Her Ethics, His Rules

His words infused so much fear in me, I felt I'd been struck by lightening itself.

"Wh... what're you talking about?".I stammered, my eyes seeming like they'd fall out of my sockets.

Obviously, he hated repeating himself, because he gripped the neckline of my dress next.

"No! Let me go!" I panicked, trying to free my dress from his grasp.

"Stay still, damn it!" He snarled, and although I was frightened, it wasn't enough to stop me from struggling with him. He acted like he wanted to tear my dress apart.

"Please! Please! Don't do this." I shook my head, holding my dress firmly and ignoring the pain that came from my hand.

He seemed to get even angrier, but I couldn't let him bully me into it. If it was what I was thinking...

"Please..." I added, hoping my words get to him somehow. "You can't do this to me. You...You can't." A tear coursed down my cheek as I dropped my gaze to the floor. Staring at him gave me the chills.

He sighed and moved away from me, but I could tell he wasn't pleased. I watched with fear and curiosity as he turned away from me and walked back to the table where the box was open. He picked up a pair of scissors and returned to me.

Realizing what he had in mind, I shuffled backwards. But he gripped my collars so roughly, I was scared it'd hurt.

"Which do you prefer? This going through your eyes, or through your clothes?" He asked flatly, pointing the scissors at me.

At that moment, I knew there was no way I was escaping it. Escaping him.

I whimpered shakily and dropped my gaze again. That alone was an act of my surrender. Moreover, my instincts already told me he wasn't going to defile me like I was thinking. 

Seeing that I had become calm, he worked the scissors round the part of my dress that covered by stab wound. He did the same for the hand and leg, then gestured at me to sit. Shakily, I did so.

I watched as he returned to the box and took out the small bottle he had come with the first time. He added two more items to it before returning to where I was.

He was probably taking care of me 'cause he didn't want me to die in his custody - I thought. But why was I still alive? From the way it had started, I'd thought I'd be a mess by now.

My heart raced in my chest as he drew a chair close from the dresser and sat in front of me. I was on the edge of the bed. Everything about him scared me so much, including the fact that he was trying to tend to my wounds.

Opening one of the bottles, he poured the liquid on my leg. Harsh pain wracked through me, burning my very bones. I angled my face skyward and screamed out in pains, holding my leg immediately. It hurt so bad, even more than the stab itself had hurt.

The man in front me seemed totally unbothered. He moved to my arm, but I held his hand immediately, wanting him to stop.

"Please..." I whimpered, my chest panting heavily.

He shrugged my hand off immediately, like he was disgusted.

"You don't get to touch me." He growled, his voice sounding so deadly.

Fearfully, I let go of his hand. Then, I shut my eyes and awaited the pain on my arm. It came.

I screamed again as the liquid was poured on me.

"It hurts..." I whimpered in distress. But of course, he didn't care.

For a man like him, I wasn't sure he's ever had to care about anyone. Or anything.

He picked up a pack of wool, cut out a piece, dipped it into a different liquid and began rolling it on my wounded areas. The pain stung sharply, but it wasn't as painful as the first.

When he finished, he picked up a bandage roll and wrapped it on the wounded part. He stood up.

I panted heavily from the pains I had to endure as I watched him return to the table where he fixed the items in his box and closed it up. Without sparing a glance at me, he started towards the door.

"Wh...Why am I here?" I forced myself to ask.

He paused in front of the door, cocked his head at me and shot me a very dark glare like I had asked an offensive question.

"You're here cause you aren't dead. Yet." He spoke with so much iciness.

I gulped heavily.

"I'm innocent." I told him. "Please, you have to believe me."

He looked away and wrapped his hand around the hinges of the door.

"I don't wanna be here." I forced myself to stand, even tho my legs hurt as hell.

"I... I can't be in a confined space w...with a man. It's um... it's against my ethics." I stuttered, my hands becoming clammy with sweat.

My eyes were already on the floor as I feared the reaction I might find in his eyes. But not until I heard his footsteps, coming towards me.

I thrust my head up to look at him, and the look on his face made me take a step back.

"You should feel lucky you're here, you know?" His voice was low and sinister. "Normally, I don't bring targets to my place. I kill them. If it wasn't for Rocco, you'd have been in your apartment. Dead."

He took two steps towards me, I took three back. Holding the kit in his hand, he looked just like a bad doctor - a doctor who killed, rather than save lives. He scared the living daylight out of me.

"In here, you do not get to make the damn choice. It doesn't matter who you were or what ethics you have. I could ask you to strip, and you wouldn't have a damn choice right now. I could ask you to go on all fours and make your stay here worth the while, and you wouldn't even have the guts to object. So, drop whatever fucking ethics you think you have and just try not to get on my nerves."

I blinked rapidly as I listened to him. His words sounded so foreign, so vulgar. Why was he always so angry and vulgar? It was obvious he could never be pleased by anything.

He stepped away from me and walked out the door.