Painted Scars

A phone call with the Lucifer of Manhattan,

28 August,

Gianna

Tremors are what I felt no sooner I heard the blood-curdling scream and loud bangs on doors pricked goosebumps on my skin. I rushed to my apartment door and fumbled with the keys. Once I opened the door wide I shudder. My best friend’s lifeless body was tied up with a chair and her stomach split open. Blood and cuts all over, I stiffed and everything around me spun. Half of her face has burnt marks and open cuts. I screamed, and my knees almost dropped to the floor. I hurried towards her as my steps wobbled beneath me.

“Can you hear me, Perri?!”

No physical reaction from my strangled scream as I untied the knot and slapped her face to respond but she was cold. I choked my sob.

Taking my phone out of my pocket, I called for emergency but there was no ring. I tried to contact mom but there was nothing. I silently screamed. The sound of heavy footsteps made me look upward at the figure.

“Little too late.”

He rolled his tongue against the inside of his cheeks. Of course, he hacked the network system. His presence is overwhelming, I was on autopilot for a moment before I blink and I didn’t know I was holding my breath.

“She was no part of this sick game.”

I bellowed as I stood my ground shielding her. His eyebrow shoot making the scar slashed on his right brow look more prominent. Despite the scar on his chiseled face it only heightens his sinful look with a wide dark sinister smirk.

“Rebelling now?”

He tilted his head, He takes a step toward me. A hint of his signature smirk remained slightly curled at the end lifting his scarred brow. I contempt the devil dancing in his cupid bow and opened my mouth to speak but he beat me harshly.

“You are in no position to talk until you had the privilege.”

He tucked out his gun from the holster and cocked. I gasped in fright and before I could register what I’m doing, I took the fruit cutter from the table swiftly and hurled myself into him but he resisted holding my hand in a farm grip and pushed me down the floor. I quavered and clawed his face and I tried to knee him but he was fast to catch before it made contact.

He pressed his weight on me and captured my wrist. Fear collided inside me.

I managed to whirl around and swung my fist at his face. I stabbed his shoulder. He hissed and I scooted off of him taking Perri’s arm to bring it around my shoulder but he caught ahold of me and slammed me against the mirror glass. The glass broke and shards stabbed my skin. I wailed, my bones may have broken, and my limbs go numb. Seizing my jaw he shoved the gun inside my mouth and pulled the trigger, smirking evilly. I screamed bawling my eyes out.

“Happy father-daughter reunion.”

I pant taking a huge gulp of air as my eyes flew open. I’m wide awake from my restless sleep. Muscles of my chest beat wildly and the hair on the back of my neck rise. I held my head brushing a few strands, took hold to calm my breath, and wiped away the beads of sweat all over my forehead and neck.

He won’t be here, will he? I leaped over quickly and checked Perri’s bedroom. She is dead asleep. I pressed a hand against my chest where I can feel my blood pumping fast.

Washing my face, I changed my tank top. I was about to turn off my lights but something at my door left me petrified. My hair stood on end as I swallowed the lump in my throat and moved close to the note stabbed at my door with the fruit slicer.

“Wish your every nightmare comes true.”

My breath stopped, and my gaze moved to the other scribbled note around it.

“It was a sight to see you screaming for me.”

He was here, he was watching me. How did he do it? He didn’t break any locks. Questions swirled through my head. Picking up my phone from the nightstand I called the number I blocked once. After the third ring, he answered.

“Blue.”

Death has taste, it chokes and clenches out the entire life in a glance. It’s a game of either cold, icy or fierce, hot might be numbing. A feel of Numb is downright suicidal when somebody kills you but you can’t feel the pain. This pain is an ultimate, and nobles labeled it as success.

“Missing me at the dead end of the night?”

I swear I envisioned a feral grin, he dared me to block him and when I did I had no choice but to make him out of my block list before twenty-four hours. Words were the tip of my tongue to bite back. But It would be outright stupid of me to challenge him.

“You want to hear from me that Scar Dickhead Maroney always wins.”

I wish I had sealed my lips before.

“Not now. Soon you will be getting bent on my knee, ass up beetroot red while that slick pussy will weep for me so the next day when you will be walking on a ramp flashing your cheeks in front of thousand people they will know how Scar claimed his women. That’s a victory.”

My throat became dry and I gulped, this man has a record of playing dirty. My chest tightened strangely urging me to let out a couch. I breathed through my mouth before closing it and gulping again. I ignored the claim.

“Can I get assurance of my family’s safety at least?”

A sense of horror and another surge of adrenaline rush through my bloodstream as if it’s a scarred reminder. But I smoothly hid it within my voice.

“I already made a contract as well as space for you in my bed where I can easily get any access.”

I clenched my hand in a fist.

“Sweet dreams asshole!”

“Hmm, that I’m gonna take and fill soon.”

Damn. I am being hot-headed for no reason. I tried to relax but the inner muscles of my genitals clenched,

Fuck.

Lord, What’s happening? Did my body just respond to his filth self? I refused to believe.

“If your ego comes from deep of your balls then I will get them to chop soon.”

“Come and get them and if you fail blue I’m gonna make you regret every choice of your life including letting men touch and grope what’s mine.”

I gulped down the vile, a slicing pain going back of my throat trailing down. A dread crept inside me. I was now one of his games to play. It’s a deadly alarm.

“You don’t own me.”

My voice wobbled. Sensing my paranoia he lets loose a deep cruel laugh, a sound enough to be my nightmare for the rest of my short termed life.

“Yet.”

Scar Maroney the psychopath made this clear as water that he will shred me and break me like glass and haunt me like a ravenous predator.

“You look absolutely exquisite when you think of me little Bluebird.”

He knows I’m fragile inside but will not leave my ground. That is what excites him most. He wants me to fight. At this point in life, I abruptly had no intention to think further.

It all started with a stare at a funeral witnessing him plunging the full length of his knife into the man’s heart and twisting it. More brutal than I witnessed the murder five years ago but luckily got away, not this time. He has got his eye on me.

[This story is owned by me, contact [email protected] if find anywhere out of Wattpad and inkitt]