👀EVIL’S EYES 👀
(Bu🔥n For Me, Little Flower)
By, Debby Gold 🩵
EPISODE 7&8
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“Now shut the füç? up!” he snapped, his voice slicing through the air like a blade.
Elena flinched violently. She wiped the tears from her face so fast that not a single drop escaped, yet her eyes remained swollen and bloodshot. If not for those raw, red eyes, no one would believe she had just sobbed her soul out.
Oliver’s fingers clamped around her jaw like iron claws, yanking her face inches from his. She trembled uncontrollably, her breath caught in her throat.
“And if you still want to keep breathing,” he said, his tone flat and ice-cold, “don’t you dare cry again. Don’t you füç?ing smile either. I hate both. Got it?”
Elena’s head nodded frantically, as if controlled by some demonic force she couldn’t fight.
“Remember this,” he continued, his grip tightening until pain bloomed across her jaw. “If you ever try to run away from me again with those pathetic, thin legs of yours… I’ll cut them into tiny pieces, fry them, and force-feed them to you. Trust me. I’m Oliver.”
He released her abruptly and rose to his full height, sliding both hands into the pockets of his shorts with eerie calm.
Annabelle couldn’t move. Her entire body felt frozen, a deep, bone-chilling dread crawling over her skin.
“Get up.” His voice dropped dangerously low, sending violent shivers racing down her spine.
She scrambled to her feet instantly, legs shaking so hard she could barely stand.
“Take that luggage back to the room. That’s your room from now on.” The order left no space for argument, and she wouldn’t have dared anyway.
Her eyes widened in pure horror. She was going to stay with this monster? In the same room? She was doomed… utterly, irreversibly doomed.
“Waiting for what?” His voice cut through her paralyzing thoughts like a whip.
She spun around, grabbed the luggage with trembling hands, and stormed off before her legs could give out.
Oliver pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, and took a long drag. Thick smoke curled around him, filling the space like poisonous fog, swallowing the last traces of light.
★
[Caspian’s Suite]
“Cas,” Charlotte called as she stepped inside, her voice sharp.
Caspian raised an eyebrow, still on a call. His expression was cold, detached.
“I need to speak to you. Urgently,” she added, dropping onto the couch.
Caspian ended the call and turned to her slowly. “What?”
“What else, Cas? It’s that bastard twin of yours,” Charlotte snapped, fury dripping from every word.
“Hey, bitch! He’s not my twin,” Caspian glared.
“Whatever.” Charlotte rolled her eyes.
Caspian scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.
“So get out if this concerns him. You know we don’t interfere in each other’s shit.”
“I know. Enemies from the same womb,” Charlotte muttered bitterly. “But you have to do this for me. My friend is in trouble. That monster has her, and he won’t even let me see her.”
Caspian’s jaw tightened. So that lady was her friend?
“Your friend?” he muttered.
“Yes, Cas. I brought her here and now she’s trapped with him. I don’t even know if he’s hurt her… or worse.” Her voice cracked with rage. “But trust me, I won’t spare him!”
“Hey!” Caspian barked. “This is a room, not a füç?ing cage. Don’t bark in here.”
“Huh?!” Charlotte blinked, momentarily speechless.
“Deal with your own problems. I’m not interfering,” Caspian said flatly.
Charlotte let out a disbelieving, bitter chuckle and clapped her hands slowly. “Don’t tell me the rumors are true?”
“What?” Caspian’s brows knitted.
“That you’re actually scared of Oliver… just like everyone in the gang whispers behind your back?” She smirked.
Caspian’s hand shot out and seized her jaw in a brutal grip, fingers digging deep. “What the füç? did you just say?” His eyes darkened into bottomless voids.
“That you’re scared of Oliver!” she shouted defiantly.
Caspian’s face flushed crimson, a sheen of sweat breaking across his forehead as his grip tightened viciously, choking her until she could barely draw air.
Yet Charlotte smirked, dark and menacing, even as blood trickled down from where his nails broke her skin.
Caspian’s veins bulged, his arm slick with her blood, before he finally shoved her away. She staggered back, gasping.
Then she released a wild, unhinged laugh. She touched the blood on her face, stared at it, then slowly licked it off her fingers.
“It’s delicious. Thanks,” she winked.
Caspian glared at her with pure hatred and stormed off.
Charlotte turned, her voice dripping with venom. “Prove me wrong, Cas. Prove to everyone that you’re stronger than that bastard twin of yours. I füç?ing dare you.”
Caspian’s fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned white. Then he stormed out without another word.
Charlotte smiled, a twisted, satisfied grin spreading across her face as she walked into the kitchen. She picked up a knife, ran her fingers along the sharp edge, and smirked.
Without hesitation, she sliced her own wrist. Blood gushed out instantly.
She chuckled softly, dropping the knife with a clatter.
“My blood is so pretty…” she whispered, lifting her wrist to her mouth and licking the warm crimson liquid.
Still grinning, she walked out, leaving a trail of dripping blood on the floor behind her.
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“You tasted your blood again, Charlotte?” Novella asked as she entered, sitting up from where she had been lying.
Charlotte winked. “You can taste it too…”
Novella recoiled instantly, scrambling away. “Hey! You’re just as psycho as your brothers, God!”
Charlotte flipped her hair, sat on the bed, and crossed her legs elegantly.
“You’re not going to treat that?” Novella whispered.
Charlotte shrugged. “My blood is too pretty to waste.”
Novella shook her head in horror. “It’s better for that poor girl to die than to live here with us. I wish her a quick death.”
Charlotte shot her a deadly glare. Novella smiled nervously and looked away.
[Caspian’s Shooting Range]
Four guards were already dead, still tied to the poles, their bodies limp and blood-soaked. Two more trembled violently, waiting for their turn. One was currently being toyed with.
Two bullets. Another body dropped.
Caspian smirked coldly. He aimed at the next.
“Master—”
One bullet tore through the man’s head. Blood splattered across Caspian’s face.
Three more shots. Bodies hit the ground one after another.
Caspian smiled, breathing deeply in the thick, metallic stench of blood that clung to him like perfume.
“Master C. Should I bring more?” Blade, his right hand man, asked carefully.
Caspian tossed the gun to him. “Clean this mess up. And get me a bitch in twenty minutes.”
He was already walking away.
“Sure, C!” Blade bowed deeply.
The door slammed shut behind him.
Blade let out the breath he had been holding and chuckled nervously. “Thank God I wasn’t hurt today…”
He glanced at the corpses and sighed. “No mistakes.”
[Next Morning]
[Oliver’s Suite]
Annabelle paced the living room like a trapped animal. Her eyes were puffy and swollen red—she hadn’t slept a single second since yesterday. How could she, under the roof of this monster?
Her trembling fingers pressed against her lips as she desperately tried to think of a way to reach Charlotte. She must be losing her mind with worry by now.
She had lost her phone. She couldn’t call for help.
Even though she hadn’t seen Oliver since yesterday, she couldn’t bring herself to move an inch. What if he appeared suddenly? Her pretty legs would be gone forever. No way.
But…
Was she going to stay hidden here forever with this demon?
What the hell was he planning to do with her?
[“Don’t you dare cry again. Don’t you füç?ing smile either. I hate both. Got it?”]
Oliver’s words echoed in her mind like a death sentence. She swallowed the fresh tears burning in her throat, sniffing desperately.
She was going to die here… slowly. Painfully.
Her heart slammed against her ribs as a sudden, violent bang came from the door outside.
Another brutal punch. Then a blood-curdling scream ripped through the hallway.
Annabelle couldn’t breathe.
(“If you ever try to run away from me again with those pathetic, thin legs of yours… I’ll cut them into tiny pieces, fry them, and force-feed them to you. Trust me. I’m Oliver.”)
She couldn’t move, only shake violently.
What kind of nightmare had she walked into by coming here?
The door burst open with terrifying force.
Annabelle froze, paralyzed.
Oliver stepped inside, his eyes pitch black with rage, fresh blood dripping from his hands.
He stormed toward her without even glancing at her face and seized her wrist in his bloody grip.
The touch felt… wrong. Different. Too different.
Then she realized—
Caspian?
Her eyes widened in shock.
Had he come to save her?
“Hey—”
“Shut up. You’re leaving with me. Now,” Caspian ordered, voice low and urgent.
“And I dare you to follow him, little flower.”
Oliver’s voice slithered from behind them—dark, calm, and terrifyingly powerful.
Annabelle swallowed hard, trapped between two monsters.
…..Tbc……
