18 Drunk Talks

Irene's POV:

Have anyone ever wishes to experience electrocution, just come and take my place, in this closest proximity with his muscular chest pressing with that of mine, his rough hands stroking my back I am already dead and now he tilted his head and now his breath is dancing over the nape of my neck.

My heart beats turned mad and pounded insanely as he hugged me, I raked my hands to his bicep and tried to move him away, but he only pulled me closer and my tolerant levels just died with his breath assaulting my neck.

"You are a drug" his whisper made me fist my hands into the bed.

I am feeling all those things I never knew even existed.

Why is he doing this to me? Why is he so close? I don't even know what to do to get over this sheer torture my soul is going through.

"I hate you soo very much" he repeated crashing me soo into him.

My hand slowly stroked his jet black hair, it's undeniably silky. He didn't offend or move. He leaned safely over my shoulders with his lips inches away from the nape of my neck.

Everything was in a blur for me, I couldn't understand why he is being so close to me while spewing hatred.

I quickly removed my hand from his hair.

"Please keep doing that" it came out as a sweet request and I couldn't resist not doing so.

Hence my hands were back to the duty of slowly stroking his hair. His strong fragrance mixed with alcohol and the slight sweat now raised due to our proximity has made as a new drug making me extremely nervous with each passing second.

"I am liking whatever you are doing when I shouldn't clearly enjoy that" he hissed.

But he didn't move an inch, I felt utterly different and was in confusion. Yet I knew he was in pain, I might have no idea what he must be going through but I am not immune to pain. I know how good it feels to have someone assuring us.

I remembered my deceased Granny, the only person who never differentiated in treating me just like Iril, or to be honest she was partial a little more towards me. She used to snuggle me in her bead and recited tales of Prince Charming.

She always compared me with that of Cinderella who saw worse due to her Stepmother and her ordeals ended once she danced with Prince Charming, who came down hunting for her. My Granny's tales made me believe that Prince Charming does exist.

But growing around with humans no less than stones I understood why those were called Fairy tales and they would never be true. Nor do I want any Prince Charming. I just want freedom from that Castle, I wish to live on my own or rather die.

None could ever bring me back the comfort I felt as I experienced when Granny stroked my hair lovingly, it has had the power to cure my illness and many more things even the medicines couldn't. It comforted me and now I want to comfort this man in the same way.

With the way he was drunk, I am sure he would not remember any of it tomorrow, so I just took a leap of faith, without thinking of where this will lead to or other.

I took all the strength and leaned back on the bed and it took him by surprise. He separated from me and looked into my eyes, I smiled as I met his eyes.

I have no idea how long I will be here, once Granny told me that it's not how much we earn, how much we rule but how many hearts we touched is that makes an impact.

Even now when it's been almost a decade since Granny has passed away, I only remember her, unlike my family whom I lived with, hence I wanted to be that comfort to him.

I lovingly stroked his cheek and his rough beard itched my palms, he breathed hard. I pulled his face to me and I wanted him to sleep beside me but all he did was snuggle closer to me and his head resting on my raking chest.

I felt immensely vulnerable and nervous as he pulled the comforter over us, his strong alcohol hit me, his one hand snaking around my stomach. Except our breaths echoing in the air around, it's absolute silence.

In the silence of the darkness with this intoxicated man rambling his hatred but hugging me as if his life depends on me, I felt something peculiar. An unexplainable magnetic effect drawing me to him.

Insanely overwhelmed with everything, I continued stroking his hair

"Answer me the truth, Irene. Why are you so scared to return home?" he inched his head a little up and looked into my eyes.

Who wished to go back to prison?

"I can see that you are uninterested, why so? Do they treat you bad?" he asked.

I blankly looked at him.

"Answer me… Answer me I say. I hate wasting time" he warned and now I just chuckled.

"You are not supposed to laugh at me" he screamed.

I nodded trying hard to control my smile. Somehow these antics from him are making this beastly man look like a small kid.

"Preziosa…" he said looking at me.

Did he just call me Precious??

"What are you so worried about Preziosa? Why are you scared of returning but not scared when the Gun was pointed at you? You were ready even when I threw that fucking lighter at you. Had that been petrol… why the fuck did I even treat you like that?" he shrieked getting up.

I cupped his cheek in my hands immediately and blinked in assurance that I am okay.

"Why don't you wish to heal? Why do I care? Tell me why am I not able to hate you? Why am I being so concerned?" he screamed.

How would I know??

"Whatever it is… I hate you soo much. But I don't want you to die. You deserve to live Bellamisa… this world needs you"