👀EVIL’S EYES👀
(Bu🔥n For Me, Little Flower)
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Book 1 in the Mindbreak Series.💀
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By, Debby Gold 🩵
EPISODE 15&16
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Oh yes… here we are again.
The real fun is just beginning.
But before we go any further, let me make one thing clear—
Don’t trust anyone in this story.
Not him.
Not her.
Not me.
Not even yourself.
This isn’t a love story.
It’s a descent.
A slow, suffocating fall into something twisted… something wrong.
What starts as control turns into obsession.
What feels like desire becomes something far more dangerous.
Lines will blur.
Choices will shatter.
And by the time you realize what’s happening…
it will already be too late.
Because in this story, love doesn’t heal.
It breaks.
It consumes.
It destroys.
Welcome to the Mindbreak Series.
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[Night of the Incident]
Oliver lowered himself beside Annabelle’s near-lifeless body, exactly where Indigo had dropped her.
Her hair was tangled and stained with blood, and he brushed it gently away from her face, his touch disturbingly soft—too gentle—as if he were putting a child to sleep.
His fingers trailed down to her lips. Cold. Pale. Split open.
He touched them slowly, rubbing the blood between his fingers, watching it smear before bringing them to his lips and licking it clean with quiet deliberation.
His gaze darkened, something twisted flickering beneath it—amusement, possession… something far worse.
“Will you disobey me again?” he asked, his voice low and controlled.
He exhaled softly, almost like a sigh. “I still have a very interesting punishment for you, little Flower.”
A faint pause followed.
“Survive it… and I’ll take revenge for you.”
From inside his coat, he pulled out a small, flat device no larger than two fingers. Matte black, cold, and clinical in design. A closed-loop oxygen regulator—experimental and precise, never meant for anything humane.
It didn’t create air. It managed it.
Inside it was a micro-reservoir of compressed oxygen paired with a chemical scrubber that absorbed carbon dioxide from each breath. Just enough to recycle air and keep someone alive—but only under one condition.
They had to stay calm.
Panic would kill faster than anything else.
Twenty-four hours. After that, it would shut down completely.
Oliver pressed the device against her side and activated it. A faint click followed, then a low hum as it synchronized with her fragile breathing. With careful precision, he secured it in place, his hand lingering for a moment longer than necessary.
Then he patted her hair again, stroking it slowly, almost affectionately.
“Stay calm and breathe slowly to survive it,” he said flatly. “Don’t panic, prove you’re my little Flower.”
He stood just as Blake arrived with two guards, carrying the coffin Oliver had ordered. The moment they saw the scene, they froze.
“Master O—”
“Bury her, now.” He commanded.
Blake’s eyes widened.
The guards dropped to their bottom before they even realized it.
“Master… the bullets are still inside her. She’s still alive,” Blake said carefully.
Oliver tilted his head slightly, his expression unchanged. “That’s the point.”
A faint smile touched his lips. “I’ll wait and watch it. It’ll be fun… won’t it?”
Blake’s chest tightened painfully.
“Go on,” Oliver growled.
They obeyed immediately—not out of loyalty, but fear. The coffin was opened, Annabelle’s body placed inside, and within minutes… she was buried.
Alive.
Oliver didn’t leave. He stood there, watching as if nothing else in the world mattered. His painted fingers dripped with dark blood, and his eyes remained bloodshot and unblinking.
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[Next Day]
The twenty-four hours had finally passed.
Blake stood there, barely breathing as he and the same guards dug Annabelle back out. The soil gave way, revealing the coffin beneath. It was dragged open, and Annabelle’s body was laid on the ground.
She looked lifeless.
Her skin pale, her lips stained with dried blood, her body still except for the faintest movement of her chest.
Oliver crouched beside her, and the first thing he did was check her breath.
There it was—thin, fragile, almost nonexistent.
One mistake, and it would disappear forever.
For the first time, something shifted in him.
A slow, cold smirk formed on his lips.
“That breath…” he murmured quietly. “It’s mine.”
“Mine alone.”
Blake and the guards stood frozen, unable to stop trembling. They had seen Oliver kill without hesitation, seen him destroy people without emotion—but this…
This wasn’t just cruelty.
This was something deeper. Something that didn’t even feel human.
Burying someone alive… just to claim her breath?
WTF!
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[Back to the Scene]
“You should be grateful I was still able to save her… or I would’ve made your death far more interesting than this.”
Oliver’s voice dropped low and dangerous before rising into a sharp, violent edge.
Without hesitation, he stepped forward and crushed Indigo’s eyeball beneath his heel.
A sickening sound echoed through the room.
At that exact moment, Caspian walked in.
Coming from the gym, he froze instantly, his eyes widening as he took in the blood, the body, the horror.
“…Oliver?” he muttered, his fists tightening instinctively.
Oliver didn’t react. He didn’t move.
Caspian’s gaze darkened. “How dare you walk in here and kill someone in my suite?!” he snarled.
Oliver exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair, Indigo’s blood smearing through it. “Just like you dared to walk into mine… and take what belongs to me,” he replied calmly.
Caspian let out a dry chuckle. “What’s yours?” he demanded.
“My little Flower,” Oliver answered. “But don’t worry… I own her soul now. She’s permanently mine.”
Caspian’s head throbbed.
So it was him—the one who had been hiding Annabelle all along. The one who had made him so worry.
But that wasn’t what unsettled him the most.
What if this psychopath had already done something to her?
He stormed closer, grabbing Oliver’s shirt with both hands. Their eyes locked instantly, the air between them turning sharp and dangerous.
“Where is she?” Caspian demanded. “What have you done to her? I swear, I’ll kill you if anything…”
“You think you can order me around over what belongs to me?” Oliver cut in calmly.
“She’s not nobody’s, not yours—not mine!” Caspian snapped.
Oliver relaxed slightly, almost amused. “Never yours,” he said quietly. “But always mine.”
“She’s not your property, you beast! And she’ll never be yours!” Caspian growled, veins rising along his neck.
Oliver’s lips curved faintly.
“Dare me.”
Caspian’s grip tightened.
So did his jaw.
