There is no sunlight down here.

I've always found that depressing. 

So, today, I wore a pale yellow sweater with a white skirt. Once again, not dressed for the weather.

I walk down the hallway toward the kitchen to get breakfast for the three people currently down here. The number is constantly changing. 

Mike, a guy that helps my dad torture people, comes into my view as I make my way further down the hallway.

I wasn't going to stop at first. I just gave him a warm smile. 

But when he stopped walking in front of me, I did, too. He smirked down at me, "Hey, Azalea. I haven't seen you in a while."

"Yea," I nod. "Just here to give them breakfast."

He scoffs and shakes his head, "These people don't deserve to eat."

"Hey," I say sternly. "They are still people. And all people deserve to eat."

"You say that because you never know what these people have done," he steps toward me and tilts his head. I gulp over the sound of slight buzzing from the lights. 

I nod, "Maybe you should tell me, then. What did he do?"

I point toward Reese's cell. Mike doesn't even bother to look at it.

"That guy is an assassin. But not the kind that kills bad people, the kind that kills people for fun and for their own gain," Mike nearly spat the entire time he talked. It was obvious talking about Reese made him mad. "He's killed dozens of your father's men. Blown them up, hung them from the ceiling. When we would send 10 men to go kill them, we'd later find 10 dead bodies. It's a miracle we even caught him yesterday morning."

There's a point where somebody goes past being a murderer, and Reese seems to cross that line. The thought of killing always made me sick. I had never seen a dead body before, and I hope I never have to.

"Wow," I say quietly while forcing a harsh blink. "So, are you guys going to kill him?"

"Hell fucking yea we are. Once we get some answers," he smiled. 

He then quickly looked me up and down.

"Hey, what do you say about coming back to my apartment once you're done?" he smiles down at me. "We never hang out outside of here."

Somebody that tortures and kills for a living wasn't exactly my type.

But I smile and speak kindly, "Sorry, Mike. But no."

I walk past him, continuing on my way to the kitchen. 

But I don't get very far, until he's rushing in front of me and blocking my way. I roll my eyes, before looking back at him under the lights that made his brown hair and eyes look black. 

"Give it a chance, Az," he smiles. "Maybe I'm different than you think."

"No," I repeat. 

I go to step past him, but he blocks my way. I grow more irritated with each passing second. 

"Come on," he repeats.

I knee him in the balls. He groans and hunches over, grabbing where I kneed him. I ignore the noises of pain he makes as I walk-run toward the kitchen, my heart picking up in my chest from the bit of fear he made me feel.

But once I'm in the kitchen and see Simon, I feel my fear go away. I rush over to him and he smiles at me, "Hey. Picked up a morning shift - try this croissant."

He holds out a croissant for me to bite into, and I do. My eyes quickly widen and I tell him happily, "Simon! That's delicious."

"Thank you," he smiles.

Simon has always liked to wear black. And if he wasn't wearing black, he was wearing dark grey. 

I take the plates, and begin delivering breakfast. First guy yells at me. Second girl yells at me.

But when I open Reese's door, he's silent. 

He sits on the edge of the twin bed, which is in each room. I know that he hears me enter the room, but he doesn't turn to look at me, allowing for me to see his side profile. 

I set the plate down and slide it over the line. But as I do, Simon's voice speaks from behind me.

"There's no point," he tells me. "He doesn't eat anything we give him. Doesn't even look at it."

My eyebrows lower as Simon continues on walking.

I turn back around to look at Reese. Who doesn't turn his head.

"The food is good," I tell him. "If that's the problem, don't worry. Our chefs are the best."

He still doesn't look at me.

I cross my arms and sigh.

"You really want to die of starvation down here?" I ask.

But he still. Doesn't. Look. At. Me.

It starts to annoy me.

I pick up the plate off of the ground and step over the line. I walk until I'm directly in front of him, and crouch down, putting the plate of food between his two black boots.

Only then does he look at me. 

"I know you can talk, so you don't have to keep ignoring me," I scrunch my nose at him.

His head tilts, and he looks like he's about to say something. 

But he doesn't.

"Whatever," I mutter and stand up. He looks up at me while I cross my arms. "Jerk."

I turn and leave, and it's not until I'm outside of the door when I realize what I had done.

I crossed the line, once again, and he could've killed me. 

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

I don't deliver lunch today. My dad has somebody filling in for me, while I bake cookies with my mom. 

My mom's my best friend. She's also my only friend besides Simon. 

"These are so delicious, Azzy!" my mom smiles, her smile and brown eyes warm. "You did an amazing job."

"Careful, don't boost my confidence too much," I say teasingly while pulling saran wrap over them.

My mom glances at the clock and sighs, "Time for you to deliver dinners."

"Mhm. And these delicious cookies," I hold them up and smile, and my mom pokes one of my dimples. "Maybe it'll make them not scream at me for once."

I hug her goodbye. 

I drive with the cookies on my lap, and carry them carefully once I get there. 

I enter the basement with a smile on my face, but it slowly drops seeing so many people in the hall. Everybody is talking, arguing, and some people seem panicked. Their panic made me worried.

"Hey!" I say to a guy I had seen around here before. He turns to look at me. "What happened?!"

"You shouldn't be here, Azalea," he says sternly to me. "I know you aren't going to want to see this."

My eyebrows lower.

"Kill him now!"

"We need answers from him first!"

"Start torturing him!"

"Torture doesn't work on him!"

I push through the crowd with my plate of cookies, hitting peoples arms and backs. And once I get through the crowd, I see what they're all looking at. Reese's cell.

"Go in there and kill him!"

"No, we still need him!"

The amount of yelling was pissing me off. I step into the cell, slam the door behind me, and take a deep breath. 

I start to talk while turning around, "What did you do to make them so m-"

I freeze and stop talking at the sight in front of me. I drop the plate of cookies against the ground, making the plate shatter.

"Oh my god!" I slap my hands over my eyes. 

Reese stood in the middle of the room. Blood was splattered against his face, and dripped down his chest. But it wasn't his own.

It was from Mike, who lays dead in a pool of his own blood with pale skin and open eyes. The smell of copper fills my nose.

"Why...why'd you do that?" I ask him, lowering my hands with some fear in my voice. But I stay behind the white line.

It's written on his face that he doesn't care about what he had done. There was no remorse on his face, hell there was nothing on his face. 

"They're out there, debating on if they should kill you or not now!" my voice raises as I point at the door.

His head just tilts as he looks at me.

I scoff.

The door swings open behind me, making me turn around. One of the men outside ordered, "Get out, Azalea. Your father wouldn't like you being in there."

I cross my arms. I turn around, looking at him one more time. But inside of his brown eyes, there was no hint of emotions.

I started stepping out of the room. But the second I stepped outside, I heard his deep voice say something quietly. 

"He should've respected a no."

His words made me freeze. I slowly turned around, wondering if I had even heard him from how quiet it was. But the way his eyes locked on mine, tell me I heard him perfectly.

One of my fathers men grab my upper arm and pull me out, before slamming the door shut.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

I lay on my stomach in my room, humming while drawing in my notebook. I've always loved drawing.

I sniffle while I draw, and fight back a cough. For the past few days, I've felt sick, so I haven't been working. 5 days to be exact. 

My mom has been making me teas and soups, but it doesn't seem to be helping. 

My phone rings against the bed. I set my pencil down and pick it up, "Hello?"

"Hey Azalea! I know I'm supposed to give dinner tonight since you're sick, but I'm not going to be able to make it," Simon speaks from the other end, and I can hear cars honking in the background. "I'm stuck in traffic, there was an accident and I can't for the life of me merge off of the highway. Are you able to go?"

I sniffle, "Yea, don't worry about it, Simon."

"Thank you so much. I owe you muffins for a week."

I laugh and hang up. I cough into my sleeve while walking over to my closet, grabbing black pants and a white shirt. I then walk over to my vanity to look at my reflection.

Oh god. The tip of my nose is red, and my cheeks are a little flushed. 

But I slip my shoes on anyway. I grab an oversized black jacket to protect me from the cold while I run out to my car.

I reach the building soon. This time, when I come down the stairs, it's calm. 

I look around while entering the kitchen.

Two plates sat ready. 

I guess that answered my question on what they decided to do with Reese. I'm not very surprised.

I grab the plates and exit the kitchen. I walk over to the guys cell that was still here, and set the food down. I then walk to the girls cell, but my eyebrows pull together seeing that it's empty.

My head snaps in the direction of Reese's cell. I quickly walk over to it, and peek through the window in the door.

And there he was. It made my eyes widen in shock.

I open the door, and his head turns to look at me. He was sitting on the bed, but now he stood facing me. 

I set the food down and slide it over to him.

"So, I see you're still alive," I observe. He doesn't respond, and I wasn't expecting him to. 

My eyebrows tug together seeing that he's still stained in Mike's blood.

"Has nobody came in here and cleaned you?" I ask him with a soft voice, although it was pointless to ask. I could see for myself he hadn't been. 

I turn and go into the kitchen. I fill a bucket up with water, squeeze some soap into it, and grab a sponge.

I enter his room again and order him, "Sit."

He raises his eyebrows at me.

"Sit," I repeat when he doesn't. His eyes look me up and down once, and then he gets down on his knees.

I kneel in front of him and put the sponge into the water. I begin scrubbing at the blood stained on his torso, it feeling hard from the amount of muscle he had. 

"Я вижу, ты тоже жив," he speaks in a language I don't recognize. It makes me pause and look him in the eyes with a confused expression.

[Translation: I see you're still alive, too.]

"So, it's either you speak in a different language, or not at all?" I say in a little bit of a light tone while continuing to clean him.

He keeps quiet. I clean his entire front and arms, getting rid of all of the blood. 

I then move to his back, but am gentle with the cut on it.

I go back in front of him and clean his face, removing the splatter. He looks into my eyes the entire time I do.

"Your cookies were good," he speaks.

A surprised expression comes onto my face.

"You ate them?"

He nods.

I swipe his face with the sponge one more time before putting it back in the bucket. But I stay on my knees, looking at him. 

"Thank you. I've been practicing," I smile. But he doesn't, his face remains emotionless.

The smile slowly leaves my face. I ask him, "Why'd you kill him?"

I'm expecting him not to answer. To stare blankly at me, like always.

"I heard him not taking no as an answer from you," he speaks. "Then when you left, heard him talking to some other guy about how he was gonna get you in his apartment, whether you like it or not."

My brown eyes widened from his words. I had no idea he said that.

"So, I lured him in here," he shrugs with no remorse. He looks me directly in my eyes. "And killed him."

I just stay exactly where I am, unable to respond or move. It's like I'm in shock. 

I look down at the ground and think. But something that shines in his boot catches my attention. And after a few moments of staring, I quickly realize what it is. A piece of the broken glass plate.

When I snap my head back up, I can see it in his eyes that he knows that I know. I quickly jerk back, using my hands and feet to get me past the white line. He tries to move forward, but he can't pass the line. The chains hold him back.

I keep sitting on my butt, my chest rising and falling while I looked at him. He talks quickly, "You can't sell me out, Azalea. You can't tell anybody I have this."

I gulp. His face and voice are serious. 

"You're going to kill somebody with that," I state with a weak voice.

His jaw goes tight for a moment. He nods, "Yea. I am."

I raise to my feet quickly. 

"Wait!" he calls out, his chains making the bolts shake as he tried to move forward once again. I looked at him with my back pressed against the wall.

This time, some desperation seeps into his voice, "Don't tell anybody. Please."

For some reason, I feel conflicted. The look on his face nearly makes me feel bad. 

"Why should I help you?" I ask him. "You're pure evil."

He nods. He completely agrees with what I say. 

"And you are pure," he states like a fact. 

He adds, "You're kind and gentle. I can tell. If you tell anybody, they'll kill me."

"But if I don't, you'll kill someone," I reply. 

He stands up. His height takes me by surprise, I have to tilt my head up to look at his eyes. 

"I won't kill anybody that doesn't deserve it. I promise."

His voice seems sincere. But I need more than just words.

I step toward him. He looks me up and down, until I stop directly before him.

I hold my hand up, "Pinky promise."

He looks at my hand for a moment. 

And then wraps his pinky around mine.

"If you break this," I speak seriously while holding a tight grip on his pinky. "I will cut you until you bleed out. Understand?"

His mouth slowly turns up in a smirk. 

"I promise," he smirks. "But it'd be an honor to bleed at your hands, Azalea."

I remove my pinky from his. And as I do, I see him give me a weird look. He puts the back of his hand against my forehead.

"What are you-"

He cuts me off, "You're sick."

I sniffle while he drops his hand. I nod, "Yea. Just a cold, I hope. Oh my god, what if it's worse? What if I have, like, a tumor or something? Do you think I have a tumor?"

His eyes dance around my face. He answers, "Nah."

"Oh thank God," I let out a breath of relief.

"Go home," he orders me. "Get rest. You shouldn't work until you feel better."

His tone oddly had a little more emotion to it than usual. I nod.

"Goodbye, Reese," I say while stepping out of the room. 

He looks at me the entire time.

"Goodbye, Azalea."

Word count: 2800