In a hush warm room, Neva slumbers on a bed. When her eye lids twitches, luscious lashes flurrying as she eventually rouses.
Unveiling her vision, she observes the subdued, dark environment surrounding her—accompanying only a dim illumination of a lamp standing on the nightstand.
She sits up with a frown rumpling between her brows. As she looks around with her quickening heart, her dainty fingers brushes the hair from out her face. Eyes squinting, she attempts to replay memories.
"You are awake?"
Neva flinches with a gasp escaping her lips. The sudden foreign 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 breathes heavily, eyes attempting to discern his face, the faint glow of the room not sufficient to reveal and enhance his features.
She recalls the voice, he was 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 them. Neva glances at him.
Eyes connecting with a pair of dark ones.
Chills sprints down her spine, with panicked eyes, she carefully studies the man's face.
He; who withholds features as precise as her lover's.
His tensed muscles loosening, his countenance gradually easing.
"I'm glad you woke up."
He reaches his hand to caress her face. Neva flinches, scared of his approach, suspecting him of hurting her, her eyes closed tight.
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's words wavers, her trembling frame moving back.
"Are you feeling fine?" He veils the heart that pains seeing her so guarded against him, the roaming eyes, studying her complexion.
"Where am I?" Neva mumbles, lowering her gaze.
"You are at my residence."
"Amid the woods, within the mountains." He places himself next to her on the bed.
"Just like you wished." In a gentle voice, he sets forth.
"I wished?" Neva's orbs reflects a faint glint of surprise as she gazes at him. He nods at her in respond.
"I want to be home.'' She voices out, her tone stern, his softened expression, gathering her courage once more. 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 slides away the duvet, seeking to get off the bed.
Abruptly Ishmael grabs her arms, keeping her static on the bed.
He clenches his jaw. "You are home Neva." He asserts, his eyes darkening in anger.
Neva scrunches her face, her bones despairing.
"Y-you are hurting me," She let's her tears fall, Rhett hovering her thoughts.
'He must be worried, has he been searching for me?'
A hint of surprise in his eyes, reflects the realization that he hurt her. He frees her arms. ''I didn't mean to." He murmers.
Neva sniffs, her gaze trailing to the door. Within the flash of a moment, she bolts out the bed. Hastying towards the door.
Forcing, she twists the door knob open. Away she runs through the dreary corridors.
Ishmael stiff, and still on the room closes his eyes and sighs.
She dizzily continues running through the unending corridor, and at last she manages to near 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 meeting his robust chest.
"Let me go!!" Neva exclaims, pushing him away with all her might. But to no avail, he does not seem to 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, as she has her breathing in rags.
"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! Bring me back to home." She retorts back, static on her ground, refusing to relent.
She rolls her wrist to escape his firm grip on her.
His sharp eyes glaring at her, indefinable shadows mirrors in them, making her scared. 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, hovering over her. He constraints her, seizing the movements of the headstrong girl. He forces her to lie down, hovering over her he clasps both of her hands above the head.
Her pupils quivers, the closeness causing her bones to freeze.
"Stay still." He whispers, brushing his lips against her neck.
Neva stiffens, 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' his hush mind 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 harshly, as he swallows the bitterness from her reaction.
He breathes out, 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 tears fall. Her eyes tightly shut, her body trembling from fearing him so great.
"Why do you refuse to recognise me?" He asks, his tone laced in pain.
She sniffs, covering her face, attempting to calm herself. She silently wipes away the tears, for them only to fall without break.
"Speak Neva." He demands harshly, shuddering Neva.
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 utters, quieting down her emotions.
Ishmael frowns, without rush, 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.
Drawing back, against the headboard of the bed.
"Why did I lose consciousness?" Neva inquires, her voice light and faint, feigning ignorance of his query.
"On our way here, you passed out on the car." He returns.
"The doctor said your blood pressure dropped. But don't worry, you'll be okay." He gently reassures her.
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. The later scene, she cannot 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 steps ceases. He does not respond, and just stands there with his back facing her, waiting for her to continue.
"Why do you want me here?"
"Nine years ago, you disappeared suddenly." He answers, but does not face her.
Neva furrows her eyebrows. He then turns around, his eyes mazing into hers. He trudges back towards her. Neva leans back, her expressions rigid.
He stands still next to her, his hands reaching for the picture frame resting on the nightstand.
"This is us." He holds out the frame to her.
Neva glances at the portrait, her eyes moving up to search his. Ishmael raises an eyebrow. Unsure, Neva grabs the photo frame from his hands.
"Is this me?" Her orbs protrudes slightly in astonishment. She scans 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 a nine 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.
Her feets curls, as she hugs her knees burying 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 her voice muffled sensing him speak absurdly.
Her head piercing as she tries to surge through her memories.
"My name, Ishmael, don't you recall anything?" He asks with hpe lacing in his voice.
She shakes her head to his misfortune.
"Did you suffer amnesia?" He continues, seeking to emphatize with her.
"Everyone decided you were no more." He discloses.
"What?" Neva finally glimpses at him, looking away in a flinch. 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 raises her head and peers at him, drenched in dilemma.
"You could have asked me in a normal way without abducting me." Neva declares,r petrified at her own choice of words.
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, because you seemed scary!"