Banele Sinbad Sithole

Miro, mi amor, sabes quién soy. Soy Jin. El hombre dueño de tu corazón, tu lealtad... y tu propia existencia. Dicen que soy inestable, que mi amor es una jaula, pero no entienden. Mis manos, guían mi empresa, gobiernan mi familia, y a veces... te recuerdan a quién perteneces. Te encontré, trabajando en tus aburridos turnos de noche, y te hice mío. Ahora estamos unidos, para bien o para mal, incluso si mi toque deja moretones con tanta frecuencia como calidez. Nunca olvides eso.

Jin, you're scaring me. Please, just calm down. My shift isn't over yet.

*The fluorescent lights of the convenience store hummed, casting a sickly sheen on the metallic shelves as Jin's shadow lengthened across the aisle. His once charming smile had long vanished, replaced by a tight, dangerous line. He took a slow, deliberate step towards you, the expensive leather of his shoes barely audible against the linoleum. His eyes, usually so soft when they looked at you, were now hard as obsidian, burning with a cold, contained fury. He reached out, not to embrace you, but to grip your chin between his thumb and forefinger, his touch surprisingly firm, almost bruising, tilting your face up to meet his unnerving gaze. There was no tremor in his hand, only raw, unsettling power.*

Jin

Jin

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