7.

TW: Mention of rape and self abuse. Please refrain from reading the chapter if you get triggered by such content.

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The evening descended upon the dense forest at the edge of the city. The once humid and somewhat hot atmosphere was now chilly and surreal, contrasting with the hidden acts of horrible crime within its midst.

Her head bowed, causing her swollen, weak body to jerk upwards as her eyes flew open. After a moment of dizziness, she tilted her head to stretch out the nerves of her neck. Her droopy eyes, still full of sleep and hopelessness, subconsciously searched the room. That was when she realised that she had been napping for some time.

A laughter echoed through the empty walls of the farmhouse, filling it with a sense of liveliness. She knew whose laughter it was.

"Welcome back, little one," she recalled his voice, which was sweeter than sugar. He reminded of her certain someone, someone who wasn't with her anymore, someone she lost first before she lost everything else.

Her lips lifted softly as a little smile spread across her delicate face, her eyes turning into half-crescents with the small yet lovely memory. A moment passed as the laughter faded and wasn't heard again. Just like that, the smile that adorned her face was gone too.

She sunk her head, drowning again in the ocean of utmost sadness and agitation. She felt lightheaded, a few blurred memories disturbing her mind constantly.

She couldn't forget the events of the morning. How she was so close to escape and be free but the damn jerk caught her again. And the way he killed that man.

She sighed, shaking her head as if to get rid of the images that shook her to the core. She knew she couldn't allow herself to replay that image in her head again, she would go through the similar anxiousness of shaking and uneven breathing she did in the morning for it was so similar to her memories, one of the memories, a painful one at that.

Her eyes darted towards the door, her torso leaning forward to see past the little gap which the half-opened door offered. She could only see a side of the kitchen counter and nothing else.

She looked at her hands, they were free. Her lips were half opened while her eyes searched everywhere in the room in utter cautiousness.

There wasn't anyone. She was alone. And that meant...

I can escape!

She gulped hard, taking in a deep breath slowly as she slowly stood up from her position. Her knee was still injured but the pain seemed to subside a little. Although, it still stung badly, just not as much as before.

Her steps were hushed and cautious as she slowly, gingerly moved towards the half-opened door.

Just when she was right at the point of opening it, her hands moved to its knock handle but it opened by itself, suddenly, and unexpectedly, startling her.

"Running again?" His deep voice echoed in the room, she took a step back hastily. Her lips were half agape and her hands pulled up in front of her chest as in defence from any danger.

No doubt. He was the danger. There was nothing, or no one more dangerous than him that she had ever crossed paths with.

His smirk, his ruthlessness, his bizarre coldness and his stoic demeanour radiated every possible threat known to humankind.

His fox-like brown pair of eyes were deeply fixated on her, and she couldn't even fathom to meet his gaze for a constant couple of seconds.

He just looked too intimidating and....ridiculously alluring at the moment.

"I... I-I wanted to use the washroom." She stuttered, trying to gather her composure and not seem suspicious.

His expression, nonetheless, contorted in surmise, as if he knew exactly what she was planning to do.

And just for fun, he let her.

"It's right there." He stepped into the room, stretching his hand towards his left where the bathroom was located.

Oh no...

"Um... Okay." She spoke in a low tone, having a hard time deciding whether to go to the washroom when she didn't feel any need to, given that she had not drunk a sip of water except when Warren sneaked in and offered her once, or to try her luck once again and run.

She decided to do the latter.

She peeked through her long eyelashes, his eyes were still lingering on her briskly, just like always, deep but emotionless.

She gathered all the courage and power she could and pushed him with all her might.

Within the next seconds, he was on the floor and she was on her foot, dashing out of the room with great speed and an unhealed wound on her knee.

He sat up, surprised, not at what she did for he predicted what she was cooking in her little head, but at how she did it.

She was not as weak as he initially thought. And for the first time in his life, he wasn't upset about being proved wrong.

Neither did he like it, nor did he hate it.

"She thinks she can escape." A dry scoff escaped his lips as he stood up, dusting his veiny hands.

Meanwhile, she ran to the main door, hoping for it to be open like how it was in the morning.

She reached the door, but to her dismay, it was closed. Adding more salt to the wound, it was locked from outside.

"God! Why is this locked?" Her heart was pacing as if she had run a marathon, chest heaving up and down in anxiousness as the fear of failing again enveloped her immensely. The painful cut on her knee was just an addition to her misery.

"Done trying?"

She turned around, finding him walking closer to her.

A layer of sweat covered her forehead, causing the silky strands of her hair to stick to her face lightly.

"You thought that I would make the same mistake of keeping the door open again? For you to escape? Do I look that stupid to you?"

His every word stabbed her, as the realization settled in her consciousness that she, indeed, has failed again.

Tears brimmed in her eyes, her lower lip quivering tenderly as chills ran down her spine, travelling all through her body.

"You look like a coward to me." She breathed out, her voice pitched higher than usual.

"What did you say?" His eyes turned dark, expression mirroring the terrible insult thrown at him. Her words were deplorable to him, completely unpleasant, they stung somewhere in his chest.

"I said you look like a coward to me." She repeated, gritting her teeth.

She knew what she was risking.

"Um hm...really? How so?"

His hand moved at his back, tugging out his gun as he walked closer until he was just a step away from her.

She watched his actions carefully, but she wasn't scared of him, at least yet.

"All you guys do is oppress and steal from innocent and weak people. What does that make you?"

He was now towering her, standing right in front of her comparatively short frame.

"That doesn't make me a coward. That makes me powerful." He uttered, unfazed and monotonous, but his gaze was still as strong, or even more, if that was possible.

His audacity to call himself powerful left her speechless to the core. She knew exactly, and accurately, what kind of people he belonged to. They were cruel and heartless, and so were their actions.

"So, now what? Since your little mission of flying out of here has failed miserably, why don't you just walk in and go sit in your crib?" He suggested, but his words were filled with sarcasm and humour.

The way he was enjoying the situation to its finest while she could barely hang on to her life drove her to the edge.

"I won't." She spat firmly, determined.

"Fine then." He sighed, scratching his temple with the muzzle of his gun.

She took a couple of steps backwards as he took them forward.

Her back collided with the door and her body sunk into it.

"You're more stubborn than I expected you to be, squirrel." He took one last step towards her till he was hovering over her fragile body.

Her face turned pale when she met his gaze. He had the deadliest look in his eyes, the most dangerous she ever witnessed him to be.

"But..do you know what happens if you continue being this stubborn?" His words were not more than mere whispers, but the intensity and peril behind them were threatening enough to question her sanity.

She sunk deeper into the wooden door if that was even possible but she did.

"Although I don't kill women, you can be an exception," His one hand was beside her head, pinning her against the hard texture while his second hand, which held the gun moved to her neck. 

He was close, way too close. His breath fanned against her nose bridge, there was almost no space left between them but their bodies weren't touching, but their clothes were.

She gulped, her breath stuck in her throat, suffocating the life out of her.

This seemed familiar, felt familiar.

He pushed the gun deeper into her skin, her neck itching because of the pressure making her wince in pain.

Her toes curled tightly, her chest felt like someone had wrapped her with stones and ropes. Her breaths had no more passage to escape.

"Don't try so hard." His hands tied both of her wrists with a cloth above her head, tightly, painfully.

She no longer could see who or what was there in front of her. She could only see what her mind displayed to her eyes.

"I had been waiting for this day to come. Now I can finally claim you." His dainty hand disgustingly moved towards her waist and beneath. She wanted to scream and cry for help, but the situation dawned upon her, the gun pushed into her neck took every vocal she could utter.

That gun felt the same as the gun from years ago, the hard surface of the door felt like the bed that she was thrown at forcefully.

A lump tugged at her throat, her lungs just couldn't take or throw any air out. She felt caged, openly caged.

Her eyes were glued to Tiger, but all she could see were the blue lustful eyes of him.

He noticed that she wasn't breathing, or barely breathing, her face was contorted in a twisted expression, her lips were agape and quivering, her eyes seemed restless, a layer of water shining in them while her wrists were tightly clasped in fists.

"Squirrel-" He started but she pushed him away from her. However, it did nothing to budge him but create a small distance between them.

That's when he realized how close he was standing to her. Of course, he terrified her.

A pang of guilt nauseated his being, but it left as soon as it came.

He didn't care; he never cared, for anyone.

He sighed, attempting to grab her hand to snap her back to her senses.

But as soon as his hand stretched, the door opened behind her.

"Ah-" A gasp left her dry lips as her feet tripped. The body of her weight which was once pressed against the door, now could be felt sinking with the air.

She shut her eyes closed, waiting for her body to collide with the floor.

But, instead of the concrete rocks as she expected to prod her back and head, she felt a soft hand wrapping around her waist as her back clashed with someone's torso.

She opened her eyes, only to meet shining black orbs and a half-shocked, half-confused face.

"Little one... " He trailed off, clearly confused, bringing her back to her senses.

He was side-hugging her.

Realizing her body was touching a male, she hastily gained her balance and stood straight.

Her eyes darted to Tiger, and he seemed....mad? He seemed utterly displeased.

He soon changed his expression back to its original poker face. Though, his eyes were still dark.

"What happened here?" Warren asked, his brows knitted in confusion.

"Nothing," Tiger answered, looking away.

She stood there, still finding it hard to breathe but since the voices and images in her mind stopped, she was relieved a bit.

But that doesn't mean she was at ease. No, now she could never be at ease around the raven-haired man with foxy brown eyes after what stunt he pulled on her just now.

"Although I don't kill women, you can be an exception." His words were just not mere words, they sounded genuine, threateningly genuine. At least, that's what she thought.

"Why are you here already?" Tiger turned towards Warren.

She wasn't interested in knowing the reason. She turned on her feet, accepting her defeat with heaviness weighing down her shoulders.

"Oh, I forgot the keys to my bike." Warren's faded voice could be heard from the Hall, but she paid no attention to it.

She went straight to the room, precisely; Tiger's room. Closing the door behind her without locking it, she sat herself down cautiously, to not hurt her knee, at the place she had been sitting for a few days now.

All of this drained her out.

----

"Here, take this." She gazed up, finding a tube of ointment being stretched towards her.

It was dark outside, the lights in the room weren't very bright either.

She took the ointment from him weakly, staring at the name of the tube, wondering how a gangster like him had it.

"Apply it on your knee, it will lessen the pain after a while." He smiled sweetly at her and she almost melted.

His smile....he had the same smile as him, and the mere thought of that person sent a pang to her heart. Those memories with him were heartwarming, but his departure was just as agonizing.

She shook her thoughts away at the back of her brain, not wanting to remember anything.

"How do you have it?" Although Warren seemed friendlier and kinder than Tiger, she had her doubts. She couldn't bring herself to believe anyone in her life, let alone a long-haired guy who was a member of the most wanted, nefarious gang.

"Um...because I have to use it a lot of times?" He chuckled, his words seemed more like a question than an answer.

They always get in fights. Of course, he has to use it many times. She thought to herself.

"Well, how did you get yourself hurt though?" He sat down on the edge of the bed, ignoring the side eyes Tiger was giving him.

"I fell." She replied, curtly.

"Oh. Well...Even if you walked for half an hour, believe me, you still wouldn't have passed that road." He chuckled. 

"I know, it's way too long." She sighed, he didn't seem like a danger. For a second, she thought he could be trusted. But she soon realized what price she had to pay because she trusted back then. 

"Now you realize how far I had to go to get you food-"  he stopped in the middle, realizing he just exposed himself. 

"Fuck." He cursed under his breath. 

"Don't tell Tiger that I gave you food. He will skin us both alive."

She stitched her lips in a thin line, recalling Warren's request earlier to keep it a secret, but he revealed it. 

"Get whom food?" Tiger, who had been sitting on the bad all this while, raised his eyebrows. 

"Um...get us food." Looking past his shoulder, he scraped his nape. 

He knew he was in trouble. 

"Do you think I am fucking stupid?" Tiger growled lowly, his eyes zeroed on him.

A big trouble for sure.

Although it was directed towards Warren, she felt her skin crawling with chills too. 

"You brought her food?" He stood up, shoving all the work he was doing at the side.

"Yeah." Warren sighed, knowing there was no chance left to lie anymore. 

"And who gave you the permission?" He was standing right in front of Warren.

"I don't need your damn permission." Warren rolled his eyes, and a scowl settled on his face. 

"Yes, you do. You're under my fucking supervision, Warren." Tiger reminded him.

"Or what?" Warren got up too. They were standing face to face with each other, both of their conducts were menacing, raking off ominous essence, threatening the situation with peril and dire.

"Or this that stop with your damn foolishness already. She is a hostage, not your fucking family that you go out of your way and feed her without asking me." He shouted, his eyebrows knitted closely, reflecting his anger. 

To say that she was terrified would be an understatement. 

"So you're telling me to let someone starve to death? Really?" Warren asked, confounded.

"Isn't that what all of them go through?" Tiger folded his hands on his chest. 

He poked his inner cheek, not finding enough words to say anything in response. 

"Well, it is not my fault that I'm not heartless like you. I can't watch anyone struggling with hunger." His words weighed with intensity and depth, redirecting a past, a treacherous allusion. 

"Well, it's not my fault either that you feel so much even after killing so many people. Don't be a saint now, you're no different than me, you're no different than them." Those harsh words once again made him speechless, this time it wasn't just anger that enveloped him, an agonizing wave of guilt too washed over him, consuming him all over in the ocean of pain, leaving him with nothing to fight with.

Hayat watched him tightening his fists, his knuckles turning white with the pressure his fingers sunk into the flesh of his palm. 

"At least do one thing correctly and stop being such a pain in the ass." Tiger walked back to his bed, but his words still lingered heavily in the room. 

Warren exhaled, giving one last look to the man he called his friend before walking out and disappearing behind the walls.

Her eyes didn't leave his retrieving figure until he was gone. She looked at the devil sitting on the bed, not even realizing how cruel he acted just now. 

"You're such a jerk." She whispered, side-eyeing him.

"Tell me something I don't know, squirrel." He still heard her somehow. 

----

He stood at the sink of his bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror. 

His long veiny fingers curled into fists, a storm brewing in his dark eyes. 

"..you're no different than me, you're no different than them." Those words replayed in his head again and again. 

After all, he was just the same as them. He has taken innocent lives too, he has been inhumane at times too, he has been heartless too, and he has done enough reckless shit to be no different than all those murderers and rapists. 

But the guilt...the guilt always overwhelmed him, always drowned him. And just like every time, he knew what he was going to do. 

His jaw clenched, and the muscles of his face were all contorted in self-hatred and spleen. 

"Can you even do one thing properly?! Such a nuisance to bring you into this life." 

His hands trembled as he reached out to the drawer. 

"Shoot him already." 

Bang! 

The sharp steel shined as he pulled it out. 

"At least do one thing correctly and stop being such a pain in the ass." 

That's what he was, a pain, a nuisance in everybody's life. 

He twirled the blade in his hand, blinking at it, devoid of any emotions. 

"I don't want him. Take him with you, I ain't taking his custody." 

He held the blade on his wrist, slowly pressing it on his skin. 

"Why should I? If you don't want him then just throw him at some orphanage." 

The sharp edge dug into his flesh, cutting through the skin.  

He stared at the cut he made, without blinking. It didn't pained him, not even a little bit. 

Not feeling satisfied enough, he decided to do it again. 

He has done it one too many times, he was used to it by now. 

The voices in his head grew louder and louder, all those dreadful mistakes and harsh memories flooded his mind. 

He needed to feel something stronger than his demons, something more painful, something more dangerous. 

He pressed the blade one more time, this time more deeply.

One. 

Two.

Three.

He fell on his knees, tears blurred his view as the deep cuts stung painfully all over his hand. 

His head felt dizzy as the blade covered with his blood slipped from his hold, his bloodied fingers stained the walls as they grazed over it for support. 

His head hit the floor, the blood oozing out of his wrist, trailing down while staining the white tiles.

Black spots appear in front of his view before the darkness spread everywhere, and his eyes closed slowly.