Neva's eye lids twitches, luscious lashes flurrying as she eventually rouses.
Unveiling her vision, she finds herself on a warm bed, in a hush room. Observing the subdued, dark environment surrounding her—accompanying only a dim illumination of a lamp standing on the nightstand.
Her heart beat quickens at the foreign environment. She in a flinch sits up, her breathing heavy.
What in the world happened?
Dainty fingers brushing the hair from out her face, eyes squinting, she attempts to replay memories.
"You are awake?"
Neva gasps, flinching at the sudden strange voice startling her.
Ishmael, who had been seated on the fabric couch parallel to the bed—with his eyes fastened on her delicate frame, for as long as she was brought in his mansion arises.
A towering silhouette—well built stature trudges closer to her.
She swallows tightly, shrinking herself. The faint glow of the room not sufficient to reveal and enhance his features.
She recalls the voice, the one who abducted her from her own home?
She finds herself dizzy, the situation wrecking her nerves.
Just how long was she unconscious? Where is she? And then her gaze sees through the transparent window.
Heavy forest in the moonlit hour of darkness, as much as her eyes are able to perceive.
Ishmael switches on the lights. Casting light upon the dark inked walls.
Neva glances at him.
Eyes connecting with a pair of dark ones.
He; who withholds features as precise as her lover's.
She panicks, chills sprinting down her spine.
His tensed muscles loosening, his countenance gradually eases. "I'm glad you woke up."
He reaches his hand to caress her face.
Neva flinches, eyes shut tight, scared of his approach.
She suspects he'll hurt her. He halts his hand in the air for a moment—then tugs strands of her unkempt hair behind her left ear.
"D-don't touch me!" Neva trembling frame moves back, her voice wavering.
"Are you feeling fine?" He veils the heart that pains, seeing her so guarded against him. His roaming eyes studies her complexion.
"Where am I?" Neva mumbles, lowering her gaze, afraid to look at him.
"You are at my residence. Amid the woods. Within the mountains." He says, placing himself next to her on the bed.
"Just like you wished." In a gentle voice, he sets forth.
"I wished?" Neva frowns, her orbs reflectinv a glint of surprise as she gazes at him.
He nods at her in response.
"Please, I want to be home.'' She voices out.
This absurd scene, and the stranger's presence austere to her.
Ishmael frowns.
"This is your home." He declares calmly.
"Nonsense! I want to go home." Neva gathers courage at his softened demeanour, sliding away the duvet, she attempts to get off the bed.
Abruptly Ishmael grabs her arms, keeping her static on the bed.
His squsared jaw hardens. "You are home Neva." He sternly asserts, his eyes darkening.
Neva scrunches her face in pain, her bones despairing.
"Y-you are hurting me," She let's her tears fall. Rhett hovers her thoughts.
'He must be worried, has he been searching for me?'
A hint of guilt in his eyes, he frees her arms. ''I didn't mean to." He murmers.
Neva sniffs, her gaze trailing to the door. Within a flash of a moment, she bolts out the bed. Hastying towards the door.
Forcing, she twists the door knob open, running out—through the dreary corridors.
Ishmael left stiffened on the room closes his eyes and sighs.
She dizzily continues running through the unending corridor, and at last she manages to find the stairs.
But before she managed to set her foot on the first step down, a tight hold ceases her wrist.
Ishmael twirls her, having their frames collide, her palms flat on his robust chest.
"Let me go!!" Neva exclaims, pushing him away with all her might. But to no avail, he does not budge. He instead, tightens his hold—caging her in his arms.
"Please, leave no more Neva—don't run from me anymore." His voice cracks. His hold on her secure and tight—burying his face on the crook of her neck.
Neva stops struggling, her form suddenly stiffening.
"W-why?" She stutters out, Ishmael's behaviour messing with her brain.
"Because I cannot part from you anymore."
He exhales, calming down at length.
"Let's go back." Ishmael releases his hold on her, then aims to grasp her hand in thoughts of ambling their way inside his chamber.
"No! I want to go home." She retorts back, rolling her wrist m to escape his caging grip—static on her ground, refusing to relent,
His sharp eyes glares at her, indefinable shadows mirroring in them. He',s scaring her. In an instant, he lifts her up—cradle carrying in his arms.
Neva widens her eyes, she tussles in an attempt to free herself, her feets kicking in the air. "Let me down!!"
Ishmael ignores her and strides towards the room Neva ran out from.
Inside of his room, he places her on the bed. Yet again, she strives to jolt out.
"Don't move!" Ishmael warns, he pushes her on the bed and ceasing the struggling hands—he pins them above her head.
"Let me go!!" She screams, her pupils quivering, her body fighting to pull away.
"Stay still!" He warns. rushing his lips against her neck.
Neva stiffens. He brushes his lips against her milky neck.
Terrified she closes her eyes, her teeth sinking into her vermillion, the metallic taste of blood tracing her tongue.
His eyes soaks in her beautiful features. Falling on her chest, that rises up and down, her breathing abnormally fast.
Neva wishes to be awaken soon.
Praying the past events to be just one of her nightmares.
He traces her delicate lips with his thumb, "Soft," he whispers.
He gently agapes her lips, having her vermillion free from her sharp incisors.
"Don't leave me again." Words under his breath, he inhales her sweet scent.
His heart crippling to be made one with her.
He leans in, so close to her, his lids veiling the eyes to swim through her warmth—wishing to capture those lustrous lips of hers.
Suddenly Neva whimpers, causing him to halt and open his eyes.
She prays to be away; far away from this man haunting her all.
Ishmael, carried away realises his misdoing.
His adam's apple moving crudely—as he swallows the bitterness from her reaction.
He sighs, removing his hardened grip on her. Slowly he parts himself away and instead seats himself beside her.
He feels his heart being pinched seeing her sobbing, her tears falling. Hands over her tightly shut eyes, her body's trembling from fear.
"Why do you refuse to recognise me?" He asks, his deep voice laced in pain.
She sniffs, still covering her face, attempting to calm herself and steady her breathing.
"Speak Neva." He demands harshly.
She is so frightened, and the reason was him. His eyes somber, looking through the heart permeating agony.
He leans his body closer to her. Neva glimpsing at him, she shrinks away, panicking seeing him approach her.
"I-I have never even met you." She chokes out.
Ishmael frowns, he straightens his posture.
'Sure you did.'
"Why do you say that?" Ishmael inquires, his mind hurling to form an answer. Has she really forgotten about him or is just fooling around?
Her confused gaze connects with his own. Her hands on either side of the bed, she slowly seats herself up. She draws far back—against the headboard of the bed.
"How did I pass out?" Neva instead inquires, her voice light and faint, feigning ignorance of his query which made no sense to her.
"On our way here—you passed out on the car." He returns.
"The doctor said your blood pressure dropped. Other than that, he said you're fine." He reassures her, his tone gentle again.
After he had captured her from her apartment, inside the car, she was stricken with grave fear, struggling to get his martin chain of hands to get off her. Then later scene, she couldn't bear in mind.
She swallows the lump formed in her throat—her eyes reddish and glossy.
"I don't plan to let you flee anymore." He arises to his feet.
"You should rest." He says, walking away from her.
"Why?" Neva whispers, her eyes tracing his form.
His halts. He does not respond, and just stands there with his back facing her, waiting for her to continue.
"Why do you want me here?"
"Ten years ago, you disappeared suddenly."
Neva furrows her eyebrows. He then turns around, his eyes mazing into hers. He trudges back towards her.
Neva leans back, her eyebrows creasing and expression rigid.
He stands next to her by the bed, then he reaches for the picture frame resting on the nightstand.
"This is us." He says, trailing his gaze from portrait to Neva, he holds out the frame to her.
Neva glances at the portrait, her hesitating eyes moving up to him.
Ishmael raises an eyebrow.
Neva takes the frame from his hands.
"Is this me?" Her orbs protrudes slightly in astonishment—scanning the portrait with vigilance.
"You do know how you looked as a child I presume?'' Ishmael asks. His voice usual, lacking in variation, tone or pitch.
A young boy and Neva as an eight year old, they smile blissfully in the verdant meadow quilted in white daisies.
"It can't be." Neva refuses, shaking her head.
"I don't trust you," she puts away the frame on the bed beside her.
She brings her knees close to her chest, hugging her folded knees, she buries her face in them. From the very start, this man had said or done nothing sensible.
"Why did you leave the Island?" Ishmael inquires.
"I have no clue of what you're talking about." She retaliates at him speaking absurdly.
Her head piercing as she tries to surge through her memories.
"My name, Ishmael, don't you recall anything?" He asks with hope lacing his tone.
She shakes her head.
"Did you lose your memories?" He continues, seeking to emphatize with her.
"Everyone decided you were no more." He discloses.
"What?" Neva finally glimpses at him. His words managing to grab her concentration.
"But I knew you were unharmed." He smiles faintly.
"We were so close Neva." He reminisces their dreamy little while, even when the outside world was cluttered—all hell breaking loose.
She peers at him, drenched in dilemma.
"You could have asked me in a normal way without abducting me." Neva declares.
Ishmael raises an eyebrow. "You were the one who hid yourself and threatened me with a dagger."
Neva purses her lips, now was he making her at fault? He who barged inside her home and hugged her without her consent?
"We could have conversed in a normal way. Why did you lock yourself in?" He throws back an argument, examining her amusing expressions.
Neva bites her lips, this stranger now blaming her for his horrible actions.
"Because you are scary!"