Chapter 45
~Annabelle Keys ~
Inside the dimly lit room where Morgan had confined me, I found myself grappling with a sense of confusion and urgency. My eyes fixated on the chair where Morgan had been seated earlier, its fabric stained with ominous streaks of blood. Instinctively, I moved closer, my heart pounding against my ribcage. Gripping the chair tightly, I attempted to destroy it, but its sturdy frame defied my efforts. However, my gaze fell upon a section of the chair that was already damaged—a small victory amidst the chaos.
With the spoiled piece in hand, I cautiously approached the door, my senses on high alert. Just then, movement outside the window caught my attention—a car pulling up to the front of the house. Panic surged through me, but I quickly concealed the makeshift weapon and hastily rearranged the chair, masking any signs of tampering. Leaping onto the bed, I composed myself, smoothing down my hair in an attempt to appear unruffled.
The door creaked open, and Morgan stepped into the room, a nylon bag dangling from his hand. Suppressing a shiver of apprehension, I forced myself to meet his gaze as he deposited the bag onto the bed beside me. With trembling hands, I peered inside, revealing a meager offering of food. "I'm not hungry," I declared, rising to my feet. "How much longer do you intend to keep me confined like this?"
Morgan regarded me with a steely resolve, his expression inscrutable. "Tell me everything you know about that Imoogi vampire," he demanded, his tone brooking no argument. Bewilderment washed over me at his unexpected demand, but before I could respond, he issued a stark ultimatum. "Or remain here until you're ready to cooperate."
Desperation gripped me, and I seized the opportunity. "Wait!" I called out as he turned to leave. His pause was fleeting, but it was all I needed. "Let me use the bathroom, have been locked in here since." I implored, my voice tinged with urgency. Morgan hesitated, his gaze piercing through me. "Come with me," he relented, gesturing for me to follow.
Relief flooded through me as I trailed behind him, my heart racing with anticipation. Morgan led me to the restroom, and I stepped inside, his presence looming in the doorway. The room was a haunting tableau, clothes stained with blood strewn about, crimson splatters adorning the walls. Disbelief clouded my thoughts as I turned to face Morgan, who remained rooted in place.
"What are you doing there?" I demanded, a flicker of unease coursing through me. "Close the door—unless you plan on watching?" My accusation hung heavy in his head, but Morgan offered no response. Instead, his gaze bore into mine, an inscrutable mask veiling his intentions.
"Seriously? Are you a pervert?" I pressed, my frustration mounting. Without a word, Morgan withdrew from the room, the door slamming shut behind him. My heart pounded in my chest as I bolted to the door, securing the lock with trembling hands.
Alone once more, I leaned against the door, my mind reeling with a tumult of emotions.
Turning on the tap water in the closet, I allowed the gentle flow to mask any noise as I surveyed my surroundings. My gaze fixated on the window, a glimmer of hope amidst the oppressive atmosphere. With a swift movement, I ascended the toilet seats, my fingers tracing the edges of the window frame. Testing its resistance, I strained against it, my breath caught in anticipation. Retrieving the rod concealed in my pocket, I deftly maneuvered it to pry open the window, a surge of triumph coursing through me as it yielded to my efforts.
But my elation was short-lived. Planks obstructed the path beyond, a barrier to my escape. As I contemplated my next move, the door exploded open, shattering the fragile calm. Startled, I whirled around to face Morgan, his fury obvious as he advanced towards me. In one swift motion, he wrested the rod from my grasp, splintering it with a savage force. "Don't try anything funny!" he growled, his grip on my wrist unyielding as he forced me down from my precarious perch.
"Wait!" I protested, desperation tinging my voice. "I have to go to my sister!" But my pleas fell on deaf ears as Morgan's anger simmered beneath the surface. "Deal with it! Do you think I'm pleased seeing you? I also feel disgusted being around you." he spat, his words laced with disdain. The sting of his rejection pierced me to the core, leaving me reeling with confusion and hurt.
"Why?" I demanded, tears welling in my eyes. "Why do you hate me? Why do you look at me like you want to kill me?" The questions tumbled from my lips, seeking answers to the unspoken animosity that lingered between us.
Morgan's response was chilling in its simplicity. "You can get out of here once I kill him," he declared, his gaze unwavering. "So tell me everything you know about him." The weight of his words heavy with confusion, the gravity of our supposed shared destiny pressing down upon me.
With a heavy heart, I confessed, "He is an Imoogi vampire, just like you. He killed my family fifteen years ago and has been hunting my soul ever since." The bitterness of past wounds resurfaced, fueling the flames of resentment that burned within me.
"That soul isn't even yours," Morgan countered, his voice tinged with a mixture of frustration and disbelief. "Then whose is it?" I demanded, my confusion mounting with each revelation. "You said I could kill him, right?" Morgan's question cut through the tumult of my thoughts, forcing me to confront the harsh reality of our shared destiny.
"I don't know," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "She only said you were the sword to kill the Imoogi Vampire." The weight of my ignorance hung heavy upon me, a burden I could scarcely bear.
"Where can I find that bastard?" Morgan pressed, his eyes boring into mine with an intensity that made my skin crawl. "I don't know," I confessed, my resolve faltering in the face of his relentless interrogation.
"How come you don't remember anything?" Morgan's inquiry caught me off guard, dredging up memories I known nothing about. "Why can't you remember all of your past lives?" The truth was a bitter pill to swallow, a reminder to make me feel like a mortality in a world of immortal beings.
"Because I'm an ordinary human being," I confessed, my voice tinged with resignation. "Unlike my sister, I don't—" But my words trailed off, lost in the void of my own uncertainty.