𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏𝟒.

                                    

                                          

                            

                                
                            
                              
                                  
                              
                              
                                
                                  
                                  
                                
                              
                             
                            
                            
                          
                          
ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯
'I Was Never There,' The Weeknd🎶🎧
Ivy's Pov
"Now, about that woman, who was she?" My eyes grew large as Smiley entered, brushing by me without a second thought. The fact that she was aware of my guests no longer startled or perturbed me, as I realized she intended to embed herself into my life. Strangely enough, I was becoming accustomed to her presence, and to my own astonishment, I found myself utterly unbothered by it now.
I was aware that my lack of concern regarding a serial killer might seem sick, yet at this point, she didn't appear to harbor any danger intent towards me. Weirdly, I found her company increasingly agreeable, beyond what I was willing to confess. It was unclear whether this was due to my own fascination with serial killers or a burgeoning desire to be in her presence more often.
If I dared to confess to my parents that I willingly allow a serial killer into my home, they would unleash their fury upon me even before the killer could harm me. These inexplicable feelings are consuming me, as if I'm becoming obsessed with her presence. The mind-boggling part is that she sensed it even before I uttered a word. She knows that I yearn for her company, and I'm grappling with how to process it.
Maybe It wouldn't be so bad to hear her out.. right?
"Why does it even matter who she was? It's like you think we're dating or something. You're being possessive," I blurted out, immediately realizing the weight of my words. Smiley halted in her tracks, slowly turning to face me. She tilted her head, wearing an expression that I couldn't quite decipher. I drew in a sharp breath, my gaze skittering away from hers, taking in the blood-stained marks on her attire.
The woman Smiley was referring to was simply one of my assitants, as we discussed the new rules and regulations around the headquarters over red wine, but since Smiley was oblivious to that, I decided to push her further into the state of frustration of not knowing. It was exciting seeing her all worked up.
"If I asked you something, it obviously does matter. Can't you fucking understand that? Stop treating me like I'm the crazy one here when in reality, it's you!" she said smartly, her tone laced with irritation before she closed the distance between us, prompting an involuntary step back with each of her advances toward me. I found myself cornered against the wall, my head knocking against it with a muted 'thump'. 
With my eyes clenched shut, I braced myself as Smiley raised her bloodied hand to my face, surprisingly provoking no flinch from me at the touch of another's blood. Her thumb traced a soft line across my cheek, smearing crimson in its wake.
Before I could utter a word, Smiley's hand drifted toward my neck. Initially, her touch was light, but soon my breath hitched, trapped in my throat, forcing me to breathe solely through my nostrils as her grasp intensified. It felt as though my eyes might burst from their sockets. Desperate whimpers for air escaped me, yet Smiley remained unfazed. Our gazes locked as I emitted feeble pleas for mercy, my distress seemingly fueling the excitement etched across her beautiful features.