I managed to escape. Just barely. I averted my own death. It was terrifying. The wailing of an ambulance siren can be heard echoing around the house where a man just murdered his wife, Sam. I'm unsure of his motivations or intentions, but instinctively, I sense that the man I was with earlier is quite dangerous.
In this neighborhood, Sam is well-liked; everyone admires him, including his wife. Although I don't know her name, let's refer to her as Miss K. Sam and Miss K are among the kindest people here, even if I'm not as close to them as I am to Mr. and Mrs. Dranchez. They are good at offering advice, but right now, their relationship is shattered.
Ruined by that maniac.
The police are currently investigating inside the house. Another murder has occurred. Now, the neighborhood is beginning to suspect that there's something sinister lurking nearby, perhaps poised to strike again. Some officers approached Sam, asking him questions, which included inquiries about me, and I encountered him again. The same officer who previously questioned me about the Dranchez couple's deaths was looking at me with an unchanging expression.
As usual.
His cold, gray eyes seemed to penetrate through me, as if gazing into my very being. I've grown accustomed to this.
"Hey," I said in a steady tone while leaning against the wall, feeling its chill. I wrapped the blanket around myself and sighed in relief. This is more comfortable. He narrowed his eyes slightly, clearly irritated, but he didn't shout. "Hey?" he echoed my greeting.
"Don't act like we're close. I'm here to ask questions, and you need to answer them."
I was taken aback by his harsh response, my eyes widening and my mouth momentarily falling open in surprise, though I quickly closed it. It wasn't the day to confront someone, so I decided to go along with it for now, although I did feel the urge to punch his handsome face. It's infuriating. I sighed and tried to maintain my composure, offering him a polite smile and nod. "Alright, what do you want to know?" I asked, my curiosity tinged with annoyance.
Lyan raised an eyebrow, noticing my irritation but chose to ignore it, focusing instead on his work, since arguing with me was pointless. He looked at me as if I were a child.
You're lucky, jerk, that you have an effect on me.
Lyan exhaled deeply and crossed his arms. "First," he said, raising a finger pointed directly at me. I frowned in confusion. "You." He paused. "Why do you keep finding yourself in these situations?"
I could feel his eyes on me, scrutinizing my every reaction as if he might take action if I said something he didn't like. He clearly found me suspicious. I sensed it too strongly to ignore. Crossing my arms, I stood straighter away from the wall.
"Maybe I'm just unlucky," I replied in a calm voice, which earned me a skeptical look from him. "Unlucky?" he echoed. I smirked and nodded in acknowledgment.
Since childhood, I've been deemed unlucky, which led to a lack of friends. Whenever someone got close to me, something unfortunate would happen. Hence, I was labeled a 'cursed child' and 'monster.' My misfortunes have haunted me throughout my life. I applied for numerous jobs, but none accepted me. Even in high school, when a classmate attempted to befriend me, tragedy struck just weeks later when she died in a car accident.
The news devastated me and only deepened the fear and hatred others felt towards me. Consequently, I became invisible during my high school years. Even the teachers avoided any interaction with me. But I knew this man before me wouldn't believe my story—I mean, who would really buy into the concept of someone being born unlucky? That sounds like something out of a fantasy.
"You won't believe me if I tell you," I say flatly, rolling my eyes.
He let out a long, exasperated sigh, growing impatient.
"How can we figure this out if you keep everything to yourself? Don't you realize that by doing that, you're just raising more suspicions?" he responds. His words hit me hard, like a plane crashing to earth. "I can't argue with you, but I doubt you'd believe me," I replied softly, my lips forming a small pout.
Lyan rubbed his forehead in frustration due to my immature attitude and stepped closer, his tall frame towering over my shorter stature. I swallowed nervously and felt a blush creep onto my cheeks; a surprising awareness began to stir within me. Why does he have such an effect on me, even in this situation?
"Then. Just tell me." He commanded, each word growing louder and more serious. His gaze fixed on me, his emotionless gray eyes were almost mesmerizing. I fought against my wild thoughts, biting my lower lip. Holy water might be needed at this rate. "I've been unlucky my entire life," I finally admitted. The tension increased within me, and I couldn't help but fantasize about someone—perhaps this man standing before me.
I exhaled shakily and continued, "I really don't understand why this happens, but every time I interact with someone, bad things tend to follow." His expression mixed confusion with intrigue. "So, are you saying you're cursed?" he asked bluntly, clearly skeptical.
"Yes," I replied, a hint of annoyance creeping in. I had anticipated this reaction, but his tone made me feel like a deranged woman fresh out of a mental institution.
"Hm." He mused, clearly aware of my irritation. Good for him. "I know what you're thinking." I narrowed my eyes, ready for whatever he was about to say next, fully prepared to react if it was insensitive. "And you're right," he added, and suddenly the room fell silent.
That was the last straw.
Lyan's eyes widened as he felt a sharp pain hit him. Without second thoughts, I kicked him. The sound of pain echoed in the air.
"YOU BASTARD! ARGH!" He groaned, doubling over as he clutched his groin. I felt a sense of satisfaction at his discomfort; he deserved it.
Onlookers witnessed the scene unfold, and Lyan's colleagues rushed to assist him while chastising me for my actions, advising me to handle the situation more rationally. Though I acknowledged their point, I was too angry to care. The man I had kicked managed to stand, albeit shakily, his eyes fixed on me.
Yeah, that's right, you tough guy. Even if you're attractive and make me feel a certain way, that doesn't mean I won't take you down a notch.
"You..." he growled, and while he sounded intimidating, I thought he needed to take it up a notch. "You will regret this."
I smirked and rolled my eyes.
"Go ahead, make me," I challenged, fueling my anger as he broke free from his colleagues' grip. To my shock, before I knew it, I found myself on the ground, my head hitting the floor.
Without a moment's hesitation, Lyan was on top of me, his hands tightening around my throat as I gasped for air. His coworkers attempted to intervene, but he was too strong. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I struggled for my life, gasping as I writhed beneath him, clawing at his cheek in a desperate attempt to escape his hold.
"Please! I'm sorry! Let me go!" My face drained of color, and breathing became a challenge.
Oh no, I felt like I was on the verge of passing out. His grip only tightened further, and a wave of panic surged through me.
He leaned closer, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered something that made me feel utterly exposed.
"Make me."