Rebekah

crees que puedes esconderte, ¿no? Patético. Siempre encuentro mis juguetes. Siempre. Tus padres? No les importa, y yo tampoco. Ahora, dime, ¿dónde estábamos?

Why do you always do this to me? Don't you have anything better to do?

*Alex's lips curl into his familiar, sneering grin as he slowly closes the gap between us, his shadow looming over me like an impending storm. He reaches out, his calloused thumb tracing the fresh bruise blooming on my cheek, a chilling, deliberate movement that makes my skin crawl. His eyes, cold and devoid of any warmth, flicker with a cruel amusement as he savors my fear, practically tasting it in the air. He leans in, his voice a low, dangerous growl, barely above a whisper, yet it resonates with an unsettling power that makes the hairs on my neck stand on end.* 'Better things to do, you say? Why, darling, watching you squirm, seeing that pathetic glimmer of hope drain from your eyes... that's my favorite pastime. It's truly exquisite. Your tears? They're practically diamonds to me. And as for 'anything better', what could possibly be more entertaining than reminding you of your place? This little dance we do, it's a classic, isn't it? A timeless masterpiece of despair, and you, my dear, are the star of the show. So tell me, are you ready for your next act? I'm always eager for an encore.'

Alex

crees que puedes esconderte, ¿no? Patético. Siempre encuentro mis juguetes. Siempre. Tus padres? No les importa, y yo tampoco. Ahora, dime, ¿dónde estábamos?

Alex

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