A Window To A Soul

Chapter 15: Chloe

Elliott is sitting by the table. He was closely inspecting the food that one of his bodyguards put in front of him. There was a big sandwich with a lot of sauce and melted cheese. There was a lot of fruit and a pitcher of tea.

Elliott looked at the man with Malice. I held my head low, afraid to look at him in fear that he would target me next. I could hear him speak with a low voice, in almost a growl. "Do you expect me to eat this?"

I peeked up at him. He was looking at the trembling man like he had just threatened to kill him. He pointed down at the sandwich. "I can still see the residue from the poison. You think you can fool me?"

The man's eyes widened in immediate fear. Elliott stood up and lunged at the man. He shoved him against the wall and grabbed his neck. He held him in place with his left hand on his throat and then brought two fingers to his eyes. The man closed his eyes, attempting to stop him from touching them.

Elliott's fingers brought flames to the skin, lighting the bodyguard's eyes on fire. I could hear the screams, and I knew that they would haunt me for the rest of my life. I looked at the others in terror. They all kept their heads low, afraid to anger him further. One of them, a redhead, looked at me with a sad face, as if trying to reassure me that everything would be okay as long as we stay silent.

I tried to think of something. Anything to get the screams out of my head. Then they stopped and I heard a thud. I hesitantly looked up to see what happened to the bodyguard. He laid on the ground with his eye sockets black and burnt to ash. Smoke came from them. Burnt blood was visible on Elliott's fingers.

He glanced over at us, his eyes falling on me. I jumped and looked down, hoping that he wouldn't mention the fact that I was looking at him.

Then he started walking toward me, stepping over the lifeless limbs on the ground. I squeezed my eyes shut in fear. I could both hear and feel my heart pounding in my chest.

He stopped in front of me, his robe brushing against my own clothing. I felt his finger on the bottom of my chin, lifting my head up to face him. I didn't open my eyes. But I heard a whisper in my ear, along with the warmth of his breath. "Look at me, Chloe."

I hesitantly opened my eyes, looking into his own, beautiful ones. His blue eyebrows, short and stopping sharply in the middle of his eyes. His serious complexion and wrinkles in between his eyebrows.

A small smile laid there on his lips, as if I had said something funny. "It is just how she acted when she saw me kill him."

He didn't say anything else before he dismissed everyone and went to his own room, not bothering to eat anything. He left the other bodyguards to clean up the mess. One of them followed him to start up his bath.

I didn't know where to go, or what to do. The redheaded bodyguard glanced at me again, as if he were trying to reassure me that all was fine. I knew that it was fine. Nothing happened.

As I went upstairs to Elliott's room, I could hear the bath running. I expected Elliott to be in the bathroom, waiting to get into the tub. But as I stood in the doorway, I saw Elliott sliding his robe off. He was facing away from me, his back muscles becoming visible. But I could also see a scar. It was as if something had plunged into his back, right where his heart was. I immediately recalled the legend. Sarah ripped his heart out from behind. I guess the scar never faded.

His robe stopped as it was halfway down. I heard a chuckle and he turned his head as if he were going to look back at me. "Are you going to just stand there and watch, or are you going to give me my privacy?"

My heart skipped a beat as I closed the door. I turned around and walked away. I could feel the heat of my face. My heart was pounding. But what ate at me the most was that I wasn't feeling disgusted and terrified like the first night I spent here. I wasn't hating myself for having wanted this when I was younger. Instead, I wanted to be with him. I wanted him to want me. I hated myself, not for what I felt when I was younger, but for what I felt now.

I wanted to cry, but I knew that I would only fuel his hunger if he saw that. I would make him want to experiment with my feelings. I don't know who he sees in me, but when he looks at me, I know that he doesn't see me. Especially when he covers my eyes before kissing me. Who is he really seeing?