Chapter 31 THIRTY ONE

Chapter 31 THIRTY ONE
ANYA'S POV

The door rattled as it slammed shut behind Sergei with a force that felt like it was going to bring the entire room over our heads.

I didn't know what to do.

I didn't know what to expect.

So I backed away into a corner, expecting him to either fly across the room to hurl me to my knees or wrap his fingers around my throat till my lungs ran out of breath.

All this because I thought Rosie must have reported, told him I crossed a line. 

But when Sergei stepped inside, he almost swayed off his feet.

"Sergei." I gasped.

The alarm in my voice shocked even me.

Even though there was no visible wound on him and the blood on his skin was probably not his, he looked far from okay.

"Sergei..." I repeated. "W- w- what happened out there?"

The mistake I always made. Asking questions when I should be keeping my mouth shut.

But instead of the backhand I knew that I deserved, he lifted his head up, looked at me for the very first time since he stepped in. As if he was just noticing me backed away in the corner, my back pressed into the wall, cowering.

His eyes asked; what did you do? But he gave one shake of his head that said nevermind, I don't want to know, before;

"We're leaving." Just two words. And it looked like the urgency kicked in immediately.

"Where---where where are we going?"

"Anywhere but here."

He was moving across the room, towards the bathroom, leaving trails of blood with every step he took.

"Why are we leaving?" I asked. Maybe I should have used my senses because then he paused, twirled around, looked at me again. This time, there was a frown on his face.

"Did you forget the rule?"

"N- No..." I answered hastily. "I was just curious... A girl... Rosie was here.. she talked about how we were travelling after you got back from a meeting. I didn't understand what was going on... she was on the edge... she..."

"And is that why you're questioning me?"

I shook my head very hard I could literally feel my temples thumping though my ears.

"No, Sergei. NO."

"Then what's happening?"

"I was just curious..."

"Anya...." He was calm. He sounded calm. A calm Sergei, dripping with blood was, looked, felt worse than when he was chasing me through the woods last night with the promise of torture.

"Sergei..." I whispered, my throat was dry.

"This is not the time for you to be curious..."

"I just..."

"I do not want your curiousity...."

My eyes trailed down his body, from a drop of blood rolling down his chin to how soaked his sweatpant was.

"She said bussiness meeting."

He arched a brow.

"She said you went for a businnes meeting." I repeated dreadfully, my heart thudding too hard.

He looked like he was contemplating leaving me to ponder and wonder on who he'd killed, or if he wanted to corner me to the wall.

I could almost quite literally see the thoughts floating in his head like two hovering bubbles.

But after one blink of his eyes, he chose the latter.

My heart jumped.

My soul almost went straight into the pits of hell.

"Sergei..."

I held my hands out.

Like that would shield me.

"Sergei... Sergei... wait... WAIT....." A drawn out whine of panic.

I contemplated jumping over the couch.

I contemplated running in circles.

But my brain was too slow to catch up.

His long legs ate the space. One second, he was a far distance away from me. The next, he was rounding the chair, he was backing me against the wall. My back pressed flat. My stomach, bleeding through the thin cotton camisole I had on burned. My heart thudded. So hard it throbbed painfully. 

My chest was heaving while I whimpered through my mashed lips.

Sergei closed in on me entirely.

When he leaned in---both hands pressed on the wall on either sides of me--the smell of the blood filled my nostril so much I fought the urge to retch.

"Anya..." His voice was hoarse. ''Everytime I tell you not to do something, that's exactly what you end up doing. Do you do that on purpose/'

"No." I shook my head speedily. 

"Do you edge me on purpose?" 

Again, I shook my head. 

He looked drained. "Then why do you do this?" 

Him being this close with all the blood naustaed me. I made sure I was pressed flatly. Pressed so hard against the wall his body wouldn't touch mine.

"W-w-what did I do?" I wheezed.

He came closer. And, God, if he was closer than this, I was really going to vomit all over him and I knew he must have noticed the discomfort. The way my lips were mashed together. The way I was sucking my belly in. Struggling to keep the air from getting into my nose. The way I endlessly looked sideways--left, right, over and over again---in hopes of an escape. We kept doing this thing with each other. This endless bickering. This endless hunter and prey fight. This... exausting exuasting loop. Yet, I always brought it down on myself
.
"You like to tempt me." He said hoarsely. 

Again, another dosuing shake of my head. "No... NO..."

Sergei didn't look pleased. 

"You say that but your actions tells me otherwise..."

"No... I promise...I just..."

"You just?"

"I promise to keep my mouth shut next time.. I promise to not ask questions."

His voice hardened.

"Even with your eyes?"

It petrified me. I sounded dumb when I let out a breath of, "UH?" 

"Your eyes, Anya. you promise not to ask me questions with them?"

"I'm not... I don't understand..."

His chest heaved. Like a dog loosing its patience, his hand--on the left side of my head slammed against the wall. I flinched. My breath ragged. My hands hung limpy between us. I was fighting the urge to press them against his chest to shove him off.

"I see the way you look at me..."

"I'm not looking at you anyway, Sergei.."

"I see the way you judge me with your eyes. I see the way you question my morality. The kind of person you think I am..."

"But.--"

"Horrible, no? Murderer, no? Beast, no?"

My fingers were inches from pressing against his heaving chest. Trembling, just hovering. I didn't know what the fuck had happened out there. But this, this reaction, this was a result of that.

"Look... I promise.. to never... ever ask you any questions anymore..." Anything to get him to turn away. "I promise to not.... I don't know what's going on. I'm confused, Sergei. I'm confused..." I was trying so hard. Aggressively hard not to say a sentence that ends with  a question mark. I was trying not to tip him off than he already was.

He drew in sharp ragged breaths.

My shoudlers trembled from fear of being cornered like a rat.

"I'm just confused, okay?" Tears stung my eyes. My voice was soft. "I just don't know what to say. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." I repeated like a broken record. "I'm sorry. Please... please... don't get mad at me... I'll... I'll close my eyes if you want me to. I'll not look at you if my eyes judge you."

I did close my eyes.

I did feel tears seep through  my lashes.

I did feel the anger bouncing off Sergei's body like an energy.

Just go, I thought, practically heaving.

Go, go, go, go, go. And in as much as I wanted to scream it in his face. That I wanted to blow up. This wasn't my world. I was in his. I was in his property. I was his property.

The minutes stretched.

His presence lingered.

My eyes pressed shut.

My shoulders trembled.

But never for once did he touch me.

Not with his bloodied hands, or his chest, no part of his body did.

And for the longest minute, I thought I was going to die from suffocation until the door to the bathroom slammed shut, and I collapsed to the floor, heaving.

What the fuck? My head chanted as I gasped for breath. What the fuck just happened?