"He was like the moon; one side was always hidden away."

➳ ➳ ➳

My eyes were wide, and my lips parted as I continue staring at Nick. I had never expected this from a man like him. I was in shock. He always seemed to be a collected man, but that image had disappeared right now as I stood before him. He has serious anger issues. In the studio hung a big punching bag from an iron chain that would make a shackle noise every time it would move. I haven't seen this before. Not once, I bet he stores it and hangs it up when he puts it to good use. He punched it, and he hit it violently with more grunting and without gloves. He was using his bare hands. The sound he made when it collided with the leather bag sounded too painful, although he didn't seem to care. I can't see his face since the fireplace only lighted the room, and even with this lighting, I can see there was at least a cloth wrapped around his knuckles. With that light, I can tell that he was shirtless.

I took a few steps forward without removing my eyes from him, so I had a better look. His torso glows as sweat covered it. His messy, curly hair stuck to his forehead from the sweat and his muscles tense with every punch he pressured himself to do. He was mesmerizing, but it wasn't his tone figure that got my attention, not this time. It was the black ink that covered him. There were so many tattoos and again, something I didn't expect from him. From what I can see, he has tattoos big and small on his arms, a sentence on his lower back, but I can't read it so well. I was too busy observing his tattoos that I didn't notice when he stopped.

"What are you doing here?" Nicholas asked me with his deep voice filled with anger, and it scared me. I shook my head coming down to earth, and remove my eyes from his body and to his face and noticed he wasn't looking back at me. His eyes glued to the floor and his head down as he massages his hands with the other.

"I-I uh.." I stammered.

"I think I told you to stay in your room until I said so." He stated, finally looking at me, my face.

His dark green eyes looked into my brown ones, that's when I regret doing what I did. I should've just stayed in my room. The intensity in his eyes told me he didn't like it, and he was going to attack me like a wild animal at any moment.

For some strange reason, even though I feared him now, I still stood in place. I wanted to run out of this room, no doubt, but I didn't. I couldn't.

"Yes, but-" I start to say as an attempt for an explanation, yet he interrupts me again.

"But you didn't listen to me." He says, moving around me and approaching the coffee table. I look back at him, but I don't dare speak. He took his black sweater from the floor and tossed it around him, covering all the tattoos. This was nothing new; the sweater covered his bare skin where the ink was. You would have never known about them. They were all here before, he hid all the tattoos under his long sleeves and black clothes so nobody can see underneath. Agnes must know about them.

He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face, and his back turned to me. I watched as he served himself a glass of whiskey without bothering to speak to me. I'm so confused, one minute he's angry, and now he won't even acknowledge me, and I hate when he pretends to be so careless. His hand slipped into his pocket and pulled out a box of cigarettes, taking one out and placing one in between his plump lips and lighting it up. He closes his eyes before taking in a deep exhale and letting the smoke flow throughout his lungs.

"The reason I came here was that you had told me to, for that painting of yours," I said in a low voice. His eyes opened and took his cigarette between his fingers with a hardened expression again.

"If I wanted you to come, I would have told you already. I fucking didn't, yet here you are, without my permission. I am the boss around here!" He yelled at me at the end. What's his problem?

"Why are you acting like this?" I asked with sass into my words and force into my voice. He took a sip from his drink and set it on the table with the cigarette. He approached me and looked at me eye to eye as we stood inches away while he towers over me. My nostrils scrunch up when I smelled the smoke, alcohol, and sweat off of him. I gulped.

"And how exactly am I acting?" He says, with a smirk almost invisible on his face. I see it threatening to spread, but he's holding back.

Don't say anything stupid, Angelina. Don't say anything stupid.

"Y-you're always so angry and controlling. I agreed to this, but I won't do everything you tell me. A-And I -" My voice trembled and I cannot help but notice the amusement on his face. He lowered his head, so we were eye level.

"Do I scare you, darling?" He asked me, and I wanted to scream - Yes! But I decide against it, like everything else. I took a breath to calm myself and prepared to speak.

"You are a very intimidating man, Mr. Snow," I said casually as possible. He nods his head, and all sign of amusement is gone, and he stood straight up again.

"I see."

"Why were you so angry when you saw Ethan?" I asked curiously and changing the subject without thinking.

"That's none of your business!" He screamed, slamming his fist on the table. I jump in surprise, and Nick poured another glass of whiskey and drinking it all at once. That never stopped me from pushing for an answer. This mystery is killing me!

"You almost killed him!" I continued, and his gaze turned back to me. His face was stern, and his nostrils were flaring. I thought he'd yell again, but instead, he took the whiskey bottle itself and chugged it down his throat without a single blink as if it was water. He may be avoiding my questions, but I won't give up just yet.

"I'm talking to you, Nick." I rose my voice sternly and emphasized his name to get a better chance of grabbing his attention. In his free hand, he held the glass cup with a firm grip. Strong enough to shatter it in his hands, causing the sharp pieces to scatter all on the floor. Soon enough, the glass bottle was empty, and this too destroyed when Nick raises it in the air before smashing it down on the hard marble floor. I jumped in surprise and stepped back, trying to steer clear of the glass pieces that flew everywhere.

"You," Nicholas says, pointing his finger at me. He approached me with one hand pinning me to the wall, and the other was holding my neck in place, not much force, but I knew all too well he was holding back.

"Don't you dare talk to me like that. Ever again." He hissed at me through his gritted teeth.

"Or else what?" I challenged him before I could stop myself.

Stupid! You have a death wish, Angelina.

"You wouldn't want to know, darling. Haven't your little friends at the Dollhouse warn you about me? Angel." He emphasized my name, giving me wide eyes and a shocked expression. Why did he call me that? He has never before.

"Y-You killed that girl," I whispered, as Lauren's words repeat in my mind, haunting.

The last girl he took with him was found dead the morning after.

The echos in my head give me goosebumps on my arms the more I think about it. So she wasn't lying. She wasn't just trying to scare me, no. It's all true. He is a horrible person.

"Is that what they told you? Is that what he told you?" Nicholas asked angrily, slamming his hand on the wall beside my head. Was he referring to Ethan?

"So it's true, you killed her. What would Ethan have anything to do with this?" I asked puzzled.

"Everything! Every fucking thing has to do with him!" He yelled in my face, and I could smell the reeking alcohol stronger than before. I just knew he wasn't sober, any more and it scared me more than the yelling.

"Mr. Snow, calm down. Please." I forced myself to say. He snickers bitterly.

"Calm down? Why? Are you afraid I might hurt your boyfriend? Or hurt you, Angel?" He screams out, bringing his face closer to mine.

"Stop calling me that." I ignored the questions as they disgusted me. I cringe at his words. He was so angry that there was no point in answering him, he won't listen. His hatred for Ethan scared me, but I wasn't worried about Ethan at all. Not one bit. I worry about the man in front of me, and that he'll hurt himself or others in this state of mind.

"Why not, Angel? Isn't that what you are? What they called you when you came from the Dollhouse." He says.

"I'm not like them," I said quickly and as stern as I could. I'm sure my eyes dilated and my insides heated up.

"Oh, but you are. And now, Angel, you will do what you do best." He breathes down my neck and pushes my hair away from my face. I took in a shaky breath when his lips briefly touched my earlobe.

My weakness and he knows it.

He left little kisses trailing it from my ear to the corner of my lips before he stopped. Was he going to do this? Was he going to use me for his pleasure? We have a deal.

"Don't do this. You don't know what you're doing." I stalled. I want to believe it myself. He stared at me with a hard expression. His hand slips down to my hips before grabbing my thighs to lift me and force my legs to wrap around his waist. His body was closer than it has ever been, and I felt my cheeks flush red. I swear, my body was on fire, but he hasn't even done anything. It makes me think of what I would feel if he ever did. I hate the way my body reacts to his touch. I do.

His hands took hold of mine, pinning them back as well so I couldn't escape his grip. My cheeks were bright red, my hair was everywhere, and my breathing was unsteady. I was not afraid of him. At this point, I am scared of me.

"You are so tantalizing, Angel." He said, eyeing my lips. His voice was loud, and he is struggling to keep in control of himself.

"I just.." He never finished the sentence because he immediately pressed his lips on mine, making me shiver. I could feel all the emotions in the kiss — anger, hatred, betrayal, and most importantly, lust. My legs were still around his waist, and his hands released mine to slide his hands along my inner thigh, sending electricity through me. The second I was able to take a breath, I told him in my serious voice, but it wouldn't matter how I say it since he was much more focused on me.

"You don't know what you want." Without any acknowledgment, he forced his hand to move deeper, closer to the heat between my hips. I curse myself for moaning even the slightest bit because I know it only encouraged him.

What feeling is this? Is it good or bad? What is he doing to me?

I wanted to touch his face and play with his hair, but I force myself to restrain. I don't want to let the feeling I'm feeling take over me. It's just hard when he kisses me this way. After a moment, he pulled away and pressed his forehead against mine. We were both breathing heavily, and some of his curls had fallen over his eyes. His hands cupped my waist and slid up until he reaches my collarbones where my shirt was being undone. I couldn't stand this; I hate it. I don't hate what I feel now, but why would it have to start with him. I'm supposed to hate him! I grabbed his wrists with my petite hands and was about to force them away until a light knock was heard at the door, followed by a sweet, gentle voice. Agnes.

"Mr. Snow, your visitor is here." She says on the other side of the door.

Nicholas immediately unwrapped my legs from his waist to stand me up on my own two feet, but I wish he didn't because I couldn't precisely support myself after that. Instead, I dropped to the floor like a fool. I try to catch my breath and contain myself, but I can still feel his touch.

"I'm coming down!" Nicholas yells, running a hand through his hair trying to fix it and straightening his sweater out. He dashes to the door without giving me a second look.

Does he regret what happened?

"Well, are you just going to sit there or come with me?" Nicholas poked his head inside the studio room I'm in and asked me with his eyebrows knit together. I realized I'm still sitting on my ass here on the floor. I quickly just stood up, fixed my tunic, button-up shirt, and approached him with a straight face. Looking up at him towering over me, he opens and leads out the door, and he never did remove his eyes from me since he came looking for me.

Oh, please, Angelina. Don't be stupid. He wasn't looking for you.

There in the long corridor stood Agnes and a woman who was a stranger in my mind.

Her bleach blond hair was up in a messy bun, wearing a revealing dress, and her artificially green eyes lit up when she saw Nicholas. Agnes and I had our full attention on the visitor, even though we both knew she was no visitor. She ran to Nick and wrapped her arms around his waist and gave a small kiss on the lips. Really? How many does he have?

"Hi, babe." She says with a smile, making me cringe.

"Agnes, please make sure we are not interrupted," Nicholas says, eyeing me. I stare him down and clench my fists and use my thumbs to rub along my knuckles, making red streaks.

Asshole.

He smirked and turned around, opened the door, and disappeared inside with the other woman under his arm. I was beyond angry with him, and the way he behaved towards me.

"What happened in there?" Agnes asked me curiously. I didn't even look at her, though and my eyes were on the closed door in front of me.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing." I say and turn away to descend the staircase and make my way into my room. I shut the door behind me and slid down to my knees doing something I haven't ever done for the longest time. I cried.

~ ~ ~

I don't know what took over me last night, but I cried myself to sleep. I am still angry with Nick for what he did. I feel like he used me, and when the next woman came in, he pushed me aside like I was no more than a piece of trash.

What were you expecting, Angelina? That he would leave the beautiful woman in front of him and give two shits about the doll, he sees in you?

After all, he made it clear that I was only a girl from the Dollhouse. When I thought about it that way, I guess I could see where he is coming from. I still couldn't help but feel hurt. It's not like we have anything. We never will. I will finish the deal, turn away, and never look back on him or anything else. It will be a whole new life, simple as that. I will focus on my freedom to get through the rest of this term to keep me from losing all hope.

This house has become suffocating since I have been here, I haven't gone out besides, the few feet out the back door by the oak tree. I remember the day we made the deal. If I have his permission, of course, I would be able to go outside, which is why I am standing outside his bedroom door at ten in the morning. Agnes said he still hasn't come down so I assume he would be here.

Where else could he be? I swear to god if I find something I don't want to see, I will curl up and gag to death, right on the spot.

Knock, knock

I wait patiently and tap my foot, waiting for the door to open, but it never did. So I tried again. It opened, but I cannot say I was surprised to see it was not Nick. A petite figure before me was not Nick, but it was the woman from yesterday. Her hair screamed sex, and so did the love bites on her neck. She wrapped herself in a white sheet, still naked. Her smile faded, and her significant artificially colored contacts in her eyes narrowed down at me. She suddenly became so serious.

"Oh... what do you want?" She said dully. She smirked a bit now, and all I wanted to do was slap that shit right off her face. No! I am not jealous. I'm pissed.

"Is Nicholas here?" I asked with a positive attitude that I faked so hard. I couldn't help but think of how much prettier Nick's eyes were; how real.

"Oh, he's in the shower. It was a long nigh,t if you know what I mean." She winked and giggled as if she had a dose of Lala land crack. I only nodded and thought, what an asshole.

"Yeah, I get it."