as i flopped into my bed after i finally arrived home, a note sat waiting for me,
finally resolving pent up daddy issues i see.
xoxo, H
why in this whole wide world is this psychotic man speaking to me and why must i be so infatuated with him?
i spent the night tossing and turning in my sleep, and i wanted nothing more to be held by the same smell i missed, i wanted my father and i felt like a small girl with this need, but i missed out on it most of my life. i craved the attention and i craved his presence like a lost puppy.
"pssst. wake up" a voice startled me awake.
"i swear to fucking god" i mumble into my pillow.
"say that again and ill bend that pretty little ass i see over" i could hear the smirk laced in his menacing voice.
"what do you want?" sleep laced in my voice as i whined.
"get up and pack, we're going away for awhile." he smiled.
"you're a murderer and my life is just starting to work out, i'm not going anywhere at 4 in the morning with you." i laughed throwing myself into the bed.
"i'm packing your bag and i already typed out a note for peggy, saying you need some space to think and are going on a couple day trip." he grabbed a bag and started aimlessly throwing in clothes.
"i don't even know you." i whispered.
"all the better pretty thing" he winked and i know i should run, i know i should hide but the pools of green held me captive, drowning me in questions. i may be crazy, i may be insane, but i didn't want to stay.
i got up and searched for a pair of pants,
"that's what i thought" he smiled.
i sat in the front seat of a beaten down pickup truck to god knows where, and i slept peacefully, i felt free.
i woke up in a bed that wasn't mine, in clothes that weren't mine to the small humming coming from the shower in the room next to me.
i crept out of bed and decided to look around, i made my way through all of the rooms and found myself sitting on a swing on the back porch, overlooking nothing but trees.
"madeline!" a distant voice called from inside the house.
"madeline, i swear to fucking god" he healed louder.
i went to get up walking to the door as it bursted open, "there you are!" he pointed in my face as if i was a small child.
"you answer when called" he said sternly, guiding me inside.
"i'm surprised you didn't run" he said.
"i had no reason to leave" i whispered.
"you know technically i kidnapped you."
"i didn't put up a fight"
"i murdered your boyfriend, i don't know if i would put up a fight either." he rolled his eyes leading me into the kitchen.
"what do you want to eat?" he smiled.
"oh i'm really not hungry, but thanks" i smiled.
"madeline, look, i'm fixing you. that means three meals a day and not hours spent isolated."
"i don't need fixing."
"maybe not, but you do need compassion."
"how compassionate can you be, you kill people." i rolled my eyes and he grabbed my face in his hand fast,
"i'm doing you a fucking favor, be grateful brat" he snarled and his eyes held anger.
"i don't want to be fucking helped, i'm not a charity case" i got right back in his face and he embraced me tightly.
and i smelt it, cologne and cigarettes.
أنت تقرأ
Picasso // h.s.
قصص الهواة"you know what i do, it's an art form, i'm like the Picasso of killing," the man with green eyes said spinning the knife in his hand. "funny, because i'd say you're closer to Van gogh, considering he was insane as well."
