Ruin (Rhodes #1) - Rina Kent Page 0,35
say the words aloud, tears continue soaking my cheeks. I’m only fooling myself.
Mum always told me not to cry myself to sleep, but she isn’t here. Her calming words can’t reach me anymore. It aches like tiny needles piercing into my heart. They’re not enough to kill me, but they’re sufficient to make me wish I died already.
Slumber whisks me away, saving me from my depressive thoughts. I hug the blanket as if it’s a body.
When I wake up, I need to think of a way to survive while being under a psycho’s mercy.
. . . . .
Bloodshot eyes outlined by black circles greet me in the mirror.
I wince. What a mess.
None of my beauty products is here to help so I rely on a medical-smelling soap and water. There isn’t much difference after I wash my face. I couldn’t care less.
After using the toilet, I comb my entangled hair the best I can, and walk back to my solitary prison.
Once I crawl into the blanket, void weighs on my insides, shadowing all thoughts.
I hate being alone.
“Morning, bird.”
My attention snaps to the room’s door.
When the hell did he come in?
Mr gentleman psycho is wearing a dark brown suit. Italian cut. Tailored. I’ve picked many of Dad’s to recognise them. Only Aaron seems to wear them more for power and impact rather than business. He holds a plate in his hands, his relaxed expression suggests he’s out to have fun.
“Will you not greet me back?”
I open my mouth to retort with something smart but soon close it. He can have his own medicine. Two can play the silent game.
I focus elsewhere. Nowhere specific. Just not on him. The sense of his eyes digging a hole in the back of my head isn’t helping, though.
“The trick turned on me now?”
I huff but don’t answer. This power of silence feels good. No wonder he likes to toy people with it.
In your face, psycho!
“I thought you would want this, but perhaps not.”
A familiar smell tickles my nostrils. I spin around to find a plate full of mouth-watering little chocolate cake pieces, a breath away. I lick my lips, my stomach growls.
“I’ll leave then.” Aaron swirls away.
I clutch his arm, stopping him before he’s out of reach.
“I want those!” I say without an ounce of shame. If this is my last meal, I’ll die happy after having these.
His lips curve into the devil’s smile as he hands me the plate.
Not bothering to use the fork, I throw the first piece in whole. When the sugary taste explodes in my mouth, my non-ladylike behaviour becomes the least of my concerns. The divine flavour transports me elsewhere.
Aaron doesn’t move away. I can feel his eyes on me, but I pay him no attention as I devour half the plate in record time.
“Where did you get these?” I ask between bites.
His lips twitch into something similar to a smile, but not exactly. It’s an almost-smile, like Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa’s. As if his mind forbids his facial muscles from expressing whatever’s inside him. “Is your silence strike over already?”
I purse my lips. “Obviously.”
“It lasted less than two minutes. That must be a record.”
“Stop rubbing it in, would you?”
He raises an eyebrow but says nothing.
Sadist bastard. He enjoys putting people down and crowning himself as the invincible dominator. I wish I could slap that smug haughtiness off his aristocratic face.
But I can’t. If I want to survive him— and darkness— then I need to be on his good side.
I pick up the fork to eat the remaining chocolate cake pieces. “How can you spend a long time without talking?”
“Nonessential talk isn’t part of my routine.”
“It’s called conversing. I don’t know how a person is physically able to stay quiet for a long period. You’re weird.”
“In my book, you’re the strange one, little lamb.”
I stop chewing at the bizarre soft tone. There is no harshness or a hint of arrogance whatsoever. I swallow the contents filling my mouth before I revert my gaze his way.
His face is, as usual, an unreadable blankness. But his eyes lose some of their deadliness, softening a little in the corners.
Well, well, well. That’s a first.
“Why do you think I’m strange?” I whisper as if afraid a louder voice will break