know how to leave. It felt hopeless. “The girl who can’t do anything on her own.” While the pastor called her that, she had truly become just that.
In this isolated village where she couldn’t leave without a car, how could she possibly escape? There was only one way left. In the Bible that Pastor Miles taught from, suicide was a sin. One bad wish, for which she couldn’t even pray to God, remained on the tip of her tongue.
Sierra lifted her head. She faced the man looking down at her.
“Can you kill me?”
YOU MAY ALSO LIKE
