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Michael
Esma’s pov
“Now.” she reverted her gaze to the window, i peeked through my lashes to see it was now evening. “I suppose we should talk. I am very curious from the first time I had laid my eyes on you.”
Long hair, strong smell of old shampoo, a lame beige cardiogram across her neck, natural style and almost impossible to notice makeup. She truly is beautiful, almost perfect and perfectly evil.
I am not getting a good feeling about this. She reverted her gaze to my hands as I placed them on my lap cautiously. They were finally free but my legs were still tied. I can tell a lot is going in her mind at the same time too. Just like me.
I have hundreds, no at least thousand questions for her to answer and by the look in her eyes I can tell she feels the same. but why? What does she want?
I heard the footsteps chafing on the ground and my ears peeked up, is this her next move or something? She bough
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