The girl strolled forward with an air of nonchalance, her arms crossed and her head tilted in curiosity, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Yet, an unsettling presence clung to her like a persistent shadow.
With a sadistic grin, she inquired, her eyes glinting with intrigue, "Well, well, look who we have here. I can't quite decide if you're brave or just plain foolish for wandering into this alley alone."
Silas found himself at a loss for words, his mind racing as he desperately sought a way out of this predicament, the weight of fear pressing down on him.
She offered another disarming smile, but Silas felt no comfort from it, fully aware of the darkness lurking beneath her cheerful exterior. He took a step back, but she mirrored his movements, closing the distance with each backward step he took.
Trying to steady himself, Silas inhaled deeply, the cold air escaping his lips as he muttered, "I really chose the wrong day for this."
He glanced at her, puzzled, as she sniffed the air, her head tilting in a way that made her hair dance in the breeze. "Are you bleeding?" she asked, her voice laced with curiosity.
Silas frowned at her question, recalling the moment he had been injured. He looked down at his palm, and she noticed, her gaze fixating on his hand with a twisted fascination.
His back hit the wall, the rough, cold bricks pressing against him. She halted just in front of him, the scent of blood filling the air—a metallic tang that mingled with the dried streaks on her cheeks, giving her a wild, feral appearance, her eyes gleaming with a sinister delight.
With a sadistic smile, she asked, "What happened to your hand?"
Silas felt his heart race, her overwhelming presence suffocating him. "Uh, I got into a fight," he stammered, the despair and horror washing over him. Yet, a flicker of defiance ignited within him, urging him to stand his ground, even if it meant facing his end.
A spark of an idea ignited in his mind, one that could offer him a chance to break free.
He threw a punch squarely at her face. However, her reaction was quicker; she sidestepped, lighting-fast, and seized his wrist, rendering him immobile.
Her eyes narrowed, icy and unyielding.
Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his wrist as she tightened her hold, forcing Silas to kneel hard against the unforgiving concrete, a grunt escaping his lips as he winced in agony. The girl regarded him with a malevolent gaze. "Oh dear, that wasn't very polite. You really ought to be more respectful to young ladies," she taunted, her grip on his fist unrelenting.
He managed a grimace, his words strained through clenched teeth. "I apologize, but if I'm facing death, I'll fight for my life, fuck whether you're a girl."
chilling smile, she twisted his hand, sending waves of pain through his arm as he struggled to break free. Her eyes narrowed further as she caught the scent of his blood, her nose wrinkling in intrigue. Then, with a flick of her tongue, she licked his palm, her voice dripping with curiosity. "How peculiar, your blood is both delicious and oddly familiar."
Raising an eyebrow, she inquired, "What's your name, handsome?"
The warmth of her tongue contrasted sharply with the pain coursing through him, causing him to grimace. A voice in his head warned him against revealing his name, suggesting dire consequences if he did. Just then, another sharp tug at his wrist made him wince again.
Through pounding heart and gritted teeth, he finally replied, "Silas. My name is Silas."
A shiver ran down his spine as he saw the cruel smile spread across her face, her dark eyes glinting in the cool night air. Though his body was warm, an icy dread settled in his heart, more chilling than the night itself.